The moment Jim threw down the fuel nozzle, we didn't waste time.
We climbed into the high cabs of the armored rigs, turned the keys, and let the engines roar to life.
The dust kicked up as we rolled out of the farm amidst the cheering of the kids and watching adults.
Once we were off the dirt track and on the smooth asphalt road, suddenly the dashboard radio crackled to life, and Merle's grating voice came through.
"So who's this magical lab coat you found out there anyway?"
"His name is Edwin Jenner, a virologist," I said, keeping one hand on the wheel. "Looks to be in his late forties or early fifties. Average build, blond-thinning hair."
I paused for a moment before I continued.
"I was incredibly lucky—like, you wouldn't believe lucky—that I found him. A day or two later, and he'd have taken a bullet to his own brain."
There was a brief pause on the line before Rick's voice filtered in. "When you put it that way... You really did have the devil's own luck."
"So what if he's a damn virologist?" Merle scoffed loudly over the channel. "Big deal. It ain't like the bastard can cure the stiffs walking around. Just sounds like another useless mouth to feed who can't even swing a hammer."
The radio went quiet.
I leaned my head back against the seat, massaging my temple with my free hand.
Leave it to Merle to miss the forest for the trees.
Before I could key the mic to shut him down, Morgan's deep, steady voice filled the cab.
"Don't be so quick to judge, Merle,"
Morgan said, his tone dropping with deliberate weight. "A trained virologist's job isn't just looking for cures. He can identify and eradicate basic bacteria and infections that could rip through our camp in this new world. Without hospitals, where a simple fever can kill you, a man like that is a godsend."
"Exactly," I said, keying my mic. "His training means he can help us mass-produce crude antibiotics, which we can then trade them for other stuff we might need in the future."
I paused for a second before i continued,
"He can set up proper water purification grids to prevent diseases like cholera or dysentery before they start. He can diagnose complex illnesses and help us engineer chemical defenses if things get ugly with other survivors. He isn't just a survivor, Merle—he's a long-term asset. A force multiplier. He's how we survive the winter."
The line went quiet for a second, then Merle let out a weak, defensive grunt and muttered, "Whatever."
Daryl's voice immediately followed with a dry snort. "Idiot."
"The hell did you just say, lil brother?" snapped back.
The two of them immediately devolved into their usual bickering, trading insults across the radio while the rest of us just laughed in our respective cabs.
The tension completely evaporated, replaced by the familiar hum of the convoy.
When we reached the CDC, the perimeter was exactly how I'd left it—dead silent and surrounded by cold military remains.
We dismounted, weapons low, and headed straight for the main doors.
Right on cue, the heavy glass partition groaned aloud and began to slide upward.
Merle stepped into the massive, high-tech lobby and let out a long whistle. "Fancy."
Thwack!
Daryl smacked the back of Merle's head without missing a beat.
"Shut up,"
Merle grumbled, rubbing his neck as Jenner stepped through the reinforced blast doors.
The scientist looked at the guys I'd brought with me, his eyes tracking over their weapons warily.
"You came back fast," Jenner said, his voice echoing in the empty space. "And you brought guests."
"Relax, doc," I said, giving him a reassuring nod. "They're here to do the heavy lifting. That is, assuming you decided on what to take."
Jenner's eyes instantly lit up, a spark of genuine excitement breaking through his exhausted face. "Oh, I absolutely did. Come on, let me show you what we need to prioritize."
And with that, we got straight to work—and it was brutal.
First up was the mobile cold chain.
We had to unbolt the massive -20°C and -80°C compressor freezers.
Everything inside—the chemical reagents, control serums, reference strains, and the partial sequences of the Wildfire virus—would be completely ruined if the temperature dropped.
We hauled them onto the heavy trailers and wired them directly into the trucks' high-output alternators so they'd stay powered during the drive.
Next came the delicate stuff.
We packed up Olympus phase-contrast microscopes, Abaxis blood analyzers, and crates of plastic reagent discs alongside every gallon of Gram, Giemsa, and Acid-Fast stains we could find.
After that, we hit the heavy processing gear.
The 5-liter glass bell-jar fermenters and mechanical distillation columns.
These were the real prizes for the farm, the exact tools needed to synthesize crude antibiotics and distill absolute ethanol for surgical sterilization.
We even managed to dismantle the steel Class II biosafety containment hoods; they would give us a physical barrier and a manual HEPA-filtration system to keep any contaminated blood or experimental biocides safely away from our living quarters.
Finally, we stripped the backup power systems, unhooking the spare generators and the massive lead-acid battery matrix along with every heavy-duty power inverter we could unbolt.
Since we still had empty space left on the trailer beds, we didn't stop there.
This place was gonna get blown to kingdom come anyway; there was no point leaving anything useful behind to turn to ash.
We cleared out the remaining dry food rations, perishables, water, wine and carbonated drinks crates, textbooks, and even some of the cots and blankets from the living quarters.
"And… that's the last of it," Jenner gasped, wiping a thick layer of sweat from his forehead.
He looked exhausted.
Well, more exhausted than usual.
"Hell," Merle grunted, collapsing into a stack of crates, completely spent. "My back is ruined. That was rough."
Rick and the others nodded in silent agreement, their shirts soaked through with sweat.
I looked over the loaded trailers, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction.
"Alright," I stretched my back with a grunt, popping it into place, then said, "Let's head home."
(To be continued...)