The trouble started even before Clay saw them again.

"Fucking--!" Alan beat his fist against his bed to keep himself from shouting again. "Couldn't stop at taking the ones we had on us, they even went lookin' for guns while they were here. They took the pistol I kept in my bedside drawer."

Clay was leaning against the doorway with a worried expression on his face. "Did they take all of our guns?"

"Pftt!" Alan finally flashed a genuine smile. "Fuck no. I hid the bulk of 'em someplace real safe a long time ago to make sure nobody in the building could grab them up whenever they wanted. Had to make sure the ones drinkin' their days away didn't check out, y'know?"

"Makes sense." Clay cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, I'm sorry I lost your brother's gun. I know it's not exactly my fault, but…"

"Then no reason to be sorry. Plenty of guns left!"

As if to give him further reassurance, Alan gifted Clay a new gun later on in the day.

"I know you liked your revolver, genius."

He nodded. It was easier to reload a revolver than it was to fiddle around with a magazine. Also no chance of jamming, he's told.

"Yeah, you do. So I got the perfect replacement, one that I'm just achin' for you to lose. Seriously, this thing makes me sick."

Alan handed Clay his new revolver. The one he'd inherited from Kyle was a loud silver, whereas this one was a matte black. The barrel was a bit shorter, but the most eye-catching thing about it definitely had to be how square it was. It was all hard angles and ridges; even its cylinder looked like a rectangular block.

"That, my friend, is a Chiappa Rhino 40DS .357 Magnum. You know how every time you shot Kyle's gun it felt like it was tryin' to jump outta your hand?" Alan traced his finger along the bottom of the blocky barrel. "This ugly thing was made so that the bullets actually fire out of the bottom chamber here. See this? The muzzle is actually in line with your hand, so the force is sent back towards you instead of up. Reduces the effect of the recoil. Cool sorta novelty thing. Wouldn't be caught dead with a gun this ugly in my collection otherwise."

Shit, Clay didn't want to say it out loud because Alan made his opinions on it very obvious, but he couldn't help himself.

"It's so cool…"

It had a futuristic feel to its design that made him think it wouldn't look out of place in cyberpunk-type movie. And it was easier to fire? It's no contest.

"I'm thinkin' maybe those guys knocked out whatever sense you had left in that head of yours, genius."

The world belongs to the young and modern, old man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a short span of time spent not getting anything done, Alan wanted to start by getting his hands on water to replace the pack of bottles Ed's group stole from them. Once again, the quest for diesel or anything they could burn was delayed.

They didn't find much water, but it was a lucrative day for canned food and XP.

>EXP: 105/2000

On their way back home, they were stopped again by a few members of Ed's group only a few blocks away from Alan's building. There were only four this time, but among them was the Goatee-Eyeglasses that had put Clay in a hold the day before.

"I see you guys still had some guns lying around," he said while eyeing the rifle slung over Alan's shoulder.

Alan didn't say anything; he merely maintained eye contact with a stony expression.

"Well, I'm not gonna take them from you this time because I'm nice, but if we see you guys walking around with guns again we're snatching them up." Maybe he was trying to smile politely, but it just looked like a smirk. "We need time for tensions to cool off, at least, but it'd be better for everyone if you just made do with those machetes until we find Richard and clear out of town."

You don't get to walk around with guns unless you tell us where Radman is.

It was hardly subtle, yet the flare of frustration hit just as hard. This was either their way of trying to force them into a confession or just make their lives harder for not having the information they came for.

All they could do was stand silently and wait for them to back off.

Goatee-Eyeglasses took a can of peaches from a small cardboard box Clay was holding. Clay averted his gaze without thinking and immediately regretted not working up the gumption to at least look him in the eye like Alan did.

"You already have so much stuff piled up, but you're always finding more shit. You guys must be pretty smart."

This haul was thanks to Kissy leading them to a place she'd probably meant for Clay to look into when they first met.

Goatee-Eyeglasses flicked open a pocket knife that Clay couldn't help but fixate on. It had a serrated blade and a dark green handle. It was spotless, but he flipped it into an underhand grip so effortlessly that Clay doubted he was inexperienced with it.

"Me? I'm stupid as hell. I can admit it. If I were smart, I wouldn't have to waste two months chasing after anyone because I'd have been put on doing more important things." He plunged his knife into the can and started sawing the lid open. "Look at this, dude. What kinda caveman opens a can like this? Hey, why aren't you looking?"

Clay's eyes had been drifting to the side as the man spoke. He didn't want to look at whatever weird display he was trying to put on because he knew that this was all about intimidating him. He hated that it was working. Would it calm his nerves if he didn't look?

"Alright, I guess you don't have to look…Damn it, there was a little tab here I could've used to pull it open. Told 'ya I was stupid!" Goatee-Eyeglasses stuck a peach slice with the tip of his knife and lifted it up to point at Clay's face. "Here. Pale 'fella like you, you need something to eat."

