Chapter 14 – Lessons

"Never go in blind," Stevie instructed, tap-tap-tapping a sedan window and waiting cautiously for signs of movement inside. When none came, she tried the door handle and was pleased but not surprised to find it unlocked. Most people who'd abandoned their vehicles had helpfully left them unlocked, probably too busy fleeing from certain death to remember or care about security measures for soon-to-be-lost property.

"Don't waste time on locked doors until you've already helped yourself to all the unlocked ones," she advised, "Unless you can see a high-value target and either pick locks quickly or smash glass without hurting yourself or setting off an alarm. You'll probably eventually find one of these-" she held up a bright red tool that took the shape of a stumpy T with a pointed head and an odd hooked blade on the handle "-which is called a car hammer, safety hammer, emergency hammer, etc. It's got the pointed head for breaking windows and the seatbelt cutter for, you guessed it, cutting seatbelts. You could take down a geek with it, but that'd have to be really close quarters. Not recommended unless you have no choice."

There was no former person in the car to demonstrate on, so she slid the hammer back into a belt loop and explained, "In the meantime, a screwdriver and a knife will do the same jobs. Stab every corpse just to be safe. If you find one that's still strapped in, I suggest killing it if it needs to be killed and then cutting the seatbelt. There's probably no need to move a body, unless you have to, to get at something you can't reach, and if you do too many, you'll clutter up the road and likely trip over a body at the worst possible moment. However, corpses are good camouflage against walkers, so it's smart to always have a nice juicy corpse ready, just in case."

She ignored her audience's looks of disgust, and instead of getting or reaching right into the sedan, she used her hockey stick to poke around and double-check for bitey things. When she found none, the teen leaned inside and located and immediately hit the trunk release and gas tank release. "Know your safe zones," she continued. "Hiding in a car is doable but not recommended, not unless you have something to cover yourself with and can stay still and silent for hours in the scorching heat. You'll have to do the same in the trunk, but you won't be as obvious and vulnerable. So, opening it should be the first thing you do on every vehicle you search. After thoroughly sweeping for geeks, of course. Before you search a vehicle with no trunk, be sure that you have an open trunk nearby." As she walked toward said trunk, she added, "And don't be lazy about getting out to check that the trunk actually has enough room for you inside it. The last thing you want is to think you have a safe zone, only to rush there in an emergency and not be able to squeeze in because it's packed solid with shit you can't move quickly or silently."

Conveniently, the trunk in question was well and truly stuffed with bulky duffels and stacked cans, and Stevie gestured to it to make her point. She then motioned for Carl, who'd begged to be allowed to be in charge of the wagon, to roll said wagon closer. "Be careful reaching for shit," she went on, giving the loot a few solid pokes with her stick before she started unloading, letting the duffels flop to the tarmac and handing the cans off to Carl to be stowed in the wagon. "If you don't have clear line of sight, don't put your hand in. Geeks can die in trunks, too, so it's best to be sure. Even with thick gloves, a bite is gonna cause damage. At best, a nasty bruise. At worst, some lost digits."

The duffels contained a jumble of clothes; from the assortment and the smell, Stevie guessed that a family of at least four had been caught out and forced to pack their mingled dirty laundry. There was nothing of immediate interest to her, but Stevie would make sure to mark the car in case anyone wanted to go shopping. She certainly wasn't going to bother with curating wardrobes for grown adults, though she'd keep an eye out for stuff that would fit the kids, especially Gavin, Hazel, and Andre, who were safely atop the RV and "helping" Dale keep watch (i.e., eating snacks and coloring in the shade of a big beach umbrella).

Stevie would've preferred for Carl and Sophia to be up there as well, but the preteens were both being stubborn, Carl about being included and Sophia about playing mediator between Stevie and their mom. Having Sophia far ahead with only a brief safety lecture (though thankfully her own modified hockey stick and some protective gear as well as a small bag of supplies, because their main packs were probably overkill for a hopefully short stop) made Stevie nervous, but she kept reminding herself that banning a kid from doing something just made that thing ten times more tempting. For all that the women were kind of useless, Carol and Lori were sticking close to Sophia, and Stevie had to believe that said women would die for her sister if the need arose. (They'd damn well better; if anything happened to Sophia, Stevie would kill everyone involved.)

"If you have to get in a trunk," the teen declared, hoisting herself into the newly emptied space, "You should try not to close it completely. Emergency releases were mandated in models after 2002, but that's no guarantee for the majority of vehicles. A closed trunk is pretty much an oven. There's a couple ways to get out of a closed trunk, but I'll go over those later. Since we're in a group, as long as someone knows generally where you are, you should be fine to get rescued."

