What Comes After

As evening approached, the fire was already lit, with a pot of soup simmering for dinner.

"A farm? I'd love to have one too."

Glenn sat on the grass, gazing enviously at the distant farm. "It'd be amazing if that was mine."

"You're just dreaming."

Jason, holding a shovel, sat down beside him with a pout. "What's the use of a farm right now? What we need is a camp with high walls, isolation fences, and proper housing. That's what's really important. This place... it's only a matter of time."

Although the farm was safe for now, it was only because Hershel and his workers had rounded up and locked away all the nearby walkers. That had stopped any roaming zombies from drawing in more.

But it wasn't a long-term solution. Those walkers wouldn't stay contained forever. They could break loose at any time, and no one knew when they might show up here.

"You're always talking about the future. The farm is right here in front of us—this is real," Glenn replied.

He didn't like overthinking things the way Jason did. Plans often couldn't keep up with unexpected changes, so he preferred to take things one step at a time.

"People need to have goals."

Seeing how immature Glenn still was, Jason looked a little disappointed. He patted him on the head. "Don't always focus on what's right in front of you. You've got to plan ahead. You're living for tomorrow, not yesterday—get it?"

"Ouch, if you hit me on the head again, I really won't get it."

Glenn rubbed the back of his head with a resentful expression, grumbling like he'd just been wronged.

A figure approached from the direction of the farm—it was Maggie.

"My dad asked me to bring this soup as an apology."

Maggie held a pot in her hands and smiled as she walked up to Jason. It was clear she saw him as the leader of the group.

"Oh, that's really thoughtful of you."

Seeing her approach, Jason immediately perked up. He tossed the shovel to Glenn, told him to handle the tent, and rushed over to Maggie, turning on the charm.

Daryl, as usual, didn't show any expression. He just took the soup and walked away without a word. Still as unsociable as ever.

Seeing this, Maggie stuck out her tongue playfully and asked hesitantly, "Is he okay? He's not hurt, is he?"

Jason waved it off. "He's fine. Luckily, the bullet just grazed past his head."

It was a relief he remembered in time—otherwise, Daryl might've ended up injured instead of Carl.

"That's good to hear."

Maggie nodded, then looked Jason in the eye. After a short pause, she asked, "Is it true that you can tell fortunes?"

Jason was a little taken aback by the question. He hesitated, trying to figure out her motive. Maybe she was hoping for some insight. So he simply nodded and said, "Of course."

"Then... I want to know what's going to happen to this farm."

Maggie asked the question with an innocent, sincere look on her face.

Jason blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that. Honestly, he didn't know. The show hadn't revealed exactly how things would turn out for the farm. Still, he knew how to respond.

"Some things are shaped by your own choices. The future isn't set in stone—it depends on what you do. But I'd suggest thinking it through. If something—or someone—is no longer human, it's best not to keep them around. Keeping hidden dangers close only invites disaster."

Jason hoped his words would give Maggie something to think about. It was a starting point, at least. The walkers in the barn needed to be dealt with soon—he had no intention of letting the TV series play out the same way again.