The last time I followed strangers this far from home, we nearly lost three people and a truck full of hope.
But Leah didn't feel like the others. She didn't posture or push. And when she said, "We'll take you there," she didn't ask for a gun or blood in return.
She just asked for our time.
And that… was rare.
We met Leah's group two miles outside the original contact site, where she and Glenn waited under a bent oak tree with Amy and Daryl covering the flanks.
Leah stepped forward. "I assure you that you're not walking into a trap."
"I didn't think we were," I said, glancing at Heath.
He kept his mouth shut.
Nicholas, of course, muttered, "Famous last words."
Daryl gave him a look. Nicholas fell silent.
"It's a long way to Georgia," Leah said. "We leave now."
Eric nodded beside me. "Then let's walk."
Day One
By midday, we were deep into overgrown trails and quiet dirt roads. Leah and Glenn kept point. Daryl watched the rear. Amy scouted ahead in short bursts, always returning without a word.
The terrain was sharp.
Eric walked beside me in silence. Heath stayed close to Glenn, asking the occasional question about routes, rationing, and patrol habits.
Nicholas mostly complained.
"Why all the secrecy?" he said. "Why not just give us a map?"
Leah turned over her shoulder.
"Because we're not stupid."
Day Two
The first walker pack came just after noon. A dozen staggered out of a hollow creek bed.
Leah didn't blink.
"Amy, take left. Daryl, you know what to do."
Amy snapped off two precise shots.
Daryl moved like shadow, putting bolts through skulls like threading a needle.
The rest of us barely raised weapons before it was over.
Glenn said casually, "They used to come in threes. Now they come in dozens."
Heath lowered his gun slowly. "You all fight like you've been at war."
"We have," Leah said.
Eric glanced at me and nodded.
Respect was building, even if no one said it.
Day Three
That night, we camped near a ruined gas station.
Amy and Daryl took first watch. The rest of us circled a small, smokeless fire.
Heath finally broke the quiet.
"So. This Rick Grimes."
Leah glanced at the flame. "What about him?"
"He your leader or your symbol?"
"Both," Glenn answered.
"He build it all?"
"He rebuilt what was left," Leah replied. "And he kept building."
Nicholas scoffed. "Sounds like a messiah complex."
Leah looked him in the eye.
"He's not perfect. But he knows what this world became… and what it needs to be."
Day Four
We crossed a collapsed highway by foot, a rope bridge jury-rigged by Leah and Glenn.
Nicholas refused to step out first.
"I'm not walking over a death string."
Daryl walked across in silence.
Amy followed without a word.
Glenn just said, "Then stay here."
Nicholas went pale. Then he crossed.
Everyone's patience was thinning.
Later that night, Eric whispered to me, "We're not just seeing a camp. We're seeing who they trust to lead it."
I nodded. "And what they've built to protect it."
Day Five
Near dusk, Leah stopped us by a pair of marked trees.
Symbols carved deep — overlapping spirals and hash marks.
"From here on, we're in our border zone."
I stepped closer. "You track all movement?"
"We have watchers. Runners. Traps that don't kill, but they warn us."
Heath raised an eyebrow. "How far does this 'zone' stretch?"
"Two miles in every direction from the core."
"And the core is?"
"You'll see it soon."
Nicholas mumbled, "About time."
Glenn actually laughed once. "Trust takes time."
Aaron–POV
We broke camp just after dawn.
The trees thinned. The air shifted. You could feel it—like the pressure dropped and the world started holding its breath.
And then, beyond a rise in the land, the forest parted.
That's when I saw it.
The Right Arm.
And everything we thought we knew about survivor settlements shattered right there.
Steel walls. High, reinforced. Camouflaged netting weaved into the framework, flanked by watchtowers built from salvaged power poles and scaffolding. Barriers tiered in three layers—palisade fencing on the outside, welded armor sheets behind that, and mounted observation points within.
Inside?
Movement.
People.
Children laughing near greenhouses. Teams of armed scouts running training drills in formation. Dogs. Smoke from a blacksmith forge. Solar panels. Gardens. A raised flag that read only one word: UNITY.
Even Heath, cynical to the core, let out a breath.
Nicholas muttered, "That's… that's a damn fortress."
No.
It wasn't just a fortress.
It was a civilization.
Entering the Gates
The guards didn't shout. Didn't raise weapons.
They recognized Leah. One gave a quick two-tap signal. The gates didn't creak—they slid open, counterweighted with chains and gears.
A man with short hair and a cold stare stepped forward—clearly a captain of sorts.
"Visitors?"
"Authorized," Leah said. "From Alexandria."
The man nodded. "Rick's expecting you."
[Image here]
Just like that, we were in.
And everyone stopped watching us like threats.
They watched us like we're exotic animals.
We were led past a training yard where sparring matches were underway—bare-knuckle and knife drills.
Past a three-building school structure—kids in circles with chalkboards and math.
Through an open market where organized stalls traded preserved food, ammo, fabrics, and even books.
"Where did you get all this?" I whispered to Glenn.
"We built it. Or found what others threw away and turned it into something better."
"No raiding?"
"Only from those who deserved to be raided."
The people were strong. Not desperate. Not hollowed out like most communities we'd seen.
They were… confident.
Like they had something to believe in.
The main building was low, broad, reinforced with welded beams and reclaimed bricks. Inside was a map of the region, spanning three tables. Routes marked. Supply trails. Safe zones. Contingency routes.
Leah led us in, then stepped aside.
And there he was.
He wasn't what I expected.
Not a general. Not a preacher.
He wore a dark coat with a shoulder strap holster, sleeves rolled up. Grizzled beard. Lines under his eyes. But the moment he stood, everyone else quieted.
That kind of silence doesn't follow orders.
It follows respect.
"I'm Rick," he said. "Thanks for making the trip."
I extended my hand. He took it.
"I'm Aaron. These are my people—Eric, Heath, and Nicholas. From Alexandria."
He nodded. "I figured.
That gave us pause.
"You knew about us before Leah contacted?"
"I've been waiting," Rick said.
We sat.
For over an hour, we talked.
Not about barter.
Not about food.
We talked about philosophy.
About rebuilding what came before—only better.
Rick talked about unity through discipline. About structure through purpose. About survival that didn't rely on brute strength but on shared principles.
Heath pushed. "What if people don't agree with you?"
Rick didn't flinch. "They don't have to agree with me. But they have to agree with the mission. Or they walk."
Nicholas scoffed. "Sounds like a cult."
Rick looked at him calmly. "Then I'm a cult leader who feeds his people, trains his fighters, and teaches his kids to read."
Silence.
Finally, Rick stood.
"We didn't call you here to merge. Or to impress. We called you here to say: the world's not gone yet. But if we keep hiding behind walls without looking beyond them—we're just waiting to die clean instead of messy."
He looked directly at me.
"You came because you're the one who still believes it's possible."
I swallowed.
"You're not wrong."
Rick smiled faintly. "Good. Because I want you to go back and tell your council that we're ready to talk. Not as beggars. Not as saviors, but as equals."
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