I should've just listened to Kenny about that guy… Clementine wouldn't be caught up in this mess if it wasn't for my lack of insight. God, how could I have been so blind?! Instead of me personally escorting the frightened child back to Kenny's place, I brush it off and go straight after Carver, who proved to be no help to me anyways.
But I know that the bastard's lying – I could see it on his face. He's plotting something, and it's only going to be a matter of time before things go terribly wrong.
The mayor of Atlanta has called a public meeting at city hall today to address the recent attacks, murders and whatnot, but that's not where I'm headed. No – they can make all the promises about keeping the city safe that they want, but I've got a job to do.
Kenny's sent me the exact coordinates via a text. It seems that he's the only friend that I've got left, but he insists that his name not be mentioned if something goes wrong. I told him that his secret is safe with me.
As the sun begins to set, I hide behind a wooden fence and wait for the right opportunity. I don't have any bulletproof vests on me this time, but I did manage to pilfer away with my pistol and several cases of ammunition. That should be more than enough.
Listening to the sound of laughter coming from a couple of the workers, I silently make my way inside when they aren't looking. Yes, technically this is trespassing, as the dump site is closed and off-limits to people until tomorrow, but there are very few people remaining here.
The person that I want is in inside one of those portable storage units; probably hatching another plan to kill someone else.
Here's the thing: every single worker here right now is a part of Carver's little rebellion team. How do I know this? Well, if you remember when Kenny and I were scouting out earlier in that warehouse, we managed to recover a list with all of the members, and Kenny's run police scans on all of these bastards (trust me, I didn't know he was that good with computers either). I don't know their names, but Ken figured out that at least ninety percent of the workers are members of Carver's Mafia.
As I scurry more quickly over to the office, one of the workers spots me and rushes over to confront their little intruder. How unfortunate… for him.
"Hey! You're definitely not supposed to be here! Now am I going to have to escort you out, or are you just gonna go on your – "
He doesn't get to finish his sentence, as I bash his head several times with the butt of my gun and drag his unconscious body over to the side, where nobody else will be able to find him. Now that was a close call… No sense in letting these fuckers know where I am.
Wiping off some beads of sweat, I crouch down and begin to sneak my way to this portable office – luckily the door's unlocked when I arrive. Twisting it open, I hold my gun at my side when I come face to face with Tavia, who's sitting there shocked in her seat. Calmly, I close the door behind me and lock it – making sure that nobody can get in or out until I've concluded my business.
Taking a stainless steel chair, I drag it over so that it makes a deafening screeching sound until I plop it right in front of this crazed, evil woman.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?!" she finally berates, reaching for her revolver as I fire off a bullet onto the desk.
"Try that again and I kill you. No exceptions," I tell her coldly, lowering my eyelids as if I'm bored with this conversation already. "Who did you kill?"
"What?!"
"Did I stutter?" I ask, holding the pistol threateningly at her rather large frame. "Who was it, Tavia? My ex-wife? My family? My neighbours? Which one of those did you cowardly shoot down out of spite for me locking up your fucking leader?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" she spits, trying her best not to be intimidated by me and my gun. I can tell that her charade isn't working out very well.
"I've got your life in my hands, Tavia. I suggest that you cooperate – I'll throw it away if you don't give me what I want," I respond evenly, aiming the pistol down at her foot and shooting her straight through the shoe; causing her to cry out in pain. "That's strike two – next one's at your neck. Now I've got two questions for you: where's Clementine, and who did you kill?"
"Argghh… I don't know who that little fucking kid is!"
"Obviously you do, since you seem to know that she's a child," I argue, reloading the weapon as she sits there in pain. I then stand up, stomp on her injured foot and aim the pistol menacingly at her head. "Last chance, you lying little shit! I don't care if I bathe this entire room with your blood! Now tell me what I want to know!"
"It was Donna! I killed Donna!" she wails out desperately, practically begging for her life as the cold steel of my pistol brushes against her forehead. "I don't know where they took the girl! They did that part without consulting with the rest of us! It wasn't a part of the plan!"
