The sun climbed higher, burning away the morning mist and warming the quarry stones. The camp moved with quiet efficiency: water fetched from the lake, bandages changed, weapons cleaned and oiled. Jacqui remained in the RV, sleeping under Dale's supervision, her breathing steady and her color slowly returning. The antibiotics were holding; fever had not come. For now, that was victory enough.
Alister returned from the lakeside, the broken sword once more sheathed at his belt. His training had been brief but deliberate forms executed with a measured pace, each motion a reminder that a knight's skill resided not in the weapon, but in the body that wielded it. The machete from one in the armory rested beside him on the tarp, untouched. He would carry it, yes, but he had trained from boyhood with every tool of war. A spear, an axe, a mace, a dagger any of them would serve in capable hands. What mattered was readiness.
Rick gathered the small team near the supply tent: himself, Glenn, Daryl, and Alister. Merle lingered at the edge, arms crossed, watching with a smirk that never quite reached his eyes.
"Tomorrow we go," Rick said, voice low. "East approach, avoid the main arteries. We head straight for the drop site. No detours. In and out."
Glenn nodded, tracing the route on the map with a finger. "I know a service road that cuts through the industrial district. Less clogged. If we're quiet, we can reach the building in under two hours."
Daryl shifted the crossbow on his shoulder. "Quiet means no guns unless it's life or death. Crossbow and blades only. We move like ghosts."
Alister inclined his head. "Agreed. The dead respond to sound above all else. Silence is our shield."
Merle snorted. "Silence? You clank around in that tin suit like a damn dinner bell. How you plannin' to sneak anywhere?"
Alister met his gaze steadily. "I move as the situation requires. The armor is damaged, but it is not loud if worn with care. And I have trained to fight in silence when necessary."
Merle's smirk widened. "Trained, huh? You gonna tiptoe through a horde in plate armor? I'd pay to see that."
Alister's voice remained calm, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable. "Mockery is easy, Merle. Survival is not. If you doubt my ability, join us tomorrow. Watch. And you might learn."
Merle laughed, but the sound held less mockery than before. He studied Alister for a long moment, then gave a single nod. "Maybe I will. See what the tin man's really made of."
Shane, who had been listening from a short distance, stepped forward. "You're not going, Merle. We don't need another loose cannon."
Merle turned, grin sharp. "Loose cannon? I'm the best shot you got, Deputy."
Shane's jaw tightened. "You're unpredictable. That's the problem."
Rick raised a hand, voice firm. "Merle stays. We keep the team small. Four is enough. We need people to help protect the camp."
Shane's eyes flicked to Rick sharp, challenging. "You're calling the shots now?"
Rick held his gaze without flinching. "Until someone else steps up and keeps us alive, yes."
The air thickened. For a moment, no one moved. Then Shane exhaled sharply and turned away, walking toward the RV without another word. The rift between the two men had widened; everyone felt it.
Glenn cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "We'll need extra water. And something to carry the guns back in. I can rig a couple of duffels."
Daryl nodded. "I'll scout the perimeter tonight. Make sure nothing's creeping up."
Alister spoke quietly. "I will continue repairs on the armor. The gauntlet joint is stable, but the pauldron still binds. I will bind it further with leather and wire. It must hold."
Rick looked at him. "You sure you're up for this? Yesterday was brutal."
Alister's expression did not waver. "I have endured worse. And I owe this group my strength. I will not falter."
The afternoon passed in preparation. Alister worked methodically on the armor, cleaning every surface with oil and rag, binding loose plates, testing joints. The machete remained sheathed on his waist; he would carry it, but he also selected a heavy fire axe from the camp's tools its balance crude, but its weight familiar. He practiced a few slow swings, adjusting to the heft. Any weapon would do.
As evening fell, the team gathered one last time around the fire. Supplies were checked: canteens filled, ammunition counted, medical kit repacked. Alister's armor gleamed faintly in the firelight, dents smoothed where possible, straps tightened.
Rick spoke, voice steady. "We leave before dawn. Get some rest. Tomorrow we finish what we started."
The group dispersed slowly. Alister remained by the fire a moment longer, longsword across his knees, axe leaning against the log beside him. He stared into the flames, mind turning over the day ahead.
Daryl approached, crouching beside him. "You really think you can walk quiet in that thing?"
Alister glanced at him. "I have walked quieter paths under heavier burdens. I will manage."
Daryl gave a small grunt almost approval. "Good. 'Cause we're gonna need every bit of quiet we can get."
Merle lingered nearby, watching the exchange. He said nothing, but the smirk was gone. In its place was something closer to calculation.
Shane stood a short distance away, his back to the fire, staring into the darkening woods. The argument with Rick replayed in his mind a familiar loop of frustration and resentment. Rick's return had changed everything. Once, Shane had been the one calling the shots, keeping Lori and Carl safe, holding the group together. Now Rick was back, slipping into leadership like he'd never left, and Shane felt the ground shifting beneath him. It wasn't jealousy, he told himself just practicality. Rick was still thinking like the world hadn't ended, like honor and plans could outrun the dead. But Shane knew better. He'd seen too much. Still, he couldn't push too hard not yet. The group needed unity, even if it chafed.
Lori approached him quietly, Carl already tucked in for the night. "You alright?"
Shane forced a nod. "Just thinking. We can't afford mistakes."
She placed a hand on his arm. "Neither can we afford to fight each other."
He didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. For now.
Meanwhile, Alister rose and made his way to the RV. Dale stepped aside as he entered, the interior dimly lit by a lantern. Jacqui was awake, propped up slightly, her face pale but alert.
"Alister," she said softly, a faint smile crossing her lips.
He knelt beside the cot, voice low. "I come to bid you rest well. We depart for Atlanta at dawn to retrieve the guns."
Her eyes searched his. "You're going back already?"
He bowed his head. "It must be done. But first… I must ask your forgiveness. I should not have let you venture alone through that vent. My duty was to protect you, and I failed in that."
Jacqui reached out, her hand resting on his armored forearm. "You didn't fail. You held the line so I could escape. That's why I'm here. If anything, I owe you."
Alister's gaze remained downcast. "Your kindness does not absolve my lapse. But if you grant forgiveness, I will carry it with me and return whole."
She squeezed his arm gently. "Then you have it. Just come back safe. All of you."
He nodded once, formal and sincere. "I swear it."
As he left the RV, the camp had quieted further. Glenn checked the map one last time with Rick, their voices murmuring low.
Andrea sharpened her knife, eyes distant. T-Dog stood watch on the ridge, silhouette against the stars.
Night deepened. The camp settled. The fire burned low.