By noon, the air was filled with gunpowder and sweat. The targets—wood planks and makeshift dummies—were shredded, but the group was improving. Good, I thought. I called a halt, slinging my rifle over my shoulder. "That's enough noise for one day. You're all doing better than expected."
Andrea exhaled, wiping her brow. "You run this place like a boot camp."
"Because the world is one. Fail the test and you don't get to try again," I said, smirking faintly.
Jenny frowned. "And what happens when we run out of bullets?"
"Then we adapt. Bows, swords, spears—you use whatever's left. But you'll still have the same mindset, and that's what keeps people alive." I let my gaze wander to Duane, who had fallen asleep against Ghost's side. "And we do this," I added quietly, "so they don't have to."
That night, the group gathered around the fire pit, flames painting their faces in shades of amber and shadow. The tension had eased slightly; training had given them purpose. I sat at the edge of the fire, cleaning my rifle while Ghost chewed lazily on a bone nearby.
Finishing, I shouldered my rifle and took my notepad, planning my next scavenging run. Hotels—a great source of beds, sheets, cleaning supplies, and toiletries. These would keep people from getting sick in the winter. Not glamorous, but valuable. In the lobbies: non-perishable snacks, bottled drinks, trade goods. I scribbled "Beds, clean, snacks" and circled it twice.
A library after that. People laugh at books until power fails and wood rot comes for your house. But maps, manuals, how-to texts on farming, canning, animal husbandry, blacksmithing, herbs identifying, even old chemistry books for gunpowder basics—these were gold. One farmer with a book could feed a dozen people next season. One mechanic with a manual could keep the generator going. Maps that could open new options for scavenging runs or possible strongholds. I underlined Maps, books, manuals.
And the hospital. The one where Rick Grimes lay in a coma, Harrison Memorial Hospital—the big one with the helipad. If the timeline held, it had been one of the earliest places to fall. Hospitals were dangerous, yes, but they were also dense with everything: surgical kits, IV bags, antibiotics, meds. I wrote Hospital, clear and loot. We also need a larger vehicle. The truck would be full on the first run if I hit the right haul.
The hospital run, though, meant something else. I'd go on foot with Ghost and clear the grounds while searching parking lots for another vehicle. Too many dead stopped vehicles. An engine sat fine in a lot if you had the right keys. A box truck or a big van with fold-down seats—room for people, room for Inventory—satisfies.
I returned to Andrea and Amy. "Prepare a list for tomorrow. I'm going on a scavenging run. We have to start preparing for when winter arrives."
"You're going back out there again already?" Andrea said, lifting an eyebrow. Amy and Jenny looked uneasy.
"Every day we wait, the world gets worse. Soon, the roads will be full. Stores will be stripped clean. If we want to stand a chance, we move now."
Dale and Morgan shared a look. Morgan turned to me. "I'm going with you."
"Not gonna happen," I cut him firmly but not insultingly. He was about to protest. "I need you here to look after the place with Dale and Jim. I would be more assured if you stay here. Plus, you have family to look after," I said, causing him to pause slightly. His eyes wandered to his wife and son. Jenny was pleadingly looking at him.
Letting out a sigh, he turned to me. "Sigh, fine. You know this run is a lot more dangerous than the last one. That hospital is a dead zone, and you know what that means," he said, his eyes hard.
Closing my eyes briefly, I exhaled. "I'm not naïve. I know hospitals were hot zones. Walkers are gonna be swarming the place, gathered in halls and wards where people had fallen. I know," I said. "The hospital is probably gonna be a hard place to clear, but the rewards are a hell of a lot more then what we could find elsewhere, aside from looting a shipping container. We need this," I said.
We locked eyes for a short minute; tension seemed to rise. Dale let out a soft cough, turning to me. "He's right, you know," Dale said. "But I know your type all too well. You're not gonna back down once you set your mind into something. So keep your radio close. If something happens, you call, alright?"
"Alright," I said, lifting my hands up in defeat. Dale letting a gruff chuckle while Morgan cracked a smirk.
Duane stirred slightly from his mother's arms. "You'll be careful, right, Mr. Zephyr?"
I smiled faintly. "Always, kid."
Soon, everyone drifted to sleep. I stayed behind, organizing my gear. I pulled out two silenced 9mm pistols, some spoils from the evidence room in King County Sheriff Station. I cleaned and loaded them, spare mags in pouches, a crowbar, a lock-picking kit, a length of paracord, some provisions for the road (Jenny insisted on it, although I have everything I need in my Inventory—they don't know that and won't know for a considerable time, if ever). If I have to, a machete and a suppressor for my rifle. Silence is going to be my friend. I double-checked everything and packed them in my backpack for now until I store them in my Inventory when I'm sufficiently far from the farm.
"Come on, boy, let's go get some rest. Tomorrow we have a busy day ahead of us," I smiled grimly. Ghost gave a whine, as if sensing my mood. Chuckling, I gave him a head pat as we went to sleep.
(To be continued...)