"WHO TOOK HER?!" I bellow at her, causing her eyes to widen in fear.
"It was Nate, okay?! Nate and some other creepy guy that joined up late! That's all I know, I swear!"
"What about that chemical shit you left in Donna's apartment?" I ask, lowering the weapon and backing up from her for a moment. I'm almost finished here.
Smirking wickedly, Tavia shakes her head and simply replies that it's a part of their glorious triumph; as if this is all some sick victory that they're trying to achieve.
Glaring daggers at Tavia, I pick up her revolver, place it in my pocket, and slowly turn to leave. But right as I grasp the door handle, something inside of me snaps, and I do something that I promised myself I'd never do in a million years; not even when I was stealing things with Kenny.
Tavia looks up; eyes begging for a mercy that I no longer possess. Mercy is weakness – a weakness that I can't afford anymore. If I let her go, then she'll just get up and kill again. In a way, I'm doing this city a public service, though I'm certain that they won't see it that way.
In time, perhaps, but for now I'll be seen as an outlaw; a renegade.
"You told me you wouldn't…" Tavia murmurs, trying to somehow protect herself by moving around in the chair. As if any of that's going to make a difference.
"I guess we've both fucked up then, haven't we?" I ask quietly, before pulling the trigger and shooting her square in the head.
…..
"It's not too late to come back, you know."
"Yes it is, Ken," I tell him, head shaking as I hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. He doesn't know about me killing Tavia just a few hours ago, and I won't tell him until my task is completed. Chances are, though, that the call will eventually come out anyways and he'll be forced to hunt me down with the rest of the police force; instead of tracking down the real criminals of this city. Step two is about to commence.
"What is it you're doing out there, man?" he asks me honestly, and I struggle for an appropriate answer. What could you classify this as? Revenge? Murdering? Am I any better than the people that killed close friends and family?
In my mind, yes – it would be a dishonour to their memories if I was to sit on my ass and do nothing.
"Justice," I tell him after thinking for a bit. That has a much nicer ring to it. "I'm taking it into my own hands. I can't sit by and follow a system that needs to prove every fucking detail in order to even lay a finger on a suspect, when we both know in our hearts that those monsters are just going to strike again. I can't do that shit anymore, Kenny."
"…you sound like our fucking high school English teacher, you realize that, don't you?"
"You haven't changed a bit," I chuckle, glad to see that Kenny still hasn't given up on me. That's what a real friend does. "But I suspect that they're making you look into my profile now, aren't they?"
"I tried talking them out of it… but yeah," Kenny admits sheepishly, "They're just concerned about you, that's all, Lee. They want to make sure that you're alright."
"I haven't been alright in a long time…"
"That's why I'm here, pal," Kenny responds as I hear him shuffling about for a moment. "I tried digging up some dirt on this Nate dude, but I've got jack shit. However, there's some asshole named Troy that was Carver's second in command – maybe you could start there."
"Just point me in the right direction. Thanks for doing this, Kenny."
"It's Clementine; of course I'll try to help. This is the last time though, alright?" Kenny warns, his voice indicating that he's dead serious. "After this…"
"You come after me. I know," I sigh, writing down the address before telling him to take care and hanging up the phone. I don't think that's what he meant, but I know that's going to happen regardless.
With the way things have been going, however, I'm not so sure that he'll even have the time to try and find me.
…..
Calmly turning the corner towards the highest spot in Atlanta I can go that overlooks the ocean, I roll my eyes as I hear some more banging coming from behind me. This trip has been nothing but a hassle, seriously! Blasting the radio, I try to tune out the occasional noises coming from the trunk and drum my fingers along the steering wheel to the beat. This should provide a decent enough distraction until we get to our destination.
Clementine… they better not have hurt you. They better not have harmed a hair on your little head, or I so help me god I'll shove their guns straight up their asses. Warrants and paperwork be damned! If I have to blow every single fucking building in this city up to find that little girl, then you know I'd do it!
Of course, there are… alternative means of getting the information I need.
For instance…
Parking my car a few feet away from the plunge over the cliff, I switch off the ignition and open the door; getting ready for the headache of a lifetime.
