They barely made it to Newnan.
By the time the convoy crawled within sight of the outskirts, they'd drained every drop of fuel they could find.
They had siphoned gas from abandoned cars along the road, even puncturing one tank to catch the last trickle into a dented container.
What used to be the water truck now carried nothing but people, its usefulness as a lifeline long gone.
The vehicles sputtered and died just ten miles out.
Snow drifted down in a haze, the wind cutting through the trees like knives.
The group stood in silence, breath visible in the air.
Staring toward a faint silhouette of a building barely visible on the horizon.
Glenn broke it first. "We could walk to it. A few of us. See if there's shelter or supplies."
Rick shook his head immediately. "No. We can't split. If something happens to you out there, we've got no way to get you back. Not worth it."
Joe stepped in, backing Rick. "He's right. We set up camp here for now. Get a fire going before it gets dark."
Daryl said, "I'll head out hunting... maybe we get lucky."
"I'll go too," Joe added without hesitation.
Joe slung a bow across his back and started off into the woods. Rick followed him closely, wanting to discuss their next move.
Daryl headed off in another direction.
The hunt took them deeper than expected.
Snow muffled their steps, the woods eerily still.
They eventually found some train tracks, following them through the woods until they stumbled across something neither had expected to find.
A prison.
The chain-link perimeter stood unbroken, high fences stretching in every direction.
Beyond them, the yard teemed with walkers. A hundred, maybe more, but the walls held strong.
The structure loomed behind the fences, dark and untouched, like a fortress waiting to be claimed.
Rick stopped dead, eyes wide. "It's perfect."
Joe nodded, a rare grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Exactly what we need."
Rick turned, eager to run back and tell the others, but Joe caught his arm.
"Wait." In one fluid motion he drew his bow, loosed an arrow into the trees.
Said arrow brought down a huge owl that had been perched above. The bird thudded into the snow, wings spread like a fallen banner.
Joe retrieved it, slung it over his shoulder, and finally gestured for Rick to head back.
By the time they returned, the group was huddled close around a roaring fire, flames snapping against the dark.
Weary faces looked up as the two men emerged.
Rick carrying hope, Joe carrying food.
...
Rick and Joe quickly told the group about the prison and the herd of walkers trapped within the yard.
Carol frowned. "How are we gonna clear the place?"
T-Dog shook his head. "Yeah, we're running on fumes."
Rick's voice was steady. "Look, we can't keep bouncing from place to place. We need a home. Just like the farm was supposed to be."
Joe nodded firmly. "Rick's right. We can't keep hoping to stumble across a safe haven. We build our own this time."
The words carried weight, silencing the doubts for a moment. Casey finally broke it. "And the walkers?"
Joe met her eyes. "We use the fence as a shield. Thin 'em out from behind it."
Rick added, "There's a gate further inside. We clear the yard tonight, then tomorrow, a cell block for ourselves."
The group exchanged glances. Glenn spoke up, hopeful. "There's gotta be food inside, right? Maybe even an armory."
Joe let a sly grin creep across his face. "Exactly."
As the discussion went on, Joe had already stripped the owl of its feathers, gutted it, and skewered it over the fire. He turned it slowly. "First we eat. Then we take the yard."
No one argued. The thought of real safety, something solid around them was enough to settle them.
A few minutes later, Daryl emerged from the treeline, a small deer slung over his shoulders. Laughter broke out at the sight.
Joe smirked. "Hey, princess, you got some kinda fairy godmother or somethin'?"
Daryl scoffed and flipped him the bird, drawing another round of laughter. The mood lifted, if only for a moment.
Joe helped him butcher the deer, soon adding cuts of meat to the fire. While the smell drifted, Joe noticed Amy shivering.
He wordlessly draped his coat over her shoulders. She started to protest, but he ignored it, handing her a roasted piece of owl instead.
Making his way between the women at his side, Joe eventually found himself left with nothing but a drumstick.
He devoured it in a few bites, then stood still, watching Amy and the others smile as they ate.
For the first time in days, the group looked happy.
...
When everyone finished eating, Joe and Rick gathered the group and led them through the woods toward the prison.
The vehicles were left behind, stripped of weapons and gear. They could always come back for them, or find new ones later.
The snow crunched underfoot as they moved single-file. Joe noticed Clem lagging, her small legs dragging in the snow.
Without a word, he scooped her up in one arm, his rifle slung across his back. She clung to him, eyes wide but trusting, as he kept pace at the front beside Rick.
At last, the trees broke, revealing the looming silhouette of the prison. Fences topped with razor wire encircled the massive brick fortress.
For a moment, the group stood in silence, staring at the structure that might finally mean safety or death.
They descended a small hill, coming to the first chain-link barrier. Rick crouched low, pulling bolt cutters from his bag.
With a quick snap, the fence gave way. The walkway between the double fences was mercifully clear.
"Move," Rick whispered.
Everyone filed in quickly, Glenn looping a thick wire through the cut fence once they were inside. Joe set Clem down gently, ruffling her hair before turning back to business.
