It's been three days since the war with the labor camp ended. Since then, the population of our community has grown steadily—like rabbits on caffeine. The ongoing search for survivors has shown real progress—new faces walk through our gates every day, most of them wondering if we offer free Wi-Fi (we don't). All credit goes to Michonne, Merle, Daryl, Glenn, and Tyreese, our own ragtag band of post-apocalyptic talent scouts.
After the war, I decided to take a step back and let Tyreese take charge of my scouting team. He was thrilled—well, as thrilled as someone can look while carrying a machete. Meanwhile, I've been spending more time at home—mainly with Maggie and Carl. When I'm not training Carl to improve his stamina (translation: chasing chickens), I'm by Maggie's side. I've really come to treasure these quiet moments with her, especially now that her belly's grown so much she can no longer see her own feet. In just a few more months, our baby will be here—and I'll be learning how to change diapers in a world with no running water. Yay, adventure.
As for Glenn and Amy... those two are practically glued together. I mean, I introduced them, so technically I should be proud. But every time I see them whispering and giggling like it's prom night in the apocalypse, I feel a little jealous. That's why I stick to one woman—Maggie is all I need. Also, let's be honest—I'm too tired for drama.
In an unexpected twist that would make even a daytime soap proud, Leon, the former leader of the labor camp rebellion, has officially joined our army. Turns out, being on the winning side is pretty convincing. He's not alone, either. A bunch of ex-rebels, soldiers, and even former laborers are now part of our militia. Nothing says "character development" like people who used to throw rocks at us now marching alongside us. They're ready to fight for their future—and hopefully learn not to aim at their own feet.
And then there's Shane. Poor guy. His hands are full these days—training recruits, managing supplies, yelling at people for no reason—it's basically his version of therapy. He's gotten so grumpy, he's one bad sandwich away from snapping. Not that I blame him—he hardly gets to see Lori or Judith anymore. That's one thing I've managed to hold on to—my quiet moments with Maggie and Carl.
I've also taken time to visit Alexandra in the prison. Occasionally, I'd pass by Spencer—who, like a broken record with a mustache, never fails to toss out the same line: "I'm a changed man." At this point, I'm half-expecting him to hand me a coupon for his redemption arc. Then there's Gregory, always insisting he's innocent—as if gaslighting is part of his morning routine. Some things never change.
When I talk to Alexandra… well, talk might be generous. She barely says a word. Just sits there, quiet and distant, like someone who's been put on an emotional timeout. Poor girl. I think getting betrayed by one of her most trusted men shattered something in her. And honestly, I had high hopes for her. She had the makings of a great leader—sharp instincts, level-headed, could stare down a walker without flinching. She was a treasure. Now? She just stares through the wall like she's trying to solve a riddle only she can hear. I don't think she'll be leading anyone anytime soon… except maybe a staring contest.
Sometimes I just stand there, looking at the three of them—Gregory, Spencer, and Alexandra—and I think… if I threw Negan in there too, that'd make four. Four people with nothing but time on their hands and a whole lot of regret marinating in silence. Honestly? It's like the saddest reality show lineup you've ever seen. "The Real Prisoners of the Apocalypse."
If nothing else, I guess you could call that character development. Or maybe just karma with extra seasoning.
Also, Ed and Carol are now officially divorced—if that still counts for anything in a world where lawyers are extinct and the courthouse is currently housing chickens. What's strange, though, is that Carol and Daryl have started a romantic relationship. Yeah, romantic. It was supposed to be a platonic bond—just like in the series. You know, "strong mutual respect," "emotional support," "never crosses the line."
Bring me the damn dove, I muttered internally.
Looks like this is just another one of those butterfly effects from the choices I've made. One wrong move and suddenly I'm living in the "What If?" episode of The Walking Dead: Love Edition. I half-expect a wedding invitation made out of bark and walker skin.
Then there's Sophia... she's practically glued to Carl these days. Always together, smiling, whispering—being suspiciously wholesome. I mean, could they be in a relationship?
…No way, right?
They're still kids—for Christ's sake. Just last week, Carl got into an argument with a squirrel. A squirrel. I swear, if I hear them refer to each other as "bae," I'm going to start rationing the sugar again. Young love in the apocalypse. What a time to be undead.
It was afternoon when I strolled into camp, trying to enjoy five minutes of peace before the next crisis inevitably came knocking. Morgan gave me a nod as I passed—his usual way of saying, "Yep, the universe is still on fire."
"Rick, Aaron's here—delivering a message," Morgan said.
Aaron?
That snapped me out of my walking nap.
"Take me to him," I said, already bracing for bad news. No one delivers a happy message in the apocalypse. It's never "Hey, we found ice cream." It's always "Hey, we found a severed hand."
Morgan didn't waste time. "Let's go."
We moved quickly, and there he was—Aaron. Pale. Breathless. Eyes wide like he just sprinted through a horror movie. Not a great sign.
"Aaron. What's going on?" I asked, hoping he wasn't about to ruin my afternoon—which, spoiler alert, he absolutely was.
He didn't even bother inhaling.
"People—some group—just appeared and started extorting us. They said if we don't follow their way, they'll kill one of us. The Hilltop and the Kingdom have already been hit. Alexandria… we got lucky. That's why I'm here."
Ah. Classic apocalypse: new group, new threats, same old shakedown. I felt my stomach twist, and not because of lunch this time.
"Jesus and Ezekiel both confirmed it," Aaron continued. "They've already killed people to prove they're serious. On Jesus's side... Kal. Gone. Shot dead in front of everyone. And in the Kingdom… they executed Dianna."
He paused, his voice breaking. "They did it in front of the people, Rick. No masks, no mercy. Then they gave a deadline—one week to submit."
Aaron looked at me like I held the answer to all this, like I wasn't just a guy trying to keep a kid from stealing MREs.
"Today is day five. We only figured this out two days ago. That means we've got two days left before they strike again."
I clenched my fists.
They were here.
The Saviors.
And just like that, my peaceful afternoon was officially canceled.