Rick and Daryl rolled out of Alexandria early in the morning.
Eugene had circled some farms that hadn't been touched yet and some agricultural supply stores that might have the seeds they were looking for.
At the first farm, they cleared the house first, only a few walkers shambling about.
Daryl put a bolt through one, Rick slashed another with his hatchet, and Daryl grabbed the last one and stabbed it in the head.
Inside they found a double barrel shotgun, a box of slugs, and jars of jams, pickles, and other preserves.
The barn was in rough shape.
When they tried to slide the door open it just fell forward. They rolled out of the way and drew pistols, sweeping the interior.
No walkers, just debris everywhere. The roof had collapsed in multiple spots.
Rick glanced at Daryl. "Let's make this quick. I don't want to get buried today."
Daryl nodded.
They did a sweep and spotted an old tractor with a till attached. Daryl tried to get it going but it was toast. "Too bad," he muttered.
Rick nodded. "That would've made tilling so much easier."
They found some farming tools hanging on the wall and left.
At the next farm there was roughly the same amount of walkers in the house, quickly cleared.
Daryl found a bolt-action rifle under a bed.
Rick dug up a few unmarked seed packets from a cupboard and some spuds in the cellar.
The barn was solid. Daryl slid the door and swept the inside.
All clear.
A tractor sat inside, and when Daryl worked the ignition it fired right up. He grinned, shut it off, and looked at Rick.
Rick said, "We'll cover it up. Have someone come back with a bigger truck."
They used burlap sacks, then Rick radioed back. "Hey, Joe."
The radio crackled, "What's up?"
Rick said, "We need someone to pick up a tractor."
Joe chuckled, "Good job, I'll have Abraham and Tobin come get it."
Rick gave him the location before they started searching the rest of the barn.
All they found were bags of grain crawling with bugs.
They sighed and headed out, satisfied with just the tractor.
Halfway down the road, they saw a barn with SORGHUM painted on the roof.
They killed a few stragglers outside and went straight for the barn.
Inside was a box truck. They cleared the corners and flung the door open.
Inside were shelves of canned food, drinks, and a few guns.
Rick smirked. "Well, would you look at that."
Daryl tossed him a Coke, grabbed one for himself, and they cracked the tabs with relief.
Rick radioed Glenn and Tara, they were already out on a run. So they'd be able to stop by and grab the truck within the hour.
They left the barn sealed and drove on to the agricultural store. Trash littered the front lot. The front door was locked until Daryl kicked it in.
Flashlights up, Rick knocked the register open to draw any walkers. Silence.
They swept the shelves but found nothing useful.
They hit the backroom, a faint groan. A walker was pressed against the door.
Rick opened it slowly and Daryl stabbed it. They tossed the body to the side and stepped i to the back area.
Inside they found a box of assorted seed packets, tomatos, zuchini, potatoes, peas, cucumbers, blueberry, raspberry, and more.
They also found a few bottles of pesticide, and more tools for planting and seed starting.
They carried everything outside.
Just as Rick stepped through the door, a man slammed into him, knocking the box from his arms.
Rick and Daryl drew their pistols in an instant.
Daryl barked, "Back up! Hands where I can see them!"
The man froze, hands up. "I'm not looking for trouble. Just running from the dead."
Rick steadied his revolver. "How many?"
"A dozen, maybe more. When it hits double digits, I run."
"Where?" Rick pressed.
"Half a mile back. Headed this way. You've got about ten minutes."
Rick lowered his revolver a fraction. "Thanks for the warning."
"There's more of them than us. We gotta stick together," the man said.
Daryl's aim didn't waver. Rick asked, "You have a camp?"
The man shook his head. "No... I'm Paul Rovio, but my friends called me Jesus. Your pick."
He turned to leave. Rick called after him, "How many walkers have you killed?"
Jesus glanced back with a smirk. "Enough. You've got about seven minutes now."
He jogged off, disappearing around a corner.
Moments later, they heard gunshots nearby. They ducked for cover, before creeping towards the sound.
They turned a corner and found a stack of firecracker on top of a barrel.
Daryl cursed, "He swiped your keys, didn't he?"
Rick checked his pocket. Empty.
