Once they were finished with the plans for the next morning, they shifted the discussion to the business they had to undertake today.
"Now with that out of the way, how's the task I left you with last night?" Michael turned to Glenn, who answered immediately. "It's ready. We loaded everything onto the school bus."
Michael nodded in appreciation. "I know some of you are worried or unsatisfied with this trade, but don't be. We'll gain more than we're losing today. For now, everyone stay focused on the final preparations so tomorrow's operation goes smoothly."
"You did what you thought was right," Rick said, supporting him. "We all know how hard you've worked to make this place safe. Besides, we are indeed low on medical supplies; exchanging a few weapons for them isn't a bad idea. Especially in the long run—the limited supply of bullets will eventually render firearms obsolete anyway." Rick didn't blame Michael for making the decision alone, though he had been secretly annoyed when he first heard the news. Eventually, he'd come to realize they were lacking in almost everything except weaponry.
"The idea of securing medical supplies is good," Andrea added and made it sound that she's still dissatisfied with his decision.. "But wouldn't it be useless if we don't have enough medical staff to use them? We only have two doctors in camp. One is a general physician, and the other—no offense, Hershel—is a vet." Andrea really wasn't trying to oppose Michael; she was raising the concern so he could have the chance to clarify his plan for those who were slower to catch on.
Michael glanced at her before addressing the group. "To be honest, I initially made this deal just to get the supplies. But last night, thanks to Andrea, I realized something. This trade is not our only chance to build a connection with another group, but to also hire medical help. They have people with actual experience. We have plenty of food, so I thought. Why not trade that for their expertise? What do you guys think?"
"I don't see why not," Rick responded after a moment of exchanging looks with the others. "But we have to bring it up to them first. It's a great idea, but it's useless if they are not onboard."
"He's right," Hershel added. "Let's wrap up the first trade deal before we push the recruitment idea."
Michael looked around the room. "Alright then. Who's coming with me?"
"Me," Andrea said quickly.
"I'm coming too," Rick added. "I'm curious to see what kind of people they are."
Glenn, Oscar, and Rosita joined in as well. Including Michael, there would be six people heading out. Michael then turned his attention to Daryl, who was busy rolling up the map. "What about you? You're not coming?"
"Nah, you guys do your thing," Daryl said. "I'm heading out to scout the area again. I want to make sure nothing goes wrong tomorrow."
"Are you going to meet Merle today?" Michael asked carefully.
Daryl shrugged. "Not sure. He's still trying to track Shane."
"He's still alive? I thought he'd be dead by now," Glenn remarked with a dubious look.
"That's what we thought," Daryl said. He had to unfurl the map on the table again after Shane's name was brought up. "But Merle told me last night that he spotted Shane around this area yesterday with a small group of survivors. Thankfully, my brother learned his lesson and didn't do anything stupid. He just watched them until they left."
"That's only ten miles from Woodbury," Rick said, a complicated look crossing his face. "Is there a chance Shane might cause us some trouble tomorrow?"
"We aren't sure. That's why Merle is tracking them," Daryl said in a grim tone..
"Damn. An old problem just had to crop up at the worst possible time," Doug remarked.
"Enough about him," Michael cut in, shutting down the conversation. "If he turns up tomorrow, we'll be ready. Rick, just in case, form a team of three to watch our backs. Have them stationed a mile out from the objective."
"Got it," Rick nodded.
Thirty minutes later, the group was on board the school bus, cruising along the dirt road leading away from home. Daryl followed closely behind on his bike. Inside, Rick stared out the window, lost in thought, while Andrea busied herself counting her bullets. Oscar and Glenn talked quietly, and at the very back, Rosita sat with her eyes closed, arms crossed and back straight.
When they reached the highway, the bus and the motorbike went their separate ways, heading in opposite directions into the unknown.
The school bus groaned as it shifted gears, the heavy frame rattling over the asphalt. Glenn sat near the front, his eyes scanning the treeline. Everyone knew these roads were never truly empty—if it wasn't the dead, it was the desperate.
"Contacts ahead!" Glenn shouted from his position, pointing toward a cluster of stalled cars blocking the road ahead.
Michael also saw the obstruction ahead at the same time, but he didn't slow down in the slightest.
Rick and Andrea were already on their feet, weapons raised but not yet aimed. A group of six people emerged from behind a rusted SUV. They looked haggard, their clothes stained with a mixture of everything. They were armed with shotguns, pistols and hunting rifles. One of them, a man with a jagged scar across his nose, stepped forward and leveled a double-barrel towards the incoming bus.
"Stop or we will open fire!" the man screamed, his voice cracking with a mix of fear and adrenaline.
Michael did not want to damage the school bus and eventually slowed down to a halt. He stopped the bus at a diagonal where one side faces the people blocking the road. He leaned out the driver's side window, his face a mask of cold indifference. "You've got five seconds to move those cars, or I'm turning this bus into a plow and you into a memory."
"Do you see this beast in my hands? You want to die?" the scavenger yelled, stepping closer. "Get off the bus before we send all of you into your next life!"
Michael didn't bother arguing. He caught Rick's eye in the rearview mirror and gave a sharp nod. In one fluid motion, everyone came to the windows and aimed their weapons at them. The click of multiple safeties being disengaged echoed in the quiet air.
"You're welcome to try. We don't mind wasting some bullets on you folks." Michael said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "And my people don't miss. So either get the f*ck out of our sight, or this is where you die."
The man with the scar looked at the barrels pointed at them, his face terrified along with his companions. His bravado earlier vanished from his face. Without a word, he signaled to his men. They scrambled into their vehicles, tires screeching as they fled towards the city.
Meanwhile, miles to the south, Daryl kicked his bike into a lower gear as he crested a ridge overlooking an old industrial park. He killed the engine, letting the silence of the woods settle around him before he moved forward on foot, crossbow in hand.
It had been two hours already when he split up from the main group, and so far, he hadn't even seen a shadow of him, but what he found at this time made his blood run cold.
Down in the valley, a large container truck was parked near a derelict warehouse. A group of about twenty men—wearing mismatched tactical gear and carrying clean, modern assault rifles—were moving with military efficiency. It's clear they weren't scavengers; they were moving like a coordinated unit.
Daryl crouched behind a fallen oak, his eyes narrowing as he spotted several small figures being dragged toward the back of the truck. They were children, no older than ten, their hands zip-tied and their mouths taped shut.
One of the armed men, a tall guy with a buzz cut, gave a sharp whistle. "Load 'em up! We're behind schedule. The Boss wants the delivery by nightfall."
The children were tossed into the dark interior of the metal container like cargo. The heavy doors slammed shut with a final, metallic bang. Daryl's grip tightened on his crossbow until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to move—to put a bolt through the driver's throat—but he counted the heads again. Twenty men. Moderately armed. He wanted to go down and save them, but he knows that If he started a fight here, it would only be a futile effort since he'd be dead in seconds.
He watched the truck roar to life, kicking up a cloud of dust as it began to move toward the main road. Daryl could only watch in helplessness until they disappeared from his sights before he sprinted back to his bike. He didn't head back to the settlement, or even the intention to follow after them. He decided to keep his priorities first even if it's hurting him a lot.
'It's them, isn't it? The one Baldwin was talking about.' Daryl grinded his teeth in frustration and anger.
What he discovered today, made the offensive tomorrow just got a lot more complicated for their group.