Chapter 17: Back At the Motel

Now, you might be asking yourself why the fuck it took me so long to release another chapter… 

Work is a bitch.

Anyways! Leave a comment if you want more! 

Next update? Fuck this Cultivation world!

___________

Another terrible dream.

Another horrific nightmare.

A never-ending torture he has experienced for almost all his young life.

Nightmares of walking corpses tearing the living apart, dreams of people he has never met, of a world in ruin and death.

The kind that didn't fade when the morning light crept through the cracks in the window. The kind that burrowed into his soul and made a home there, festering like rot.

For fifteen years.

For fifteen long, merciless years, he had suffered through them every time sleep claimed him. 

A lifetime's worth of terror compressed into fleeting hours of restless sleep. 

Nightmares that crawled into his mind and planted their claws deep, never letting go.

He no longer remembered what a peaceful sleep felt like. If such a thing had ever existed, it was gone now, erased from his reality.

It always began the same way.

A stillness in the air, as though the world itself was holding its breath. 

Then came the silence. 

Not the comforting kind, but a suffocating void, unnatural, absolute. 

And then it would begin.

The screams.

Oh God, the screams.

They ripped through the stillness like jagged knives, filling the world with agony. Men, women, children, countless voices shrieking for mercy, for help, for salvation. 

All of it pointless.

The nightmare unfolded before him like a hellish play, the scenes etched into his mind in grotesque clarity as he stood between it all, helpless to do anything.

He saw burning cities and crumbling streets littered with corpses. He smelled the acrid stench of smoke and blood, choking the air like poison.

And in the midst of it all.

The walking corpses.

Shambling, broken, grotesque corpses, rising from the grave. Skin hanging in strips from brittle bones, jaws stretched far too wide, eyes glassy and hollow yet burning with mindless hunger.

They moved like puppets with tangled strings, limbs jerking and twisting in unnatural rhythms, their rotting mouths gnashing at the air.

And the living?

Hunted, torn apart, devoured alive. Screaming, begging, fighting, but dying all the same. It didn't matter if they ran, if they hid, if they fought tooth and nail against fate itself.

Death always found them.

He saw their faces each night, strangers and friends, people he had never met and those whose names he somehow knew despite having no memory of them. Mothers shielding their children, lovers dying in each other's arms, families shattered before his eyes.

And worst of all, he saw himself.

Alone.

Always alone.

Standing there, in the middle of the carnage, his hands stained with blood. 

He tried to save them. 

God, he tried, but no matter how fast he ran, how hard he fought, he was always too late.

Failure became his shadow, clinging to him like a second skin.

But the nightmare never ended with the dead. 

Just when the horror seemed at its peak, the earth would tremble beneath his feet. The skies would split open like torn flesh, thunder screaming from the heavens.

And then it came.

A colossal shape, bigger than mountains, rising from the void beyond the sky.

A monster.

This thing was beyond comprehension, beyond nightmare. Its body stretched endlessly across the horizon, scales like blackened steel, wings blotting out the stars.

And its heads twisted and turned in the sky.

Hundreds of them, maybe more.

Hundreds of snarling, twisting dragon-like heads, each one a grotesque reflection of wrath and hunger. 

Their eyes burned with power, mouths dripping with smoke and molten flame.

They turned toward him, those countless heads glaring down at him as if he were a mere ant, and in that moment, he knew true insignificance.

The monster opened its jaws with a deafening roar that shattered the world.

A tidal wave of teeth and fire consumed everything in its path, corpses and living alike.

He tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move. He screamed, but no sound left his throat.

The last thing he ever saw was that endless maw swallowing him whole.

The darkness consumed him.

And then… He woke up.

Gasping, choking, drenched in cold sweat.

The world around him was still, dark, and silent, but his heart was racing like a trapped animal in his chest. His lungs burned as if he had truly been devoured, crushed beneath the weight of that monstrous being.

But worse than the terror was the feeling.

That suffocating sensation, as if something was wrapped around his face.

His hands shot up instinctively, clawing at his skin, grasping wildly at his cheeks and eyes. His fingers scraped against his face, searching for it, that thing, something cold and suffocating that wasn't really there.

But his face was bare.

It always was.

And yet every time he woke, the sensation lingered.

A phantom mask, cold and heavy, pressed against his skin as though some cruel force had tried to bind him to that nightmare forever.

His breaths came in ragged gasps as he curled forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his trembling hands.

It took minutes, sometimes hours, for the world to feel real again.

For the shadows in the corners of his room to fade into mere shadows, and not the shapes of the dead.

For the silence to stop feeling like the calm before another scream.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

This wasn't over.

It never was.

The nightmare would return.

It always did.

_______

Ghost moved toward where his men said the farm had been spotted, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. 

Two other clones flanked him, weapons in hand, faces hidden behind dragon masks. 

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the rustle of wind through the trees the only sound accompanying their march.

"What's the situation at the school?" Ghost asked, brushing aside a low-hanging branch with a gloved hand.

One of the clones promptly answered. 

"When we found the school, we discovered it was mostly filled with students and a couple of teachers. They were hesitant at first and didn't want to open the doors."

