"Enough! Risking our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough! Livin' next to a farm full of things that are trying to kill us! Enough! Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!" - Shane
Caleb's POV
Four days on the road, and so far, things had gone smoother than I expected.
Well, as smooth as they could be in a world filled with the dead.
Most of the travel had been uneventful, outside of the occasional small groups of walkers shambling out of the woods or the clogged-up roads forcing us to clear a path. Nothing we couldn't handle. Price had said we wouldn't see any large hordes out here, not like the ones that used to tear through the cities. He said walkers tend to drift toward noise and movement, meaning big groups like ours could draw them in if we weren't careful.
So far, though, nothing had come close to being a real problem.
I was riding in the main transport—the bus—along with the rest of the group. I sat near the middle, next to Carl and Beth, who was holding little Judith in her arms.
The mood inside the bus was surprisingly light.
Beth looked down at Judith and smiled. "When you grow up, boys won't mess with you," she cooed, "'cause you'll have strong uncles and scary aunts."
That got a good laugh from everyone in the bus. Even Carl cracked a smile.
For a moment, I let myself believe we were just a bunch of normal people on a long road trip. No walkers, no killers, no desperate struggle to survive—just a group of people on the road, talking about dumb things and making each other laugh.
It didn't last. It never does.
The radio crackled to life.
"Alright, we're comin' up on the ranger station," I heard Glenn's voice say over the radio. "We'll sweep the place, make sure it's safe."
I glanced out the window, squinting at the trees as we passed. Thick woods, no signs of movement. It looked peaceful, but I'd seen enough to know better.
Then Price's voice came through, calm, professional, and slightly cautious.
"Possible hostiles. One adult male, one teenage girl."
The bus went quiet.
I felt my pulse pick up as I leaned forward. Hostiles? My mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario—bandits like those from Terminus, another Woodbury, or worse, someone like the Governor from what Carl told me.
Price continued, his tone neutral. "Checking to see if they've got a group nearby or if they're alone. If they are, maybe they can be recruited."
Recruited.
That was rare. Rick didn't let just anyone in. And Price? He wasn't the trusting type either. Whoever these people were, they were lucky they weren't being shot on sight.
I clenched my fists, listening as Price's voice came through.
"It's just the two of them. No signs of a group. They're a father and daughter duo" A pause. Then: "They're friendlies."
Rick's voice followed soon after. "Did you ask the questions?"
That was the test.
Glenn answered. "Yeah. They've killed walkers. The father killed two men. Said they threatened to kill him and—" he hesitated for half a second, "rape his daughter."
A heavy silence filled the bus.
Beth looked down at Judith, her expression darkening. Carl's jaw tightened. The world was cruel before the dead walked, but now? Monsters didn't even try to hide anymore.
But what surprised me most wasn't the news—it was the reaction.
No one in the bus seemed shocked.
In fact, there was a quiet understanding. A few nods, even a few murmurs of respect.
Rick had killed for less. Daryl, Michonne, even Glenn—they all had. We all knew what it took to survive. Some people deserved to die. Some people needed to die.
Glenn's voice returned. "The guy's a doctor. Trauma surgeon."
That got the group's attention.
Tyreese's voice crackled over the radio. "Shit. We could use a man like that."
A few people in the bus nodded in agreement. A doctor meant a second chance for anyone who got injured.
Outside the window, I could see the ranger station coming into view—a small wooden building surrounded by trees, isolated, but standing.
The convoy slowed, rolling to a stop.
As the engines died, the radio crackled again.
"Alright," Price's voice came through, "we're stopping here for twenty. If you're hungry, eat. Take a piss. Take a shit. Then we move."
There it was. Straight to the point, no fluff. That was Price.
People started getting up, stretching, stepping off the bus to breathe in the cool forest air.
I stayed seated for a second, staring out at the ranger station. My gut told me this was a moment that mattered. A doctor meant hope. A survivor who had killed to protect his own meant he understood the cost of survival.
But was that a good thing?
I wasn't sure.
As I stood and made my way toward the exit, I glanced toward Rick. He was already stepping off the bus, that same hard, unreadable expression on his face.
This world had changed us all.
And I had a feeling it was about to change again.
RIck's POV
The vehicles came to a slow stop, engines cutting off one by one. The moment the doors opened, the group moved with caution—not hostile, but not trusting either.
We stepped out, eyes scanning the area, hands close to weapons just in case.
Two figures stood near the ranger station—a man and a young teenage girl.
The man looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, lean but not weak, with a weariness in his eyes that told me he'd seen things. His clothes were stained with dirt and dried blood—some of it, I figured, wasn't his.
