TWD - Chapter 579: Well? What Can You Do for Us? (Patreon)

Leah said nothing. She was already sizing up the people in front of her.

Their hollow cheeks and emaciated frames told her they had been short of food for a long time. The pitiful weapons they carried suggested they had no reliable way to obtain supplies. And the way they had hidden as soon as they spotted an armed unit spoke to their timidity.

They weren't bad people. They were ordinary survivors whom the cruelty of the apocalypse had driven into a corner.

Hunger and the instinct to stay alive had pushed them toward robbery, but they hadn't followed through. Some common sense remained among them. Most of them, in fact, still had their heads on straight.

People like that could be useful.

She waited to see what they would do next.

A long silence passed before Harris finally found the nerve to speak. His lips trembled. "Ma'am, we... we can help you."

Leah regarded him evenly. "Well? What can you do?"

"We know this campus inside out!" Harris blurted. "If you're clearing it, we can show you around!"

He waved his hands as he spoke, desperate to make his offer sound convincing.

The others behind him nodded along. For a moment, it was as though someone had thrown them a lifeline, and hope returned to their faces.

Leah let him finish. Then she reached into her pocket, took out a carefully folded map, opened it at her leisure, and held it out for them to see.

It was a detailed map of the UTK campus. Every building, road, and intersection had been marked precisely.

Dense annotations covered its edges, identifying concentrations of walkers, possible supply caches, and sites suitable for a base.

Martin Sorensen and the others had assembled the information from their earlier reconnaissance.

They were UTK people themselves. They knew their own campus better than anyone.

Harris stared, his eyes growing wide. The men behind him were equally stunned.

"Th-that... that's..." he stammered, unable to finish.

Leah folded up the map and slipped it away again. She glanced over the group. "We already have all that."

Her voice remained composed, but there was no arguing with it. "So what else can you offer?"

Nobody answered. The silence was so complete that their labored breathing seemed loud.

Leah watched embarrassment and unease spread across their faces, followed by a deeper fear: We're finished. We're no use to them.

In a world like this, being useless often amounted to a death sentence. But she wasn't here to massacre people.

The thin woman's eyes filled with tears. "A-are you going to kill us?" she whispered.

Leah met her gaze without hostility. "Who said anything about killing you?"

The woman blinked, confusion and a flicker of delighted surprise cutting through her despair.

"Stay here," Leah went on. "Don't go wandering off or make trouble. Once we've retaken the East District, someone will come and get you settled."

Harris's head shot up. "Retake the East District? Get... get us settled?"

Leah nodded. "We'll take Knoxville's East District. After that, someone will arrange a place for you."

The survivors stirred again. Jerry's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Really," Leah told him firmly.

She turned to go.

"Wait!" Harris called.

Leah stopped and looked back.

Harris struggled to put his thoughts into words. "Y-you're not afraid we'll run? That we'll hide somewhere? That we'll..."

Leah cut across him and pointed out the window. "Run? Where exactly would you go?

"There are walkers everywhere outside.

"We're about to sweep the eastern side. The west is still crawling with them.

"With how helpless you lot are, how many days would you last on your own?"

Harris opened his mouth, hoping to object, but couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Besides, we've got several hundred people in the area," Leah added. "Go on, try running away and see what happens."

He fell silent. She wasn't bluffing. There was nowhere for them to escape to.

Leah headed toward the stairs, then stopped after a few steps and looked back at Jerry. "What's your name?"

The question caught him off guard. "I... I'm Jerry."

She nodded, giving Neville a pointed look. "Jerry, keep the others in line. Don't let them start getting any more foolish ideas. Otherwise, you'll all answer for it."

Jerry nodded hard, determination in his eyes. "I... I understand."

Only then did she leave, her footsteps fading down the stairwell.

On the way downstairs, one of her soldiers hurried up beside her. "Commander, are we really just leaving those people there?"

"For now," Leah replied, unruffled. "Let them stay where they are. Once the East District is ours, we'll have all the time we need to deal with them."

The soldier hesitated. "But they were thinking of robbing us just now!"

A faint, almost amused smile touched her lips. "Thinking about robbing someone and actually doing it are very different things."

She looked ahead toward a gray library building, their next objective.

"They're scared of starving. They're scared of dying. In a world like this, robbing a stranger can become someone's first instinct. You can't blame them entirely. This vicious world has pushed them to it."

She paused, pity briefly entering her expression. "Give them enough food and a stable life, and they won't have a reason to rob anyone."

The soldier considered that, then nodded without another question.

The unit resumed its advance.

Leah led the way, still thinking about the people upstairs.

Twenty-three survivors, some elderly, some young, so easily frightened by walkers that even a trip outside could send them scattering. If such a feeble group had lasted this long, the person at its center must have something going for him.

Harris looked ordinary enough. Yet at the crucial moment he had managed to rein in the others and make them listen. That took intelligence and a measure of respect.

He, too, could prove useful. Leah was certain he would choose to cooperate.

She had offered him something no one in this desperate world could easily refuse: hope.

Far behind them, Jerry leaned against a sixth-floor window, watching the soldiers dwindle in the distance.

"Dad," he asked Harris, "do you think Rock Fortress really is that strong?"

Harris came to stand beside him and looked out. "They must have considerable power."

"How can you tell?" Jerry asked.

"Look at their clothes. There's walker blood on them, sure, but the fabric isn't worn out. And not one of them looks hungry."

Harris paused. His gaze turned distant, and he seemed almost to be talking to himself. "They must have running water and electricity to keep clean. To take a decent shower whenever they want. To..."

He couldn't finish. The stench that had clung to him and his son ever since the world fell suddenly filled him with shame and sorrow.

Jerry didn't notice. His eyes stayed fixed on the shrinking figures beyond the window, full of hope.