The heavy diesel engine stopped its strained roaring as the armored truck finally settled cruising on the highway.
The first half of the ride was silent as I kept my eyes on the road ahead, scanning every wrecked vehicle and treeline along the way.
That's when Rick suddenly broke the silence. "Do you ever think what life would be if the world hasn't ended? If people stayed dead after dying?" Rick said, his face having that far-away look that usually means he's lost in his thoughts.
"Every single day," I answered almost immediately, snapping Rick out of his thoughts and regaining his attention. "I would probably still be in the army."
Glancing sideways at him, I continued, "I'd find a decent girl, date her for a few years, then marry her, build a family of my own, and keep rise through the ranks until it's time for me to retire and probably die in my sleep."
Not really a lie though, minus the marriage thingy.
I did end up staying in the army in my past life, spent my retirement days afterwards glued to a TV screen, and died in my sleep.
Every day I keep thinking of how my life ended. It always leaves me with a slight bitter taste in my mouth, but that only makes my gratefulness to that R.O.B. bigger and bigger.
"Hah, it would have probably been the same for me," Rick chortled from the side. "I would have probably gotten straight back to work after I'd recovered from that gunshot wound."
Rick instinctively touched his side, then continued with a wistful look on his face. "I would have continued on to become a sheriff, watch Carl attend high school and then college. I'd attend his graduation with Lori filled with pride at the man he would have become."
Rick chuckled wistfully at that thought.
"Then I'd watch as he would go on to build a family of his own," Rick added softly. "Me and Lori would grow old and die peacefully surrounded by family."
Then Rick sighed in sadness. "I guess it just wasn't meant to happen."
"Maybe," I said, keeping my eyes on the road. "But it doesn't mean we can't make it happen."
Rick snapped his head in my direction, confusion on his face clear as day.
I continued, "All this thankless toil we keep doing, all this fighting, these sacrifices—we gladly do them now so our descendants won't have to do them."
I glanced at him. "Ten, fifteen years from now, it won't be how it is now. By then, walkers probably won't be a problem. They'd be far too decayed to pose any real threat, so clearing them off won't be as big of a problem as it is now. By then, everything would slowly return to how it once been. Countries will return to how they once were. Not all at once, but they certainly will."
Returning my full attention back to the road, I continued, this time conviction was lacing my voice. "Carl will grow up to be a fine man. Not just him, all the kids at the farmhouse will grow up into fine young men and women. You will get to see Carl build his own family. You will get to hold your grandchildren in the future. I will make sure of that. I will drag this fractured world to a better future kicking and screaming no matter what."
Rick stared at me for a full minute before his eyes softened. "Yeah," he whispered. "We will."
Silence fell comfortably once again in the armored cab. The truck kept going forward. By now, we were almost at our destination.
The wide highway slowly dissolved into a narrow two-lane strip up ahead. Choked, overgrown weeds were taking over the asphalt, and rusted sedans sat abandoned on the shoulders like metal corpses.
I eased off the accelerator, steering the heavy rig around a jackknifed semi-truck that blocked half the road.
We took a sharp right turn, the tires crunching loudly against dirt and gravel as we hit the access road.
Up ahead, the thick forest cleared out completely, opening up to a massive expanse of flat ground. There it stood: our target.
The West Georgia Correctional Facility.
It looked massive, industrial, and completely built to last.
Towering chain-link fences topped with razor wire snaked around the outer perimeter, enclosing a wide field of dead, dry grass.
Tall guard towers made of concrete and steel stood like quiet giants at every corner of the fences.
Beyond the yard sat the main cell blocks—huge gray brick buildings with barred windows, completely untouched by the collapse of civilization.
"Looks like we've arrived," I said, stepping gently on the brakes.
Rick leaned forward in his seat, taking in the sheer size of the stronghold. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"This place looks a lot better than the farmhouse," Rick joked, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding.
"Yeah, it probably is," I replied with a faint smirk. "Thick concrete walls, double gates, guard posts... after some reinforcement, you could lock this place down and sleep like a baby at night."
I slowly coasted the armored truck down the lane, keeping the noise to a minimum, and parked it in the shade of a few oak trees a few dozen yards from the main outer gate.
The moment the engine died, the silence of the countryside settled over us, broken only by the distant, familiar guttural snarls coming from inside the fence line.
From the back, we heard the heavy metal door slide open. Shane leaned through the interior partition, his rifle resting against his shoulder while Daryl and Merle adjusted their gear behind him.
"This is the place?" Shane asked, peering through the side with a grin. "Damn, looks like a damn fortress."
"That's because it is," I said as I stepped out of the vehicle. "And by tonight, it's gonna be our fortress."
Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and cracked his neck. "Yard's got a few dozen rottin' bastard walkers roaming around. Some are heavily armored. Nothin' we can't handle if we take it quiet."
"That's the plan," I said, checking the magazine on my suppressed rifle and racking the slide. "Grab the bolt cutter, open a small section from the side, we go in slow and clear the outer yard first. Once the yard is ours, we set up shop and figure out how to take the cell blocks."
Rick grabbed his machete. He looked over at me, his eyes sharp and steady. The wistful look from earlier was nowhere to be seen now, replaced by the man who was ready to fight for his family's survival.
"Lead the way, Zephyr," Rick said.
I grabbed the bolt cutter we brought with us, cut us an entrance from the side of the two fences, then stepped down onto the dusty ground. A stench of decay immediately assaulted my nose.
I raised my hand, giving the signal, and the four of them stepped inside, weapons raised and ready.
It was time to take our new home.
(To be continued...)