Happy New Year🎉💥🎉💥
The group gathered around the open box truck bed as I started unloading the items. Morgan, Rick, and Daryl lent a hand as well. Two reinforced handcarts, tow chains and ratchet straps, a couple heavy-duty siphon hoses, some long-reach hoses, two tow cables, a crate of spare batteries, a couple industrial welding kits, half a dozen empty fuel drums, some hose reels, and battery jump starters.
Hershel pushed his glasses up. "Quite the haul you got there, son."
"Yeah, I went around collecting what we would need for tomorrow's operation."
Dale glanced between the supplies and me. "You found all this in one day?"
I shrugged. "Some stores were looted, others burned, but enough was left behind."
Hershel gave a solemn nod. "This will help… enormously."
After a hearty dinner, the group gathered inside the farmhouse in the meeting room. Hershel settled beside Dale, notebook ready. Jim cracked his knuckles nervously. Daryl sat with his boots planted firmly, giving me his full attention. Shane also attended but stayed quiet, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
I unrolled the map Glenn marked earlier. "Alright, tomorrow begins phase one of the Class 8 truck retrieval operation. Just to be clear, we are only hitting one location tomorrow. No rushing, no stretching ourselves thin."
Heads nodded all around. I stood with my arms crossed, expression firm but composed as I surveyed the group.
"Rick and I will handle the clearing," I stated. "Walkers around the perimeter, the showroom floor, the yard—anything shambling or hiding inside gets put down before Jim touches a single engine."
Jim adjusted himself and gave a small nod. "And I'll go through the inventory once it's safe. Same as we discussed: I'll mark the ones that are dead—bad engines, blown transmissions, fried electronics. Saves us time. I'll spray a red X on the dead ones," Jim added. "Yellow on the ones that can be coaxed back to life."
I turned to Rick. "That works for you?"
Rick shrugged. "Yeah. Simple, clean and efficient."
I turned my attention to the table, pointed at the circled dealership on the north side of the city. "This is the first target: the dealership north side of the city. Glenn reported that its layout is open. Big front lot, no tight corners, no blind turns. We'll see walkers coming long before they see us. It'll give us room to maneuver."
Jim leaned over. "If the layout's that open, it'll make identifying intact units a lot easier."
"Exactly," I agreed.
Looking around the table once more "Alright," I said, clapping my hands once. "Let's categorize what we're taking. Only what we need for tomorrow's run goes into the truck. We take a tow table, all the siphons plus three coils of long hoses, a portable welding kit, a reinforced cart for hauling parts Jim might need to look over, four spare batteries, and lastly, six empty drums. That's all we can safely move without slowing ourselves down."
Jim nodded. "That's workable."
I folded my arms. "It's optimized. We take more and we risk mobility. We leave at first light, quiet approach."
"We do this clean," Rick said.
I simply nodded. "We will."
We went ahead and finished loading the selected gear into the box truck. The rest of the haul remained neatly stacked against the barn walls.
The next morning came in a flash. I stood beside the box truck double-checking the tires while Rick went over his suppressed rifle and Jim tightened the laces on his boots. Maggie came over.
"You be careful out there, Zephyr," she said softly.
I looked her in the eyes and said, "Don't worry, I will." Turning to Rick and Jim, "Everyone ready?" I asked.
They nodded and Rick said, "Let's move."
We climbed into the truck. Its engine rumbled awake. Hershel and a few early risers stood by the fence watching us depart. Glenn gave a short wave while Dale lifted a hand from atop the RV roof. I shifted the gears and rolled out through the gate.
The box truck rumbled down the cracked four-lane heading north, the skylines of Atlanta barely visible through the haze. I slowed just enough for Jim to lean forward and study the rows of abandoned vehicles.
"Any rig we take is gonna drink fuel like water. We need every drop we can carry."
"Exactly why we're doing this now," I replied. "We siphon everything we need before we reach the dealership."
I parked the truck beside a line of sedans and pickups, killed the engine, and grabbed the tow table and put the six drums on it, then grabbed a siphon and a long hose. Rick and Jim jumped out. Rick and I grabbed our rifles, scanning the quiet road while Jim worked.
The first candidate was a panel van with its doors still locked, windows intact—untouched since day one. Jim cracked the fuel cap, slipped the siphon down, and pumped. Fuel began to flow down the long hose into one of the drums.
Jim smirked. "Looks like we found a gold mine."
"Don't celebrate yet," Rick muttered. "We're still close to the city."
Jim kept working, eyes moving but hands steady. We hit vehicle after vehicle. Some had half tanks full, others nearly empty, others surprisingly full. Each workable tank was dried, filling the drums one by one. The tow table steadily grew heavier. It took almost three hours before we got all six drums full and topped off our truck.
Rick wiped sweat off his brow. "This'll give us more than enough to prime two trucks, easy."
"Yes," I agreed. "More than enough."
The weight was enough that pushing the tow table back required a lot of effort. Once everything was loaded and secured, we climbed back and continued on our way.
It wasn't long before we arrived. The lot was exactly as Glenn described: wide open, flat, with rows of different trucks facing the roadway like slumbering giants. The dealership office sat behind them, glass walls cracked and dust-covered. And scattered around the lot were walkers—drifting, slow, and half-rotted.
Rick counted quietly. "Five visible up front… maybe more in between the trucks."
"Two slumped by the office door," Jim added.
"Manageable," I said. I looked at Rick. "We clear them out silently. Use only silenced guns." I turned to Jim. "You stay inside the truck. Once we finish clearing out the walkers, we'll call you."
"Works out for me," Jim replied, nervously nodding.
I took point with my suppressed rifle raised. Rick flanked tight, his suppressed rifle drawn, watching the angles between cabs. The first walker turned at the sound of my steps—pfft. A suppressed shot dropped it down instantly. Pfft. Rick took down another. Five more walkers reacted, dragging their feet across the asphalt, groaning as they approached.
"Take the two on the right. I'll handle the rest," I said to Rick.
"Alright," he said, then went for the kill. Pfft. Pfft.
I aimed my rifle and fired. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. They dropped instantly with new holes in their temples. Within minutes, the lot fell silent except for the sound of our breathing.
Rick exhaled. "Clear."
"Good," I said. "Jim, start your inspection."
(To be continued...)