For a moment, no one spoke.
The weight of it all—the number of walkers that we cleared, the sealed containers, the machine that would allow us to bring back these said containers—settled over the room like a second ceiling.
Then, the tension broke.
Not loudly, just… quietly.
Chairs shifted.
Someone exhaled.
A low murmur started up, voices overlapping as people began to process what they'd just heard.
Hershel leaned back slightly, his brows smoothed out a bit.
One hand rubbed at his beard—still wary, still somewhat disapproved with what I did, but there was something else there now.
Something practical.
Like he liked the result but disliked the process.
I couldn't blame him.
I disliked the process as well, but that's how it is.
You win some, you lose some.
Dale nodded to himself, slow and thoughtful.
"The supplies are always appreciated but… the methods of acquiring these supplies… my heart can't stand these kind of stimuli anymore."
Chuckles broke through the group.
"These supplies…" I continued, "if used right, could last us for years."
Andrea crossed her arms, keeping her eyes on me. "And if we don't?"
"We don't get a second shot," I replied. Simple. Honest.
I turned to her fully now.
"Let's get something straight." I said
"Resources are somewhat abundant now that it's still early in the game. Fast forward a year, or even half a year, and we'd be lucky to even find something useful. So keep that in mind."
That settled it.
I let my gaze sweep the room one last time.
"Tomorrow we go back prepared," I said.
"Fuel, batteries, tools... all the stuff that is needed to bring one of these machines back online is already in the box truck now."
I paused for a bit before I continued.
"Tomorrow we return to that rail yard. Jim is going to get one of these machines back to life, and we get all the containers we can get back to the farmhouse."
A beat.
"That's how we stop just surviving."
The group nodded, and with that, the meeting broke.
Not all at once.
Slowly, people stood, talking in low voices, discussing the plan we just proposed.
The room emptied piece by piece until only one person remained.
The one who mattered most.
Maggie.
She didn't say anything.
Didn't wait.
Her hand found mine—firm, warm—and she pulled, leading the way out of the room, down the hallway, up the stairs.
I followed without resistance.
Didn't need to think about it.
Didn't want to.
The door to our room shut behind us with a soft click.
Not even a half a second passed.
She was already on me.
She didn't hesitate.
Her hands caught my shirt, pulling me in as her lips crashed against mine in a hungry, urgent manner, like the last three days' wait had been sitting just under her skin, waiting to break loose.
I caught her instinctively, one arm around her waist as momentum carried us back a step.
There was nothing careful about it. No slow easing. Just need.
Her fingers slid up into my hair, tightening, anchoring.
My hand pressed into her waist, pulling her closer.
The world outside the door—didn't exist.
No walkers.
No plans.
Nothing.
Just this woman in my arm.
Three days of distance collapsing into a single moment.
She broke the kiss just long enough to draw breath.
Her forehead rested on mine just for a second, then she leaned back in harder.
I let a quiet breath against her lips, something tight in my chest finally giving way.
The weight, the constant pressure—gone for now.
That was enough.
The room dimmed and everything else slipped quietly out of focus.
Morning came quietly.
Pale light bled through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft gold and muted shadow.
I woke up to warmth.
Maggie was tucked against me, one arm draped across my chest, her head resting just below my shoulder.
Her hair was a mess, strands of it catching the light where it slipped through the window.
Her breathing was slow, even.
For a moment, memories of yesterday night flooded my mind.
I shook my head slightly to clear it up.
I didn't move, just kept looking at her face—how peaceful it looked while she was asleep.
I probably should have gotten up sooner, but the world outside the farmhouse could wait a few seconds longer.
After a while, I moved.
My hand shifted slightly against her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing, intending to move without waking her up.
But she stirred a moment later anyway.
A quiet sound, half-asleep, as she shifted closer before her eyes opened just a fraction.
"Hey," she murmured, her voice rough with sleep.
"Hey yourself," I said.
"You're staring," she murmured.
"Yup," I said.
One eye opened fully now.
She gave me a look. "Professional creep?"
"Situational awareness."
That earned me a soft huff of a laugh.
She stretched slowly, her arm sliding off my chest before she propped herself up just enough to look at me properly.
I leaned in for a kiss. "Sorry, but I gotta go. Busy day ahead."
I got up and got dressed.
She watched me a second longer before she got up.
The sheets dropped on the floor, though she paid them no heed.
Then she grabbed my shirt, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, then pulled back, keeping her hand on my chest.
"Go get 'em, tiger," she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
Playful, but her fingers tightened just a fraction.
I caught that.
She held my eyes. "How long is it gonna take?"
"Probably days, but I'll be back multiple times a day to unload back here and sleep. So yeah... same as every other day."
Her eyes flickered just for a second, then she leaned forward, resting her forehead against mine.
"Be careful, you never know what's out there" she muttered.
"I will."
I caught her gaze one last time before I turned and headed for the kitchen.
Breakfast first, then work.
(To be continued...)