They rushed back just in time to see their truck driving away. Jesus leaned out the window, mouthing, "Sorry."
Daryl shouted, "You will be!"
They tore through the herd of walkers drawn by the noise, then took off on foot down the road.
Soon drenched in sweat, they stopped when Daryl spotted his bag lying in the road.
He grabbed it, pulled a water bottle, and shared it with Rick.
Then they pressed on, following the tire tracks. Cresting a hill, they saw Jesus fixing a flat on the truck.
They crept closer through the trees. Rick pressed his revolver to the back of Jesus's head.
Jesus moved lightning-fast, twisting and elbowing Rick in the gut. Then slammed him against the truck.
Rick recovered, Daryl cracked him across the jaw with a vicious right, and Jesus went down.
Rick cocked his revolver. "This is done."
Jesus, dazed but smirking, said, "Do you even have ammo?"
A walker stumbled toward them. Daryl and Rick blasted it in sync.
Jesus froze. "…Point made. You want the keys? Here." He handed them over.
Rick tied him up with rope from the truck bed.
Jesus called after them, "You're really gonna leave me here like this?"
Rick smirked. "Knots aren't that tight. You'll manage."
They climbed in and drove off, never noticing Jesus silently rolling into the truck bed behind them.
...
Kenny drove with the windows down, the roar of the engine loud in his ears.
Dwight and his group blindfolded in the back.
He didn't stop until the odometer read seventy miles out.
Gravel crunched as he pulled over on a desolate stretch of road.
"Out," Kenny ordered.
He yanked Dwight first, then Sherry, then Tina, shoving each of them onto the dirt.
One by one, he ripped the blindfolds off.
Dwight squinted against the sun, rage twisting his face. "Fuck. How are we supposed to survive out here?"
Kenny leaned against the car door, arms folded. "Same as before."
He climbed back into the driver's seat, but before shutting the door he tossed a knife and a small bag of supplies at their feet.
"You got lucky," Kenny said flatly. "Joe wanted to put you in the ground. Only reason you're breathing is because he keeps his word."
Sherry clutched Tina's arm, her voice cracking. "You're killing us."
Kenny shrugged, eyes cold. "Nah. Gave you a chance. That's more than most people get once they cross Joe's family."
He slammed the car door shut and turned the ignition.
Gravel spat out behind the tires as he sped away, leaving Dwight and his group in a cloud of dust.
The dust settled slowly, the sound of Kenny's engine fading into the empty distance.
The knife lay in the dirt, glinting dully in the sun.
Tina sank to her knees, sobbing.
Sherry crouched beside her, pulling her close, whispering soft words that sounded more like a plea than comfort.
Dwight just stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched. He looked down at the knife and the bag like they were insults instead of lifelines.
"They think they're better than us," Dwight muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
"Think they can dump us out here like trash and call it mercy."
Sherry looked up at him, her face pale and tight. "Dwight, don't. Please… don't start."
But Dwight didn't stop. His jaw clenched hard as he bent down and snatched the knife from the dirt.
"Joe… that son of a bitch. One day, I swear, he'll bleed like the rest of us."
Tina whimpered, "Dwight..."
He turned sharply, softening only for a moment when he saw her fear.
He forced himself to breathe, shoving the anger down. "We'll make it. I'll keep us alive. But I'm not forgetting this. Not ever."
He strapped the bag over his shoulder, knife in hand, and started walking.
Sherry hesitated before helping Tina to her feet and following behind him.
Behind them, the road was empty. Ahead of them, nothing but endless trees.
...
Rick and Daryl rolled up to the last farm of the day, the truck rattling on the bumpy road.
Luck had been on their side so far, but that luck ran thin when Daryl glanced into the rearview.
"Rick," he muttered. "He's in the back."
Rick's eyes cut to him. Daryl growled, "Hit the brakes."
Rick slammed the pedal down. Jesus flew over the cab, tumbled into a roll, and bolted.
Rick gunned the truck after him, Daryl leaping out to chase on foot.
They tore across the field until Daryl and Jesus crashed together, both rolling in the dirt.
Their struggle drew groans from the woods, walkers already closing in on them.
