Stepping a little closer to the gate, Andrew lifted a hand in a calm, open gesture before speaking.
"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Andrew Mercer. Please don't worry, we have no intention of forcing anyone to leave, or of taking control of Terminus."
The tension among the crowd seemed to ease at his words. Shoulders dropped, murmurs spread through the group, and wary stares softened just slightly.
"Then what is it you want?" Mary asked, her voice cautious but not hostile.
Andrew kept his tone even. "We're here for shipping containers. Terminus has a large number of them, and we need them."
"The shipping containers?" Gareth stepped forward, brow furrowed. "Why do you need those?"
Seeing that they were open to a conversation, Andrew explained further. "For defensive purposes. Our base is in close proximity to Atlanta, and the city is swarming with an extremely large number of walkers."
The word clearly caught them off guard. Faces turned to one another in confusion until Andrew clarified. "By 'walkers,' I mean the infected."
An expression of understanding spread among the people. Alex frowned, crossing his arms. "How many are we talking about?"
Andrew's answer came flat, clipped. "Thousands."
A hush fell over the people gathered at the gate. Mary glanced instinctively at her sons, then back at Andrew, her gaze flicking briefly toward the convoy of armed vehicles waiting just beyond.
Then she spoke, her voice quieter, almost weary.
"I understand why you need them… but these containers are part of what's keeping us safe — the reason people can sleep without looking over their shoulders. If we give them up, we lose that."
Andrew nodded slowly. "I understand, ma'am. Believe me, I do. We're not here to leave you defenseless. We can help reinforce the fence — and if needed, we can provide security."
The brothers exchanged a glance, quietly conferring. Gareth was the first to speak. "You'd send soldiers here?"
"If you cooperate," Andrew said evenly, "we can work on a mutual aid arrangement."
Mary folded her arms, her face softening slightly. "We'd prefer to remain independent. Food, water, and fuel aren't something we lack. We've started growing crops," she hesitated briefly, "but we're running short on fertilizer and medicine. We'd trade the containers if you can help us get those."
Andrew nodded. "Done. Once the containers are loaded, I'll contact our base. We'll have the supplies prepared and sent here within two days."
He paused for a moment, his tone steady but respectful. "And about your independence — we won't interfere with that. As long as we can use part of the rail yard for temporary operations or transport, you have my word Terminus stays yours."
Mary studied him for a moment longer, searching his expression, then gave a small nod. "Alright. You've got a deal."
Behind her, a few people visibly relaxed, the tension bleeding out of their postures. Gareth offered a faint smile. "I'l show your people which containers you can take. They're near the east fence — the ones we haven't repurposed yet."
Andrew returned the gesture with a curt nod. "Appreciated."
...
The gates of Terminus creaked open, metal scraping against metal, and the convoy rolled in slowly. Engines rumbled through the open yard, echoing between the stacked containers and half-repaired railcars. People stepped back to give them space—men, women, and children watching from behind makeshift barricades.
Andrew raised a hand, signaling the vehicles to stop once the first truck cleared the gate. "JLTVs and Humvees hold position near the entrance," he ordered over the radio. "Two fire teams stay on perimeter watch. The rest, with the trucks and inspect every container before it's moved."
The soldiers began to spread out, disciplined and cautious, their boots crunching on gravel as they moved into position. The heavy vehicles idled near the gate, .50-cal turrets scanning the fence lines while the trucks followed Gareth's lead toward the eastern edge of the yard.
Andrew walked alongside Mary and Alex towards the central common area. Smoke from small cooking fires hung in the air. Families returned to tending vegetable plots, and someone had rigged rainwater collectors from cut-up barrels and plastic sheets.
That's when Andrew noticed the signs. Hand-painted boards leaned against the walls, waiting to be posted. "TERMINUS – Sanctuary for All. Community for All."
He imidietly realized that those are the signs that lead the raiders to Terminus in the show.
Mary followed his gaze and smiled , misunderstanding his silence.
"We've been working on those," she explained. " We'll place them along the railway. People are still out there—scared, lost. We want them to know they have a safe place to come to. That there's still humanity left."
Alex nodded, pride in his voice. "It's what we'd want if we were still out there."
