Ten minutes down the road, the convoy rounded a bend and came to an abrupt halt.
A massive fuel tanker lay on its side across both lanes, blocking the highway. The truck had jackknifed at some point, spilling diesel across the cracked asphalt.
Rick was out of the car before the engine fully stopped. Shane followed half a second later, scanning the tree line.
"This is a setup," Rick said quietly.
Shane nodded. "Yeah. Question is, who set it and where are they?"
The woods on either side of the highway were thick with Georgia pine and undergrowth. Dozens of places to hide. Hundreds of angles to fire from. Rick's eyes swept the high ground to the left, then the dense forest to the right.
Nothing moved except the wind through the trees.
"Everyone stay in the vehicles!" Rick raised his voice, turning back toward the convoy. "Keep the engines running! Watch the flanks!"
Doors that had started to open closed again.
"Rick." Shane was staring at the tanker. "We need to back out."
Rick was already turning to signal the convoy when the sky erupted.
BOOM!
A flare shot upward, trailing red smoke as it arced over the highway. The light was blinding, painting everything in hellish crimson.
Then the world exploded into gunfire.
Muzzle flashes lit up the high ground to the left. More came from the tree line on the right.
"DOWN!" Rick dove behind the car as bullets chewed into the pavement where he had been standing. Shane hit the ground beside him, already returning fire toward the nearest muzzle flash.
Glass shattered. Metal screamed as rounds tore through car doors and hoods. Someone was screaming. Rick could hear children crying, and adults shouting.
He risked a glance over the hood of the car and saw sparks flying from the tires of the vehicle ahead. More rounds tore into the engine block, steam hissing from ruptured coolant lines.
"They are shooting the tires!" he shouted to Shane over the chaos.
Shane swore and fired another burst, but he was shooting blind. The attackers had the high ground and superior numbers.
Within seconds, every vehicle at the front of the convoy sat on flattened rubber, listing to one side like beached ships. Black smoke poured from destroyed engines.
These people had them dead to rights but were avoiding kill shots. Which meant whatever they had planned was worse than a quick death.
"Shane!" Rick grabbed his partner's shoulder. "Cover me!"
"What? Rick, no..."
But Rick was already moving. He stood up from behind the car, his pistol pointed at the ground, one hand raised high overhead in the universal gesture of surrender.
"Do not shoot! We are not hostile! We have children in these vehicles! We are just trying to get through!"
The gunfire stopped.
For five seconds, maybe ten, there was nothing but the echo of shots fading into the trees and the soft crying of someone in one of the cars.
Then laughter.
"You sinners." The voice was male, flat and emotionless. "Lay down your weapons immediately and submit to judgment."
"Fuck this!"
The shout came from the rear of the convoy. Rick spun around and saw Ed shoving his way out of one of the cars.
"I am not dying here!" He stumbled away from the vehicle, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I am getting out!"
"Ed! No! Come back!" Carol shouted.
But Ed was beyond hearing. He broke into a run, heading for the tree line. And like a dam breaking, three others followed. Two men Rick did not know well scrambled out of their vehicles and bolted after Ed, running for the woods.
"Get back here!" Shane roared. "You will die out—"
The gunfire started again.
CRACK!
The first man went down, his leg blown out from under him. He hit the pavement screaming, clutching at the ruin of his thigh.
CRACK CRACK!
The second man made it three more steps before his head snapped back and he dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
Ed was still running. He zigzagged wildly. Rounds kicked up dirt at his heels. Then he was in the trees and gone.
The last fleeing man was not as lucky. He took a round through the shoulder that spun him around, another through the gut that put him on his knees. Armed figures emerged from the forest, closing in on the wounded men.
The one who had been shot in the leg was dragged into the woods.
The gut-shot man just bled out where he knelt, staring at nothing, until someone put a mercy round through his skull.
It had taken maybe twenty seconds from start to finish.
"If you persist in your delusion!" The voice boomed from the loudspeaker again. "This is what awaits you!"
Rick felt like he could not breathe. His chest was tight. His vision was narrowing to a tunnel.
"Look behind you," the voice continued. "And witness."
Rick turned.
He saw the launcher first. The crude RPG rested on the shoulder of a lone figure on the high ground. A flash of flame burst from the rear as it fired, and the rocket motor roared to life.
The warhead tore through the air, trailing fire and smoke as it raced toward Dale's RV.
"NO!"
The word tore out of Rick's throat.
The rocket struck just behind the driver's compartment. The explosion was not enormous, but it was still devastating. A sharp crack of overpressure split the air, followed by a violent burst of flame and shrapnel. The RV's thin walls offered no resistance as the blast tore through them.
