I sit quietly, surrounded by blueprints, old state maps, and silence. The others think I'm here to help Alexandria survive.
They're wrong.
I'm here to prepare for the war against Negan and the saviors.
And for that, I need more than one wall, more than one community, I can't risk my own.
I need the future — spread across farms, forests, and shores.
And only I know where to look.
They think we're rebuilding from scratch. But I've seen the pieces — I remember them.
The Hilltop — a farming colony led by a coward but filled with good people.
The Kingdom — a strange place ruled by a man with a tiger's heart and a playbook of theater.
Oceanside — now hidden and cautious, who experience the brutality of Simon and the Saviors.
And then the ones who don't deserve a future:
Terminus, the cannibals.
The Scavengers, led by a treacherous scavenger queen hiding behind cryptic speech.
And far off in the shadows — the ones who deal in silence, in black helicopters, in people as currency.
The CRM.
They took Rick Grimes or me in the series.
But not this time.
Later that afternoon, Glenn found me studying an old Georgia map.
"You looking for trade routes?" he asked.
I nodded. "Something like that."
Graves leaned over my shoulder. "You think there are other groups out there?"
"I think it's possible," I said. "Hard not to imagine we're not the only ones still standing."
"Yeah, but they'd have to be isolated. You'd think we'd have heard something," Glenn muttered.
"Maybe they're waiting for someone to find them," I said quietly.
They didn't press further.
They couldn't see the big picture yet.
But they would.
Every time I walk the Alexandria perimeter, I see its weakness.
It's good, solid, hopeful — but green.
Unblooded.
They haven't had to fight like we have.
They haven't seen what people become when the dead aren't the worst threat anymore.
That's why we need allies — but no one else must know that plan yet.
If they did… it could cause panic.
Or worse, trust in the wrong people.
I can't afford either.
That evening, Deanna invited me to a small dinner at her home again.
This time, her eldest son Aiden Monroe joined.
Cocky and very loud.
The kind who confuses privilege with purpose.
He sipped from a flask at the table.
"So you're the one shaking up our little paradise, huh?"
"I'm trying to help," I said calmly.
Aiden laughed. "Help how? Telling my mom how to run things? Training people like this is a military base?"
I looked at him.
"I'm preparing you for what's coming."
"And what's that?"
"Something you've never seen. And don't want to."
Deanna didn't interrupt. She was listening — weighing.
Good.
You don't tell soldiers where you're marching until you know the ground ahead is firm.
And you never tell people you've seen the future.
They wouldn't believe it anyway.
I had Daryl and Michonne meet me before sunrise. The granary was empty except for us, lit only by a dim lantern and the sound of boots on concrete.
Daryl looked over the old map I laid out. "This ain't a route I know."
"I didn't expect you to," I said.
Michonne folded her arms. "So where are we going?"
"West," I said. "There's a place I think still exists."
"A place?" she asked, skeptical. "You mean another group?"
I nodded. "Maybe. Tucked deep into farmland.They might be friendly. Might be not."
Daryl narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know this?"
"I just do."
They stared at me.
I didn't explain further.
Couldn't.
They didn't know it was called the Hilltop.
They didn't know I remembered a time when it traded wheat and cattle, when its leader bartered peace with a knife at his throat.
They didn't know I'd walked its courtyard in another life.
And I couldn't tell them.
"I will bury this secret to the graveyard with me."
Graves noticed I was prepping a pack.
"You heading out?"
"Quick scouting run."
"With who?"
"Daryl and Michonne."
He didn't push. Just nodded. "Don't die."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
I left no details, and destination.
Even Glenn didn't ask.
They trust me now — and trust can be more dangerous than a gun.
We left Alexandria just after sundown.
Daryl moved like a wolf through brush.
Michonne silent as death beside me.
I took point.
I always take point.
On the second day, Michonne finally spoke.
"Rick. You're walking like you've been here before."
I didn't slow down.
"I haven't."
"But you seem sure."
"I am."
Daryl growled, "We passing empty farms and dead towns. You sure we're not just wandering?"
I looked over my shoulder.
"You'll see."
They didn't ask again. But I knew the question was still in the air.
The third night, we camped near a collapsed overpass.
The air was too still.
Then came the dragging.
Seven walkers.
I stepped forward.
Machete out.
One slash — a skull splits.
Another stumbles — I sidestep, drive steel through its jaw.
They keep coming.
I keep moving.
Daryl pins two with his crossbow.
Michonne glides through three like cutting wheat.
The next morning, I saw it.
A footprint.
Two sets.
One small. One large.
And a fresh horseshoe groove.
I crouched and touched the soil.
Still warm.
"They're close," I said.
Michonne frowned. "Who?"
I stood.
"You'll see."
Later that day, we crested a ridge — and I saw it.
Fences.
Crops.
A silo behind thick gate.
I just whispered, "We found them."
Michonne looked at me.
"Found what?"
"Another ally, I said."
---------------------------------
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