Andrew looked at the signs again, the black paint still fresh, glistening under the afternoon light. He exhaled quietly. "Your hearts are in the right place," he said, his tone even but heavy. "But those signs could draw the wrong kind of people, too. Not everyone left out there is looking for peace. With how fast things have falling apart… the ones who come might not have good intentions."
Mary's smile faded a little, her expression thoughtful now. Alex looked between her and Andrew, uncertain.
"We'll be careful," Mary said finally, though her voice had lost some of its earlier certainty. "But we can't just stop trying to help."
Andrew gave a small nod. "Helping's good, ma'am. Just make sure it doesn't get you killed."
The deeper they walked into the rail yard, the more signs of life Andrew saw—real traces of a community. The air carried the faint smell of smoke and grilled food. Near the center of the yard, an old steel drum had been cut open and refitted into a makeshift stove, a wire rack resting over the flames. A woman stood nearby, turning something in a pan with a spatula. Two picnic tables were set up close to it, their surfaces cluttered with plates, jars of canned vegetables, and tools.
On the cracked concrete ground, a few children sat cross-legged, drawing with bits of chalk scavenged from somewhere—sun shapes, flowers, and crude stick figures of people holding hands. One little boy had sketched what looked like a train under a bright orange sun. The picture made Andrew pause for a moment, quietly taking in the innocence of it all amid the ruin.
They moved on, passing through rows of containers, laundry lines strung from one corner to another. Someone had even painted numbers above each container door, marking them like makeshift apartments.
When they reached the far side, Andrew noticed several large metal pipes jutting from the sides of the containers.
Alex gestured toward them. "Those are the living quarters. We cut vents through the sides and ran stove pipes out so people can stay warm. The rail yard wasn't meant to house anyone, so we had to improvise."
He gave a short, almost embarrassed laugh. "It's not much, but it keeps the cold out. With winter coming, this is the best we could manage."
Andrew nodded, his gaze lingering on the crude chimneys and the faint glow of firelight spilling from the cracks in the container doors. "You've done well with what you had," he said quietly. "Better than most would've managed."
Alex smiled faintly at that, though there was exhaustion behind his eyes, he mentained a tired pride .
As they made their way toward the loading area, the sound of diesel engines idling and metal clanging against metal filled the air. A few people from Terminus followed at a distance, curiosity and unease mingling on their faces.
Walking beside Andrew, Alex hesitated before speaking. "Lieutenant… do you think things will ever go back to the way they were? You know—before all this?"
His voice carried a fragile hope, one that made Andrew slow his pace. He looked at the man for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "We're working to bring some order back," he said, his tone steady but honest. "But things won't ever be like they were. The world's changed. All we can do now is make sure what's left is worth rebuilding."
Alex nodded quietly, the answer settling heavily between them as they continued walking.
When they reached the section of the yard where the trucks were parked, Andrew took one look at the operation and frowned. The heavy transport rigs were being positioned, chains clanking as soldiers began securing the first container onto the flatbed—but it was clear the trucks could only carry one container each. With the sheer number of units spread across the yard, that would mean several trips back and forth. Too many runs. Too much fuel consumed.
Andrew exhaled through his nose, thinking. His eyes flicked toward the distant rail lines stretching east out of the yard. Then he turned back to Mary and Alex. "Do you still have a working train around here? A locomotive?"
The two exchanged surprised glances before Mary nodded slowly. "There's one by the refueling platform. We found it when we first secured the yard—figured it might be useful someday, but we never had a reason to use it."
Andrew allowed himself a small, satisfied nod. "That'll do. If it's functional, we can use it to move the containers faster—and it will keep us conected to Terminus. A direct supply route."
Mary gave a faint smile. "Then it's yours. If it helps everyone, take it."
Andrew thanked her, then crossed over to where a group of soldiers were checking the containers already opened. One of them , with the rank of Sargent stepped forward, reporting. "Sir, a few of these units are packed with solar panels and installation gear—chargers, inverters, even mounting brackets. Looks like we are in luck."
Andrew glanced inside the container, rows of neatly packed and secured panels. "Good," he said quietly. "We'll take those first. They'll be put to use."
Alex's eyes lingered on the open container, reflecting the dull gleam of the solar panels stacked neatly inside. "Those… could change things for us," he said, almost to himself. "If we had power again, we wouldn't have to keep burning through fuel just to pump water or light the yard at night."