The vehicle lurched sideways. Dale wrenched the wheel, but it was already too late.
The RV smashed through the guardrail and went over the embankment.
It did not roll smoothly. It tumbled, end over end, shedding parts as it fell. The RV hit the trees at the bottom of the slope and came to rest on its side, smoke pouring from the ruptured fuel tank. Flames licked along the undercarriage.
Rick stood frozen. The gunfire and shouting seemed to fade into a distant buzz, drowned out by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
He had to get to them. His legs started moving before his brain caught up, carrying him forward. His gun came up, tracking toward the nearest shooter. Some distant part of him knew this was suicide, but he did not care.
"RICK!"
Morales hit him from the side, wrapping both arms around his waist and driving him back behind the cover of the car.
"Let me go! I have to... they are down there..."
"Goddamn it, Rick, stop!" Morales tightened his grip, pinning Rick against the side of the vehicle. "The RV did not go over at high speed! The slope is not that steep! They might still be alive!"
"Get off me—"
"But if you run out there, you are just throwing your life away!" Morales shouted directly into Rick's ear. "They have got the high ground, anyone who goes out is a target!"
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT...
A burst of automatic fire stitched the pavement directly in front of where Rick was struggling. Chunks of asphalt flew up, one piece cutting his cheek.
"Want to try that again?" The amplified voice was mocking now.
Rick thrashed against Morales's hold. He had led them here. He had made the choices that put them on this road. And now people were dead because of him.
"RICK!"
He stopped struggling and turned his head.
Lori was crouched beside the car, Carl pressed against her chest, one hand covering his eyes. Tears streamed down her face. Her expression was beyond fear. It was begging him not to do this.
"Think about the others," Morales said quietly. His grip loosened slightly but did not release. "We need you."
Rick looked at his son's pale face. The rage drained out of him, leaving only hollow exhaustion.
His hand opened and his pistol hit the ground.
"We surrender," he said. "We surrender."
Armed figures emerged from the trees.
There were at least twenty of them, possibly more. Each wore mismatched tactical gear, including body armor, balaclavas, and combat boots. Two would advance while others covered. They disarmed the survivors, patting them down for hidden weapons, zip-tying their hands behind their backs.
Shane fought briefly, earning a rifle butt to the stomach. Daryl spat at one of them and got kicked in the ribs for his trouble.
Rick just stood there and let them take his gun and bind his wrists. What did it matter anymore?
A man stepped forward from the group. He stood taller than the others and wore a black tactical vest over military fatigues. A balaclava concealed his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
He was clearly the leader.
"Maggie," he said with an emotionless voice. "Ben. Take a team and check the vehicles for survivors."
A woman stepped away from the group.
She looked young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with short dark hair and a lean, athletic frame. Two men followed close behind her. One was thick-set with a heavy beard. The other was tall and thin.
Together, they began moving along the line of disabled vehicles.
Rick watched as they approached the sedan where he knew several people had taken cover earlier. The car was badly damaged. It had been rear-ended during the ambush, its windshield shattered and its doors twisted out of shape.
Maggie pulled the driver's door open and glanced inside.
Rick could not see what she saw from this angle, but he watched her face. Then she closed the door.
"Nothing here," she called to her companions. "Keep moving."
The skinny one looked uncertain. "Shouldn't we check more thoroughly?"
"It's getting dark," Maggie said flatly. "The noise is going to draw walkers from miles around. We need to finish this and get these sinners back to the compound."
The skinny one swallowed whatever objection he had been about to voice and followed her to the next vehicle.
They worked their way through the convoy. At each stop, Maggie would look inside, declare the occupants dead or incapacitated, and move on.
Rick's hands were bound. He could not help them.
Finally, Maggie and her team reached the front of the convoy and walked back toward the leader.
"All clear," Maggie reported. "No survivors in the vehicles."
The leader nodded. "And the RV?"
Maggie did not even glance toward the embankment. "It rolled down a slope and caught fire. Anyone inside..." She gave a small shrug. "The walkers will deal with them. If the fire does not."
Rick's hands clenched into fists behind his back, plastic zip ties cutting into his wrists.
The leader seemed satisfied. He turned to address his people.
That was when the skinny one spoke up.
"The overturned RV has not been checked."
Every person in the clearing went still. Rick felt his heart stutter in his chest.
"What?" The word came out hoarse.
One of the guards kicked him in the kidney, driving him to his knees. "Quiet, sinner."
Rick barely felt it. His eyes were locked on Maggie and the leader.
The leader turned slowly toward Maggie.
"Is that true?"