A couple days passed and we had already made significant progress in digging the trenches—more than what was expected.
Even when people realize danger is close, they tend to go above and beyond to stay safe, and this is exactly what happened.
Daryl and Merle had radioed us later on the day they set off that they had found traces of multiple camps.
Most were with a clear line of sight to our settlement.
It appeared they were going smart about it, never staying in one campsite to avoid getting caught as much as possible.
They would have taken us off guard if not for Michonne.
Every time that thought crosses my mind, I feel both dread and gratefulness.
Dread because of what would have happened if we were truly taken off guard—the casualties, it makes me shudder just thinking about it.
Gratefulness to Michonne because she had saved us a ton of trouble, even when she didn't have to.
I had thought we could stay off their radar long enough to completely cover every weak spot we had and get everyone up to snuff in terms of survival training, but I guess fate had different plans for us.
As they say: man proposes, God disposes.
I ordered the Dixon brothers to stay sharp and figure out their routine.
How long do the spies stay?
If there are shifts, how long are they?
How many of them?
All of this could contribute to the plan that we will make in the near future.
Returning to the present, I'm currently sitting inside one of the bulldozers, digging where I was supposed to dig.
The noise of the diesel engine was loud, but it was music to my ears compared to staying oblivious to the upcoming danger.
The rest of the guys were following from behind with their hand tools, clearing out the corners that I couldn't get, all the while smoothing out the rough edges of the trench line.
Morgan, Morales, Glenn, and the others were down in the dirt with shovels, sweat soaking through their shirts as they tossed heavy scoops over the side.
We kept the dug dirt and rubble aside for now; we're gonna use it to stuff the shipping containers as an added layer of defense once we line them up.
It's gonna be a lot of work, but it's sure as hell gonna be more than worth it long-term-wise.
We continued on digging for the rest of the day while talking to keep our minds off the lingering dread.
We talked about old sports games, favorite meals, and dumb stories from before the world turned upside down.
We only stopped when Carol called us in for lunch, wolfing down whatever was served before heading straight back out into the sun.
We kept at it until the sun started dipping below the tree line, taking a breather again only when dinner was finally ready.
By the time the sun fully set, my back was aching from sitting all day long, but the perimeter looked entirely different.
The trench was wide, deep, and ugly—just the way we needed it to be.
After dinner, Maggie and I went back to my room—now our shared room.
The room was quiet, lit only by a single bedside lamp sitting on the wooden nightstand.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling off my dusty boots one by one, letting out a tired sigh as my feet hit the cool floor.
I looked up at Maggie, who was brushing her hair near the mirror.
"Oh, by the way," I said, leaning back against the frame of the bed. "Your old man and I finally had that conversation a couple days ago. The one I was dreading."
Maggie stopped brushing her hair and burst out laughing, then turned around toward me. "Why wait till now to tell me?"
"Honestly? With everything going on, I kinda forgot to mention it earlier," I admitted with a faint chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck.
"He was surprisingly okay with it, though. I thought I was gonna get a whole earful about keeping my hands off his daughter or a long speech about shotgun weddings."
Maggie laughed again, a light, genuine sound that instantly made the room feel warmer.
She set the brush down and walked over to the bed.
She didn't hesitate, climbing right on top of me and sitting on my lap, looking straight down into my eyes with a soft grin.
She leaned in and kissed me—a long, searing kiss that completely wiped the exhaustion from my mind and made the rest of the world vanish for a minute.
"I guess I'm all yours now, sugar," she whispered against my lips, her hands resting against my chest.
Then the light went off.
Late afternoon of the day Michonne left Woodbury:
The heavy oak door of the Governor's office clicked shut, cutting off the distant street chatter.
Philip didn't turn around immediately.
He stood by one of the office's large windows, his hands naturally clasped behind his back, staring down at the perfectly manicured lawns and the clean paved streets below.
"Did you find her?" Philip asked with a deceptively soft voice, not shifting his gaze from the window.
Martinez stepped forward, his boots thudding softly on the rug-covered wooden floor.
He was looking unusually tense, holding his cap in his hand as he stopped a few feet away from the desk.
"No," Martinez admitted, his voice tight. "We tracked her footprints to the edge of the red zone near the interstate, but then the trail went cold. She's too good at masking her tracks, boss—especially with those two pets of hers."
Philip's jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek twitched once before he turned around slowly.
The fake, warm smile that usually rested on his face was now nowhere to be seen.
In its place was a cold, calculating glare that made even a tough guy like Martinez look down at the floor.
"She didn't just wander off into the woods, Caesar," Philip said, his voice dropping an octave as he walked slowly toward his mahogany desk.
"She took her sword, which means she knows what we've done here. If she talks to the wrong people, everything we've built, the peace these people have, the safety of this whole town is at risk."
"We checked every abandoned location along the way up north, and Shumpert took a crew down the main highway," Martinez replied, shaking his head.
"Nothing. No sightings, no signs of a camp. If she's trying to stay hidden, she's doing a goddamn good job of it. As of right now, we haven't got a damn clue on where she went."
Philip let out a slow breath through his nose.
He stood behind his mahogany desk, his fingers tracing along the edges of it.
"Keep looking," Philip instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Broaden the search perimeter. Check every goddamn place in the vicinity if you have to. If she finds another group out there..."
He paused, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looked back toward the window.
"...she becomes a threat we cannot afford to ignore."
(To be continued...)