Morning haze still clung to the grass when Glenn tightened the last strap on his pack.
I stood beside him, arms crossed.
"You have the list?" I said, tapping the map Glenn held. "Yeah, Class 8 heavy-duty truck dealerships, preferably double-axle rigs, anything with hauling potential, and fuel depots, truck stops, distribution depots, tanker yards. We need to know what's still standing."
Glenn nodded, nervous but steady. "If it's in Atlanta and hasn't burned down, I'll find it."
"You don't go inside if you don't have to," I added. "Mark it, circle it, report back. No hero sh*t."
Glenn cracked a faint smile. "Yeah, yeah. I plan on keeping all my limbs."
"Good," I said. "We still need you."
Glenn climbed into his van, engine roaring alive.
"And, Glenn?" I called. He glanced up. "If you see anything that looks remotely like a trap, you turn back. I'd rather lose a spot than lose you."
A small smile cracked across Glenn's face. "Copy that."
The gate opened up with a metallic groan, and Glenn rolled out, leaving a trail of dust behind him.
I watched until the van faded into nothing. The moment it was gone, I exhaled and turned back to the farm. There was no time to waste.
An hour later, I gathered every able-bodied man near the pasture, aside from Daryl and Merle who were on hunting duty: Rick, Shane, Otis, Morgan, T-Dog, Jimmy, Tom, and Jim, all with shovels and pickaxes in hand.
Hershel stepped forward, holding a handwritten field plan, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "This land hasn't been properly turned in years," Hershel said. "Now the weed and brush have choked out most of the fields, which means today, it's simple—hard but simple."
I pointed toward the tangled expanse of overgrown farmland stretching behind the barns. "We clear it, all of it. And Hershel knows the soil better than any of us, so he's calling the shots. Cut, pull, burn, turn—whatever he says, you do. Rotate every few hours so no one burns out."
And they did. The work was brutal. Heat rose as the sun climbed. Brush tore at clothes. Dirt packed under fingernails. Blisters formed fast. But the field began to open, row by row, foot by foot. Hershel watched them, expression tense but hopeful.
Behind the men, the rest of the group moved with their own rhythm. Carol, Patricia, and Andrea worked laundry, scrubbing clothes in tubs by the stream, while Miranda and Jenny were in the kitchen preparing hearty meals for the working men. Beth hauled water with Duane. Sophia followed Maggie around like a shadow. Dale cleaned the inside of his RV and patched a window.
The farmstead, now growing crowded, no longer felt like a temporary refuge. It felt more like the skeleton of a community. We weren't surviving anymore; we were building.
The sun was sinking by the time the distant sound of a vehicle drifted across the fields. Heads turned. Rick's hand went to his gun.
I raised a hand. "Hold. That's Glenn."
The van cut across the pasture, kicking dust behind it before skidding to a halt near the barn. Glenn climbed down, chest heaving, sweat and adrenaline mixing into a jittery grin.
"I found them," he said breathlessly. "Zephyr—there are several Class 8 dealerships still standing on the outskirts. Dealership lots, repair shops… and a few cargo hauler depots."
I stepped closer. "How damaged?"
"Some burned, some smashed, but three lots were untouched enough that we might be able to haul working rigs. Big ones. Double axles. Freightliners, Volvos—you name it."
A murmur ran through the workers behind me.
"And the fuel?" I pressed.
Glenn swallowed, excitement fading into something more serious. "There's fuel," he said. "A lot of it… but we won't get in easily."
My eyes hardened. "Show me."
Glenn handed me the map, now covered in circles, arrows, and scribbled warnings. I scanned it, face expressionless.
Rick stepped forward. "Looks like you got a hell of a run in."
Glenn nodded. "Atlanta's… worse than we left it. But the resources are still there."
Hershel approached slowly. "Is it possible to retrieve all that?"
I folded the map. "Yes, but not today… it'll be a multi-day thing." My tone left no room for doubt.
By the time the sun completely disappeared into the horizon, the farmstead pulsed with a quiet, exhausted energy. Smoke from the cooking fire drifted lazily upward, the scent of roasted meat, beans, and cornbread mixing with the musk of freshly cut grass and churned earth.
I stood in the main room in the farmstead that was slowly being turned into the official meeting room, lights hanging from the old ceiling casting flickering light over the gathered group. Everyone capable of making decisions or pulling weight was here: Hershel, Maggie, Rick, Glenn, Dale, Morgan, Daryl. Even Shane lingered in the back with arms crossed.
I stepped forward. "Thanks for coming. We've got a lot to go over, and the sooner we start moving, the sooner we secure a future worth living for."
Silence settled, expectant.
"Alright," I said, tone calm but firm. "Glenn, tell us what you found."
Glenn inhaled and sat down, the folded city map he brought with him. "So… good news. I found three Class 8 dealerships still intact outside of Atlanta," he reported. "Mostly double-axle rigs. One place looked untouched. Another had the gate busted, but the trucks seemed okay. But…"
Everyone tensed at the but.
Glenn swallowed. "The fuel depots… they're… not exactly accessible."
Shane scuffed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Glenn continued, "the entrances are blocked. Not with vehicles, just bodies. Hundreds, probably pushing a thousand. The fences are mostly intact with some areas looking worn, but the whole place is swarming."
Rick leaned forward. "Raiders?"
Glenn shook his head. "No. Too many walkers. Way too many. Raiders wouldn't let fuel sit unused—they'd siphon what they could. This… this looks like early-days stampede. Maybe workers turning, maybe people trying to take shelter. I don't know. But it's a herd. A massive one."
Daryl let out a grunt. "Figures. Nuthin's ever simple."
Hershel rubbed his face, exhausted. "So the fuel is there but nearly inaccessible…"
I stepped in smoothly. "Which means we treat this as a long-term operation, not a grab and go."
(To be continued...)