As soon as those words left my mouth, Rick stood up and stepped out of the room to call Michonne back.
When he closed the door behind him, Shane then spoke up, drawing everyone's attention onto him. "What the hell are we gonna do about this now?"
I glanced at him. "First order of business is to figure out how many of them are there—the number of combatants and the civilians, the layout of the settlement, everything we need to know to avoid mistakes."
"What if they outnumber us too much?" Morgan then asked, his forehead creased with worry.
I stayed silent for a bit before I finally spoke. "Then we play dirty."
Unsurprisingly, that made everyone quiet.
Soon, Rick stepped back in with Michonne in tow.
She walked back into the room with that same cautious, guarded stride, her katana strapped tightly on her back.
"Alright, Michonne," I said, leaning forward against the table and locking my eyes with hers.
"We're gonna need some numbers here. How many people are in Woodbury? How many combatants?"
Michonne took a breath, standing near the edge of the wooden table.
"According to what the Governor told me when he introduced them to me, seventy-three.
About a dozen of these are the core militia, the Governor's inner circle. They're cold, well-trained, and ruthless."
Hearing that number, the group relaxed a bit.
Then Michonne continued.
"Beyond that, there's the normal army force—maybe thirty or so men and women who can shoot a gun. The rest are regular folks."
Hearing that number, Shane and Merle swore under their breath.
Rick's expression darkened, Morgan looked worried, and Dale and Hershel went completely pale in the face.
I nodded inwardly. That's about what I knew.
"What about vehicles?" I pressed on. "What are they driving?"
"They have seven, maybe eight vehicles from what I've seen. Mostly civilian ones—a few pickup trucks and sedans, a working Humvee, and a military transport truck. That Humvee is their real power piece."
Dale and Hershel exchanged confused looks, while Rick, Merle, and Shane immediately went white in the face.
"A Humvee?" Shane whispered. "It's got a mounted .50 caliber heavy machine gun on top, doesn't it?"
Michonne nodded, her tone dead serious. "It does."
Hearing that, Dale, Hershel, and Morgan also went pale in the face.
Dale even staggered backward to his seat, his legs failing him from sheer terror.
"Dear god," Hershel whispered.
"Shit," Merle hissed. "We're so fucked."
Shane ran a hand over his buzzed head, pacing a short step back and forth. "This is gonna be tough. Really goddamn tough."
"What about their weapons?" Rick asked, stepping closer to the table, his voice tight. "What kind of firepower are we looking at?"
"The core guards carry assault rifles, marksman rifles, and carbines,"
Michonne paused for a moment before she continued on. "When I asked where the military weapons and vehicles came from, the Governor said that he retrieved them from a National Guard checkpoint that got overrun. I didn't think much of it at the time."
Michonne's expression tightened, "Later I noticed fresh bullet holes in the doors and frames of the vehicles. That's when the story didn't add up. If walkers had killed them, the vehicles wouldn't be riddled with bullet holes from small-arms fire."
She looked around and continued, "After I got suspicious, I broke into his quarters to get my katana back and to find out what really happened. Turned out there had been a National Guard helicopter crash where only one soldier—one Lieutenant Franklin Welles—survived. They brought him back to Woodbury's infirmary to recover. While recovering, Welles told the Governor that a small detachment of 10 surviving National Guard soldiers was waiting at a nearby encampment. Rather than integrating the soldiers into Woodbury, the Governor chose to eradicate them. He took his men, approached the Guardsmen under the guise of a peaceful rescue, and then massacred them all."
That made everyone grimace.
"According to his journal," Michonne continued, "He refused to let them into his town for two main reasons. The first was a threat to his authority. Trained soldiers answer to their own chain of command, not a self-appointed leader like him. They would have stripped him of his absolute control over Woodbury. The second was to seize their arsenal. By killing the soldiers, he got their high-grade equipment, guns, body armor, and military vehicles—without needing to share power or resources. After I figured out his true self, I quickly made my way out of Woodbury."
After that, Michonne kept going, providing us a detailed description—or as detailed as she could give—of how the community was sealed up.
She told us Woodbury was locked down tight using heavy metal gates, thick chain-link fencing, and stacked walls made of tires, sandbags, and wooden debris.
"They built sniper platforms elevated over the perimeter walls," she added, looking around at us. "Plus, they have guards posted on the roofs of key two-story brick buildings lining the main street. They see everything coming from a mile away. Outside the main walls, they cleared a killzone buffer to shoot down walkers before they even get close."
"A killzone..." Shane muttered, shaking his head. "So a frontal assault is suicide."
"Complete suicide," I agreed.
When she finished providing all the information I needed, silence fell over the room once more as the guys processed just how big of a threat we were dealing with.
We had tons of food, medicine, and weapons, but little trained personnel.
We were severely outnumbered.
I looked at Michonne and gave her a firm nod. "Thank you, Michonne. You gave us a lot to work with."
I paused for a second, looking at her scuffed boots and the exhaustion written in the lines around her eyes before continuing.
"Look, you saved our hides by coming here and telling us this. You're more than welcome to stay with us if you want. It's the least we could do."
Michonne hesitated for a minute, looking around the room at our faces, weighing her options carefully.
She looked at Rick, at Dale who gave her a gentle smile, and then back to me.
Finally, she gave a small, subtle nod. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll stay."
"Good," I said. "Rick, take her to the main house, get her a hot meal, and find her a proper bed in the new bunkhouse. She's more than earned it."
Rick nodded. "Come on, Michonne. Let's get you properly set up."
As soon as Rick and Michonne walked out the door, the remaining guys turned back toward me.
The mood in the room was heavier than ever.
"So," Shane said, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes fixed on me. "We know what they got. A .50 cal and forty guns. What's the plan, boss? Because digging trenches ain't gonna stop a heavy machine gun."
"The trenches will be dug, that's non-negotiable, but we also won't stay still waiting for them to make the first move," I said, looking each of them in the eye.
"Michonne said they're observing us. That means they don't know we know about them yet. They think we're just a bunch of fat, happy farmers sitting on a goldmine..."
"which gives us the element of surprise." Morgan noted, his voice calm despite the circumstances, "If it comes to a fight, we hit them when they least expect it."
"Exactly. We stick to the plan tomorrow morning. You and Shane start heavy weapons drills with everyone who can hold a rifle. Merle and Daryl scout the outer perimeter and look for their observation posts. The rest start on digging the trenches. Keep them thinking that everything is normal while we find out where their eyes are and we map them."
I paused, slapping my hands down flat on the wooden table. "They want a war? They can have it. But it's gonna be on our terms, not theirs. Now go get some food and get some rest. Tomorrow, we work twice as hard."
(To be continued...)