The van sped toward the forest, carrying three men inside. The driver's eyes widened when he saw what lay ahead. Before he could turn the wheel, a massive log smashed through the windshield, killing him instantly. The van spun out of control and slammed into a tree.
Three bikes that had been following the van came to an abrupt stop. Seeing that everyone inside the vehicle was dead, the riders looked ahead and spotted me. Before they could fire, two of them were killed. Only one man remained alive, with two bullets lodged in his hands.
He screamed in agony, staring at his mangled fingers. I drew my sword and walked toward him. Behind me, the women followed in silence, making sure the dead stayed dead. I grabbed the screaming man and said, "Listen carefully. Answer my question if you want to live. Tell me where Clementine is—the girl wearing the baseball hat."
His body trembled, and he couldn't speak. I stepped on his injured hand.
"AAAH! Please… please stop! I'll talk!"
"Then speak."
In a shaking voice, he said, "We put her in a car heading toward the camp. She should be there by now. Please… let me go."
I ended his life quickly and wiped my blade on my shirt. Then I turned to the group of women who had followed me. Everyone looked tense and afraid. I faced Michonne.
"The horde is loose. The General has betrayed us. He's allied with the Collectors and is preparing to attack Common Ground to kill all the leaders. Take a bike and relay this information immediately. Tell them to evacuate the camp or prepare to face thousands of walkers. Go—before it's too late."
Michonne nodded, understanding the urgency. She jumped onto a bike, and just before she left, I tossed her an AK-47 for protection.
Moving quickly, I stripped the dead bodies of their weapons. I gathered the guns and explosives and handed them to the other women so they could defend themselves. Then I mounted a bike and headed toward the Collectors' camp, the engine screaming as I pushed it to its limits.
After traveling for what felt like forever, I finally reached the camp. It was built on a massive farm. Every tree surrounding it had been cut down. Hundreds of slaves carried logs toward the compound while armed men shouted at them to move faster. They were clearly rushing to finish building the wall.
Watchtowers rose along the perimeter, guards watching from above. The camp's defenses were tight. Through my rifle scope, I studied the area carefully, memorizing every guard position and the layout of each structure. Clementine had to be there somewhere.
I wanted to charge in and kill them all, but even I knew that would be difficult. More importantly, Clementine was with them. If they used her as a hostage, I'd be helpless. So my plan was simple: sneak into the camp unnoticed, rescue Clementine, then kill every last one of them.
I searched for a way in and found one a few hundred feet from the camp—a mass grave. Piles of undead bodies were being dumped there. The guards nearby covered their mouths, some even wearing eye protection. The slaves had nothing. No proper clothing. No protection from the snow. They carried the rotting bodies while trembling from the cold.
The slaves were easy to identify. Each one had an ear chopped off. That was one of the reasons this group of bastards was called the Collectors—they took ears as trophies, proof of their so-called contribution.
I moved closer, staying hidden among bushes and behind cover. When I reached the edge of the grave site, a woman barked orders.
"That's enough for today. We'll resume tomorrow. Follow me."
She signaled more than twenty slaves to move. Their eyes were hollow, stripped of any will to live.
"Move faster, you motherfuckers!" a man shouted, swinging a long stick. The slaves quickened their pace in fear. Another guard followed behind them, watching closely.
I crept up behind him and killed him before he could make a sound, dragging his body into the mass grave. I stripped him of his clothes and slipped them on, then fell in behind the group. No one noticed. I matched his posture and movements perfectly, my face covered, making it nearly impossible to spot the switch.
Without hesitation, I followed them into the camp and toward the slave tents. Along the way, I saw long lines of slaves waiting their turn at the ration hall.
The man with the stick sneered at them.
"Look at them, lining up eagerly to eat human meat… fucking pigs."
The slaves nearest us lowered their heads and walked in silence.
The tents were surrounded by chain-link fencing topped with razor wire, with more than ten guards stationed at the gate. There were nine massive tents in total. Eight were empty. One held more than forty slaves, packed tightly together for sleep. The sight reminded me of the concentration camps I had read about.
The woman leading the group pointed at me.
"You stay here and watch them. Don't let them tell their stupid fucking stories about their savior. At 7:00 PM, wake them for the night shift."
I nodded. She and the man walked away, leaving me alone to guard the slaves. I searched the tent carefully but found no sign of Clementine. I was about to leave and check elsewhere when I heard whispers rising from the tent.
I stayed still, listening closely, hoping their quiet conversation would give me the information I needed.