Hello everyone! There's been a mix in the order of chapters. This should have been Chapter 40, so yes i apologies for the misstep and enjoy.
By the time the sun fully dipped low and cast the farm in soft orange light, words had spread. The trucks—six of them now fully reinforced—stood in a neat row like armored giants. Seeing them completed, gleaming with fresh welds and steel plates, stirred admiration even in the most seasoned survivors.
Morgan whistled low as he walked around the lead truck. "Man… y'all turned these into fortresses."
Glenn ran his hand across one of the steel rams, eyes wide. "This is… next level. I've never seen anything like this outside a game or a movie. If we had these in Atlanta, we wouldn't have had to sneak past anything." He didn't say more, but the pride was clear.
Otis leaned into one of the wheel wells. "Suspension's holdin' good. You sure it'll take the weight on rough ground?"
I gave a nod. "Reinforced the shocks. They'll hold."
Shawn and Jimmy circled the trucks, impressed but slightly wary—neither had ever seen vehicles armored like this outside TV shows.
Merle grinned like he'd found religion. "Now this is what I'm talkin' about. Metal beasts. Ain't a deadhead alive gonna stand in front of one o' these and walk away."
Andrea crossed her arms, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "It's… intimidating. In a good way."
Carol, standing beside her, nodded softly. "If it keeps the kids safe, then it's a blessing."
Lori, on the other hand, looked at the trucks with a worried expression.
By the time dinner wrapped up, the mood was brighter than it had been in days. That night, the kids were shepherded into bed—Carl, Duane, Eli, Sophia, and the Morales kids still buzzing about the "armored monster trucks."
The adults gathered in the farmhouse's meeting room. Maps and notebooks lay spread across the table. I stepped forward. "Two of the main objectives have been completed," I said, holding up two fingers. "Reclamation of farmland for future planting—we'll have Hershel and his family to thank for that." I gave Hershel a nod; their expertise was invaluable. "And retrieving and reinforcing the trucks needed for the long-way scavenging run to get the containers we want full of supplies. If we're lucky."
I crossed my arms. "Now, the next step is to retrieve the fuel." I exhaled. "The only issue is that Glenn said it's crawling with a lot of walkers. Easily a couple hundred of them."
Heavy silence hung in the air. Rick rubbed his chin. "So hitting it without a plan is suicide."
Morgan leaned back. "That was a week ago. We need eyes on that place again. Conditions could've changed."
Rick nodded. "Exactly. If the herd moved or grew, we gotta know."
I agreed. "Tomorrow morning, I'll head out alone. Quiet, long-distance observation only. I'll check the horde's density, their drift pattern, access points, and outer fencing integrity."
Glenn lifted a hand. "I'll come—"
I shook my head. "You already mapped the place. This run has to be silent. One person is less risk."
Glenn didn't argue, but the concern in his face lingered.
I continued. "Day after tomorrow is operation day. Daryl, Merle, Rick, and I will take a truck and head to the depot. If the perimeter isn't swarming, we start clearing. If it is… we improvise."
"Tools are packed," Jim added. "Pumps, hoses. We can get a tank fueled up."
Hershel nodded solemnly. "We'll hold things down here. Keep the farm secure."
Andrea crossed her arms. "This is too risky."
Lori looked toward Rick, her face marred with worry. Carol looked at me with quiet fear. "Just… come back safely."
Merle grinned. "Hell, with these metal beasts out there, we'll be fine."
But the room didn't echo his confidence. The stakes were high; everyone knew it. I placed a steady hand on the map. "Tomorrow I scout. After tomorrow, we move. No heroics, no noise unless necessary. We do this right."
The meeting ended with heavy nods and a shared understanding. The armored trucks were a triumph—but without fuel, they were just steel statues. Tomorrow would reveal whether the risk was survivable, and the day after would decide our future.
Next day, dawn crawled over the horizon in muted streaks of orange and red as Rick approached me with a mug of steaming coffee, boots crunching softly on the gravel. "You sure you don't want Daryl coming along? Two sets of eyes are better than one, after all."
I shook my head as I slung my backpack into my truck. "Two people double the chances of being spotted. I'm scouting, not fighting."
Rick didn't like that, but he trusted me more than he trusted anyone when it came to operations. "Keep your radio open," Rick finally said.
I gave a small smirk. "Always."
I climbed into the truck. Ghost jumped into the passenger seat with me, tail wagging. It felt like we hadn't ridden together in forever. We rolled out quietly, the growl of the old truck disappearing into the dirt road behind me as the farmstead stirred awake for a brand new day.
(To be continued...)