The other clone let out a short grunt of agreement. 

"Said they didn't have room, which was a lie, and didn't want to risk the survivors we saved turning and infecting them—"

"But," the first clone continued, tone dry, "after seeing how armed we were, and our masks, they got real agreeable, real fast. We should be able to take over in a couple of weeks if nothing goes wrong."

Ghost said nothing, but a slow nod told them to go on.

"They're still on edge," the second clone added, tossing Ghost a device. "It's gonna take a while for them to warm up to us, but they'll get there."

He gave a low hum of acknowledgment, glad that it wasn't he who had to deal with that headache. 

Trust didn't grow overnight, especially not in a world like this. 

His eyes narrowed as they stepped into a clearing, the shadows pulling away to reveal the silhouette of a large, two-story farmhouse just beyond a thin treeline. 

He came to a halt, lifting one hand, and the others stopped instantly.

"There," he said, voice low and quiet, yet sharp like a blade drawn in the dark.

Smoke curled faintly from a chimney.

And Ghost wasn't sure if that was a good thing… or a problem that needed to be solved.

"The others should be nearby; they might have seen something while we were gone."

Ghost's eyes never left the farmhouse as he reached out through the link.

"Unit Echo, report in."

The message rang out like a whisper in his mind, carried across the mental link that all of them shared.

There was a pause. Then, like a ripple on a still pond, responses echoed back one by one.

"Nothing suspicious so far, but we shouldn't relax until we're one hundred percent sure."

"Three adults, two men, and one woman. As far as we can see, they are just by themselves."

"We have yet to actually look around the farm, mostly waiting for orders before doing anything."

Ghost narrowed his eyes at the farm, but didn't move.

"Armed?"

"Yeah, but barely. They have a hunting rifle and two crossbows. There are tools in the barn they can use as weapons, but they seem more comfortable with their guns and crossbows than anything else."

Ghost gave a hum, his mind processing the report as he and the two with him advanced toward the edge of the treeline. 

The brush opened up into a broader view of the land, worn-down fence lines, patches of once-tended crops, and the weathered red barn standing near the farmhouse. 

Everything looked… quaint.

"They're either the most functional survivors we've seen…" Ghost muttered, "Or they're hiding a hell of a lot more than they're showing."

The moment they emerged from the trees, three more clones appeared to greet them. 

One of them, Watcher, stepped forward and passed Ghost pictures of the people who may or may not be cannibals.

"We mapped out the area from all possible points," he said, voice low. "And we found bear traps with no release latches towards the east and west side, either the latches broke and they're still using it out of necessity or…"

He didn't bother to finish as his fingers tapped the photo of what they saw to Ghost. 

Ghost's gaze swept the barn and then the porch where a woman had just come out with a steaming cup of something in her hands. 

It didn't sit right.

"Pfft, Cannibals, not like we haven't dealt with them before," A clone sighed, getting a nod from the one standing beside him.

"Poor number fifty-three almost had his arm turned into a meal, couldn't be me."

"It wasn't his fault," Watcher added grimly, remembering the people who tried to take down clone fifty-three only to get a rude awakening when they realized incapacitating agents don't work on them. "They act like saints, and by the time you notice something's off, you're already on a plate."

Ghost turned back to the group and gestured for them to come close.

"Alright," he said, keeping his voice sharp and cold. "We're going to take this slow, no rushing in. We confirm who they are, what they're hiding, and if we see bullshit, we take them out. We can use the farm to raise livestock."

The others nodded without hesitation.

"Watcher, take a team and block any escape routes in case things go south."

Watcher was already signaling to three others to follow him.

"Sixty-seven," Ghost called out, getting the numbered clone to step forward. "You and your unit get inside that barn. I want to know if they're hiding bodies, skeletons, chains, anything they don't want us to see."

Sixty-seven and his men disappeared into the night, heading towards the barn.

"And if they're actually good people?" another clone asked.

Ghost paused as he checked the masks he had inside the limited storage of his own mask.

"Then we make them an offer… but we all know that's not going to happen with how everything from our nightmares is turning out," he answered tiredly, already expecting the worst while tapping the side of his head. 

Three masks silently appeared in his hand, ominously gleaming underneath the moonlight.

_______

The smell of sizzling pizza floating across the motel was absolutely divine.

Clementine sat by the fire, legs tucked under her, the warmth of the flames dancing across her face. 

Her plate balanced on her lap, already missing two slices. Her stomach was full, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and for once… she wasn't scared.

It was weird.

Everyone was just… happy.

Kenny was laughing so hard at one of his own dumb stories that he nearly dropped a slice right into the fire. Duck, of course, found that hilarious and was doing that full-body kid laugh, the kind that made you giggle even if you didn't understand the joke.

Katjaa smiled gently, resting a hand on her son's back while she quietly ate, her eyes softer than Clementine had ever seen them.

Lee, Mark, and Carley were sitting on an old picnic table nearby, arguing about something. Lee swore he saw a walker that looked exactly like Chris Evans, and Carley was pretending to be deeply offended by it. 

They were loud, but in the best way, the "no one's trying to kill us tonight" kind of loud.

