Chapter 9

"It Doesn't Take The Most Powerful Nations On Earth To Create The Next Global Conflict. Just The Will Of A Single Man." -Vladimir Makarov

Price's POV

"Alright, listen up..."

Price stood at the front of the convoy, his weathered hands gripping the edges of a faded road map spread across the hood of the lead truck which they found yesterday. The survivors gathered in a half-circle, weary but attentive.

"We're headin' north. Target's Shirewilt Estates—just outside Richmond. It's a gated community, supposed to be a safe zone. Could be standing, could be a graveyard. Either way, it's our best shot."

His finger traced the route on the map, bypassing major highways and large cities.

"We don't take highways. Too many abandoned cars, too many walkers, too many chances to get pinned down. Cities? Even worse. So we're stickin' to backroads, forest trails, and railway paths. Nice and quiet."

He let his gaze sweep over the group.

"This ain't a Sunday drive. This is survival. We stay sharp, we stay together, and we bloody well make it."

Convoy Setup & Formation Scout Truck (Lead Vehicle) – Moves ahead (~1 mile), scans for obstacles & threats. Main Transport (Center Vehicle - Bus) – Carries most survivors & supplies, reinforced for protection. Rear Guard (Last Vehicle - SUV) – Defensive cover, holds weapons & additional storage.

Convoy Protocols:

Scout team reports back every 15 minutes via radio. Speed stays at ~20-30 mph—fast enough to move, slow enough to react. No stopping in open areas. We don't camp near roads. If one vehicle breaks down, we tow it, if possible fix it ASAP . If it can't move, we strip it and leave it.

"No one goes off alone. No heroics. You get lost, you're on your own, and I ain't coming back for a corpse."

Phase 1: Senoia → Oconee National Forest (~Day 1-4, 60 miles) Route: Small county roads northeast, avoiding Atlanta. Stops: Farmhouses, hunting lodges, abandoned ranger stations. Water Source: Chattahoochee & Oconee Rivers (filter & boil) aside from the gallons that will bring along with is. Scavenging: Gas stations, old barns for fuel. Hunting lodges for weapons, traps, and non-perishable food. Threats: Scattered walkers, maybe isolated survivor camps. Potential roadblocks set by small groups.

"If we hit a farmhouse, we don't rush in. Could be occupied. We knock first—with a scope, not a fist."

Phase 2: Oconee National Forest → South Carolina Border (~Day 5-8, 100 miles) Route: Stick to rural roads & dirt trails along the Oconee & Savannah Rivers. Shelter: Abandoned barns, isolated camp grounds, deep forest clearings. Scavenging: Small-town gas stations, tool shops, train depots. Threats: Walker density rising near old towns. Small bandit groups—nothing large, but dangerous if they get the jump on us.

"We move fast through here. If we're spotted, we ain't stopping to make friends."

Phase 3: South Carolina → Uwharrie National Forest, NC (~Day 9-13, 120 miles) Route: Avoid Columbia, SC—stay in Sumter National Forest trails. Shelter: Ranger stations, hunting cabins, abandoned storage units. Scavenging: Check isolated gas stations & train yards for fuel. Hunting & fishing stores—ammo, knives, water filters. Threats: Walker herds from Columbia, groups patrolling smaller towns.

"If we see signs of people—fresh smoke, footprints, supplies still intact—we don't engage unless we have to. Could be friendly, could be another set of bloody cannibals. Best not to find out."

Phase 4: Uwharrie National Forest → Virginia Border (~Day 14-18, 130 miles) Route: Follow state roads, railway paths, Dan River for fresh water. Shelter: Forests and abandoned farmhouses—avoid anything looking too "lived-in." Scavenging: General stores, warehouses, abandoned police stations. Threats: Organized groups may be in control of parts of rural Virginia.

"Survivors here are either runnin' farms or runnin' people. Either way, we ain't taking chances."

Final Phase: Virginia → Shirewilt Estates (~Day 19-25, 120 miles) Route: Stay off the Richmond suburbs—approach Shirewilt through the woods. Final Recon: Scouts go first, check the perimeter. Look for signs of life—or signs of slaughter. No one enters until we're sure it's safe. Threats: If it's occupied, we assess whether they're friendly or hostile. If it's abandoned, it might still be overrun.

Price folded his arms, looking over the group.

"Richmond's a gamble. If it's safe, we stay. If it's not, we don't hesitate—we walk away. No second chances."

Survival & Security Plan

1. Convoy Movement & Defense

- Lead scout clears roads, reports back every 15 minutes.

- Rear vehicle covers retreat if necessary.

- Vehicles form a defensive triangle if attacked.

2. Resource Management

- Fuel stops every ~100 miles.

- 3-day rations minimum—never eat everything we find at once.

- Water replenished from rivers & rain collection.

3. Night time Protocols

- One-hour watch rotations—two awake at all times.

- Tripwire alarms with empty cans & fishing line.

- No fires unless deep in the woods.

4. Combat & Engagement Rules

- Avoid fights. If conflict arises, disengage unless no choice.

- Use melee & silenced weapons—gunfire attracts walkers.

- Treat all survivors as threats until proven otherwise.

"This ain't a sprint—it's a bloody marathon. We stay focused, we keep moving, and we keep breathing. Richmond's the target, but survival's the real mission. Stick together, stay quiet, and watch your damn backs."

Price took one last look at the survivors.

"We move out in 3 hours. Stay sharp."