"Rise and shine, Troy," I say to him as I open the trunk. "Today's your judgement day."
Ripping the duct tape painfully off his mouth, removing some of his beard in the process, I forcefully yank him out of the trunk as he kicks and squirms in a desperate attempt to escape. When I came to the address, I didn't even give him a chance to breathe as I clocked him right in the face when he answered the door. Dazed, I had immediately capitalized on the situation and roughed him up some more until I started asking him some questions. Only until I noticed how he howled in complete agony when I hit his arm did I realize it.
Troy was the one that I shot outside of Clementine's house.
After that, I tied him up, shoved him in the trunk and headed off to the place that we're at now. What better method of intimidation is there than forceful interrogation at this height?
"You ready to come clean now, asshole?" I snarl, the wind picking up and causing me to yell over the noise it's making. When Troy says nothing, I drag his worthless body over to the edge of the cliff, pin him to the ground and release my grip on him. At first, he doesn't notice what's going on.
But when he turns his head around…
"FUCK!" he swears, trying to scoot over but being blocked by me.
"You're not going anywhere," I point out, kicking him hard in the ribs, and bending down onto one knee in front of him. "Not until I get some answers."
"You little shit…" he huffs out as my patience begins to wear thin. "You can't do anything right, can ya? Lettin' all of those people die… And then lettin' that fucking brat get caught like that?"
"I need to know where Nate is," I remain calm, holding Tavia's revolver out in front of his head. "You know his location, and now you're going to tell me everything you know. It's a long way down, Troy. Are you really gonna risk your life over your fucking pride? Give it up, man! Whatever you guys were planning is over!"
"It hasn't even started yet, douchebag!" he snarls, but his mood slowly changes as I fire off a bullet into the dirt beside him.
"Nobody can hear your screams up here, Troy…"
"I don't know where Nate is! Bill might, but there ain't no way he'll talk to ya! Especially considering it's you!" he admits, sighing in relief as I help raise him to his feet.
He doesn't know what I'm planning to do.
"You murdered Ed and Diana – I know that Nate was with you," I accuse lowly, clenching my fist as Troy admits that I'm right. "They had no relation to you, and yet you murdered them in cold blood. You turned Diana into some kind of monster with your sick, twisted chemical shit; brought her back from the dead so that she'd eat her dead husband! AND YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO STAND THERE AND ACT LIKE NOTHING YOU DID WAS WRONG!"
"Huh, I guess it worked after all," Troy says, spitting a wad of saliva into my face as my blood boils. "If you hadn't fucked up by raidin' our warehouse, then they wouldn't have had to die. You screwed up, son! You and your friends are dead! You're all either gonna die or bow down to us like the pig-headed, spineless shits you really are! Did you really think that by putting the boss in jail that our plan wouldn't continue? Hmph, some cop you turned out to be!"
"Do I look like a cop?" I question emotionlessly, before shooting him in the balls and strolling casually over to him as he sits there in complete agony; hands and legs tied up as he doubles over in pain.
Maybe he'll survive this, or maybe he won't. I highly doubt it at this height, but by some miracle perhaps he could come out of this thing alive. Although, even if he does manage to survive the drop, his legs will be broken and he won't be able to move with a bullet in his… you know.
Feeling absolutely no remorse for this man, I pick him up by the collar of his jacket, spit back into his face and toss him off the cliff; not looking back as he shrieks from the fall.
Maybe I should take his advice and pay a visit to Carver, but that'll have to wait. I need to go into hiding for a bit before I can take on the big guns and get back to Clementine.
…..
Murder is one of the worst kinds of crimes imaginable. Taking away another person's life with direct intent… you can't get much lower than that, and trust me when I say that I've gone to pretty low points in my life. I certainly didn't feel a sense of pride or accomplishment after I killed Troy and Tavia. If anything, their deaths only made me feel worse.
But really, with everything that's going on, is it truly evil and terrible of me to kill off murderers like these? In ancient times, if somebody killed your brother, you went over to their house and killed their brother as retribution. That's just the way the world worked back then. Sure, obviously times and ideals have changed dramatically since then, but the ideals we have today could be vastly different in the future.
