City of Atlanta.
"These people acted against the organization, deliberately trying to steal food and weapons in a plan to escape! Their crimes are irreparable, and therefore their sentence has been decided!"
At that moment, many people were gathered in an open space. Everyone looked with resentful expressions at those kneeling on the ground, who now trembled with fear. Their bodies bore slight marks of beatings, and many of them begged for their lives.
This kind of scene appeared from time to time, especially with survivors who tried to be clever when they first entered the S.C.T. There was much leniency with newcomers, but their possibilities were always made clear before entering any shelter under the organization's protection.
The thousands who lived in the shelters guarded by the S.C.T. knew it well: no one must break the rules or they would be punished. During this time, there were internal guards who could be considered similar to police in an urban society. But now these soldiers worked together within a clear operational system — preventing survivors from doing anything foolish.
These internal guards wore a special uniform that identified them with their duties and obligations. Now that there were thousands of people who needed watching and care, there were hundreds of internal officers working day and night to maintain law and order.
This saved the soldiers from being stationed within the safe zones and allowed their strength to be used at the borders or forward outposts. Internal outbreaks had been stopped thanks to the vaccine that was being produced and that everyone had already received without exception. In this regard, things were much calmer.
But that did not exempt those who broke the rules. The sentences varied, but the greatest punishment was the vaccine — it contained infected blood that would turn the survivor into a walking corpse, depending on their body's resistance.
When criminals of the highest level were condemned to this punishment, everyone had to know why the decision was made. And now, they were about to witness such a sentence once again.
"I am Captain Dawn Lerner. At this moment, five criminals are sentenced for attempted robbery, murder, possession of a bladed weapon, and attempting to violate level-two security."
When Dawn said this, everyone grew furious. How could anyone even think of stealing from all of them? No one lacked food, everyone was protected — they couldn't understand why people would be so stupid.
"You know that when our food is stolen, it robs us of time, work, sweat, blood, lives, and above all, our future. We are a united society, we work to rebuild everything that was taken from us, dozens of soldiers die every day protecting this safe place, and I am sure you all understand that."
"We understand!"
"They must die!"
"They don't deserve to belong here!"
Dawn looked at all the furious people, and after a few more words said: "Thanks to you, these criminals were caught, and we are all grateful that you protect the little we have."
"Begin!"
After she said this, several people approached with large syringes filled with a crimson liquid and injected the condemned.
"No, please!"
"Nooo!"
"We don't want to die!"
No matter their pleas, once the injection entered their bloodstream, it was only a matter of time before they died under the effect of the Wildfire virus. Afterward, they were sent to an unprotected zone where they would eventually perish.
...
On the outskirts of a town.
After two days, Rick and his group finally reached the outskirts of the terminal. They didn't know whether the nearby fuel had been taken or what, but they couldn't find a single car that would start. Rick wondered if he had gotten used to everything going smoothly, because he couldn't believe that up until now nothing had turned out the way he wanted.
Thinking silently on these things, they also approached the perimeter of the terminal.
Standing on elevated ground, they all looked down at the place called the terminal — it must have been the train station before the end of the world. Atlanta's railway network was very developed. After transporting a large amount of material to the port, it would be distributed to various places in Atlanta through the railway network, now under the organization's control.
This was one of the stations they had developed. The site covered a large area and was divided into several yards, all packed with countless containers.
Looking around, the once spacious yard was now divided into several smaller yards with wooden crates, connected by narrow passages and even by certain designated gates.
After observing the side of the station for a long time, they finally hid in some bushes under the forest's cover, and several of them gathered to discuss what to do next.
Abraham couldn't understand why Rick was being so cautious; in his opinion, it was a waste of time.
"Can't we just go in and ask? Why bother with all this?"
Shaking his head, two days of contact had given Rick some understanding of this strong man. He wasn't stupid, but he was lucky. He had never met truly bad people, so Rick still had to explain things patiently.
"Of course we should go ask directly, but we can't all go in together. We don't know how many people they have or their attitude toward strangers. What will we do if they're hostile toward us? Not only will your protected man be in danger, but we won't be able to do anything ourselves."
The most direct way to deal with this strong man was to tie the matter back to Eugene, and then everyone would see how easy Abraham was to persuade.
