Above, Daryl and Rick worked the edges, keeping the pressure moving forward, ensuring the walkers fell clean and fast. There weren't many of them left now. That was always the dangerous part. When the herd was big, it behaved like a single thing; when it got small, it got unpredictable.
One walker veered left, away from the drop, shoes scraping uselessly against loose gravel. Daryl exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
Thunk. The body dropped without a sound, rolling sideways before falling over the edge. He reloaded smoothly before moving to the next one.
Rick crouched opposite to him, his hatchet in hand, eyes scanning the ridge. He called over the radio, "Daryl, how many you got left?"
Daryl tilted his head, counting, before he replied, "Maybe twenty. Not all of 'em committed."
Rick nodded once. "I'll push the strays. You cover."
Rick moved first, stepping out just enough to be seen. He didn't run, didn't shout; he just let himself exist in their line of sight. It was enough. Two walkers turned toward him immediately. Rick waited until they were close, then stepped sideways—not away, just out of their path. They stumbled forward instead. Gravity finished the job.
He continued with the same rhythm with Daryl covering his back until the rest of the walkers were thrown over the cliff. Rick glanced down over the edge. Far below, the quarry floor was a mess of broken bodies and dust. Some still twitched, but most were done. Even the ones that weren't won't be climbing out of that.
He felt a tightness in his chest ease slightly. "We're done," Rick said over the radio. "I'm gonna signal them."
He switched the channel. "Zephyr, you're good to come up."
There was a brief pause, then Zephyr's voice came back, calm as ever. "Copy. Give us a minute."
Rick stayed where he was, keeping watch. Daryl came over and watched with Rick as Zephyr shifted his weight as he climbed steadily, his hands working the rope with practiced ease. Merle followed next, grumbling under his breath as he came up the line.
"Next time, remind me not to volunteer for cliff duty."
I smirked at him. "It wasn't bad."
Merle scoffed but didn't argue. Morgan came up last, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. I stepped into the ridge. I didn't say anything, just looked down into the quarry one last time then turned away.
Merle dropped into his backside with a huff. "Alright, I'm done with heights for the day."
Morgan coiled his rope neatly, checking the anchor before nodding. "Yeah."
Rick walked over, finally letting himself relax a fraction. "Road's clear. No movement beyond the ridge."
I nodded once. "Then we're done here for the day."
We didn't linger. Once the ropes were reinforced, we moved back down the direction we'd come from, weapons still in hands but tension already easing. The silence that followed felt earned.
Rick led us to where he left the box truck earlier, parked off the road, partially hidden by bush. The vehicle sat untouched, exactly as Rick left it. Rick climbed into the cab and turned the key. The engine caught on the second try.
I nodded. "Good. Let's grab the other vehicles and head back."
We rode a short distance to where the two pickups waited, still parked where they have been left. I hopped out and checked my truck while Morgan did the same before quickly climbing in and turning the engines on.
With the vehicles recovered, we formed up and pulled onto the road. No movement followed us. The clear route felt almost unreal after the hours of noise and pressure. Soon, the familiar dirt road to the farm came into view, and soon the farm itself.
The gate opened and the convoy rolled inside without incident. Engines shut down and for a moment no one spoke. The weight of the day finally caught up with us. Dust clung to clothes, bodies ached from hours of tension and steady movement. Boots were scuffed, voices hoarse from breathing rot-filled air, but no one complained. We came back whole.
I wiped my hands on my shirt and nodded toward the farmhouse. "Hot showers first. We'll eat, then talk."
No one argued. The showers were simple, utilitarian, but the heat cut through grime and fatigue all the same. Steam fogged the small bathroom, washing away dust, sweat, and the lingering smell of the rot. I stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting the water beat against my shoulders until the tension eased from my back. The image of bodies tumbling into the pit replayed once, then faded.
It worked. That was enough.
By the time I stepped out, clean clothes were waiting and the house already smelled like food. We gathered around the table as plates were passed and chairs scraped against the floor. The mood was quiet but steady—tired people eating well after a long day's work.
Once everyone had food, I spoke up. "Alright, let's go over it."
Morgan was the first to answer. "We cleared the road to the quarry. It worked the way it was supposed to."
A ripple of quiet relief moved through the room. Carol spoke first. "How many?"
Morgan answered, steady as ever. "Close to three hundred walkers went over the edge. Hard to be exact, but it was a large pull."
Daryl added, "Could be a little more. Hard to tell once they start dropping."
T-Dog let out a low whistle. "That's a lot."
"And the depot?" Glenn asked. "How many are left?"
"A lot," I said, meeting Glenn's gaze, "but lighter than before. It's just the first day. We drew off most of the outer groups. What's left is tighter and closer to the tanks."
Andrea frowned slightly. "So they're still there."
"For now," I replied, "but manageable."
Hershel, seated near the end of the table, folded his hands. "You're sure the quarry will hold them?"
I nodded. "It will. Even the ones that didn't die of impact won't be climbing out."
A moment of silence followed. Not discomfort—just understanding.
"So what's next?"
"We do it again tomorrow. Same setup, same routes. No changes unless something shifts overnight."
"No need to get fancy," Daryl added. "They followed clean today, they'll do it again."
Dr. Gale glanced around the table. "And the farm? While you're gone?"
"Same as before. Shane will watch over the patrols." Speaking of that, I turned to Shane. "Nothing unusual happened while we were out?"
"Nothing." Shane shook his head. "Perimeter stayed the same. Nothing came near us all day."
"Good." I nodded.
That seemed to settle most of the tension. The conversation eased after that. People went back to eating, shoulders lowering, voices softening. It wasn't celebration—just relief.
(To be continued...)