The next twenty minutes were spent killing walkers continuously, left, right, and center, to prevent them from piling up on us.
We were like a combine harvester; every direction we turned to was cleared in seconds, though what we harvested wasn't grain, but walkers.
Merle was having the time of his life, chopping rotten walker heads while cackling in the process.
Daryl was dropping walkers down one by one with his crossbow.
Morgan, Morales, and Glenn were watching each other's backs while simultaneously taking walkers down.
Rick would occasionally helped them when things started getting a bit too close for comfort for them.
Then there was me.
I abandoned my knife halfway in favor of my bow and arrows, which proved to be faster and more efficient; every arrow I fired meant one less walker to worry about.
Soon, walkers stopped coming in droves, with only the occasional walker that would shamble over, and even these were coming few and far between.
I let out a sigh, surveyed the corpse-littered perimeter, and laid out the orders. "Retrieve your arrows and clear out a path for the vehicles."
The group nodded and got to work.
I also did my part.
I went around retrieving my arrows, pulling them out of the walkers' eye sockets with a nasty squelch, wiping them on their clothes before returning them to the quiver.
Soon, a path that was wide enough for the trucks was cleared.
We parked the vehicles near the covered supplies, then we got to work.
We hauled every cement bag, every brick, every steel rebar, every plywood sheet, sandbags, boxes of nails, and wires we could find, plus all the cement mixers that were there.
When we were done, only one of the trucks was fully loaded with supplies; the second one was only half full.
"We need more than this if we're gonna finish the lab and the cellar," I said, looking at the half-empty flatbed of the second truck. "We're hitting the other sites I marked."
Rick wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Hate to admit it, but the horn trick worked like a charm here. Are we gonna do it the same way?"
"Depends on the location, but yeah," I nodded, climbing back into the cab. "We don't change what works. Let's move."
We drove out of the lot, leaving the pile of corpses behind us, and headed down the highway toward the next target on my list.
It was a smaller residential development, just a handful of framed houses that never got finished.
We pulled the trucks right up to the center of the cul-de-sac.
I didn't waste any time.
I leaned on the horn, letting out another long, loud blast that shattered the quiet neighborhood.
Within minutes, the dead started spilling out from the everywhere.
"Form up!" I yelled, jumping down with my bow ready.
We repeated the exact same process.
Merle took the lead with his machete, laughing like a maniac as he hacked through the first wave.
Daryl kept his distance, pinning walkers to the dirt with his bolts before they could even get close to us.
Rick, Morgan, Morales, and Glenn formed a tight circle near the flatbeds, dropping any stragglers that managed to slip past the brothers.
I stood near the hood of my truck, pulling arrow after arrow, letting the strings fly; every thump of the bow meant another dead bastard hitting the pavement.
It was brutal, repetitive work, but we had the rhythm down now.
In fifteen minutes, the cul-de-sac was completely silent again.
"Clear the path! Grab the wood and the brick pallets!"
The guys didn't need to be told twice.
While Glenn and Morales started rolling a couple of heavy-duty wheelbarrows toward a stack of bricks, the rest of us went around recovering our ammo.
I yanked my arrows out of the skulls, gave them a quick wipe on their clothes, and jammed them back into my quiver.
We finished loading the second truck first, then started on the third.
The suspension groaned under the weight, but there was still a bit of room left.
"One more stop," I told Rick as we strapped down the timber. "There's a commercial hardware supply warehouse about five miles from here. We clear that out, and we'll have everything Jacqui needs."
Rick nodded, his face covered in sweat and grime. "Lead the way."
The commercial hardware supply warehouse was more difficult to clear.
It had a chain-link fence around it, and there were already dozens of walkers milling around the front gate when we arrived.
I didn't even bother with the horn this time; the roar of our truck engines was enough to draw them right to the fence.
We hopped out before they could crowd the gate too much.
Daryl and I took out the ones pressed against the chain-link first, taking our time with quiet headshots to keep from drawing the whole town down on us.
Once the gate was clear, Merle cut the heavy padlock with a pair of bolt cutters and we swung it open.
A few more walkers stumbled out from the dark interior of the loading bay, but Morgan and Morales moved in quickly, dropping them down before they could pose a threat.
"Alright, let's finish this," I said, pointing toward the covered pallets inside. "Grab all the cement, sandbags, rebar, and wood they have."
We worked like crazy for the next half hour.
My muscles were starting to file complaints from the constant lifting and the guys were completely spent, but nobody slowed down.
We hauled heavy bags of cement, bundles of thick steel rods, and pallets of bricks and wood, and every useful tool left on the shelves until the remaining trucks were full to the brim.
With all six trucks now riding low on their axles from the massive weight, we finally turned the vehicles around and headed back toward the farm.
The sun was already hanging up right above us, signaling the time of midday, but the hard part was done.
We now had the the rest of the materials we needed.
Tomorrow, the real building starts.
(To be continued...)