Andrew turned toward him, considering his words, then faced the sergeant standing nearby. "How many containers have these panels?"
"Three, sir," the sergeant replied after a quick glance at his clipboard. "Each one packed full—panels, mounting gear, converters, and storage batteries."
Andrew nodded. "Good. We'll unload one here for Terminus," he said, his tone decisive. "I'll have specialists sent to install and calibrate the system once we've finished on our side. We're establishing an outpost here, so you'll have ongoing support."
Mary's expression softened with visible relief. "That means a lot, Lieutenant. Thank you."
Turning back to Alex, Andrew continued, "Do you have anyone who can operate a forklift? We'll need to move those pallets carefully."
Alex gave a small nod. "I can handle that. Used to work shipping before all this. I'll start right away."
"Good," Andrew said, giving a faint approving nod. "Make sure they're secured and properly stored."
After ensuring that the loading operation was running smoothly, Andrew gathered the soldiers tasked with inspecting the containers—four in total—and two civilians Mary said that they worked at the rail yard. They were middle-aged men with work-worn hands and the look of people who'd spent their lives fixing things.
"This way," one of them said, adjusting his cap. "The refueling platform's at the far end of the yard, the train is still there."
As they moved through the rail yard, the air grew quieter except for the hum of idling trucks and the distant metallic echo of chains clanking against container doors. Grass had begun creeping through cracks in the asphalt, swaying in the faint wind. Abandoned railcars sat rusting on nearby tracks, graffiti faded by rain and sun.
The fueling platform came into view—a long, low structure with a canopy of corrugated metal . A single locomotive rested beside it, its blue paint dulled by time.
"Still standing," one of the men said with a hint of pride. "We checked the tank a few days ago. Diesel's old, but it's clean. Might just need a little coaxing to fire up."
Andrew gave a small, approving nod, stepping closer to inspect the locomotive. "Let's see if we can make her run," he said, his tone calm but focused. "The sooner this thing moves, the better."
While the two former rail yard workers moved toward the locomotive, Andrew led the soldiers along the parallel tracks in search of usable railcars. The afternoon sun glinted off long rows of steel—most of the cars were box types, their doors half open and interiors stripped bare. But a little farther down the line, they found what they were looking for—twenty flatbed railcars still linked together.
"Looks like these will do," one of the soldiers remarked, giving the metal frame a firm kick that sent a dull clang echoing across the yard.
"Good," Andrew replied. "Check the couplings, make sure they're solid. We don't want anything separating once we start moving."
As the soldiers began inspecting the railcars, the sound of clanging tools and distant footsteps drifted from the fueling platform. The two civilians—old rail hands by their manner—had already pried open the service hatch on the locomotive and were checking the diesel lines. One of them, sleeves rolled to the elbow, informed Andrew , "Fuel's still clean! Tank's about half full. Should be enough to get her running."
Andrew and two soldiers moved to assist, bringing over fuel cans they had found near a maintenance shack to top off the tank. Once they were sure there was enough diesel, the older of the two men climbed into the cab, brushing dust from the control panel with his forearm. "Let's see if she still remembers how to breathe," he muttered.
After a tense few moments of checking gauges and priming the lines, he turned the ignition switch. The engine groaned, sputtered, and fell silent. A second attempt—then a third. Each time, the sound echoed like a heartbeat across the empty rail yard. Finally, on the fourth try, the old locomotive came alive with a deep mechanical rumble that shook the ground beneath their boots.
Andrew gave a faint smile, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Good work," he said over the noise. "Now, let's bring her around."
Following Andrew's hand signals, the man at the controls eased the throttle, the engine rolling forward with a heavy clatter of metal on metal. The second worker jogged ahead, adjusting a switch lever to redirect the locomotive toward the line where the flatbeds waited. The massive machine moved along the track smoothly, steam hissing from vents, until it slowed beside the waiting cars.
With coordinated motions between the two workers and a pair of soldiers, the couplers locked into place with a solid clank. The worker leaned out of the cab, giving Andrew a thumbs-up. "She's ready to haul. Solid connection all the way through."
Andrew nodded, satisfaction clear in his tone. "Good. Let's get those containers loaded."