He placed a hand on Clay's shoulder that made him jump and finally look directly at the knife again as it was brought closer to his lips.

What's going to happen if I put my mouth near that knife? What the hell is this guy's problem?

Even though it was probably a fake-out, Clay didn't want to capitulate. He slowly shook his head and attempted to take a step back.

"Hey." The hand on his shoulder tightened. "Eat."

With no options left, Clay slowly opened his mouth and leaned in to suck the peach off of the knife. At the last second, Goatee-Eyeglasses flipped the knife towards his own face and ate the peach instead.

"Hahaha! You were really gonna do it, huh? Relax, man! It's just a joke! You're so tensed up over nothing!"

I hope you get bit by a Jumper, you prick.

They left a little while after that without any more fuss. Clay didn't get the can of peaches back.

"You good?" Alan calmly checked on Clay after they were left alone.

He didn't feel good. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think this is just posturing to make sure we know who's in charge."

The assumption was still that they were just flexing their muscles while they looked for Radman. Just a little longer and they'd get bored.

That's not what happened.

For the next week, Clay and Alan would have run-ins with them almost every day. Sometimes all of them would be there, sometimes just a few. After being forced to walk around without guns, each of these encounters was fraught with tension. Fortunately, nothing ever got as physical as it did on the first day. The closest it got was when Goatee-Eyeglasses 'accidentally' spat on one of Clay's shoes.

Likely sensing his weakness, they usually focused their antics on him.

"Whoops! Sorry, bud! I was aiming for the ground!"

"God damn it!" Alan snapped while stepping between them. "Leave the kid alone already!"

"You lose your glasses, grandpa? He's a big boy now!" Goatee-Eyeglasses moved forward, trying to look around Alan and get in Clay's face. "How old are you? Aren't you embarrassed to be letting your Dad fight your battles?"

"That's enough!" Alan shoved him away.

Goatee-Eyeglasses put his hands up while the rest of the group aimed their guns at Alan. Satisfied with his work for the day, he continued taking steps back.

"Fucking pussy…" He said just loud enough that Clay could hear as they departed.

"You good?" Alan asked for the third time that week.

Clay kicked over a trash can, a show of anger he didn't usually allow himself.

It felt like they were spending more time hassling them and less time actually looking for Radman. They didn't even discuss him with the pair anymore, so what was the point in continuing these idiotic games?

The answer was so obvious that he kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. He told Alan and Milly his thoughts after dinner.

Clay had been thinking from a logical standpoint when he assumed they'd leave them be after their first encounter and when he continued to believe they'd get bored and leave them alone after bullying them for a little while, but people don't always act logically. After months without any progress and their best lead all dried up, they must have had a lot of pent-up frustration to let loose. Clay and Alan just happened to be the only ones around, as well as the only ones that couldn't fight back.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I thought something like this was gonna happen." Alan worked his jaw. "I just didn't want to jinx it."

"Do you guys think they might go too far?" Milly asked. "It's a genuine concern when you're dealing with people in a world without law enforcement. Sometimes people just do awful things, then carry on like nothing happened because nobody's there to hold them accountable."

"I'm thinkin' they like trying to make the kid cry a little too much for that."

Clay couldn't argue with that.

"On the other hand," Alan scowled, "you can't be sure of anything when it comes to situations like these. If it weren't close to snowing, I'd say we could just lay low for a couple'a days. We gotta get ahold of some diesel."

Then it was time to bring back a topic of discussion Clay toyed around with from the first.

"I should talk to Radman and get more information."

Alan swatted a hand at the air like the idea was a fly buzzing in his face. "Fuck that! Lettin' him lure you in like that was what got us in this mess in the first place! Vetoed!"

Under most circumstances, Clay would let that be the end of it. Alan was in charge. However, he thought he'd earned a chance to have a proper say after a month spent with them, especially since things had gotten to a point where they couldn't be sure what might happen. They had to get a leg up somehow.

"We don't know anything about these guys, Alan. Radman might be able to give us a few pointers on how we could deal with them, tell us how they think," Clay politely explained. "I could go and see him on my own."

"The last thing we need right now is for them to catch you alone, kid."

"Plus they have to be watching you two by now," Milly pointed out. "You could end up leading them right to him. Then they'll know we lied. Things could spiral out of control."

Alan nodded. "That's right. The only thing we can do is stick it out and wait for you to get the [Immune to Bullets] power-up or something."

That's not in my Skill Shop…

On top of that…

>EXP: 155/2000

Having to scavenge for supplies without their guns kept them from acting as boldly as before. If things kept going like this, his already slow progression would slow to a snail's pace. There's no telling if they could afford to wait that long.

