Maggie POV:
The Georgia sun hung high overhead, turning the rows of crops into shimmering waves of green and gold.
I walked beside daddy as he moved through the fields with the same steady confidence he'd carried his entire life.
To anyone looking from a distance, it probably seemed normal, almost peaceful.
Shawn was hauling fertilizer bags near the southern rows.
Otis was checking irrigation trenches.
Tom was using a hoe to weed out weeds further down.
Their voices drifted across the fields—questions, answers, work, life—yet somehow they sounded miles away, like echoes from another world.
Daddy knelt beside a row of corn and dug his fingers into the soil. "Good moisture."
Shawn nodded and took a small notebook from his back pocket and scribbled something down.
I barely heard it.
My eyes wandered beyond the fields, beyond the fences, beyond the farm, toward the endless world outside.
My mind was preoccupied with what has become of the world: the dead, the ruined cities, the empty roads, the abandoned housed.
Every day Zephyr would tell me stories—stories about the outside, how dangerous it had become, how the highways, cities, and towns clogged up with walkers, how he noticed traces left behind from raiders.
Stories that never seemed to get better, only worse.
Daddy noticed my distraction.
Of course he did.
He always did. "Maggie?"
I looked over.
His weathered face softened.
"Something bothering you, sweetheart?"
I hesitated slightly before I shook my head. "Just… thinking about the future. Wondering if this is ever gonna get better?"
Hershel's weathered face softened up a tad more. "This is but God's test." He then looked up. "The Lord tests us all differently."
There it was.
The familiar speech.
The same one he'd given since the world ended.
"The world may look dark right now, but faith isn't about seeing the path." He gestured toward the crops surrounding us. "It's about trusting God has one."
I felt something tighten inside my chest.
Not anger, not resentment—something colder.
A wall.
A wall that seemed to grow taller every passing day.
Daddy saw a test; I saw a graveyard.
He saw a storm; I saw the climate—permanent, endless, unforgiving.
The dead weren't going away.
The old world wasn't coming back.
No miracle was waiting beyond the horizon.
This realization had settled into my bones weeks ago.
I loved my father, always would, but more and more it felt like we were looking at two completely different worlds.
I stared out across the fields, at the workers, at the fences, at the illusion of normality, and quietly muttered, "I'm not so sure about that."
The words hung in the humid air.
Daddy's expression faltered for only a second, then the sadness returned.
He wasn't disappointed or upset, just sad, like he knew something was changing inside me, something he couldn't stop.
He then rested a hand on my shoulder. "I'll pray for you."
I just nodded, because arguing wouldn't accomplish anything.
After a moment, he turned back toward Shawn and Otis.
The conversation resumed: fertilizer, soil, crop yield.
Life went on.
I stood there for another few seconds, then turned toward the greenhouse.
Mom needed help with the seedlings, and right now I'd rather deal with plants than questions about faith.
At least plants made sense.
You put in the work, you get results.
The world outside didn't work that way anymore.
Maybe it never had.
The greenhouse doors creaked open.
Warm air washed over me, and for the first time this morning, the noise in my head quieted just a little.
Zephyr POV:
"Alright," Jenner exhaled heavily, then rubbed both hands across his face.
"Alright."
The words seemed to physically hurt him, but he said it anyway. "I'll come."
Hearing him say that, relief immediately washed through me—raw, powerful—because I had just secured one of the most valuable people left alive: a trained virologist, a man who understood the virus better than most people alive right now on the planet.
And now he was coming with me.
Then—
"On one condition."
The room seemed to freeze ever so slightly.
Here we go.
"And what would that be?" I asked.
"You stop going outside like this," Jenner said, his face serious.
"Abso-fucking-lutely not," was my hard, flat answer.
Jenner looked like I punched him in the face, then he pointed at me.
"You don't understand!" His eyes snapped toward the monitor displaying my blood analysis. "After what I just saw?" His voice rose. "You cannot go outside anymore! The risk is too dangerous!"
I sighed.
He continued, "You should stay put!"
"No."
"You can send others in your stead!"
"No."
"You already have tons of supplies, you said it yourself! Why would you need to go out?"
His frustration grew with every answer.
"You're potentially humanity's best chance!"
I folded my arms. "And I'm also the leader of a settlement."
That stopped him for about three seconds, then he tried again. "You're too important!"
"No." I shook my head. "That's not how it works."
His jaw tightened.
I pointed toward the dark corridors beyond the laboratory.
"People are risking their lives every day." I pointed toward myself. "You think I get to sit behind the safety of my walls while having everyone else does the dangerous work?"
The scientist opened his mouth.
I cut him off.
"I've got families depending on me, children, farmers, scavengers, guards. People who trusted me, people who followed me, people who deserve better than a leader who stays behind the comfort of his walls."
The frustration leaked into my voice despite my efforts.
"The world's changing too fast." I shook my head. "I've spent weeks teaching my people how to survive, but we're still building, still adapting. There was too much work left, too many threats, too many unknowns!"
Jenner stared at me.
His protective instincts and scientific instincts were currently wrestling each other.
Neither side seemed unhappy.
Finally, I sighed, then offered a compromise.
"I'll reduce my outings."
His eyes narrowed.
I continued before he could interrupt,
"I'll delegate more. I'll stop running every single mission myself."
Mostly true.
Technically.
Probably.
The tension eased from his shoulders a little.
Not much, but enough.
Dr. Jenner sighed.
He ran a hand through his hair. "That's probably the best I could get from you, huh?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
His shoulders dropped.
I nodded toward the laboratory. "Now let's focus on the important part."
He followed my gaze: the equipment, the data, the research, the future. "Tag whatever you want to take."
His attention shifted, scientific instinct taking over once more. "What?"
"Computers, medical equipment, research data," I gestured around Zone 5. "If it matters, mark it."
His eyes widened slightly. "You mean all of it?"
I laughed. "If it'll fit."
Jenner nodded and immediately started moving, opening cabinets, checking servers, examining storage units, mentally inventorying half the CDC.
I watched him for a few moments, then headed toward the exit.
There was still work to do; the mission wasn't just over yet.
But the hardest part was now—I just had to bring him home.
(To be continued...)