The clearest impression after spending time with him was that Abraham truly cared about Eugene — this concern even surpassed his regard for his own life.
Relying on years of police intuition, Rick could sense that this apparently rough man definitely carried a story — maybe the loss of a loved one, maybe something else. Otherwise, who would pin all their hopes on saving the world? Anyone who did that was trying to escape reality after experiencing emptiness, using the excuse to motivate themselves to keep living.
Even though Rick had seen many things, there was no need to say such words aloud. For now, he had to focus on solving the immediate problem.
Frowning, Rick thought about how to approach the people at the station, and after a while he spoke.
"For safety reasons, we can't all go in. I'll go with Morgan and Abraham to make contact. The rest of you should wait here. If we don't come out after a while, it means something's wrong. As long as those people aren't stupid, they won't be our enemies."
"What are you afraid of? You're all survivors, why keep thinking about such dark things?"
Seeing Rick's reaction, Rosita couldn't help but speak up.
A pair of black-and-white eyes landed on the girl's face, and Morgan also spoke then. The expression on his face made the rest realize something, and they all turned their eyes to him.
"You think things are too simple. The world has changed. We've run into bad people more than once or twice — cannibals and the worst you can imagine. Do you think our bases stand just because we have weapons and food? If we're so cautious, why do we still accept outsiders? Have you thought about those questions?"
Rosita was startled by Morgan's question and somewhat understood what he was getting at, but still replied skeptically. "Maybe they worry too much, or they're strong enough to deal with such minor problems."
"That's why we decided to make contact with these people."
Rick cut in suddenly, and now Rosita had nothing more to say. She glanced at Abraham beside her and saw he had no intention of speaking, so she could only concede.
"Whatever, you decide. We'll wait here."
A group of three walked through the woods and slowly approached the main entrance. There was a reaction from inside the gate. A guard with a pistol poked his head out through the fence in the wall and looked at the three of them with a smile on his face.
"Are you here seeking asylum?"
Seeing that the man didn't draw his weapon, Rick also holstered his Colt and answered with a friendly face.
"Excuse me, we're survivors from other camps. We ran into walkers while out looking for supplies a few days ago. Now our car broke down. I'd like to borrow a little fuel, and we'll pay for it."
The guard looked surprised at Rick's words, nodded slightly in confusion, then raised the radio in his hand, signaling them to wait a moment, before stepping back as if contacting someone.
Soon he returned with a smile on his face again.
"Wait a moment, our leader will be here soon."
"Alright, sorry for the trouble."
They waited about ten minutes before seeing a tall, thin man come out of a house in the distance, followed by several people walking toward them.
As the group approached, Rick clearly saw the man's appearance. His hair was neatly parted, and he looked rather presentable, seemingly around thirty years old. Behind him were several men and women who looked quite ordinary, all with friendly faces.
Rick was very cautious about this situation. If the other side had weapons, that would be understandable. Signs said they were a group that openly accepted survivors. But now, when strangers appeared at their gate, they showed no caution at all?
"There's a problem with this place," Rick thought without saying it aloud.
With this in mind, the man also walked to the gate, and the leader opened it directly, stepping out with two others.
For some reason, the man's smile made Rick feel a bit uncomfortable, with a sense of déjà vu, and at that moment the man's words broke through his thoughts.
"You need fuel?"
"Yes."
"First of all, welcome to the three of you at the terminal. This is a settlement we built with our own hands. I am the leader of this place; you can call me Gareth. How should I address you three...?"
"Rick. These are Morgan and Abraham."
The man called Gareth smiled faintly at the words and extended his hands in a welcoming gesture.
"We're willing to be friends with anyone. The gasoline will be given to you. As for payment, we don't need anything from you."
After Gareth finished speaking, he looked at the other man behind him, who stepped forward with a smile on his face, slowly extending his hands and explaining.
"This is my younger brother Alex. Since we don't know each other yet, I can't invite you in directly. How about this?"
Seeing Rick give a subtle nod, Morgan handed over the empty gasoline can he was holding.
Then Gareth began casually chatting about some topics, and time passed slowly. About ten minutes later, Rick checked his watch — nearly twenty-five minutes had passed since they arrived.
"Why hasn't he come back yet?"
A strange smile appeared on Gareth's face, and he suddenly asked, "Are you worried your companions waiting for you are getting anxious?"