The last sound from inside the barn was a dull, hollow thud.
Then silence.
A moment later, two Rangers emerged through the door, dragging the final body between them by the arms. The walker's head lolled to one side, jaw slack, its boots leaving twin grooves in the dirt as they hauled it into the yard.
They let it drop onto the growing line of bodies.
One of them wiped his blade against his pant leg.
"That's it," he said. "Barn's clear."
Andrew exhaled slowly. Not in relief. In release.
"Good work," he said. "Set a perimeter. Let's not fully relaxes yet."
The Rangers fanned out, boots crunching over the ground and straw. A few checked the bodies for movement, nudging shoulders with the toe of a boot.
"Man… I'm gonna smell that place in my sleep," one muttered.
Another shook his head. "You won't sleep long enough for dreams."
A third crouched near the barn door, peering inside. "Hell of a way to store your family and neighbors."
Andrew turned toward Hershel.
The old man stood a few paces back, hands wrapped around the shaft of his pole, knuckles pale. Maggie stood beside him, one arm around Lacey's shoulders. Then the two boys who Hershel introduced as Arnold and Billy, the two lingered just behind them.
Their eyes were on the bodies.
Andrew walked over slowly, stopping beside Hershel.
"You couldn't keep them looked forever," he said quietly.
Hershel swallowed. "They were my responsibility."
Andrew nodded. "And you did what you thought was right. That counts."
Hershel looked up at him. "You said they deserved better than being locked away."
"They do," Andrew said. "So let's give them that."
For a long moment, Hershel said nothing.
Then he nodded once. "We bury them."
Maggie's grip tightened on Lacey's arm.
Andrew turned back to his men.
"Bring up the body bags. Let's get this done."
Hershel blinked. "You brought body bags?"
"I considered that I wouldn't need them," Andrew replied. "But I planned for the chance I would."
Hershel looked at him, surprised. "You expected this?"
"I expected grief," Andrew said.
The Rangers moved immediately.
Two jogged back toward the humvees. Others began lifting bodies carefully.
"Easy with that one," one said. "Neck's loose."
"Watch your step."
"Bag's torn — grab another."
"Don't rush it."
They worked quietly now. No jokes. No bravado.
Black bags lined the yard, zipped one by one.
The barn stood open behind them.
Empty.
Andrew stood a few steps back, watching the family gather around the dead.
The sun was already high, burning the mist off the fields. Late morning light washed over the farmyard, revealing every scuff in the dirt, every dark stain left behind.
Arnold spoke in a low voice to Billy, his hands folded together like he didn't trust them not to shake.
"They were people we ate with," Arnold said. "Worked with. Lived beside."
Billy nodded slowly. "I keep expecting one of them to sit up and ask what all the fuss is about."
Andrew approached quietly, stopping just close enough to hear the end of the conversation. Glancing for a moment toward the farmhouse.
In one of the upper windows, Beth stood with the twins beside her. One child clutched the windowsill. The other hid half behind her. They were watching everything.
Andrew turned back to Hershel.
"Where do you want to bury them?" he asked.
Hershel blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. "On the farm," he said automatically. Then he hesitated. His eyes moved to the fields. The crops. The fences. The animals. "No. Not here. This land still feeds people. It should stay clean."
Andrew nodded. "That was my concern too."
Hershel exhaled slowly. "There's a small wooded ridge about half a mile west. Old family plot. We stopped using it decades ago."
"That could work," Andrew said. "But moving them is the problem. Our vehicles aren't built for transport like this."
Arnold stepped forward. "We've got a flatbed trailer for the tractor. Used it for hay and feed runs. We could line it with tarps. Strap the bags down."
Andrew considered it for a moment, then nodded. "That'll work."
Hershel looked at Arnold. "You sure?"
Arnold met his father's eyes. "They deserve more than being dumped in the back of a car."
Hershel swallowed. "Alright."
Arnold began moving towards the tractor.
"I'll get the tractor," he said, turning toward the shed. "Billy, grab the tarps. Maggie, help me line the trailer."
Billy nodded and jogged after him.