Shot down from all sides like this, Clay had to think of something else or lose the argument entirely.

"Wait, let's just consider all the options here. Radman is a boy genius or whatever, right? Maybe he could make something that would give us an edge?"

Alan scoffed. "If he could whip up a game-changer like that, he wouldn't have gone lookin' for you."

"He can't make much of anything right now. He told me that the reason why he doesn't like moving around too much is because he can't get serious work done. That's the reason why he wanted our help. If he didn't have to relocate, and I could get him whatever parts he needs, then there's a chance he could make us something that might help."

Alan finally stopped to consider what he was saying.

Now that he had his attention, Clay kept piling points on, "It's true that he might not be much help if we were dealing with the real leader, but these are just a bunch of normal guys. They also don't know for certain that we're in contact with him. Radman could be our ace in the hole!"

"There's just one thing about that, honey." Milly leaned back in her chair, plagued by obvious concern. "How would you get back in contact with him? We have to assume you guys are gonna be watched whenever you leave the building, and it's not like we can just call him on the phone."

"I know where he's going to be during the day. As for making sure I'm not followed…" Clay glared at the table. He couldn't believe he had to even consider this. "I'll have to move at night. I have an idea for how we can correspond afterwards, but I'll need to meet with him in person at least once."

"Now I know you're kidding!" Alan threw his hands up. "Remember that talk we had about going around at night, genius? You're just beggin' to be spotted by a Spooker and hunted down like a dog!"

"That's exactly why I have to do it at night. The zombies are everyone's enemy, so they have to hide from the Spookers, too. I can sneak away and move freely, more or less." Clay's glare deepened. "You're right that it's risky, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Since it was my idea, it's only fair that I be the one to do it."

That's best I can do. If they say no after all that, I'll accept it. It's not a decision that only affects me.

Clay would understand if they said no, but he wouldn't like it. It was his fault they had to put up with this. It was his status as a player that drew Radman and the goons who followed him to them. He had to do something.

Alan and Milly exchanged looks. Alan did something with his hand that seemed to say 'it's your call.'

Milly was understandably conflicted. She didn't even try to hide it.

After having looked into their past, Clay knew for sure that Milly was a lot smarter and stronger of character than he'd ever thought. It wasn't unfair to say she was the backbone of this place, which meant that the safety of the people here would be paramount.

It's why Clay insisted he go alone; if things go wrong and someone had to die, it was better to risk an outsider like him.

Milly finally looked at Clay. Her eyes widened slightly, then hardened.

"Okay. We'll let you do this…" Milly said, then quickly added, "but we're taking every precaution, young man!"

Clay clenched his fist under the table, a mix of fear and excitement swirling inside him. His thoughts were equally opposed.

Yes!

I wish you'd taken the matter out of my hands by saying no!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They didn't go through with this plan on the same night in case instigating them into action was part of their plan. The next day was taken off as well, but they found enough supplies throughout the week that the lost time wasn't felt as much. Still, it was a day wasted because of outside forces.

Not that it was spent relaxing. Clay walked Alan and Milly through a few more of his ideas for their approval, and Alan worked out what Clay should bring with him when he goes out. He had clothing close to his size that was fashionably at odds, a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved button-up. The only reason to wear such a mishmash was because they were both black.

"It won't matter much to Spookers, but this'll at least help keep you hidden from Crowders and the asshole patrol." Alan said as he stuffed a bag with a few things for him. Part of the plan required Clay to stay in the college building overnight and wait for Radman to show up, so he was given a sleeping bag and some stuff to eat while he was there in case Radman wouldn't be able to feed him.

More importantly, Alan gave him something to protect himself besides the 'ugly' revolver. Since he was trying to undermine the asshole patrol anyways, he might as well disregard their rules and be properly equipped.

It was a hunting rifle. Clay almost mistook it for another shotgun, but the barrel wasn't as thick, and there was some kind of hinge mechanism near the trigger that Alan lifted as a demonstration. The barrel itself was also shorter than the standard Clay had in his mind for hunting rifles.

"It ain't even snowin' yet and you're getting Christmas presents. This is a Marlin STP .45-70. It's a lever-action rifle, so you can fire it quickly, but I wouldn't recommend it because I have a feeling that firing this thing even once is gonna make you cry." Alan tapped his own shoulder. "It'll kick your ass and it's loud as hell, but you only gotta worry about one of those things. The main reason I'm choosin' to give you this one--…Hold on, lemme make this clear, you're borrowing it."

"You don't have to worry about me getting attached. I don't like guns."

It already hurt to fire Kyle's revolver. If this was recoil that even someone as experienced as Alan had to mention, then he wasn't looking forward to using it.

"Hmmm…" Alan eyed Clay suspiciously, then went on. "Okayyy…Anyways, the main reason I'm givin' you this one is because it's got good range, hits hard as hell, and it's short enough that you can travel with it once I put the sling back on. This is specifically for shootin' Spookers if you can't avoid 'em. Got it?"