Lilly sat a little off to the side with her arms crossed, but even she wasn't scowling. She had an extra plate by her side with three slices untouched, as if saving them for someone. 

Her father was sitting beside her, grunting every now and then between bites of pizza like it was the best damn thing he'd ever tasted and he didn't want anyone to notice.

And right next to her, close enough that their knees were almost touching, was Leo.

He was sitting cross-legged, one hand holding his plate, the other tossing small twigs into the fire every few seconds, just to hear the crackle and watch the sparks jump.

"I still think you're lying," Leo said, glancing her way.

Clementine giggled, brushing a few stray hairs from her face as she took another bite. "But I'm not~"

"You expect me to believe that you," he said while pointing at her. "Never once watched Mary Poppins while growing up?"

"Nope, not once~"

"…Did you even have a childhood?"

She laughed harder at that and nearly choked on the crust of her pizza.

Leo smirked, eyes twinkling under the firelight as he got up. 

"Well, I can't just let this be! Hold on, I need to get a couple of things from the car! I'll be right back!" 

She watched him go, curious about what exactly he was going to get, as he seemed to have grabbed two of his guys to help him.

She looked around at everyone again, watching the way the light touched their faces, how the air was filled with laughter, warmth, the sound of someone cracking open a soda can, and even Larry's annoyed muttering as Duck tried to sneak a second slice from his plate.

It was perfect.

Not the kind of perfect you dream about, or see in movies. It was a messy, tired, lived-in kind of perfect.

The kind that made you feel like, maybe, just maybe… things would be okay.

"You two seem to be getting along." A voice rumbled from behind her in a light, teasing way.

She looked up and found Lee holding out a bottle of water for her, smirking while doing so.

"Real close lately, hmm?"

She took the bottle and refused to meet him in the eye as she took a sip. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Lee chuckled, sitting down next to her as he took a bite of his pizza. 

"I mean, sittin' by the fire, sharing food, giving each other 'looks' when you think no one is looking, I dunno, Clem, kinda suspicious to me."

Her face gained a light blush as she lowered her cap to hide her face. 

"We just get along really well, okay?"

"Oh really?" he said, raising a brow with that look, the one that said, Uh-huh, sure, keep lying to me, kid.

"I'm not—!"

Clem was about to defend herself, but was cut off by the sound of someone yelling, "Heads up!"

Everyone turned toward the parking lot as Leo and two of his masked group members came back carrying something bulky between them. A tall metal frame, thick cords, and what looked suspiciously like…

"A projector?" Carley asked, blinking.

Leo grinned as he slung a duffel bag over his shoulder. 

"Leo, what the hell are you doing?" Lily asked, voice filled with exhausted curiosity.

"Whoah! Are we going to watch a movie!?" Duck shouted excitedly as he bounced up and down.

Kenny was just as excited as his son, but was better at hiding it. "Man, it's been so long since we last watched one!" 

Katjaa held back her son, more worried than excited.

"Are we sure this is a good idea? Wouldn't the movie attract walkers?" 

She got nods from a couple of others, especially Larry, who was about to say something less than nice before his daughter elbowed him.

Leo just smiled at them, not a single concern or worry in his eyes.

"It's fine! We checked the area and took out any walkers nearby in a mile radius, and if you're that worried, the guys will keep a lookout while we watch!"

Some were still unsure despite him reassuring them, but they slowly sat down despite that.

The guys moved fast, stretching a big white sheet between two poles and pinning it down tight while Leo fiddled with the machine like he'd done it a hundred times.

He turned around and held up a very pristine "Mary Poppins" DVD like it was a sacred artifact.

Clementine and Lee stared at him in total disbelief.

"You had all that this whole time?" Clem asked, eyes wide as she looked at everything they brought. "Why?"

Leo simply shrugged, a smile wide on his face. 

"Emergency morale boost, you'd be amazed what a spoonful of sugar can do!"

Lee let out a snort, looking at the disk and the boy with a raised brow. "Outta all the movies to keep during the apocalypse…"

"We had a choice between Mary Poppins and Son of the Mask," Leo deadpanned. "I regret nothing."

Clem stared at him, her face somewhere between awe and you're an idiot, why on earth would he use the space for movies instead of something important like more food. 

"But… why even bring it?"

"Because," Leo said, putting the disk in, "someone told me they never watched it, and I believe in fixing childhood tragedies."

She groaned and covered her face with both hands. 

"I hate you."

"Telling lies are we~?" he teased, flopping back down beside her with a smug grin.

The projector flickered to life with a soft hum, casting light against the makeshift screen.

And somehow, in the middle of the apocalypse, with half the world gone and monsters outside the gates… the sound of music and Julie Andrews' voice started drifting through the motel courtyard.

Clem looked around, watching as the people who went through hell with her were absorbed into the movie, a warm happy air surrounding them. 

She slowly turned to Leo, the boy, and his group, who did all this for people they didn't even know, and smiled gratefully at him.

Feeling eyes on him, confused blue eyes met her warm hazel, as he tilted his head curiously at her. 

"…Why are you looking at me like that?" 

She couldn't stop smiling.