The middle-aged man didn't look pleased when he heard their enemy had been captured. Unlike the others, who were crying with joy, the older man pushed the excited Stevens aside and said:
"Tell me exactly what just happened, in detail."
After Stevens gave his explanation, the middle-aged man looked at him with clear annoyance. Stevens' heart skipped a beat—he knew this elder didn't approve of his trusting strangers.
Ignoring the murmurs around them, the middle-aged man—who seemed to be the leader of this shelter—walked up to Jason and extended his hand.
"Hello. My name's Alberto, and this is my wife, Natania."
Jason nodded. "You can call me Jason."
…
From there, things became much simpler. Jason discussed with Alberto what to do with the people who had been threatening them for so long, suggesting that they be killed. He made it clear that it wasn't for Alberto's sake—his group simply didn't leave enemies alive.
But Alberto refused to execute them. Instead, he had the ten men locked in a room under guard, then accompanied Jason's group to the bridge.
"Sir, these supplies are your reward for helping us."
Jason glanced over to see several people carrying vine-woven bags and suitcases filled with weapons. The bags contained dried fish, shrimp, and other preserved foods that had clearly been gathered by the locals themselves.
The whole time, Jason made no suggestions and simply observed. He wouldn't deny that he wanted to talk about himself and his people, but he decided against it.
Alberto's expression suddenly turned stern, and his tone carried a warning:
"Jason, we don't like contact with outsiders. Even though this is our first meeting, I hope it will be our last. We're a self-sufficient community."
"We're not interested in trading supplies. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't even let you leave, but since you helped us, many here have seen your goodwill. So I hope you can forget this place once your people are gone."
Merle raised his eyebrows at Jon, running his hand over his weapon as if to point out the obvious. The rest of the group also looked angry at Alberto's words, but Jason had expected them.
If these people liked to talk too much, the Salvation Army wouldn't hesitate to eliminate them.
"Your words are so warm they make me feel right at home," Jason said with a thin smile. "But Alberto, don't you think it's arrogant to speak like that when you've just eaten from another man's hand? Let me remind you—there is strength in numbers. It would be better for your dulled people if we had some kind of relationship. But I suppose you don't understand those words, do you?"
Alberto's expression hardened. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand—his meaning was clear.
Seeing the old man's closed-mindedness, Jason smirked ironically, turned away without a trace of concern, and signaled for his men to load the supplies into the vehicles. There was no changing the stubbornness of an old man.
Stevens approached nervously. He was unhappy with Alberto's rude attitude, but he also understood the reasoning and could only try to soften the blow.
"Jason, I'm really sorry. Alberto's a bit stubborn—especially after being victimized by an outside group threatening our shelter."
Speaking of Alberto, many others were also displeased with the behavior of the people they had just saved. Still, Jason said nothing—perhaps that was for the best.
Many had seen the same wary attitude toward strangers, even in Alexandria at first.
But now, the group's next step was to begin exploring Ohio. They shouldn't be this far west. Most likely, the location was the same as in the original timeline, meaning they could soon encounter the Commonwealth.
Once everything involving the Commonwealth was resolved, it would be time to return to the prison. By then, the growth of the central base would mark the next phase of their plans.
As Jason walked, he looked at Stevens and said:
"It's fine. Don't dwell on the details—just be ready."
…
That night was unusual. For the two Rank-Two members of the S.C.T., several meetings were held to inform everyone about the latest news concerning the Commonwealth—and the even more mysterious organization, the CRM.
Jason briefed his closest people, while Liam did the same in Alexandria with his most trusted soldiers. But when Jason finished his explanation, everyone seemed calm, which left him puzzled.
"You're not nervous?"
"Boss, judging from your explanation, we're just as strong—if not stronger—than this 'CRM.' There's nothing to be too worried about. Besides, you must already have a plan to deal with them."
"Yes… there are certain plans still in development."
…
In the days that followed, Jason's group traveled through Virginia and into Ohio, though they avoided getting too close to the border due to the presence of the Commonwealth. From now on, every time they arrived in unfamiliar territory, they had to scout carefully.
Jason took his time searching the area, sending soldiers in all directions. Many people were relocated to Alexandria, and over the weeks their numbers steadily grew. Eventually, he managed to find traces of the Commonwealth.
Jason supported the idea of merging. With his community providing soldiers, the Commonwealth could serve as the police force for their settlements. He had no intention of destroying them, so his approach would be slow and observant.
But he could never apply that same strategy to a future search for a CRM outpost. That group didn't negotiate—and they weren't good people. The only approach there would be caution and secrecy.
Meanwhile, Alexandria hadn't been idle. Deanna used the radio on a large scale to send out messages, constantly switching channels to contact other survivor bases.
In the original story, Eugene had spent a long time trying to make contact with the outside world. So Jason didn't have high hopes.
Though they hadn't reached anyone from the Commonwealth, they did manage to contact the central base. After a brief exchange, Jason learned the full details about Rick's situation and the progress of the expansion.
Time passed slowly.
Just as Jason was rushing toward the Virginia border, in a small town a hundred kilometers northwest, more than four hundred people arrived in over a dozen trucks and large tankers. Several vehicles pulled up in front of a warehouse, and from the lead truck stepped a man in a leather jacket. His hair was short, his beard trimmed. He wasn't tall, but he was muscular.
With a wave of his hand, a group of raggedly dressed men and women climbed out of the back of a bus. All carried melee weapons, and their eyes were fixed on the building ahead.
After dozens had disembarked, an armed group followed them. The outcome for the ones inside would not be survival. The people in front marched toward the warehouse, and soon, death cries echoed from within.
Ten minutes later, several armed men emerged and approached the man in the black leather jacket.
"Boss, the inside's been cleared."
Hearing this, the leather-clad man nodded and slowly entered the warehouse, instructing the others to start moving the supplies.
He led a few people into an area resembling an office, which had already been cleaned out. He stepped inside, sat on the sofa, and gestured for the others to sit.
A harsh-faced man was the first to speak:
"Boss, tomorrow I'll take people out to look for survivors."
The man in leather leaned back, sounding bored. "Gather up everything here. We're heading to Washington—don't waste time on this place."
"Yes, boss."
A tall man added, "Boss, if there are women among those survivors, can I… you know?"
"Send me the two best, and you can do what you want with the rest."
A flash of anger lit the tall man's eyes, but it vanished quickly, replaced by a smile.
"All right, boss. I guarantee you'll be pleased with the results."