"Melee only," Joe ordered, drawing his katana with a metallic whisper. "No gunfire, we don't need the noise."
The group nodded grimly.
Rick's voice carried low but firm. "Spread out along the fence. Make noise. Draw them in... we pick them off as they press against the chain-link."
They fanned out across the length of the walkway, pounding on the fence with pipes, knives, and boots.
The distant groans grew louder as the yard's walkers shuffled toward the racket. Soon a wave of decaying bodies slammed into the fence, clawing and snarling.
It was controlled slaughter. Steel pierced skulls through the links, blades stabbed through eye sockets, and makeshift spears stabbed through temples easily.
One by one the dead dropped, piling against the fence. The method was slow, brutal, but effective.
By the time it was done, nearly ninety percent of the yard's walkers lay silent.
The rest were scattered and too far to be lured, drifting aimlessly in the distance.
Joe regrouped with the others, pointing ahead. "There's the gate Rick mentioned. I'll close it off with this chain."
Maggie's eyes widened. "Are you out of your mind? Behind that gate is at least a hundred walkers!"
Daryl let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Hell, Maggie... we all know he's crazy."
Joe smirked, tightening the chain around his shoulder. "Damn right." Without hesitation, he started forward, leaving Maggie gaping.
The snow crunched under his boots as he strode toward the looming guard tower.
Rick caught up, giving him a silent nod before working the gate. With a groan of metal, the gate slowly creaked open.
Joe stepped through, katana gleaming in the moonlight.
...
Joe jogged up the gravel path, boots crunching in the snow. A prison transport bus lay tipped on its side, half-buried in the white drift.
Walkers stumbled around it, their groans echoing against the concrete walls.
His katana flashed. One swing, then another... rotting heads toppled into the snow.
He moved gracefully up the path, carving his way to the gate. With a heave, he dragged it shut, looping the heavy chain then locked it tight.
The dead on the inside hadn't noticed him.
He turned back, cutting down stragglers as Daryl covered him from the bus with his last bolts.
Together they cleared the yard, and when it was over, the world was quiet again.
Joe rejoined the group, earning a round of scolding from his women. He shrugged it off.
"Still breathing, aren't I?" They gave up quick, though worry lingered in their eyes.
The survivors spread out across the field, double-tapping every corpse to make sure none of the dead would rise again.
When the work was finished, they claimed the open yard as their camp.
Glenn and T-Dog slipped out through the front gate for firewood, Jack working the internal mechanism to let them back in.
Soon tents rose on tarps, snow brushed away beneath them. A fire sparked to life, warming hands and faces against the cold night.
Joe didn't linger. He walked the perimeter, eyes sharp, hands steady on the hilt of his blade.
He found Daryl and Carol perched on top of the overturned bus, their closeness not exactly subtle.
Joe let out a laugh that startled them both.
"Have fun, princess!" he called.
Daryl ignored him, jaw tight, while Carol let slip a soft, embarrassed sound. Joe chuckled and kept walking.
His rounds turned up no breaches, no loose fencing. The prison held.
He circled back toward the gate, spotting the guard tower looming overhead.
The door groaned when he shoved it open, and a walker lunged from the shadows. Joe met it with cold steel, dragging the corpse outside after.
A search of the body rewarded him: an M9 pistol, a spare magazine, and a sniper rifle slung over its shoulder. He slung the rifle across his back, satisfied.
When he returned, the group was huddled around the fire. Beth's soft voice carried through the cold, her song smoothing the edges of fear and exhaustion.
Joe lowered himself beside Maggie, pulling her close as she and Beth sang together. Clementine climbed into his lap, her head resting against his chest.
When the song faded, talk turned practical.
T-Dog gestured toward the frozen pond. "We can rig a pump once the weather breaks. Water won't be an issue."
Joe nodded. "For now, we boil the snow."
Hershel rubbed his beard, already imagining the future. "With this space… come spring, we can plant tomatoes, cucumbers... anything we can get our hands on."
Rick's eyes swept over the group. "We can make this place self-sustaining."
There were nods all around. For the first time in weeks, people looked hopeful.
Joe leaned forward, his tone serious. "There's an armory. Maybe untouched. Riot gear, weapons, ammo... we'll need all of it."
Rick added, "And the warden's office might give us the location of an off-site armory."
Hershel said, "Mess hall, infirmary... if they're still stocked, we'll have food, medicine, everything we need."
Hershel gave a faint smile. "Enough for the babies, when the time comes."
Joe's eyes swept the group. "This place is our golden ticket. We can't afford to screw it up."
The firelight caught on solemn faces.
Carl and Sophia trying to look older than they were. Even Clem's little brow furrowed in concentration, it was adorable.
It was sad that even in their youth, they understood the importance of this place.
With nothing more to say, everyone drifted into their tents, rotations set for fire and watch duty.
Joe curled up with Maggie and Beth, warmth pressed between them, fighting against the bitter cold.
In the next tent, Amy, Andrea, Emma, and Clementine cuddled. Laughter muffled under the canvas before it too went quiet.
For the first time in a long while, the group slept behind real walls.