Rick's POV

I nodded, taking in every word as Price laid out the route plan. His voice was steady, confident, every move thought through like a well-planned operation. No nonsense, no sugarcoating—just survival.

Some of the group had questions—Abraham asked about alternate routes, Maggie wanted to know how we'd handle food shortages, and Tyreese brought up what we'd do if a vehicle broke down. Price answered each one without hesitation, like he'd already played every scenario in his head. That kind of mind was good to have, especially with how much we'd lost.

I glanced around at the faces in the group, the people I'd bled for, killed for. They were listening, some more cautious than others, but they understood—Price was a soldier, and soldiers know war. And that's what the world had become.

My thoughts drifted for a second. Was he always like this? Or did the world make him into what he is now?

Either way, I was damn sure glad he was on our side.

Shaking myself from my musings, I turned to the group.

"Alright, you heard him," I said, my voice carrying through the gathered survivors. "Check your gear, pack what you need. We've got a long day ahead of us."

No one argued. We'd done this enough times to know that hesitation could get you killed.

For the next few hours, we gathered supplies—food, ammo, tools, anything we could carry. The kids stayed close to Carol and Maggie while Rosita and Michonne went through our fuel reserves. Daryl checked weapons. Abraham helped reinforce the bus, making sure it could handle rough terrain.

By the time the sun started to rise higher, we were ready.

I watched as the group started boarding the vehicles.

Scout Truck (Lead Vehicle) → Price, Daryl, Glenn, and Izzy climbed inside, the first line of defense. They'd be the ones checking the roads, clearing obstacles, making sure we weren't walking into a damn trap. Rear Guard (Last Vehicle - SUV) → Me, Abraham, Rosita, and Michonne. Our job? Cover the convoy, make sure nothing snuck up on us.Main Transport (Middle - Bus) → The rest of the group packed in—children, the older ones, those who weren't fighters but were just as important as the rest of us.

The convoy rolled forward, moving at a steady 20-30 mph, slow enough to stay aware, fast enough to put distance between us and any problems we left behind.

The road stretched ahead, empty and quiet, but that never meant safe. 

Rosita shifted in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing trees before speaking.

"Gotta say, I'm glad Price is with us," she said, almost to herself.

Michonne, sitting in the back, gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. He knows what he's doing."

Abraham grunted. "Man talks like he's walked through hell and made it his damn backyard."

I agreed. Price wasn't just surviving—he was operating like the world hadn't ended. Like his orders still mattered, even if the war had changed.

But then Rosita exhaled through her nose, her voice lowering.

"But what if he wasn't with us?"

I glanced at her, brows furrowing.

"What do you mean?"

She looked at me now, more serious. "I mean… what if we ran into him as an enemy? As part of a group like the Governor's, or worse?"

The thought stuck with me. I knew exactly what she was getting at.

Price wasn't some reckless bandit, some idiot with a gun. He was trained, disciplined, efficient. If he had orders to take out a group like ours, he'd do it without hesitation. And he'd win.

I ran a hand through my beard, considering it.

"Yeah. That'd be a problem."

Rosita scoffed. "Problem? That'd be a goddamn nightmare."

She wasn't wrong. But I wasn't about to admit that out loud.

"We've handled worse," Michonne said.

Our group was a cut above the rest. Bloodied, tested, hardened. But if someone like Price was coming after us?

That'd be the kind of fight we might not walk away from.

Before I could dwell on it, Daryl's voice crackled through the radio.

"Road's clear ahead. No obstacles, walker count is low."

I pushed the thought aside.

A few miles later, Glenn's voice came over the radio.

"There's an old gas station ahead. We'll stop, check it out."

I gripped the radio and responded. "Copy that. Keep your eyes open."

We slowed as we neared the station. It was small, worn-down, half-covered in vines. The parking lot was littered with abandoned cars, most long stripped for parts.

Glenn's voice came through again. "Looks clear. We're going in."

The seconds stretched, silence heavy over the radio. Then—

"All clear."

A sigh of relief passed through the convoy as we pulled in.

Then Price's voice cut through the static.

"Alright, brief stop here. If you're hungry, eat. Need to take a piss, take a shit—do it now. We're movin' out in 20."

Blunt as ever.

The group scattered—some refueling the vehicles, others checking the station for supplies. A few sat on the curb, taking a moment to breathe.

After exactly 20 minutes, Price's voice came through again.

"Mount up. We're rollin'."

And just like that, we were on the road again.

As the sun dipped below the treeline, the road darkened. Time was running out to find a safe place for the night.

Then Price's voice came over the radio.

"Got a hunter's lodge nearby. Looks intact. Me and Daryl will go ahead and sweep the place. Izzy and Glenn you both stay"

Five minutes later, Daryl's voice crackled back.

"Clear. No signs of recent activity."

That was enough for me.

The convoy pulled off the road, moving up a narrow dirt path until the lodge came into view. It was small, wooden, still standing. Looked like it hadn't been touched in months.

We parked, killed the engines, and stepped out.

"Alright," I said to the group, "Settle in. We eat, we rest, and we move at first light."

Inside, the lodge was dusty but safe. The group settled in—some by the fire, others against the walls, weapons close.

I sat near the window, watching the treeline, listening to the silence.

Price was on the far side of the room, cleaning his knife, already thinking about tomorrow.

Rosita's words echoed in my head.

"What if he wasn't with us?"

I shook the thought away.

He was with us. That's all that mattered.