I woke up early again today. Last night, Daryl and Michonne had arrived very late. Maggie told me they'd come back while I was already asleep, so she didn't wake me.
I stepped outside to the usual meeting spot where the others gathered. Daryl and Michonne were already there, joined by Glenn and Merle. I approached them and asked how many people they managed to bring back.
"In total, about 50," Daryl said, crossing his arms. "That's why we got in late—still had folks being transported."
"That's a lot. Good work," I nodded. "Alright, let's get moving. It's another day out there."
Reyes was our driver today. We hit the road like clockwork. The morning passed quickly as we checked through several areas, and by the time afternoon rolled around, it was time to head home. One by one, the groups returned to base. This time, we didn't find any new survivors—but we came back with a decent amount of supplies.
"Guess luck wasn't on our side today," someone muttered.
"Maybe not with people," I replied, "but we still stacked up on food, fuel, and meds. That counts."
That night, I realized it was time to scale up our operations. I called for a small meeting.
"I'm creating three new scouting squads," I said. "They'll operate independently, same protocols, but more ground covered."
I appointed Leah, Washington, and Martinez to lead each squad, with ten people under them. That should speed things up.
Over the next month, our efforts paid off. We completed every planned route and brought in dozens more survivors, along with stockpiles of vital resources. Our community grew stronger by the day.
Then, news came in.
We encountered a few frightened newcomers—people fleeing from another settlement deep in Georgia. One of them, still shaken, told us, "Their leaders run things like a dictatorship. Curfews, punishments for speaking out... people are starving."
That caught my attention. A rival group, close by, ruling through fear? I couldn't allow that. Their population was suffering, and unrest was already brewing.
I brought the matter to the council.
After careful discussion, we came to an agreement: that settlement had to be purged. We would absorb its people, offer them protection and freedom, and dismantle the corrupt leadership keeping them oppressed.
It was time to take the next step.
Daryl had already taken a group to scout the surrounding area, checking for threats, trails, or any signs of movement. As for me, I headed toward one of the survivors who had recently fled from the unknown group we've been hearing whispers about.
She sat by the fire, bundled in a ragged blanket, flinching slightly as I approached. She was young—couldn't have been more than twenty. Exhausted. Pale. Malnourished. But there was something in her eyes… a sharpness, a fire that hadn't died out.
"I just want to ask you some questions," I said gently, crouching down beside her. "You're safe now."
She nodded slowly, keeping her hands near her chest as if expecting to be hurt. "My name's Miles… Miles Gain."
She told me she and several others had run away during the chaos of a herd attack. They'd been held in a community—or more like a labor camp—where they were forced to work all day for scraps of food. Half of it was expired or rotten. Some days they didn't eat at all.
"There's no rest," she said bitterly. "We're like machines to them. If you stop working… they make sure you can't work again."
I asked her about the population. She estimated around 1,500 people total. Out of those, 300 were armed with guns. The rest were forced into hard labor—just like her. Captured survivors, broken families, anyone who wandered close enough was taken and made to work like slaves.
"They say it's for survival," she scoffed. "But survival doesn't need chains."
"How did you escape?" I asked.
She looked into the fire, voice trembling. "The herd hit us hard. Sirens went off. Gunfire everywhere. It was chaos, and they were focused on killing the dead, not watching us. So we ran. Me and a few others. Not all of them made it."
I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You made the right call. You'll be part of our community now. We don't use people like that. We protect our own."
When I asked her about the leader, she hesitated. "I don't know her name. I never saw her. Just heard things. She's a woman. That's all I know."
I don't like unknown variables.
That's why I told Daryl to lead the scouting team. If anyone can track their movement or find their camp, it's him. Hopefully, he brings back something we can use.
Because if there's a group out there enslaving survivors and building an army of 300 gunmen… we might have a real war coming our way.
"Thank you," I told her softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
After making sure she had a safe place to stay, I finally made my way home. My body ached, not from physical strain—but from the weight of what I had just learned. As I neared the door, I saw Maggie waiting on the porch, her arms folded across her chest, concern written all over her face.
She stepped forward as I approached. I leaned in and kissed her gently, and for a moment, everything around us faded.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft, but steady. "You look… troubled."
I exhaled slowly, nodding. "We've found a community," I said as we walked inside. "One that's been forcing people to work all day in exchange for scraps of food—expired food at that. Some people are armed, most are treated like slaves. One of the survivors we rescued—Miles Gain—told me she and a few others escaped during a herd attack. It was the only chance they had."
Maggie sat down, listening carefully. I continued, my jaw clenched.
"If what she said is true, they have around 1,500 people. Three hundred of them have guns. The rest? Just workers. Slaves, really. And it sounds like they've been abducting survivors and forcing them to work."
She was silent for a while, her hands resting on her lap. Finally, she looked up at me and said, "Then you have to do what's right."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I will."
Without another word, I wrapped my arms around her. The warmth of her presence grounded me, reminding me of what we were fighting for. For a home. For freedom. For a future.
Together, we went inside. The war might be coming, but tonight—I allowed myself a moment of peace.