The drive back was quiet; none of us spoke. Rick rode with the two women in a car we took from the raiders, his knuckles white around the wheel. Daryl sat in the passenger seat, keeping his eyes on the road, jaw locked in grim silence. By the time we got back, dusk had settled over the fields. The Greene family waited anxiously by the porch, Maggie gripping the radio tightly, eyes wide as the vehicles pulled up.
I stepped out first, followed by Daryl, then Rick, helping the girls out. Hershel stepped out first and asked, "What happened and who are these girls?"
"Raiders," I said plainly. "They were set up in a fortified building in the old town—a group of nearly a dozen. They won't be a problem anymore. And these—these are the girls they kept."
"And what would have happened to your girls if they attacked you" Hershel's face whitened in horror.
Maggie trembled slightly and swallowed. "You… you killed them?"
Looking at her, my eyes softened a bit. "Yes. They were planning to attack you, same as they did to many before you. There's no prison to throw people in anymore, Maggie. You either stop threats or they stop you."
Hershel exhaled slowly, his expression flickered between relief and sorrow. "God forgive us… this world has gone mad."
"Mad or not," I said, voice quiet but firm, "it's still ours to survive in." I hesitated, then added, "You should reconsider, Hershel. You've seen what's out there. This place won't hold forever. I can help protect your family, but not if you stay here."
Hershel looked past me toward the horizon—the empty fields that had once meant peace. His hand clenched on the porch rail. "You really believe nowhere's safe?"
My gaze was steady. "Not anymore."
Rick stepped forward. "He's right, Hershel. These aren't ordinary times. We can't stay separated like this; we must unite so groups like that can't become a threat to us."
Beth clutched Annette's arm, pale and quiet. Shawn looked between us, uncertain. Daryl, leaning against the truck, silent, finally spoke. "Ain't gotta like it, but it is what it is."
The silence lingered until Hershel finally nodded, almost to himself, resignation clouding his eyes. "Then I suppose you were right, Zephyr. It's not safe staying divided anymore."
Maggie exhaled slowly, her eyes flickering in relief.
I offered a faint nod of respect. "Pack your essentials. You'll come to the farm. We've got the space and fortifications; you'll be safe there."
Hershel hesitated one last time, glancing back at the house that had been in his family for generations. Then he looked at his daughters, his people, and knew there was no other choice.
"Alright," he said quietly. "We'll go."
I asked, "Could you give the girls a look over and get them settled in a spare room? They've been through a lot, and they're almost non-responsive."
Hershel looked at the girls in pity, nodded, and looked at his wife. Annette came to the girls, took them by their hands. "Come on, darlings, let's get you a warm bath and some clothes," she said softly.
I turned to Rick and Daryl. "Help them load up. We'll move at first light."
As the others dispersed, I lingered by the porch, looking over the fading horizon. Smoke from the burning raider den still hung faintly in the sky, a grim reminder of what waited beyond these fields. "Another day survived," I murmured, "but this world doesn't give us peace; we take it by force."
Rick joined me a moment later. "Think Hershel'll adjust?"
"He will," I said. "They all will. Survival has a way of changing hearts."
Rick gave a faint nod. "You think there's more of these raiders out there?"
"There always are," I replied. "That's why we'll be ready."
Silence hung in the air as we stood side by side, as the sun sunk beneath the trees. The farm bathed in orange light. Peace—fragile, temporary—but for now, it would do.
The Greene farm stirred awake before dawn had yet to fully settle. The farmhouse yard was alive with quiet movement. Shawn hauled boxes from the porch to the back of a pickup. Otis strapped down crates of canned food and medical supplies. Patricia folded blankets and handed them to Beth, who stacked them in the box truck. Hershel moved slow but steady through it all, giving instructions without raising his voice, preparing to abandon the land that was handed down in his family for generations. They were leaving home, leaving everything that had defined their lives before yesterday. And yet, after what Zephyr had brought back from the raider camp—after the horrors these men inflicted, after the way they stalked the farm—staying wasn't survival anymore. It was suicide.
Maggie was the only one absent of the morning bustle. Last night, Annette had settled the two rescued girls upstairs after bathing them and dressing them in clean clothes borrowed from Maggie. Hershel tended to their wounds. They didn't speak, barely moved, stared hollowly into nothing. Whatever had been done to them, whatever the raiders had carved out of their souls, had left them empty.
Maggie had checked on them before bed; they'd been lying quietly. One had even fallen asleep. Now, as she climbed the staircase with a folded blanket in hand, she exhaled softly. Maybe… maybe they slept through the night. Maybe they'll talk today.
She reached the door, turned the handle, pushed gently, and stopped breathing. The blanket slipped from Maggie's fingers and fell silently to the floor.
The two girls—these broken, traumatized girls Zephyr and the others risked their lives to save—hung from the wooden ceiling beams by torn bed sheets. Their bodies pale, feet dangling inches above the floor boards, their eyes clouded gray, dead, emitting choked, rattling snarls.
Maggie's scream tore through the farmhouse like a knife.
"MAGGIE?!"
The pounding of boots thundered up the stairs immediately: Rick first, then Daryl, then me. I swept past the others with urgency, pushing the door fully open the moment I saw her collapsed against the wall.
"Maggie—hey—Maggie!" My voice dropped, steady, grounding. I pulled her tight against my chest as she shook violently.
"Oh God—no—no—no," Maggie sobbed. "We—we were supposed to help them… we—"
"I know," I whispered, holding her head against my shoulder, shielding her from the sight. "Don't look. I've got you."
Rick froze in the doorway, face draining of color. Daryl swore beneath his breath and looked away. The two girls strained against the bed sheet, snapping their teeth, arms jerking in mindless hunger.
Shawn, Beth, Otis, Patricia, and Hershel arrived seconds later, drawn by Maggie's scream, breathless and terrified. I barked at them, "DON'T LET THEM NEAR THE ROOM!"
Hershel staggered forward, hand gripping the doorframe so tightly his knuckles whitened. "Dear… Dear God…"
Annette, who had cared for the girls only hours ago, clasped hands over her mouth, eyes brimming with guilt and horror. Otis and Shawn turned pale.
Rick lowered his voice. "Zephyr… they turned."
"I know." My face hardened as I stared at the girls' dead bodies hanging from the wooden beams.
(To be continued...)