The first to spot us rolling in was Dale, who was perched on top of his RV. He lowered the rifle from his shoulder, squinting across the valley. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured, then turned and waved frantically. "Morgan! Jim! Everyone! Zephyr's back, and he ain't alone!"
A clatter of footsteps, doors opening, a handful of survivors—Rick's family, Morgan's, Morales's, Glenn, and the others—filled out into the yard. Some hurried, some froze with nervous curiosity.
I stepped out first, expression steady. Rick followed, so did Daryl. Then, one by one, the Greene family climbed out: Hershel, Annette, Maggie, Beth, Otis, Shawn, Patricia. The weight of the morning still clung to them like a shadow.
I lifted a hand for quiet, then continued. "This," I said clearly, "is the Greene family. Good people, hardworking people. They survived a lot. They're family now and will be staying with us from now on."
Dale approached first, with his trademark kindly smile. "Welcome. Any friend of Zephyr is a friend of ours."
Morgan nodded warmly. "You're safe here. We'll help however we can."
Beth clung to Annette, still pale from the horrors she'd witnessed this morning. Maggie stayed close to me without consciously realizing it, her shoulder brushing my arm.
I took charge without missing a beat. "Alright, Miranda, Jacqui, take Annette, Patricia, and Beth. Get them situated and something warm to drink. Glenn, help Otis unload their supplies. T-Dog, Rick, help Hershel with his medical and farming kits." I turned to the Greenes. "Take your time. Rest. Eat. This place is yours now, too."
The survivors dispersed smoothly. Tension eased up a bit as the Greene family was guided toward their new quarters. Maggie paused before following her sister. She looked at me. "Thank you… for everything."
"It's alright, Maggie," I murmured. She nodded once and headed inside.
I exhaled softly, then got to work.
The next day's dawn crawled over the farmstead in soft gold as I tightened my gloves and climbed into one of the farm trucks. Rick stood beside me adjusting his hat while Daryl loaded a quiver and pack onto his truck.
"You sure you wanna take all of them?" Rick asked.
"Hershel had fifty heads of cattle left behind," I replied. "If we leave them behind, walkers or stragglers will take them. Horses, too. Chickens. That's too much food to lose."
Daryl smirked. "Ain't everyday you steal a whole damn farm."
I gave a faint smirk back. "We're reclaiming, not stealing."
We rolled out three large trucks, groaning down the dirt path.
The Greene farm was ghostly quiet when we arrived, same as we left it yesterday: empty, abandoned. The morning fog clung to the fields like smoke. Daryl stepped out first, scanning the perimeter. "Looks clear."
"Then let's get to it," I said.
For the next three hours, we worked nonstop: opening cattle gates, herding terrified sheep and a dozen cows toward the trucks, rounding up horses with calm, steady voices, catching chickens and securing them in crates, finally salvaging animal feed, tools, and whatever materials we left behind yesterday.
I moved with ruthless efficiency, but Rick kept glancing at the farmhouse, the memory of the two hanged girls fresh in his mind, still hanging over him like weight.
When we finally herded the last cow, I looked back at the silent farmhouse with a hardened expression. "May you rest in peace," I muttered to myself before we drove back.
Fifty cattle, five horses, dozens of chickens. More than enough to keep the farm running, food-wise.
By mid-morning, we returned with everything. It was a massive boost to the community long-term: fresh milk, breeding stocks, meat, working animals, and more eggs. The moment we stopped, the farm came alive. Everyone moved efficiently: opening gates, herding cattle to the pastures, bringing water, stacking hay, setting fences. Hershel watched with a bittersweet expression. It wasn't his land… but it was hope.
Later, I called the group together in the main room in the farmhouse. Sunlight filtered through the windows. A large table had been cleared of tools, covered with maps, hand-drawn layouts, and hastily sketched schematics. I stood at the front. The Greene family sat together, still exhausted, still shaken, but carrying on nonetheless.
"Alright, now that the Greene farm livestock is safely here, we move to the next phase," I began, voice steady. "I want the farmland up and running. We got more mouths to feed and a hell of a lot of work ahead."
I turned to Hershel. "I've seen what this land can support: fertile soil, good drainage, clean water sources. We need crops planted before the season shifts. Hershel, you know more about farming than anyone here. I want you in charge of agricultural planning: crop rotation, livestock management, greenhouse set up, everything."
Hershel inhaled softly, shoulders straightening at the familiar responsibility. "I can do that. Annette and Patricia can work greenhouse beds. Otis, Shawn, and Jimmy can handle heavier work."
"Good," I said. "You can include Tom, Lydia, and Eli. They're farmers too, so they should be of help to you."
Tom and his family nodded. "You can count on us," Tom replied with confidence.
"Good," I replied. "We'll start clearing the fields within the week. I'll assign rotations to help with labor."
I flipped the map to another sheet: drawings of fences, spikes, and walls. "Second priority: security."
Rick crossed his arms. "We'll need to reinforce the whole perimeter."
"Exactly," I said. "Right now, only the central farmstead is secured. The rest is vulnerable. We need to properly fortify the property. Not just fences—walls. We'll use a mix of scrap metal, steel sheeting, and treated logs. High, durable, anchored deep. We'll need patrol paths along the inside and lookout towers at the corners. This place needs to withstand walkers and raiders alike."
People murmured in agreement. Daryl let out a low whistle. "That's gonna take a hell of a lot of materials."
I tapped another mark on the map, circled in red, "And for that, we hit the shipping yard."
Rick squinted. "That's… hell, that's almost three hundred miles out."
"Yeah," I said. "But there are dozens, if not hundreds, of shipping containers there. That will most likely be untouched, Tools, spare parts, industrial supplies, food, and equipment sealed before the outbreak. Whatever we find will be useful." I paused, then added, "And the containers themselves: steel, durable, weather-resistant. We can get several of them back here. Use them as storage, housing, and barricades. Stack them high if needed. Everyone trying to break through steel walls is going to have a rough time. But because of the distance, this isn't a simple supply run. It's going to be a week, if not more, long expedition with heavy trucks."
Rick nodded slowly, seeing the vision forming. "We'll need trucks, winches…"
"We'll prepare everything," I said. "We start scouting for the trucks tomorrow and plan the extraction run."
(To be continued...)