Chapter 20

It's been two days since the so-called "job fair"—Carl's words, not mine. The kid threw it out so casually that it caught us off guard. A job fair. In the middle of the apocalypse. Bloody hell.

When Elijah asked him where he got the term, he shrugged and said he read it in a paper once. A paper. As if newspapers were still rolling hot off the presses. Smartass. Couldn't help but chuckle at that one.

Carl had been pestering Rick to let him join one of the teams, and at first, Rick shot him down. A hard no. Right call, in my opinion. But Carl wouldn't let it go. "I already know how to fight," he argued. "I know how to handle a gun. I'm not weak like them."

Now, that last part got Rick thinking. The kid had seen more than most adults in Alexandria. He wasn't some soft-bellied suburban brat anymore. Not completely, anyway. So Rick relented, gave him a spot at the watchtower—an extra pair of sharp eyes up high never hurt.

As for Caleb, I decided to take him under my wing for scouting missions—but only when I deem it safe. The last thing I needed was to get some kid killed on my watch.

I stepped out of the house, taking in the sight of Alexandria waking up. People were moving about, actually working—something that was sorely lacking before we arrived. I took a slow stroll through the community, hands in my pockets, observing.

Alexandria had numbers, but they hadn't been using them right. That much was obvious. Now? That was starting to change.

My first stop was the farm. They had expanded it—planted more vegetables, increased their livestock. I spotted more chickens than before, scratching around in their pens. Good. More food meant more mouths fed, less reliance on risky supply runs. As for the work on the pond, they still haven't started yet.

People were tending to the crops, pulling weeds, watering the plants. When they noticed me, they waved. I gave a small nod and waved back. Never hurts to acknowledge hard work.

I moved on to the watchtower construction site, where they had started early. The framework was coming together, standing taller than before.

I spotted Elijah carrying his youngest kid, standing with Reg and Deanna as they oversaw the build. As I approached, Deanna was the first to greet me. "Good morning, Price."

Reg gave me a quick status report. "The towers should be finished by the afternoon," he said.

"Good," I nodded. "The sooner, the better." The longer Alexandria went without full defensive coverage, the more vulnerable we were.

I made my way toward the main gates, eyeing the guards stationed there. They looked more confident than they had a few days ago—more focused.

They opened the gate as I stepped through, letting me outside. In the clearing beyond, I spotted Abraham, standing with a group of patrol members, most of them new. Looked like he was running them through a crash course.

I walked over. Abraham caught sight of me, gave me a nod. I nodded back but didn't interrupt. No need to. He was doing his job, drilling discipline into them—something they desperately needed.

I stood back, watching, listening. Some of these people probably didn't know shit about actual security work. But they'd learn. They had to.

After a while, I turned back toward the gate, heading inside. Time for breakfast, then gear up for today's scouting mission. Plenty of work left to do.

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I was out scouting with Daryl and Caleb, pushing further past the usual perimeter of Alexandria. I'd already swept the closer areas, cleared them out a few times over. This time, I wanted a bigger picture. I hadn't picked the last two members of my scouting team yet—not because I was indecisive, but because I wanted the right ones.

No room for half-measures in this job.

Daryl was an obvious choice. Guy knew how to track, how to hunt, how to keep his mouth shut and do what needed doing. Caleb? Still green, but he had potential. More importantly, he wanted to learn. That counted for a lot.

We moved through the overgrown roads and tree lines, keeping low, keeping quiet. Noise gets you killed. Alexandria had been too damn lax before we arrived, too used to their cushy walls keeping the dead out. Walls don't mean shit if you don't know how to survive outside of them.

As we followed a dirt path off the main road, I spotted something in the mud—multiple footprints, fresh ones.

I stopped, raising a fist. Daryl halted instantly. Caleb took a second longer, then mirrored the stance. He was learning.

I gestured at the tracks with my boot. "See this?" I asked Caleb. "Multiple footprints, still fresh."

He crouched down, narrowing his eyes. Still needed work on reading signs, but he was paying attention. "So… Walkers?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Means there's a group moving around here."

Caleb frowned. "So what do we do?"

I straightened up. "Nothing."

He looked confused. "Nothing?"

"We're here to scout, not fight," I told him. "We start taking out walkers left and right, we waste energy, risk injury, and attract more of 'em. Worse, we might spook something else out here watching us."

He thought about that, then nodded. Good. He didn't argue.

We kept moving, keeping our pace steady but cautious. The forest was thick in some areas, open in others. Daryl took point now and then, his crossbow ready. He was comfortable out here—more at home in the woods than behind Alexandria's walls.

For the next hour, we scouted in silence, occasionally pausing to check tracks, listen for movement, or scan the tree line for any threats. It was peaceful in a way, but the wrong kind of peace—the kind that never lasted.

Then we reached a stone quarry, farther out than I expected. Must've been an old mining site. The area was sunken in, massive, surrounded by steep rock walls.

And inside?

A goddamn sea of walkers.

Thousands of them, packed in tight, shuffling, moaning, clawing at the rock walls like mindless animals.

I let out a slow breath. "Bloody hell."

Daryl squinted, letting out a low whistle. "That's a whole lotta dead pricks."

Caleb's face had gone pale. He wasn't saying anything, just staring.

"Yeah," I muttered, jaw tightening. "A whole lotta dead pricks that could become a whole lotta problems."

Daryl scanned the area, then pointed toward the entrance of the quarry—a partial rockslide blocking the main exit.

"Look there," he said. "That ain't holdin' forever. Looks like it's already startin' to give."

He was right. The rock barricade was crumbling in some spots, loose debris shifting every time the walkers pressed against it. It was only a matter of time before that dam broke.

"Shit," I exhaled. "We need to get back. Tell the others. We've gotta figure out how to deal with this."

We turned back, retracing our steps toward Alexandria. But the dead don't make things easy.

A group of walkers—maybe ten, twelve—had wandered into our path. Couldn't go around without making noise, couldn't let them trail us back.

"Keep it quiet," I said. Guns were the last option. Too much noise.

Daryl went first, putting a bolt through the skull of one before it could react. Silent and efficient.

I drew my knife, stepping forward to bury it in the temple of the next. Quick, clean. Grabbed another by the collar and drove the blade under its chin.

Caleb? He hesitated.

A walker stumbled toward him, arms reaching—too close, too fast.

"Move!" I barked.

To his credit, he reacted fast. Stepped to the side and buried his knife into the thing's skull. Messy form, but it worked.

Good. He was learning.

After clearing the rest, I did a quick sweep of the bodies—always worth checking for anything useful. Then I saw it.

A deep, crude "W" carved into a walker's forehead.

I scowled. Fucking hell.

Daryl saw my reaction. "What?"

"Here." I grabbed the thing's matted hair and turned its head toward him.

Daryl's expression darkened the moment he saw the mark. "Shit."

"Yeah," I muttered. The Wolves. They were nearby. Settled somewhere close, maybe even watching us right now.

That made two goddamn problems on our doorstep.

Thousands of walkers ready to break free… and a group of lunatics carving up bodies for fun.

Caleb swallowed hard. He understood what this meant.

I exhaled through my nose. This was a fucking mess.

"Let's go," I said, rising to my feet. "Daryl, carry that head. We'll present it as evidence. No room for skepticism."

Daryl grunted but didn't argue, grabbing the severed head by the hair. Caleb still looked shaken, but he kept quiet and followed.

As we started moving again, my mind was already racing.

We have a lot of work to do.