Maggie hesitated only a second before following. Lacey fell in beside her, silent but steady.
The tractor engine coughed, then rumbled to life.
Dust stirred across the yard as the trailer was hitched and pulled forward. Tarps were brought out of the shed and prepared to be spread across the flatbed, the corners weighed down with spare boards and feed sacks. Straps were laid out in neat rows.
Hershel watched them work, his jaw tight.
Beth still stood at the upstairs window with the twins, small hands pressed against the glass.
While the tractor rumbled in the background and tarps snapped in the breeze, Andrew stayed beside Hershel.
He kept his voice low.
"You know this land better than anyone," Andrew said. "Are there other farms still occupied? Anyone else we could talk with?"
Hershel watched Arnold guide the trailer into position, Maggie climbing up to spread the tarp flat.
"Most of the families left when the power went," he said. "Some headed toward the cities. Some tried their luck on the road. A few talked about riding it out like we did."
Andrew glanced toward the tree line. "Names?"
Hershel thought for a moment. "The Reynolds place. Two miles east. Cattle ranch. Big land, good fencing. The Coopers had a vineyard west of here. And there's an old dairy farm near the river. Belonged to the Hensleys."
"Any idea who's still alive?"
Hershel shook his head. "Without phones, there's no way of knowing."
Andrew nodded. "But they might still be out there."
"They might," Hershel agreed. "But there's no way of knowing."
Andrew watched the trailer being lined and strapped down.
"Then after we're done here, we start looking." He said firmly.
···
The last of the body bags had been secured on the trailer. Tarps were fastened, straps tightened, and the tractor idled patiently behind the barn. Andrew stepped back, scanning the yard one last time. Dust swirled faintly in the warm late-morning sun.
Hershel stood beside him, eyes still on the open barn.
"I'll see about having teams sent out soon," Andrew said quietly. "Supplies and help reinforcing the perimeter. You won't be left alone here."
Hershel nodded. "I appreciate that, Lieutenant."
Andrew gave a short nod, then turned toward the Rangers. "Let's move."
The group walked back toward the JLTV and humvee, boots crunching over the yard, weaving around scattered hay, stray boards, and the uneven ground. Behind them, the trailer sat heavy with body bags, waiting for their final journey.
The two vehicles rumbled to life, the engines low and steady. Andrew climbed into the JLTV, Rangers following behind in formation. Hershel watched from the gate, a small silhouette framed against the barn, the late morning sun casting long shadows.
The convoy rolled onto the gravel road, leaving Hershel's farm behind. Fields stretched on either side, crops bending in the soft wind. Birds circled above, undisturbed, as the convoy passed under the tree line at the edge of the property.
···
As they approached the vineyard, they could see the rows of vines creeping with wild overgrowth. Wooden trellises sagged under the weight of weeds, the soil dry and cracked between the lines. The farmhouse, a pale yellow now faded to gray in the sun, stood empty, doors swinging slightly in the breeze.
Andrew slowed the vehicle to a crawl, scanning the area. "Looks abandoned," he muttered.
The Rangers moved out on foot, weapons slung but ready. They checked the farmhouse—silent rooms, broken dishes, furniture tipped over, dust thick over the surfaces. Not a sign of life. Windows were boarded in some places, shattered in others. Outside, the vineyard stretched endlessly, its green and brown rows broken only by the occasional rusted trellis or fallen fence post.
"Nothing here," one Ranger reported. "Looks like they left in a hurry."
Andrew nodded, his eyes sweeping the property. "Keep moving. Let's check the dairy next."
···
The road narrowed as they approached the dairy farm. The yard was empty, gates swinging open, stray pieces of farm equipment scattered. The farmhouse door was ajar, paint flaking in sheets.
" Doesn't look very promising." One Ranger commented.
"Might look empty, but letting your guard down will get you killed." Andrew said signaling the teams forward.
"No argument from me," another ranger said.
They entered carefully, weapons raised but at ease, checking each room. The house was quiet, broken furniture and overturned chairs the only signs of struggle.
" Doesn't look good," a lead ranger said, looking over the mess.
