After the arrangements were settled, Calista flew back to Rock Fortress first with Dr. Milton and Martinez.
Martinez was going there as a prisoner to do labor.
A base this large always had work that was especially dirty and exhausting. Even with high points offered, few people were willing to do it.
Maggie and the others, along with several dozen people who had chosen to go to Rock Fortress, would return slowly in a few buses.
Drones circled the convoy the entire way, scouting the surroundings in advance and helping them avoid walker herds and human raiders on the road.
As for Rock Fortress's first wave of support, including administrative personnel and the Defense Force squad responsible for forming and training the prison residents, they set out for the prison at the same time.
They had agreed to use the same route. Unless something unexpected happened, the two convoys might even meet on the road.
Rock Fortress.
Milton followed Dr. Jenner toward the underground laboratory.
Before the world ended, Dr. Jenner had been an official researcher studying the walker virus. And him?
He was just a "civilian enthusiast" who had survived the disaster by luck, scavenged together some broken equipment, and secretly studied walker behavior with obsessive curiosity.
Looking at the man ahead of him, Milton instinctively pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, so excited he almost felt dizzy.
"We're here."
Dr. Jenner opened the door, and Milton's breath stopped.
The room was surrounded by instruments Milton had only ever seen in top academic journals.
High-throughput gene sequencers, cryo-electron microscopes, protein purification systems, a small bioreactor array...
"T-These instruments..." Milton's voice caught in his throat. He took a few steps forward, his trembling finger pointing at one of the machines. "This mass spectrometer. There are very few of these on the market. How did you..."
"Some of the equipment came from UTK and private biotech companies in the industrial park. Some came from a more specialized government research station."
Dr. Jenner turned to Milton.
"I read through all the observation records and preliminary analyses you passed to Calista, Milton.
"Your hypothesis on the connection between walkers' residual habits and environmental stimuli, especially your classification of the trigger conditions for fragmented 'memory-like' responses, is very insightful."
Milton felt his cheeks heat up. It was the excitement of being acknowledged by a true authority.
"They're just, just rough observations.
"We had an elderly man who died of natural causes. He volunteered to help me observe after his death, but it failed. Conditions were limited, and we had no other samples..."
"So now we can verify them," Dr. Jenner interrupted, looking sharply at Milton. "You understand that the research here must remain confidential, correct?"
Milton nodded quickly. "I know. The commander already told me. I'm very tight-lipped. I don't even talk in my sleep."
Dr. Jenner gave a dark little smile and decided to scare his new colleague.
"Then the commander probably didn't tell you that if you leak even the smallest detail, you'll disappear without a sound, did she?"
Milton shuddered, just as expected.
Could Calista be even more terrifying than the Governor?
Seeing Milton's obvious flinch, Dr. Jenner stopped frightening him. He turned and worked quickly at the console, pulling up a set of data.
"As long as you know. Now, let's begin. This is the CDC's complete tracking data on neurophysiological degeneration in early infected subjects before the virus fully broke out.
"At the time, every country was focused on the virus's transmission mechanism and developing a cure. There wasn't enough attention placed on residual 'host' behavior."
He displayed two sets of data side by side.
On the left was a photograph of Milton's hand-drawn chart of walker behavior patterns. On the right were precise neuroelectric signal decay curves and cellular necrosis rate data.
Milton had recorded that walkers exposed to tapping sounds at certain frequencies would briefly show "confusion" or turn toward the sound.
The time window for that phenomenon overlapped in a chilling way with the threshold in the Wildfire data at which a specific type of neuron became completely inactive under the virus's effects.
The cases he had mentioned, individual walkers showing a faint tendency to "linger" near places important to them in life, even seemed to correspond faintly with the Wildfire model showing the limbic system was only fully eroded by the virus in its final stage.
"Look here." Dr. Jenner enlarged one data node. "Your 'Type C' behavioral residue, the abnormal duration case.
"In the data, the test subject's neuronal activity disappeared completely forty-seven hours later than the model predicted.
"This is not an error, Milton.
"It proves the virus's erosion of the brain is not an instantaneous, uniform wipe. There may be 'path preferences' or 'node resilience' we don't yet understand."