Clay nervously took the rifle from him and looked it over. Despite its smaller size, it still felt heavy. He could acclimate to that weight now, just like with the revolver in the dressing room.

Alan showed him how to position it, adjusted the sight for him, and ran him through a few drills where Clay would have it slung over his shoulder and try to get it into position to fire as quickly as possible.

"You don't need to work on your trigger discipline at all, but I can tell that you're not lookin' down the sight right. Hold it up a little higher. Tuck in deeper here. You gotta be careful because once a target gets far enough away, you can't just point and shoot like you usually do. You also can't count on peoples to run at you like Crowders do, so be sure to lead your shots."

Clay lowered the gun from the wall he was pointing it at. "I don't plan on shooting actual people, though…"

"Just lettin' you know ahead of time in case something happens." Alan scratched the top of his head through his hat. "But outta curiosity, what are you gonna do on the off chance you get caught and they start seein' red? You can't just lay down and die, right?"

Clay didn't have an answer for that. He focused on practicing his aim.

Alan didn't press the issue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clay waited until well into the night before making his move. Alan and Milly stopped him a few times to nitpick over details, but ultimately assisted him in slipping out one of the only windows that wasn't boarded up: a small rectangular window in a first-floor bathroom.

"Seriously," Alan spoke gravely as he slipped Clay's supplies through the window after him, "be careful."

Clay would be lying if he said he wasn't touched by his concern. He nodded.

Then his nighttime journey began.

The last time he traveled at night was all the way back when he was forced to sleep in a dumpster. It'd only been a month since then, even if it felt like longer.

He ran into a small problem when he realized he'd actually forgotten the way to the community college. Luckily for him, Kissy was there to put him back on the right path while she scouted for zombies.

Squeak squeak!

Clay brought a flashlight but kept its use to a minimum so as not to attract attention. Now that he was properly educated about the danger of Spookers, he also examined every street he crossed. Even if it was clear of Crowders, he used a pair of binoculars to catch out any thin figures in the distance before he'd risk stepping out into the open.

With the less-than-spectacular night vision normal zombies had, Spookers were the only risk. Unfortunately, they were a big one.

Alan's told stories about them spotting people from so far away that they couldn't locate the Spooker in turn, even after turning in the direction of that tingly feeling everyone got from being 'marked'. Being in a city meant there was a lot of buildings to use for hiding, but it also meant there were a lot of vantage points Spookers could use if they ended up high enough.

They were possessed of rudimentary intelligence, like Jumpers. It was their behaviors that differentiated them. Jumpers that got to do a lot of hunting would pull tricks like using corpses or wounded to lure in more targets, but Spookers were more like vultures that waited for the Crowders their marks brought onto the scene to do most of the work before they moved in to pick at the scraps. There wasn't any danger of them losing out on dinner because they have to share since they're the only zombie type Alan is aware of that specifically likes to eat bones.

Other zombies eat bones incidentally if they have them in their mouth, but they prefer to tear the meat off and leave them behind in most cases.

Clay figured that Spookers would be in places that gave them a good view, so he focused mainly on the far ends of long streets and the tops of buildings. He also wondered if it was possible that they could hide inside buildings and look out from windows, but that would be impossible to confirm without liberal use of his flashlight. So far, that didn't seem to be a problem.

It was slow going, like the last time he tried to move in the night, but he stepped with a lot more confidence. He could take care of stray Crowders without worry now that he had his gun to fall back on, so he wasn't wasting nearly as much time cowering from every small bit of noise.

What a relief. It was just a Crowder.

When he caught himself at ease with the thought that it was 'just' a zombie, he wondered if there was something wrong with him. Did simply having a gun make this much of a difference?

It certainly did when he eventually spotted a Spooker before it spotted him. Just like he guessed, it was standing on the roof of a fast food restaurant called Bigboy Burgers.

It hadn't been caught out by its eyes or its presence like last time. If Clay had been able to see its strange red eyes, it would have been because it was looking back at him. No, he caught it looking off in a different direction. Crowders tended to wander around aimlessly, but this one was standing its silent vigil while barely moving at all.

Clay took aim with the rifle and attempted to steady his breathing. From his lowered position in the alley and the distance, he wasn't confident he could hit it with a gun he's never used before.

When it started turning its head, he lost his nerve and hid instead. He ended up leaving it be and continuing his journey without messing with it. It didn't feel like it was worth the risk or the ammo if he could get through without fighting.

Surprisingly, the rest of the trip to the college was easier than he thought it'd be. He had to dispatch a few Crowders on the way, but all in all it hadn't been the harrowing thing he, Alan, and Milly thought it would be.

>EXP: 185/2000