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By RichaRd E. dansky, Ed hall, MichaEl lEE and adaM TinwoRTh

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© 2000 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews, and for blank character sheets, which may be reproduced for personal use only. White Wolf and World of Darkness are registered trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Hunter the Reckoning, Hunter Storytellers Companion, Hunter Survival Guide, Hunter Book Avenger, Hunter the Walking Dead, Wraith the Oblivion, Ends of Empire and Mediums Speakers with the Dead are trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights

reserved. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by White Wolf Publishing, Inc.The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trademark

or copyright concerned.This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements

are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. Reader discretion is advised.For a free White Wolf catalog call 1-800-454-WOLF.Check out White Wolf online athttp://www.white-wolf.com; alt.games.whitewolf and rec.games.frp.storyteller

PRINTED IN THE USA.

cREdiTsAuthors: Richard E. Dansky, Ed Hall, Michael Lee and Adam TinworthForeign Language Translations: Kristine BravoDeveloper: Ken CliffeEditor: Ed HallArt Director: Richard ThomasLayout and Typesetting: Pauline BenneyInterior Art: Mitch Byrd, Kyle Hotz, Jeff Rebner, Brad RiglieyFront Cover Art: Tommy Lee Edwards & Melissa EdwardsFront & Back Cover Design: Pauline BenneyPlaytesters: Thérèse Gaughan, Matt Honeyball, Mar-tyn Meeks and John Shockley

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TaBlE of conTEnTsPRologuE: dEad MEn walking 5inTRoducTion 14chaPTER 1: ThE EnEMy wiThin 17chaPTER 2: ThE EnEMy of My EnEMy 25chaPTER 3: sTRangER in a dEad land 49chaPTER 4: sPEaking ill of ThE dEad 63chaPTER 5: dEscEnT inTo dEaTh 73chaPTER 6: TiEs To ThE dEad 79chaPTER 7: RulEs & sToRyTElling 87

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HUNTER : THE WALKING DEAD

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PROLOGUE: DEAD MEN WALKING

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When the man climbed from the cab just a few minutes past six, John O’Malley knew things weren’t going to go the way he hoped.

It had been snowing since early afternoon, and a sky the color of ashes squeezed the glow of the streetlights into fuzzy haloes and blurred the outlines of Chicago’s skyscrapers. Men and women in overcoats and business suits hurried along the sidewalk in front of the Merchan-dise Mart. They hunched against the icy wind, eager to be home and out of the cold. The man from the cab was short and heavyset, and he carried an orange and blue shopping bag by which O’Malley was to recognize him. His thinning gray hair whipped into tangled wisps as he headed for the entrance to the mart. He wore an expensive wool overcoat, leather gloves and wingtip shoes. He might have resembled a typical executive except for the bleak expression on his face and the way he clutched at something small in his coat pocket.

The man expected to meet O’Malley in the mall, which was why the hunter waited outside, smoking a cigarette and sizing him up. He took no notice of O’Mal-ley, or anyone else for that matter, his eyes downcast in what looked like dull grief. O’Malley shook his head.

Instinct told him this was all a mistake. The hell of it was, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He took a long last drag on the cigarette and flicked it into the snow. As the man passed, O’Malley reached out and grabbed his arm. “Harry Winston?”

Winston jumped, startled from his pain. His eyes were bright with anger and fear. He half-turned, the bulge in his coat pocket straining against the fabric. His eyes widened as O’Malley’s hand tightened on his arm. The hunter leaned in close until they were nearly nose to nose.

“Don’t say a word, Harry,” O’Malley hissed. “And let go of that gun before you hurt somebody.”

Winston pulled his hand out of his pocket. O’Mal-ley was average height, only about an inch taller than Winston, but he was broad-shouldered and strong, and he carried an air of casual authority that his faded jeans and worn leather jacket could not conceal. He might have been handsome once, but his blue eyes were now lifeless and cold.

The smaller man blinked nervously. “Are… are you Cop90?”

PRologuE: dEad MEn walking

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HUNTER : THE WALKING DEAD

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“My name’s John. Let’s just leave it at that,” the hunter warned. “You told me you were bringing the laptop, Harry. Where is it?”

Winston took a deep breath and looked O’Malley in the eye. “It’s somewhere safe. As soon as we’ve killed that… thing, you can have it.”