Milton was practically leaning into the screen, his thoughts clearer than they had ever been.
"We need to redesign the control experiments. Maybe, maybe we can find a more effective way to guide walker groups, or even..."
He did not dare finish the sentence. The word was too extravagant.
Intervention and expulsion.
Dr. Jenner looked at Milton, and for the first time, a complicated emotion appeared on his face. After so much lonely research, he had finally found a qualified fellow traveler.
His wife had shared his goals. After the outbreak, the two of them had held on for two months, trying to research a cure. Unfortunately...
Evans was a doctor. He helped Jenner only out of concern for Calista and because he knew she had been injected with the experimental vaccine. He had no real interest in this research and no desire to delve deeper into it.
"Yes. Calista has provided unmatched support and some key 'directional prompts.'
"And I have already developed a walker attractant. I am currently developing a walker repellent, which happens to have similarities with your theory.
"Welcome to the real battlefield, Dr. Milton."
...
A few days later, the first group of support personnel had safely arrived at the prison and quickly begun building the prison's "Rock Fortress System."
Meanwhile, the prison convoy passed through the final checkpoint and entered the area of Blackberry Ranch.
Inside the vehicles, Hershel, Beth, Carol, Dale, Andrea, and Sophia all fell into a daze.
Before them stretched vast fields of living green.
In the neat rows of farmland, different crops under crop rotation grew lush and healthy, the separate plots showing different shades of green.
Between the rows, people wearing straw hats bent over their work. Their movements were calm and unhurried, without the frantic urgency common to survivors after the end of the world.
Farther away, at the very center, stood a hotel. Around it were rows of sturdy-looking houses, their roofs fitted with solar panels.
Each house reflected the preferences of its occupants. Some had flowers and plants around them. Some had rocking chairs outside the door. Everything was full of life.
Even the smells drifting through the air left them dazed.
The fresh scent of turned soil, the faint green smell of growing plants, the warm, pungent smell of animals, and even the faint aroma of toasted bread?
It was not an illusion. The convoy was passing a large building with a chimney, and a simple sign hung at the entrance: "Blackberry Diner."
"Oh my God..." Beth leaned against the window, murmuring to herself.
The scene reminded her of farm life before the world ended. Those memories had long been buried under thick layers of dust and blood, but now this familiar smell had lifted one corner of them again.
Hershel said nothing. His gaze swept over the fields, and his professional instinct immediately picked out the details. The depth of the furrows, the spacing, the crop combinations...
This was absolutely not something an amateur could put together.
There was a mature agricultural system here. In peacetime, it might not have counted as top-tier, but after the world ended, it was nothing short of a miracle.
Carol held Sophia a little tighter. Both mother and daughter were deeply moved.
...
The transport vehicle stopped near the residential area.
A smiling woman came over to greet them.
"Welcome to Blackberry Ranch. You must be tired after the trip. I'm Gwendolyn, an auditor from Rock Fortress, and I'll help you get settled.
"Calista specifically told us that you're old acquaintances of hers, so you don't have to go through the strict quarantine observation period. But information checks and medical exams are still necessary. I hope you understand.
"Your housing is already prepared. Several adjacent homes. If you want to change, just let me know."
The houses were not large, but each had its own porch, living room, bedroom, and a small bathroom with basic washing facilities.
After they put down their light luggage, Gwendolyn led them to the medical station.
"This is the medical station. There are two permanent medical staff here. Felipe and Sarah will handle your physical exams. Once you finish, I'll come register your information and issue your ID cards.
"Two proper meals are provided every day, collected with points. You earn points by working. Basic support will be provided at first, and starting tomorrow, all of you can use your ID cards to choose work assignments."
At that moment, all the hardships and struggles they had endured seemed to grow even more distant against the quiet, almost unreal scene before them.
It was the cruel contrast between "surviving" and "living," forcing them to see the gap clearly.
By evening, everyone had settled in.
Calista listened to Ellie's report and let out a breath of relief.
Most of the people who had come from the prison this time were families with elderly members or children. People like that cherished hard-won peace more than anything, so the vetting had gone smoothly.
The Governor had been dealt with. The remaining trouble would not appear again until next year at the earliest.
So, did that mean she could finally slack off a little?