She held up a piece of metal pipe threaded with paracord and then demonstrated how to tie the latches to keep the trunk from opening and jam the pipe in to keep the trunk from closing. The result was about two inches for airflow, which would probably keep an occupant from literally baking to death on a hot day. She even had Daryl, who'd wandered over to watch the lecture in mild interest, test the setup. He wasn't able to either open or close the trunk, and when she climbed out to give Carl and Amy each a turn, the hunter nodded in approval before once again striding off, close enough to listen (unlike the campers who didn't care to take her very good advice (though T-Dog had at least accepted a siphoning kit, complete with hand pump, rather than suck gas straight from a dirty hose (giggity))) but far enough away to pretend that he wasn't.

The remainder of the car yielded only a flashlight, a multitool, and some road flares, all of which went into the wagon. The duffels were haphazardly emptied into the backseat (just to ensure that no one had hidden anything useful among the dirty laundry, which the owners of that particular vehicle had not) and then also added to the wagon. Loot bags were always appreciated. The doors were closed but left unlocked. The trunk was left open. Stevie grabbed a can of orange spray paint and marked the hood with a big X to indicate that the vehicle had already been searched and a big C to indicate that only clothes remained. Her system—which she explained briefly to Carl, Michonne, and Amy (and Daryl, even as he still pretended otherwise) while she got to work on siphoning the quarter-full tank—also included T for tent, G for gear, and A for assorted (mostly books, toys, and dead electronics). She supposed that F would've been for food, M for medical, and W for weapons, but she rarely had cause to leave those behind; in such cases, the items in question were always in some way unusable and thus not worth noting. A big dot went beside the X to show that the gas tank had been emptied. (Yes, she had convinced T-Dog to dot the cars he emptied or found empty as well; she sure as hell didn't want to waste time inadvertently rechecking his work.)

"I've got Bruno as an early warning for incoming threats, living or dead," Stevie pointed out, giving her bestest beastie a fond pat on his fluffy rump and earning a longsuffering whuf in return, "But you guys'll need to be on higher alert. Don't get so caught up in searching for loot that you fail to notice someone or something sneaking up to kill you for it, y'know?" Without waiting for any reply, she hopped onto the top of the car and took a slim rifle scope off her belt. While said scope was too broken to help even an expert marksman actually hit a target, it remained in good enough condition to scout up and down the cluttered road as well as the ominous tree lines. Upon finding nothing of concern, she returned to the asphalt and then allowed Carl and Amy each a turn, having to provide both a boost both up and down.

Stevie's next order of business was to pass out small drawstring supply bags, each containing a full water bottle, a ration bar, a can of spray paint, a paracord-and-pipe contraption, a spool of paracord, a pair of thick leather gloves, a knife, a screwdriver, and a hat. (She made sure that Daryl got the one with the bucket hat that matched Dale's in all but it's bright purple color and hoped that she was near enough to see the hunter's face when he found it.) The contents of the bags were basic, and she didn't have any spare siphoning kits. But she was happy to give her students a head start as reward for actually listening to her advice. With one last comment that until they found scopes or binoculars of their own, the pipes could serve that function, she set each to a different vehicle and stood back to observe. Well, Daryl and Michonne were quick to wander off now that the lesson was over, Daryl prowling ahead and Michonne returning to the RV to check on Andre. That was fine. Stevie was mostly keeping one eye on Carl and the other on Sophia, who was much farther up the halted flow of former traffic. Amy was getting minimal supervision and only because Andrea would throw an absolute shit-fit if anything happened to her sister.

Not that Stevie would blame the woman, but Amy was twenty-four and thus didn't even remotely warrant as much attention as Carl and Sophia. Plus, if Andrea wanted her sister supervised more closely, than the snooty blond could get off her ass and do it herself. As much as Stevie was thrilled that Andrea was finally putting in the effort to actually learn how to use her own damn gun, the woman's choice to do so at a time when almost everyone else was up and working didn't sit right with Stevie. Andrea liked to complain ad nauseum about women's work but then was conveniently absent when other work was available, and she was useless at most other tasks to boot (maliciously or just incompetently so was anyone's guess).

Whatever.

Some minutes passed, and the wagon slowly began to fill. Carl eventually found a big leather roll containing various wicked blades. Stevie patted him on the back but didn't manage to convince him not to go running off to show Shane. The boy soon returned with a pout and without his cool arsenal.

"Sooo," Stevie sing-songed, "What did we learn?"

Carl huffed at her and then stomped away to return to the search, utterly ignoring her quiet cackle.

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I had intended to post on January 1, but 2025 started off with some minor but incredibly annoying technical difficulties. Luckily, I was able to fix the problem within a day. I could have posted at any point between then and now, but I forgot. That's why I have to give myself a schedule. It certainly didn't help that I've been learning to crochet and thus barely writing. Anyway, as recompense for the delay and for the kind of boring chapter, today is a double update. If Chapter 15 isn't up yet, it should be shortly. Review please :)