For just a second, O’Malley wasn’t sure what to do. Part of him wanted to laugh. Part of him wanted to drag the little idiot out of sight and start breaking fingers until he found out where the computer was. He glanced up at the sky, shaking his head in disbelief. “For Christ’s sake, Harry! This isn’t a fucking movie.” The mart’s automatic doors opened and a group of teenage girls hurried past. O’Malley lowered his voice to a whisper. “Your wife was hunting… someone and it got her killed. That’s all we know. Did it ever occur to you that she might have left some notes about this on her laptop? Something that might just save our asses?”

“Of course it occurred to me,” Winston said hollow-ly. The despair returned to his face, like blood welling up from a deep wound. “I looked through everything. There were just the files she copied from that email group, and a list of contact information. Nothing about the… monster.” Winston pulled his arm free of O’Malley’s grip. “The fact is, I don’t think you’d be here if it wasn’t for the laptop. You don’t give a damn about my wife. You just don’t want her files to wind up in the wrong hands!”

“That’s not true,” O’Malley said. It was, at least in part. O’Malley knew what it was like to lose loved ones, especially to the other side, but Winston’s phone call early the previous morning had scared the shit out of him. He didn’t have a clue as to how Winston’s wife had gotten his phone number, or how long she’d had it. But with a phone number, it was very easy to get an address. There were things out there in the darkness that would be very interested to know where “Cop90” slept.

“All right, Harry. I won’t lie to you. Your wife never should have made that list. It puts a lot of people’s lives at risk. Her death matters, though. She was one of us. I’m going to find the thing that killed her, and it’s going to pay. That’s a promise.”

Winston looked him in the eye. “It matters that much to you, even though you never knew her?”

“Absolutely,” O’Malley replied.“Well, John, she was my wife for fifteen years. I loved her

more than life itself. Imagine how much it matters to me.”O’Malley gritted his teeth. Winston wasn’t one of

the chosen. He didn’t have the fire inside. If anything, he’d be a liability if faced with one of the beasts. But O’Malley was again reminded what it was like to lose someone to them.

“Okay, Harry. You win.” The hunter checked his watch. “It’s six-twelve. Let’s go have a look at the scene.”

“Scene?” Winston asked.“The scene of the murder, Harry. The place where

your wife died.” * * *

The Loop was in the heart of downtown, several blocks walk from the Merchant Mart. O’Malley tried not to worry about the laptop and to focus on what he knew about the killing. There wasn’t much.

“Harry, the police report said your wife died of a heart attack. What kind of physical shape was she in?”

Winston shrugged. “Debbie? She was pretty active. Walked in the mornings and evenings. Watched her weight. She started taking karate after… you know, the change.”

“The change,” O’Malley echoed. “How much did she tell you?”

“She told me a lot of things I didn’t believe.” A gust of wind came howling down the street and lashed them with icy needles of sleet. Winston didn’t seem to notice. “I think she tried to keep it from me as long as she could, but then the nightmares started. Debbie would wake up screaming and then couldn’t sleep the rest of the night. Some times I’d get home from work early and she’d be gone — shopping or drinking coffee with a friend, she’d say, but she always was a lousy liar. Then one morning she asked me for a divorce. I asked her if she was seeing someone else and she went into hysterics. That’s when it all came out.”

“You said you didn’t believe the things she said. Why start now?”

Winston didn’t answer at first, staring out into the snow. Finally, he sighed and said, “I’d rather believe a monster ruined my life than think it was some random act of nature. The monster, at least, I can try to hurt back.”

O’Malley couldn’t argue with that.They reached the Loop as snow began to fall heavily.

The hunter felt his pulse quicken. He started to take more notice of his surroundings, to look at everything and everyone with that intensity he’d developed. He turned to Winston as they hurried across the street and headed for the stairs leading to the train platform. “Listen. Odds are we won’t find anything up here, but stick close to me, just in case. If something happens, you’ll never see it coming. Just follow my lead — and keep your hand out of your pocket. Don’t touch that gun unless I tell you to, understand?”

Winston nodded. They fell into step with a line of commuters and climbed the salt-scattered stairs.

The wind was worse up top. The platform was fairly crowded, and O’Malley wondered if the trains were

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