" I agree, i — Contact." His teammate said as they stepped into the kitchen.
In the corner of the kitchen, two walkers huddled near a collapsed wall panel, groaning faintly. A hatchet and knife dispatched them efficiently.
"What was that?" Andrew asked as he along two other rangers walked down from the upper floor.
"Found two walkers in the kitchen, everything is under control." The first ranger reported.
"Good, the upper floor is clear, let's check outside." Andrew said.
Outside, the barns and milking stalls came into view. Wooden posts and metal panels had been chewed and scratched. The faint smell of ammonia and decay hung heavy in the air. Andrew motioned for the Rangers to spread out.
"Smells even worse then the barn filled with walkers." A ranger commented.
"I don't think i will get used to this.'' another added.
Inside the main barn, the team froze at first. The cows had long been dead. Only bones and stiffened hides remained, bleached by the sun filtering through broken roof slats. Among the remains, a half-dozen walkers were scattered, pale and slow, limbs stiff, some collapsed against the carcasses.
Andrew signaled, and the Rangers moved in with precision. Each walker was dispatched cleanly—knife to the back of the head, hatchet to the top or side—avoiding the bones and debris that could trip them. The dry air carried faint creaks from the barn structure and the soft rattle of bones underfoot, but no other signs of life stirred.
When the last walker fell, Andrew took a step back. "Barn's clear. Check for anything missed, then let's move on."
He glanced at his team, their faces set and silent, sweat on brows, eyes still scanning the shadows. The sunlight catching the dust motes.
"Let's keep moving," Andrew said. "Next stop on our list, the cattle ranch."
···
The JLTV's tires crunched over the gravel road, the humvee following close behind. Dust swirled in the sunlight, drifting over the fields they passed. Rows of tall pines and scattered oak trees slipped past the windows, interrupted by the occasional visible abandoned farm or rusting vehicle.
Inside the JLTV, Andrew sat upright, scanning the fields ahead. "Keep your eyes peeled. Hershel said that the ranch has good fencing, we might find someone this time," he said calmly, hands resting lightly on the wheel.
"You mean… not another empty place?" Asked the ranger next to him.
Andrew: "Exactly. This one's different. I can feel it. Keep it tight. Watch the perimeter, front and sides."
A ranger from the back leaned forward slightly, scanning the treeline. "What are we looking for? Smoke? Fortifications?"
Andrew: "All of it. Any signs of people, animals, defenses… and remember, we don't know anything about the people, so stay vigilant."
The humvee's engine rumbled behind them, a low, steady reassurance.
As the JLTV crested the last rise, the ranch came into view. Immediately, it was clear this wasn't like the others. Fences had been reinforced—posts thick, crossbars doubled, barbed wire strung along the top. Gates had extra locks and chains. Every barn and shed had been barricaded.
The ranger next to Andrew spoke low, almost a whisper. "Whoa… someone's been expecting trouble."
Andrew nodded, eyes narrowing." Possible. Watch the house and the yard. Hold your fire unless I say otherwise."
The convoy slowed, tires crunching over the last stretch of gravel, rolling carefully toward the main gate. Through the reinforced fence, they could see movement, men and women tending to chores, children running between buildings, elderly sitting on benches in the sun. Chickens pecked in the yard, clucking softly.
One Ranger whistles softly."Okay… this isn't empty, that's for sure."
From the farmhouse steps, a few men emerged, shotguns held casually but ready. Their posture was careful, defensive, clearly prepared for visitors but not immediately hostile.
Andrew adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, eyes scanning every detail. "Easy… slow… we make ourselves known, but not a threat."
The JLTV came to a stop just short of the gate, the humvee settling behind it. The quiet was only broken by the occasional cluck of a chicken, the soft murmur of voices, and the faint creak of a swinging gate.
The vineyard, and the dairy had been abandoned or infested with walkers—but this… this was alive.
Andrew's jaw tightened slightly, eyes locked on the farmhouse. "All right. Eyes forward. Let's see who we're dealing with."
Beyond the gate ahead of them, the people of the ranch were clearly watching cautiously.