Central Base.
At that moment, two Mil MI-26 helicopters—known as Halo-class choppers—were lifting a submarine to a designated area specifically prepared for its maintenance and eventual use. During all this time, a specialized location was being built for its upkeep until a port could be taken by force.
The Mil MI-26 helicopters have a capacity to carry 56,000 kg each—56 tons—and over 100 tons when working together.
Now, the S.C.T base had nuclear weaponry, ready to be used at any time. They continued executing the expansion plan, seizing military bases and manufacturing new weapons to defend the little they had recovered from the lost world.
...
In general, Jason was quite certain that the other party would heavily consider accepting the deal, since there was nothing but gain for her. What harm is there in making small bets on something that only brings benefits? Both Jason and Jadis had nothing to lose. In this world where personal interests trump everything else, who doesn't pursue mutual survival?
In his organization, only a few people came to mind as suitable candidates for the CRM mission—people like Rick or Merle. While there were many others like Sam, Shane, Daryl, and more at the base, finding the right person wasn't as simple as it seemed.
He just needed to explain the plan clearly to the others—this plan he had been quietly developing—and settle things here as soon as possible so someone could take his place. That had now become a top priority.
A pickup truck drove down the road, and in the driver's seat sat Jason, deep in thought. It seemed like he needed to accelerate his plans on this front; things had to start unfolding as soon as possible.
Jason didn't dare grow careless, even though his strength had risen to disproportionate levels. After all, many things could happen without him realizing it. His own safety wasn't a major concern, but he couldn't say the same for others. He still had to return to Central Base, which was currently under development. Throughout all this time, he had always relied on that base—it was considered a safe place he could fall back to if everything went wrong.
Seeing that it was still early in the sky, Jason planned to take a detour and explore an area he hadn't been to before. Maybe he'd find something—or someone—interesting.
Would he consider saving people these days? Possibly. But do those people really want to be saved? Mutual distrust now prevailed, and there was no such thing as pure good or evil. There were many things Jason hadn't yet taken into account—but he soon would.
But the most important question was whether he could find special individuals—both familiar and unknown. Once he had a powerful group with strong leaders, would the CRM still be a concern?
"Looks like this entire place is deserted. Not a trace of life..."
Aside from walkers, there was absolutely nothing else on the road. Jason no longer cared whether he saved someone or let them die. Most of his decisions now were based on what the person could offer in the future. Value had become the dominant currency. He could still remember Dale trying to save the young man whose calf had been torn open by a fence.
That kind of behavior was something magical—and now, very few people acted that way. While noble and well-intentioned, such heroics often complicated things and led to more mistakes when trying to survive.
A good counterexample was Rick. Some might think Rick was a good leader or even neutral, but that kind of attitude came from all the events he had lived through. Many people saved by Jason never unlocked their full potential because they hadn't suffered—they hadn't experienced hunger or fear.
But by leaving Shane and Rick as leaders, they'd learn from their mistakes and feel the pressure of knowing others needed them. Through that, they could slowly become their best selves in order to survive.
Jason didn't stop. He simply turned the truck's steering wheel to the right and crossed to the other side.
...
Twenty minutes later...
Jason pulled up to a house—the only one in the area. The ruined building looked like it hadn't been lived in for a long time.
After stopping, he parked the truck on the side of the road, at a distance from the abandoned house. He stepped out of the driver's seat and walked cautiously. Though the place was heavily deteriorated, his sharp observational skills allowed him to spot traces of activity—either from survivors or walkers. He didn't want to take any chances, so he drew his pistol just in case, then walked around to the side of the house.
Moving slowly, he peered inside through a window. But the interior was dim—natural light barely came in—so he couldn't see clearly. Still, he was confident the house was empty, so he didn't rush in. Instead, he walked to the back door. Turning the corner, he spotted a slightly dusty car parked there.
The vehicle was partially buried in dirt, clearly unmoved for quite some time. Compared to the exterior of the house, the rest of the area was surprisingly clean—except for the car.
Survivor traces.
Jason felt a slight surge of excitement—he was genuinely enjoying this solo venture.
At that moment, the person living here hadn't appeared, so Jason entered the house and quickly searched for clues. He found no walker corpses.
If he'd had doubts before, now he was sure—this was a survivor's shelter. The floor was spotless, clearly cleaned regularly. After checking the kitchen, only a few scattered items remained in the cabinet—condiments and an almost empty jar of peanut butter. There were burn marks in the fireplace. Jason reached out to test his theory and felt residual warmth in the charred wood.
In one room, there were two mattresses—a large one and a smaller one—not far from the fireplace. When Jason saw this, he could confidently say this was a group of survivors, likely more than just acquaintances, given how clean and organized everything was.
There was still some water left in the kitchen, but Jason didn't want to risk drinking anything uncertain, so he kept moving to another room.
Most of the bedroom furniture had been removed, and bundles of firewood were stacked throughout the house—clearly meant for the fireplace to keep warm.
It seemed the people living here had gone out in search of supplies—all assuming the place was currently empty. Most likely, they had arrived recently and didn't know much about the area yet.
Jason had been wandering around this region for more than a few weeks and was quite familiar with the nearby terrain. After some thought, he recalled that the nearest town wasn't far—just about a ten-minute drive—and he'd been there before.
Ten minutes later, Jason slowly drove toward the town's entrance. It was a very small place—more a cluster of houses than an actual town.
There was only one main road running through the area. Jason parked his truck at the side of the road near the town entrance. He didn't rush out. For now, he just observed the surroundings. No cars were in sight, and he wasn't sure if the people he was tracking were there—but since they were looking for supplies, they wouldn't stay in just one house.
After waiting about ten minutes, there was movement. A man emerged from the house farthest from Jason's parked vehicle. The distance was quite far, but Jason was able to see clearly through the sniper rifle in his hands. He saw a man holding a machete and a backpack—which didn't seem to carry much.
Just as the man exited the house, two women and a young man followed behind. One of the women was slightly taller, also carrying a backpack and holding a knife. The other two appeared to be siblings.
From their desperate expressions, it looked like they were fleeing from something. So, were they survivors or walkers? Were they good people or bad ones? Would Jason have to wait for something else to unfold before he could act?
As Jason pondered this, the wooden door of a nearby warehouse—already in poor condition—began to shake. Though it was locked, the door trembled.
At that moment, grayish-black fingers were twisting through the cracks in the door, and the lock began to strain.
But Jason had already seen it—walkers were trying to force their way out, and the struggle had weakened the bolt. As the warehouse door shook again, the lock finally fell to the ground.