Chapter 4: The Weight of Change

Sleep didn't come easily. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the game's story unfolding—the events I remembered, the tragedies I knew were coming. But now, things were different. I had changed something. And the unknown was far more terrifying than the script I once knew.

Morning light filtered through the wooden slats of the barn. I sat up on the hay-strewn floor, rubbing my face as I tried to shake the lingering exhaustion. Around me, the others were beginning to stir. Lee was already up, checking on Clementine as she blinked sleep from her eyes. Kenny muttered something about getting an early start. Shawn and Hershel were nowhere to be seen, probably already tending to the farm.

I stood and stretched, my body still adjusting to this unfamiliar yet strangely capable form. I had strength and endurance I never remembered having before, and my reflexes felt sharper. It was as if I had been placed in a version of myself that had been built for survival. But why?

Lee noticed me watching and gave a nod. "Sleep alright?"

"As well as I could," I replied.

He studied me for a moment, as if weighing whether to push the conversation further. But before he could, a voice called from outside.

"Lee! Ethan! We could use a hand out here."

Shawn. My stomach tightened.

I followed Lee toward the fence where Shawn and Duck were working on reinforcing the barriers. Hershel stood nearby, overseeing their work with a keen eye.

"You two mind helping?" Shawn asked, offering a hammer toward me. "Got to make sure these hold in case any more of those things show up."

I hesitated. This was it. The moment where, in the original timeline, Shawn would get trapped. This was the part I had changed. And yet, a cold pit settled in my stomach. Just because I saved him once didn't mean fate wouldn't find another way.

I took the hammer and nodded. "Yeah. Let's make sure that doesn't happen."

Lee and I worked alongside Shawn, reinforcing the wooden beams while Duck clumsily attempted to help. The kid's enthusiasm was unwavering, but it made me uneasy. He had no idea how quickly things could turn deadly.

Then, the sound of snapping wood echoed across the field. My head jerked up just as part of the fence buckled.

Walkers.

At least three of them, pushing through a weakened section of the fence line. Their groans filled the air, guttural and hungry.

"Shit!" Shawn stumbled back, eyes wide. "We need to—"

One of them lunged.

I moved without thinking. My body reacted faster than my mind, instincts driving me forward. I grabbed Shawn's arm and yanked him away just as the walker's decayed fingers clawed at the air where he had been.

"Get back to the house!" Hershel yelled.

Lee was already pulling Duck toward safety. Kenny came sprinting from the barn, rifle in hand, but I knew he wouldn't make it in time. Another walker was closing in on Shawn, and I was the only one close enough.

I tightened my grip on the hammer. No hesitation.

With a sharp swing, I brought it down on the walker's skull. It crumpled instantly, but the others were still coming.

"Come on!" I grabbed Shawn's wrist and hauled him back toward the house.

We made it to the porch just as Kenny fired a shot, dropping another walker. The last one was taken down by Lee, who had retrieved a pitchfork from the barn.

Heavy breaths filled the silence.

Hershel's gaze landed on me, something unreadable in his expression. "That's twice now," he said, voice gruff. "You got good instincts, Ethan."

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Just trying to survive."

But in my head, a darker thought lingered. The world had tried to take Shawn again. And next time… it might not miss.

As I stood there, gripping the bloodied hammer, I realized something chilling: I wasn't just a spectator anymore. I wasn't following a script.

I was rewriting it.