The morning broke out with the low hum of distant insects and the soft hiss of wind through the tall grass. The air was cool and damp when I stepped out onto the porch, the faint smell of dew and burnt wood from the night's fires. Ghost trotted beside me, alert but calm, ears twitching toward the soft murmurs of people waking in the camp. Chickens clucked lazily near the barn. I sipped from a mug of instant coffee, its bitterness grounding me. My eyes tracked across the property. It had been my sanctuary; it became a small outpost of civilization clinging to life.
I heard boots crunch behind me. "You wanted to see me?"
I turned around, there stood Shane Walsh, a few feet away, rifle slung across his shoulder. His usual cocky confidence was tempered by caution. I'd been expecting him.
"Walk with me," I said, setting down my mug and motioning toward the edge of the field.
We walked in silence for a minute, the only sound the morning breeze brushing against the grass and the distant crowing of a rooster.
I finally spoke, keeping my voice level. "You've been quiet since we left the quarry."
Shane shrugged. "Lot to process."
"Yeah," I said, stepping near the fence. "Like seeing your best friend return from the dead."
Shane froze, his jaw tightened. "What are you getting at?"
My gaze stayed on the horizon. "I'm not blind, Shane, nor am I stupid. I know there's something between you and Lori."
Shane's eyes flashed, part defensive, part ashamed. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I do," I said evenly. "And I'm not judging you. You thought Rick was gone. You took care of his family. You gave them something when everything fell apart. That's not betrayal, that's loyalty."
The words seemed to disarm Shane for a moment. His shoulders eased, his defiance wavered. I continued quietly. "Rick's back. And whatever you had with Lori can't continue. It'll tear this group apart before it even finds its footing."
Shane's jaw flexed. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you're struggling to let go," I said simply. "I get it, you lost your place. But this isn't about what any of us want. It's about what keeps us alive. Plus, there's plenty of fish in the water."
Silence stretched between us, heavy but not hostile. Shane finally broke it with a dry laugh. "You've got this all figured out, don't you?"
"No," I said. "But I know what happens when a team fractures from the inside."
Shane looked down, hands tightening around his rifle strap. "So, what now?"
"Now," I said, "you decide what kind of man you're gonna be from here on out. You stay here, you follow rules, you help keep these people alive. If you can do that, I want you running firearms training. The others trust you, and you know how to handle a gun better than most."
Shane blinked, clearly not expecting that. "You serious?"
"Dead serious," I said. "You want purpose? Earn it."
Shane searched my face, wary but grudgingly respectful. "Fine. I'll do it."
I nodded once. "Good. Then we start fresh."
We stood there for another quiet moment before heading back to camp. As we walked, I could almost feel tension bleeding off Shane. Not gone, but contained, for now.
By mid-morning, the farmstead was buzzing with activity. The new arrivals had started to fall into rhythm, though the weight of unfamiliar faces still hung in the air. I stood in the center of the yard, a clipboard in hand, barking quiet orders as people gathered around. Rick joined me with Morgan after finishing his morning perimeter check.
"Everyone's here," Rick said. "Looks like they're settling."
"Let's make sure they stay that way," I said. I raised my voice just enough for all to hear. "Alright, listen up. From today on, we're tightening structure. You've all seen what happens when chaos sets in. We won't survive another quarry situation."
I looked toward the Dixon brothers first. "Daryl, Merle. Hunting detail's yours. You know your way in the woods, you know how to track. You bring in meat, check snares, and watch signs of walkers. Stick together."
Merle gave a lopsided grin. "Guess we're the farm's food supply, then."
"Something like that," I said. "You keep bringing in results, we'll have no problems."
Daryl gave a curt nod, silent but steady. The man didn't talk much, but I respected that he did more than most.
"Glenn," I continued. "You're on scouting duty. You're quiet, fast, you know how to move without attracting much attention, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Map out safe routes, potential supply sites, and mark anything unusual."
Glenn grinned faintly. "Got it, boss."
"Carol and Miranda," I said next. "You're handling laundry and washing duty for now. Swap every few days with Jenny, Amy, and Andrea for cooking. Keeps everything fair." Carol smiled softly, a quiet gratitude flickering in her tired eyes. Miranda nodded, already mentally scheduling shifts.
I glanced at Rick and Morgan. "Rick, you'll assist on defense planning with Morgan and Morales." The three nodded.
"Shane," I said, "firearms training starts tomorrow morning. Split everyone into pairs."
Shane's voice carried a rough edge of pride. "Copy that."
My gaze swept across everyone else. "No freelancing. No heroics. Anyone leaving the farm clears it with me or Rick. We work as one unit, or we don't work at all."
The murmurs of agreement were subdued but genuine. They were adapting, slowly, painfully, but adapting all the same.
(To be continued...)