The convoy held steady.
Three vehicles moved with careful spacing—close enough to keep each other in sight, far enough to maneuver if something went wrong. The radios stayed alive with short confirmations and clipped remarks. No one wasted words.
"Front's clear," Daryl's voice came through first.
"But I don't like the shoulders. People leave surprises there."
"Copy," Harry replied calmly.
"Second vehicle, keep your distance. No sudden moves."
"Distance steady," T-Dog answered.
"Glenn's watching both sides."
"And the ground," Glenn added dryly. "I like being alive."
Inside the RV, silence ruled. Andrea watched the road through the side window. Amy kept her spear laid along the wall—out of the way, but ready. Atlanta was close now, and everyone could feel it.
Harry drove without hurry. The pistol in the thigh holster sat comfortably. The rifle was concealed, inaccessible to prying eyes. He wasn't planning to be the first through any door—his role was control.
"Stop," Daryl said suddenly.
"Left side. Past the bend."
The convoy slowed almost as one.
A military cargo truck sat half-slid into the ditch. Olive drab paint dulled by time. One front tire shredded. The windshield cracked like a spiderweb.
"Army," Merle muttered.
"Either nothing—or something worth the trouble."
"Movement?" Harry asked.
"Three," Daryl replied.
"One by the cab, two in back. Slow."
"Quiet," Harry said.
"No gunfire."
He stayed near the vehicles, covering angles and listening to the radio while the others moved in.
The first walker shuffled out from behind the rear bumper, uniform hanging in tatters, a rifle sling dangling uselessly. One clean strike dropped it.
The second never turned in time.
The third lunged faster than expected, but Andrea held distance and Amy finished it—clean, controlled, no panic.
"Clear," T-Dog confirmed.
"Good," Harry said.
"Truck first. Then the bodies."
The cargo doors creaked open.
Inside were military crates—some broken open, others still sealed.
"This wasn't random," Glenn said quietly.
"Looks like evacuation stock."
They worked fast and silently.
Inside the truck:
4 assault rifles
6 military pistols
6 combat knives
roughly 20 magazines
approximately 1,200 rounds of ammunition
12 sealed MREs
On the walkers:
3 pistols
9 spare magazines
3 knives
5 additional MREs
"This hasn't been here long," Glenn said.
"Someone planned to come back."
"They didn't," Harry replied.
He scanned the haul once.
"We take everything," he said after a brief pause.
"Nothing stays untouched."
Crates were repacked. Ammunition redistributed to prevent noise. Weapons cleared, checked, secured. The truck was empty within minutes.
The bodies were dragged away from the road. Nothing was left in sight.
The convoy moved on—quiet as it had arrived.
They reached the outskirts of Atlanta without incident.
The vehicles were hidden among abandoned industrial buildings and overgrown parking lots. Tarps, broken signage, and debris blended them into the ruins.
"From here—on foot," Harry said quietly.
"Same route back."
They moved through narrow streets.
The first walker appeared near an overturned dumpster. Daryl dropped it in one motion.
The second stepped out of a closed storefront. Andrea held it off, Amy finished it.
The third stood motionless in shadow beneath a fire escape. Glenn spotted it in time.
No noise. No rush.
"Clear," Daryl whispered.
Ahead lay a commercial block—several multi-story buildings, their ground floors lined with shops. No shattered display windows. No bright signs. Just concrete, steel, and sealed doors.
"Doors are intact," Daryl noted.
"Not for everyone," Merle said with a crooked grin.
"This is a shop for people who know where they're going.
No need for advertising."
"Back entrance," Harry said.
"No glass. Perfect."
They circled around. The service door was locked—but undamaged.
Nearby, at the intersection, sat a military tank—dark, silent, abandoned.
"The army made it here," T-Dog muttered.
"Didn't make it out."
"Then we don't repeat their mistake," Harry said.
"Quiet entry.
Fast work.
No noise on exit."
He placed his hand on the back door.
Atlanta held its breath.