Halfway through the journey, the road passed through a relatively open valley sheltered from the wind.
On both sides were dead, silent woods and fields covered in dirty snow.
Suddenly, Maya spotted several staggering black shapes on the road ahead.
Against the snowy backdrop, their silhouettes stood out clearly. Walkers.
There were four or five of them, dressed in rags and covered in frost, their movements made stiff and sluggish by the cold. Like broken marionettes, they dragged themselves aimlessly down the middle of the road, driven only by instinct.
"Scattered walkers blocking the road, two hundred meters ahead," Maya's voice came through the vehicle radios.
She did not even slow down.
Just as the truck was about to hit the first walker, Maya gave a contemptuous little smile.
Her right foot kept the accelerator steady, while her left hand snapped the gearshift back and forward with lightning speed.
"Shhk. Clack!"
A clean, precise shift and burst of acceleration.
The engine let out a deep, powerful roar, and the truck's speed jumped in an instant.
The huge modified truck charged forward with unstoppable force, like a steel beast waking from sleep, and slammed straight into the slow-moving walkers.
"Bang! Crack!"
A heavy impact and the sharp sound of bones breaking rang out almost at the same time.
The first walker was sent flying like a rag doll, twisting through the air before smashing into a snowbank by the roadside.
The others were knocked down together by the truck's front grille guard.
A moment later, the heavy wheels rolled over three rotting bodies without slowing at all, crushing flesh and bone with a dull, wet crunch.
Thick, blackened walker blood and torn flesh splattered across the white snow, leaving savage marks behind.
Maya did not even look back to check the result. She only glanced in the rearview mirror to confirm the obstacle had been cleared.
The vehicles behind her needed no further instructions.
Hank, driving the second truck at a safe distance, steadily rolled over the mangled remains as well, crushing them a second time to make sure nothing could stand back up.
One vehicle after another passed over the spot, leaving only dark red ruts in the slushy snow, which were gradually churned apart by the wheels that followed.
Inside the truck beds, there was a slight stir.
Some of the new residents sitting near the sides caught sight of the brief, violent scene outside. Some let out low gasps, some instinctively turned away, and others simply watched with numb eyes.
Leo held his sister Ella tightly and covered her eyes with his hand.
Ella had not seen exactly what happened, but she heard the sounds and felt the truck jolt. She asked softly, "Leo, what happened outside?"
Leo took a deep breath and murmured, "Nothing. They cleared a few rocks blocking the road."
In the rear truck bed, Michonne's fingers only tightened slightly around her gun at the moment of impact, then relaxed again.
She had long since grown used to this level of "clearing."
Maya's voice came through the radio again, still perfectly steady. "Obstacle cleared. Route is open. Maintain formation and keep moving."
As if what had just been crushed really had been nothing more than a few troublesome rocks.
That small incident did not delay the convoy by even a minute.
As the convoy moved deeper into the Great Smoky Mountains, the scenery began to change.
The forests on both sides of the winding mountain road grew denser, and the terrain became increasingly dangerous.
When the convoy rounded a bend between the mountains and the view ahead suddenly opened up, suppressed cries of astonishment rose from the truck beds.
Down in the valley below was a vast area that had been carefully planned and still showed signs of thriving life even in winter. Blackberry Ranch.
Large stretches of land had been cleared. They were covered in snow, but the outlines of crop rows could still be faintly seen.
Farther away stood indoor pigpens, sheep pens, cattle sheds, and chicken coops covered with cold-weather cloth. Workers moved in and out, with people assigned to watch over them.
Closer by were rows of houses, neatly arranged. At the center stood a building that was clearly a high-end hotel from before the apocalypse.
Despite the bitter cold, people were still everywhere outside, wrapped in thick clothing and busy with their own work.
When the people of Blackberry Ranch saw the convoy carrying the residents of the Norris community pass by, they only looked up, exchanged a few words with those beside them, and showed no surprise at all.
Calista and the others, who had returned earlier, had already notified the base.
Even more astonishing was a wide stream guided neatly through the ranch by a water channel. Although pieces of ice floated on its surface, it was still flowing steadily.
"Look! Is that farmland?"
"They... they're raising that much livestock!"
"And a waterwheel... God..."
The residents of the Norris community clung to the edges of the truck beds, greedily taking in the scene before them, their eyes filled with shock.
Compared with their logging camp, where every day had been a fight to survive, this was the difference between heaven and hell.
Anna covered her mouth in excitement. "They... they really are restoring production. And there are so many survivors..."
Even David, who had stayed silent the whole time, had a complicated look flash through his eyes as he watched the herds of livestock and the orderly fields.
The convoy did not stop at Blackberry Ranch. It continued along the repaired mountain road, climbing higher.
As the terrain rose and the convoy passed through the outer barbed wire lined with eerie tethered groups of walkers, everyone was too shaken to speak.
They had never seen such a thing. Such outer defenses.
When the convoy finally stopped at a mountain road checkpoint with barricades and a guard post, the truck beds fell into dead silence.
Ahead of them, the towering walls of the former estate followed the mountain's contours, stretching across their path like the spine of a giant dragon.
After the apocalypse, the walls had been reinforced with thick logs, solid brick and stone, and reclaimed metal panels. They rose more than eight meters high, with vicious barbed wire strung along the top.
Outside the walls lay a ring of trenches and rows of chevaux de frise.
Watchtowers stood along the wall, and the figures of armed sentries could be seen moving on top.
The enormous metal gate was tightly shut, with the words Rock Fortress spray-painted across it, giving off a cold, powerful sense of pressure.
This was Rock Fortress.
It was not the large camp they had imagined, but a true mountain stronghold, as solid as iron.
When the gap between their new destination and the place they had come from was this obvious, they could not even raise any other thoughts. Instead, they naturally began strengthening their sense of belonging to Rock Fortress, determined to find a foothold here.
In the apocalypse, overwhelming strength was itself a kind of propaganda and cohesion.
"Get out! Everyone out for inspection!" Lieutenant Welles' voice came through the loudspeaker, breaking the silence.
The residents of the Norris community snapped out of their daze and hurriedly, clumsily climbed down from the truck beds. Under the soldiers' direction, they formed loose lines on the open ground in front of the checkpoint.
They looked up at the towering walls, feeling the orderly and powerful presence behind those tightly shut gates. Every one of them seemed unbearably small and humble.
...
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