Rick screeched the truck to a stop, grabbed his shotgun, and blasted two walkers to pulp.
Behind him, Daryl and Jesus grappled on the ground, fists and elbows flying.
Jesus managed to get the upper hand and cracked Daryl across the jaw before sprinting toward the truck.
Rick stayed back to handle the growing walker cluster, his shotgun roaring after each reload.
In the cab, Jesus wrestled with Daryl for control.
He snatched Daryl's revolver, aimed past him, and barked, "Duck!" Daryl instinctively obeyed.
The revolver cracked, dropping the walker creeping up behind him.
Jesus barely had time to smirk before Daryl smashed him with a right hook, reclaiming his gun. "That's my gun."
He dragged Jesus out, slamming him to the dirt. Neither noticed the truck roll itself into neutral.
It began to creep backward, momentum pulling it downhill.
Still locked in a grapple, Daryl shoved Jesus just as the truck door swung open and cracked him across the skull.
Jesus dropped, unconscious.
Rick finished the last walker and turned just in time to hear the splash.
The truck sank quickly into the lake, bubbling out their hard-earned haul.
Rick swore, sprinted towards the lake and jumped into the water. He managed to wrestle the seed box free and heaved it onto the shore.
Swimming back himself. He reached the shore, dripping and shivering.
"Son of a bitch," Rick breathed, catching his breath.
Daryl dusted himself off, glaring down at Jesus. Rick walked over, exasperated. "You good?"
"Yeah."
Rick nodded, rubbing his temple. "Alright. Let's check the cars. And what about him?" He gestured at Jesus.
"What about him?" Daryl shot back.
Rick pressed, "He helped you. That walker almost had you."
"Maybe."
Rick gave him a look. "Did he ever pull a weapon on you?"
Daryl grumbled, finally relenting. "Fine."
Together, they hauled Jesus' limp form toward a row of abandoned cars by the barn.
Rick kept the seed box in his other hand, refusing to let it go.
Daryl hotwired the first vehicle... complete dead. The second... nothing.
The third roared to life.
"Finally," Daryl muttered.
They shoved Jesus into the trunk, slammed it shut, and drove off. Blasting the heat so Rick didnt freeze to death.
Summer had ended and their luck had finally run dry.
...
When they rolled back into Alexandria, the sun had dipped below the horizon.
The gate creaked open, Tara giving them a wary look as they pulled in.
Rick drove straight to the infirmary.
They lugged Jesus up the steps and knocked until Denise opened the door.
Her eyes widened. "Who's this?"
Daryl grunted, "Get out the way. He's heavy."
Denise stepped aside as they carried him in and dropped him onto a cot.
They double-checked his restraints, keenly aware of Jesus's tendencies.
Rick left a cup of water and some food within reach.
"Keep him alive," Rick said, locking the door behind them.
...
Rick walked back to the house, shoulders heavy, while Daryl stayed at the infirmary to keep watch over Jesus.
When Rick stepped inside, Michonne was waiting on the couch.
"Long day?" she asked, eyes soft but curious.
Rick sighed, lowering himself beside her. "Yeah. How about you?"
"Not too bad. Went on a short run," she said casually.
Rick gave a tired smile and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small tube of toothpaste. "Got you what you asked for."
Michonne's eyes lit up.
She took it, grinning, and leaned over to kiss him.
Rick melted into it, but before it deepened, Michonne pushed him gently back.
"Hold on a second. There's something we need to talk about."
Rick froze. "Don't tell me… you're pregnant."
Michonne laughed, shaking her head. "No. Joe told Carl and the other kids he thinks it's time they start leaving the walls. Going on scavenging runs."
Rick expected to feel that old resistance flare up, but it didn't. He sat quiet a moment, then nodded. "I think it's time, too. Carl's not a kid anymore. He can handle himself."
Michonne studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Deanna made a condition that they have to go out with groups. Joe agreed."
"Good," Rick said firmly. "Then it's settled."
The weight of the conversation hung for only a breath before Rick leaned back toward her, voice low. "Now… where were we?"
Michonne smirked as his lips met hers again.
Things heated quickly, and soon they slipped away to the bedroom, leaving the world outside to wait.