I was relieved to find my truck exactly where I'd left it.
Honestly, I'd braced myself for the worst—maybe it'd been hotwired, or at least ransacked truck bed by now.
But thankfully, the city streets were eerily deserted.
Most of the living had figured out by now that entering the city sprawls was a death sentence, leaving only the most desperate to pick through the abandoned outskirts.
A small cluster of walkers was shuffling though, likely either drawn by the echo of my engine from earlier or the heavy hum of the CDC's glass barrier lifting.
Probably the engine.
Without missing a beat, I drew my knife, stepped up, and started dropping them down one by one.
At this point, taking down these threats had became second nature.
I was completely desensitized to it.
Once the perimeter was secured, I hopped into the cab, fired up the engine on, and retraced my steps back toward the countryside.
Forty-something minutes later, the open fields of the farm came into view.
Shane was already at the perimeter, his broad frame filling the entrance as he swung the heavy gates open for me.
As I pulled through, he leaned his back against the frame and called out, "So? Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Surprisingly, yeah," I said, leaning out the window.
Shane stopped tracking the truck and stared at me. "Bullshit."
"No, really. I found someone. Lucky timing, too. If I'd waited a couple more days, the guy would've punched his own ticket."
Shane kept staring, trying to process the fact that I had actually located a living, breathing scientist in the middle of a dead city.
Finally, he let out a long, defeated sigh. "Seriously, man... you've got the devil's own luck or something. It ain't natural at this point."
I just shrugged, keeping my face straight.
Maybe I went a little overboard with the whole survivor act. Note to self: tone down the competence next time, I thought to myself.
"We'll talk details later," I told him, then I switch gears. "Let's get this load off-loaded first."
I drove over to the barn, the place we're using as a temporary sorting hub for our salvage, and cleared out the truck bed.
Once it was empty, I parked the vehicle in its usual spot and walked over toward the main yard where the kids usually hung out.
Right on cue, a blur of fur came tearing across the grass, slamming straight into my shins.
"Ooff—hey bud," I muttered, crouching down to catch him and rubbing his back. "Good to see you, too."
Ghost barked a couple of times, his tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole backside.
I patted his head a few times with a chuckle. "Good boy."
"Mr. Zephyr!"
The kids came running right behind the dog.
I looked up and nodded at them with a relaxed smile. "Hey guys. Carl, Duane, Louis—do me a favor. Go find your dads, and if you see Daryl and Merle out there, tell them to get over here too."
Duane's eyes immediately lit up. "Are we taking the super trucks out again, Mr. Zephyr?"
"Super trucks?" I blinked, caught off guard.
Duane flushed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. That's what we decided to call the armored trucks."
The other kids nodded in unison, their eyes practically shining.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, we're rolling the super trucks out for a mission."
"Cool! That's awesome!"
"Wish I could go with you guys!"
"Driving over those things must be so cool!"
"Alright, alright," I laughed, waving them off. "Go do what I asked and maybe I'll show you the cabs later."
"Okay, Mr. Zephyr!" they yelled together, taking off like a shot with Ghost sprinting right alongside them.
I stood there for a second, shaking my head. Kids. Even at the end of the world, they found a way to be kids.
A few minutes later, the kids returned with the adults trailing close behind.
"Nice work," I told the boys.
I reached into my tactical backpack, pretending to rummage through the bottom pockets while secretly pulling a small bag of candies straight out of my inventory.
I tossed it to Duane, who caught it like a football.
"Here, share it out evenly."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Zephyr!" Duane grinned.
The group of them immediately bolted back toward the shade to split the loot.
I turned back to the men, my expression dropping into business mode. "Hook the trailers to the trucks and prep the rigs. We're moving out to the CDC."
The announcement caught everyone completely off guard.
"The CDC?" Merle scoffed, crossing his arms. "Why the hell would we go to that god-forsaken place?"
I glanced at him. "Because I found a scientist alive inside. I convinced him to join the settlement. Now we need to haul out enough specialized equipment to build an acceptable lab here on the farm, and that requires the heavy trucks."
Realization immediatey washed over the group.
"Never thought anyone would still be holding out alone inside the city," Rick said, adjusting his belt, knowing full well how dangerous cities had become to groups, let alone an individual. "Much less a scientist."
"The place was fully reinforced. Food, water, electricity, independent lodging—he had everything he needed to survive the initial collapse," I said, shrugging it off.
Rick nodded, getting the picture. "We need to move fast, then. Let's get everything loaded today at the earliest, tomorrow at the latest."
Nobody argued.
The potential of having a real lab on the farm was too massive to ignore.
"Jim!" I shouted across the yard. "Top off the tanks! We're bringing the heavy winches, the tool kits, and the lifting gear! Let's get a move on, people!"
(To be continued...)