The lines between good and evil are becoming clouded. With the police force in complete disarray, and with the recent news that somebody murdered the mayor and several of his security officers at that meeting yesterday, people are committing crimes everywhere. While I was driving, at least three bricks were tossed with an attempt to injure at my windshield, and I say a boy getting beaten to a bloody pulp over a sandwich that he had just brought from home. Things in Atlanta are fucked right now.
Total chaos – isn't that what those goons wanted? They desired a revolution, where the government was overthrown and everyone was on an equal playing field. I can respect that notion, I'll admit. But their plan has fallen through the cracks: give the wrong person power, and they'll abuse it. Law and order is starting to be ignored in this city.
So, I ask again, am I really a monster for murdering the killers themselves?
Sitting on an old park bench, I hold my head in my hands and try not to think too much about it. The priority is, as it's always been, getting to Clementine. If I'm going to jail for my crimes anyways, then I can't just turn myself in now. I've come this far, so I might as well finish it.
"This seat taken, son?" asks an obviously homeless man with ratty clothes and long, greying hair. Shaking my head, I shift over to the left a little bit so that he'll have some room.
"Name's Chuck. Charles, if ya fancy," he says, offering me a hand as I take it hesitantly. What's this guy's deal? Has he come to strip me of my money or car keys? Is he going to have five guys just jump out of the bushes and beat me to death?
…No, that's not it. I'm just being paranoid: not everyone is an asshole around here.
"Lee," I introduce myself, leaning back in my seat as Chuck nods in remembrance.
"Ahh, that's right. You're that Everett fella they showed on the news," he says, stretching his arms out and giving me a whiff of his odour. Damn, this guy needs to have a shower badly! "So you're that cop that tossed them bad ones into jail, are ya?"
"Not anymore," I respond flatly, shaking my head. "I quit the force three days ago – it just wasn't working out."
"Sad to hear. You were makin' a difference out here, boy."
Gesturing with my hand out to some of the smashed shop windows and cars, I shrug my shoulders and try not to be too sarcastic.
"A lot of help it did," I tell him, "Crime's worse than ever now. People are dying out here, Chuck! And I couldn't do a damn thing about it! If it weren't for me then none of this would've happened, and Clementine would still be here with me!"
"She your daughter or somethin'?" Chuck asks, and I question myself as to why I'm spilling my guts out to a homeless man that I literally just met.
"No," I respond shakily, rubbing my eyes tiredly as guilt starts flowing through my system, "but she's as close to one as I'm ever gonna get."
"Sounds to me like you care about her a mighty bit," Charles remarks, studying the ground below him. "I know you ain't a cop no more, and I don't mean to tell you how to do your job… but too many people have died already. There's no need for you to contribute to that mark."
"…How do you know…"
"I've met killers; seen my share," Chuck admits, shrugging his shoulders. "You're different though, I can tell. Right as I sat down I knew that you did somethin' wrong, and your guilty face told me more than enough. Trust me son, I've seen people walking down the same path that you're on. So I'm gonna tell you the same thing that I told them."
"Which is?" I ask, suddenly seeing this wise old man in a whole new light.
Placing a friendly hand on my shoulder, Chuck squeezes and looks me straight in the eyes.
"Don't let hate rule your heart," he finishes, before standing up and walking away. By the time the words truly sink in, Chuck has already disappeared.
Repeating his words softly aloud to myself, I sigh and realize that he's right. I was blinded by hatred, anger and grief, and I murdered those two because I was weak enough to stoop to their level. As long as I can help it, I won't sink to that place again.
Stepping back into my car, I sit there in silence and careful thought as the news reports that the city is about to go under temporary lockdown; in an effort to stop the attacks. Yet again, the thugs managed to kill more innocent civilians today, as a mass murder was performed in one of the local grocery stores, and shelves were raided as other civilians stepped over their dying bodies.
I won't kill him, but I need to get to Carver as soon as possible. I need to find out just what the hell is going on, and put a stop to this shit once and for all.