CHAPTER 26: GLENN AND BASEBALL BATS—A PERFECT MATCH
Clementine sat in the driver's seat, curiously fiddling with the massive steering wheel.
When she saw Hanks enter, she immediately jumped down and ran over to grab his hand.
"Hanks, are we gonna drive this big car away?" The little girl looked up, eyes full of anticipation for the unknown journey ahead—not fear.
"If it cooperates." Hanks ruffled her cap, tone unconsciously softening.
He scanned the interior and started searching through everything.
"What are you looking for?" Clementine followed like a little shadow.
"Seeing if the owner left anything useful. Like—" Hanks pulled open one storage compartment after another.
Finally, under the passenger seat, he dragged out a heavy metal toolbox.
Opening it revealed a full set of basic tools—wrenches, screwdrivers, pliers, a jack—plus a Macon County tourist map.
"Well, look at that. Lady Luck's flashing us again."
Hanks stuffed the map in his pocket, grabbed the toolbox handle, and led his little shadow to check the rear storage.
He pulled out two empty 20-liter portable fuel cans. Dusty, but the seals looked intact.
He set the cans and toolbox outside, then crawled under the vehicle to inspect it.
Clementine crouched nearby, watching with curiosity.
Hanks first checked the undercarriage for serious rust or damage.
Then he found the dipstick, pulled it out, wiped it clean, reinserted it, pulled it out again, and examined it in the light. The oil was black and thick—could barely see the level marks.
"Gonna need a full change." He muttered.
"Hanks, what's that black stuff?" Clementine asked quietly.
"It's the machine's blood. When it gets dirty, the machine can't run. Gotta put in new blood." Hanks used a simple metaphor.
"Oh..." Clementine nodded like she sort of understood.
Hanks checked the tires next.
Confirmed which one was slowly leaking air and assessed the wear on the others.
Then he popped the hood, smoothly removing the air filter.
Also filthy—caked with dust and dead bugs.
He tried checking the spark plugs. Needed a special socket. Took a bit more effort.
Clementine quietly watched from the side, occasionally handing him small tools she could lift.
Though she usually grabbed the wrong ones, Hanks would still take them and pat her head saying, "Don't need this one yet."
She didn't get discouraged, continuing to "help" earnestly.
Glenn wandered over too, offering scattered bits of information he knew about this old RV model.
After a thorough inspection,
Hanks had a decent picture.
He crawled out from under the vehicle, dusting himself off. "Situation's trickier than I hoped, but fixable."
"Need new oil, oil filter, air filter. Spark plugs should be replaced too. Tire needs patching. Battery's a major issue—might need to jump it from another car."
He glanced at the two empty fuel cans on the ground. "As for fuel, this thing needs 100 liters. Two cans won't cut it. We need more containers."
The objectives became clearer.
Hanks looked toward the desolate streets outside the motel. For Clementine, these obstacles had to be overcome.
"Let's confirm positions, then head out." He told Glenn, then looked down at Clementine.
"Clem, stay in the vehicle and guard our home, okay? If anything happens, get Lee to help."
"Okay!" Clementine nodded hard, small face filled with weighty responsibility. "I'll protect it!"
Hanks smiled and patted her head, then called Glenn to a room for detailed planning.
He spread out the Macon County tourist map on the table, circling their location in red pen.
"Glenn, this is where we are, right?"
"That's right, this motel here." Glenn leaned in and nodded firmly.
Hanks's finger traced across the map, finally stopping at several labeled locations.
"Fuel's top priority!"
His fingertip tapped a gas station symbol. "Quick Stop Gas Station—this the one, Glenn?"
"We need as much fuel as possible. These two cans aren't nearly enough."
"Yes, officer!" Glenn nodded hard. "That's the place."
"I remember they had some empty fuel drums stacked in the back. Maybe for farm equipment?"
As a delivery driver, Glenn knew the streets and various customers pretty well.
"Good." Hanks noted that. "Auto parts—Rocky's Auto Parts. You familiar with it?"
"Know it!" Glenn's eyes lit up. "That place is big. Owner sells everything."
"From tractor parts to lawn mower oil filters. Definitely has what we need. It's on the way to the gas station—can hit it en route."
Hanks nodded with satisfaction, finger moving to another point. "Community convenience store. How big? What're the odds it's been looted?"
Glenn scratched his head. "Not the biggest, but not small either. Definitely got ransacked when everything started."
"But those kind of small stores, maybe some corners haven't been picked clean yet. Especially stockrooms or employee areas. Plus it's not far from the parts store."
Finally, Hanks tapped a location marked with a star on the map—Macon County Sheriff's Station.
"Here. We've got critical items we need. Know anything about the situation there?"
Glenn's expression grew serious. "That place... went to hell early on."
"When I escaped, I passed near there. Heard lots of gunfire and screaming inside."
"It's definitely full of those things now. Plus other survivors probably had the same idea."
"Expected." Hanks's expression didn't change.
"So we go in this order: parts store, convenience store, gas station. If time and conditions allow, we'll take a shot at the station."
He folded up the map, looking at Glenn. "We travel light, move fast."
"Objectives are oil, filters, spark plugs, food, and any containers that can hold fuel."
Hanks checked his weapons.
P226 pistol—one magazine loaded, one full spare on him, one empty.
Beretta 92 pistol had burned through two mags in the fighting. Only the loaded magazine left.
"Take this for protection. These days, people are scarier than walkers sometimes." Hanks held out the Beretta 92.
Glenn looked slightly tempted. He hesitated, then finally shook his head. "I... I've got this!"
He jogged out of the room. A moment later, he returned with a baseball bat.
Like a kid with a new toy, he gripped it with both hands and swung at the air.
"Uh, you and that baseball bat really suit each other." Watching Glenn play with it, that strange feeling washed over Hanks again.
"I bet if you wrapped some wire around that bat, it'd match your baseball cap even better."
Glenn considered that thoughtfully, planning to find materials and try it when he had time.
Hanks shook his head, pushing the weird premonition aside. He removed the bullets from the Beretta 92 and reloaded them into his own magazines.
Passing the toolbox, he grabbed a Phillips screwdriver for close combat.
The two set out light, empty backpacks on their backs, heading quickly toward the nearest auto parts store.
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