The girl was younger—14, maybe 15. Sophie, she'd said over the radio. She stood close to her father, but not behind him. Not hiding, but not bold either. Just waiting, cautious like the rest of us.
The man took a step forward and extended his hand.
"Dr. Marcus Holloway," he introduced himself, his voice steady. "Trauma surgeon."
His hand lingered between us. I looked at it but didn't take it.
I wasn't being rude—I just didn't know the man yet. Didn't trust him yet.
His daughter glanced between us before speaking up.
"I'm Sophie," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm fourteen."
That got my attention. Carl's age. Around Caleb's, too. Another kid growing up in a world that didn't have room for kids anymore.
There was a pause, then she said it—the words that made her sound younger than she was.
"I miss my mom."
Marcus looked down at her, something unreadable in his expression. Then he turned back to us and said, "Me too, sweetheart. I miss her. But she's in a better place now."
The way he said it, it wasn't some empty reassurance. He meant it. Like he had to believe it, or else it'd break him.
My jaw tensed, but I felt my expression soften.
I knew what that felt like.
I knew what it was to lose the woman you loved and have to keep moving anyway.
I cleared my throat and asked, "You two eaten yet?"
Marcus shook his head. "No. Been rationing. Stretching what we've got as long as we can."
I turned my head slightly toward Carol, who was nearby, listening. "They'll need food and water."
She nodded without hesitation. "I'll get them something."
As she moved toward the bus, I found myself staring at Marcus, at the way he stood, the way he held himself.
A doctor. A trauma surgeon.
My mind wandered back to Lori.
I swallowed hard.
If we had a man like Marcus back then… would she still be alive?
I pushed the thought away. Couldn't dwell on it. What's done is done.
I exhaled, dragging a hand over my beard.
We still had a long day ahead of us.
Price's POV
Eight days on the road. Eight days of keeping our eyes open, our mouths shut, and our weapons close.
We were pushing toward the South Carolina border, closing in on a small town that, if the map was right, might have some provisions worth taking.
Big if. Maps don't mean much these days.
Supplies were running low—not desperate, but low enough that we couldn't afford to pass up a chance to resupply. Food, water, maybe even some fuel if we were lucky.
I sat in the passenger seat of the scout truck, one hand resting on the grip of my rifle as the world rolled past. The sun hung low, dipping toward the treetops, casting long shadows across the road.
I tilted my head back, squinting at the sky.
"2... maybe 3 PM," I guessed. Not much daylight left. That meant if we were going in, we had to move quick. Looting a town at night? That's when you get careless. That's when you die.
I pulled out the binoculars we found at the last stop and raised them to my eyes. Better to see the trouble before it sees you.
First, the surroundings. Trees, mostly. Wind moving through them, but no birds. That was never a good sign. Birds scatter when there's noise, when there's something they don't like.
Then, the road ahead.
That's when I saw it.
A roadblock.
At first glance, it looked like the usual wreckage—cars, debris, the usual mess you see after civilization's gone to hell. But something felt off.
I lowered the binoculars, exhaling through my nose.
"Too neat. Too controlled. Not natural."
It wasn't just random wreckage.
It was placed.
I turned my head slightly.
"Bob," I said, my voice even but firm. "Stop the truck."
Bob—who'd switched with Izzy during the last break—eased off the gas, the vehicle rolling to a stop. Behind us, the bus and rear guard vehicle slowed, the convoy grinding to a halt in the middle of the road.
I kept my eyes on the roadblock, jaw tightening.
"That blockade up ahead?" I said, still looking through the binoculars. "That's man-made."
The others stiffened. Didn't take a genius to know what that meant.
I turned slightly, glancing at Glenn and Daryl in the back seat.
"Tell Rick. Get on the radio. Possible hostiles ahead—road's been blocked on purpose."
Glenn nodded, reaching for the radio.
Then—
Movement.
Left side. The trees.
There—just for a second. A shadow shifting between the trunks. Too fast for a walker. Too deliberate.
Then—
Crack.
A single gunshot split the silence.
Bob jerked forward, letting out a strangled gasp. His body slammed into the wheel, the truck rocking slightly as he let out a pained groan.
Shot.
"Shit—!"
My instincts took over.
I snapped the radio off Glenn's belt, bringing it up in one motion.
"HOSTILES DETECTED! SHOTS FIRED!"
My voice was pure command, cutting through the static like a blade.
The woods erupted.
Gunfire. Shouting. The sound of boots crunching through the brush.
Ambush.
I grabbed Bob, yanking him back and forcing the truck door open.
No time to think. No time to hesitate.
"We're in it now and I'm going to annihilate whoever these fuckers are"