The ride back was quiet for the first few miles.
The tension that had been hanging over us all morning finally started to ease up, replaced by the hum of the tires against the cracked pavement and the warm feeling of having the Sword of Damocles that was Woodbury withdrawn.
In the backseat, Shane was leaning his head back against the headrest, staring out at the passing trees.
Merle had his arms crossed over his chest, a wicked grin stuck on his face as he occasionally kicked the back of the trunk seat just to hear the Governor groan inside the trunk.
"Stop kicking the man, Merle," Rick muttered, though he didn't put much force behind it.
"Just making sure the bastard's still breathing," Merle cackled, kicking it one more time for good measure. "Don't want him suffocating before we get to have our fun with him."
"He won't suffocate," I said, eyeing the road ahead.
"He's got plenty of air back there. Just focus on keeping an eye out the back window. If any of his loyalists that we might have missed decided to follow us, I want to know before they get close."
"Nobody's following us," Shane spoke up, his voice gravelly. "I'm not saying we missed anyone who might have been a loyalist, but one thing's for sure—these people in there won't come after us. Hell, they've even thanked us."
Shane paused for a moment before he continued. "Those people in there were terrified. The Governor's done some really nasty things, even by our standards, and we've already been desensitized to the chaos around us—much less Woodbury's citizens who've been sheltered. You broke the spell, Zephyr. Once they saw those heads in the tanks, the Governor was dead to them anyway."
"Maybe," I said. "But in this new world, you just can't afford to take chances. Daryl, keep watch."
Daryl didn't say anything. He just gave a short nod, then turned his head and kept his eyes glued to the side mirror, scanning every burnt-out car husk and dilapidated sign we passed.
We kept moving fast, cutting through the countryside and putting as much distance between us and Woodbury as we could.
The trunk rattled every time we hit a pothole, but nobody complained, aside from the unconscious groans of the governor.
If even you wanna call it that
We had the Governor—the source of our trouble—and most importantly, we had cleared out a massive threat without losing a single one of our own.
I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal, watching the empty road stretch out ahead of us, leading us back home.
It wasn't long before the sight of the container wall we had constructed came into view.
Home.
The moment I laid eyes on it, a weight I hadn't realized I was holding suddenly dropped, leaving me feeling a lot more relaxed.
I was sure I wasn't the only one feeling the same, because from the corner of my eye, I saw the guys relax as well, their shoulders slumping back against the seats.
Returning my attention to what was in front of me, I slowed down the vehicle a notch at a time as we drew closer to the gates before I pulled to a stop about twenty yards away.
I left the engine running and stepped out of the driver's seat.
I looked up toward the guard towers, spotting Dale and Morgan, who had their rifles trained at our vehicle.
I waved my arm high over my head.
The moment they saw it was me who stepped out of the sedan and not some stranger, they immediately dropped their weapons, with Morgan rushing down the tower ladder to open the gates for us.
I returned back inside the vehicle, hit the gas, and moved the sedan forward.
"Good call," Daryl grunted, watching the heavy metal gates swing open. "If you hadn't stepped out to assure them it was us, they might have opened fire."
"They wouldn't hit us directly, but they sure as hell would have fired warning shots," I said, chuckling at the idea of us getting shot at by our own guys.
Daryl didn't reply; he just grunted in agreement, resting his bow against his knees.
The sedan slowed down as we passed through the open gates, the tires crunching loudly over the loose gravel.
Morgan stood by the side post, his hands resting on his hips as he looked into the car.
"Welcome back!" Morgan called out over the rattle of the exhaust. "Don't think there were any complications, were there?"
"None," I replied through the open window with a short wave. "Everything went according to plan. We'll talk in detail later."
And with that, I pressed my foot lightly on the gas pedal and continued driving toward the open dirt lot where we usually parked our vehicles.
The noise of the sedan's engine arriving at this hour attracted everyone who was out working, and people started dropping their tools and coming over to check on us.
I parked the car right next to the supply truck, pulled the key from the ignition, and turned off the engine.
The quiet settled in instantly.
Everyone got out of the sedan, stretching their legs and popping their backs after the long drive.
Shane rolled his shoulders with a groan.
Rick stepped out to stretch his arms, and Merle immediately walked around back to lean his weight against the trunk, keeping his hand close to the latch so the Governor wouldn't try anything stupid inside.
Maggie came straight over to me from the garden side.
She didn't say a word at first—she just wrapped her arms around my neck, pulled me in close, and kissed me on the lips.
"Welcome back," she murmured softly, pulling back just far enough to look me over and make sure I was completely intact. "I was getting worried."
"Told you we'd be fine," I said, putting my arm around her waist and holding her close. "Didn't have a single scratch on us."
Hershel ambled over right behind her, leaning lightly on his cane, his white beard catching the bright sunlight.
He looked at me, then looked over at Rick and Shane, letting out a breath he'd clearly been holding all day.
"Welcome back, son," Hershel said, offering a warm, tired smile as he rested a hand on my shoulder. "Glad to see all five of you made it back in one piece."
"We did more than just make it back, old man," Merle cackled from the rear of the car, slamming his heavy hand down onto the sedan's hood with a loud metallic bang that made a few people jump.
"We brought back a little present for the whole farm, tied up real nice in the back."
Hershel raised an eyebrow, his smile fading into a serious, watchful glare as he looked past me toward the locked trunk. "Is that him?" Hershel asked quietly, his voice turning cold.
"That's him," I said, letting go of Maggie's waist and stepping toward the back of the car.
"The Governor himself. Out cold and wrapped up like a pig for slaughter."
(To be continued...)