The next morning came slow over the farmhouse.
I woke up to warmth next to me.
Maggie.
She was snuggled up to me, her head on my chest and her legs wrapping around mine like an octopus.
I'm still not quite used to having someone share my bed; it was a strange feeling for a man that never married.
I exhaled softly before I untangled myself from her slowly.
She still woke up nonetheless.
"Morning," I said.
"Good morning," she replied, her voice thick with sleep.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, but I gotta go," I said as I sat up. "Today's gonna be a busy day."
Maggie lifted herself up, making the sheets fall off her and exposing her chest, to which she didn't even pay attention. "Oh, the rail yard?"
"Yeah, the rail yard."
I stood up and grabbed my shirt off the nearby chair, putting it on. My jeans followed next, then my boots.
Turning to Maggie, I leaned in for a kiss, which she reciprocated.
"I'll be back soon," was all I said before I stepped out of my room.
The kitchen was already alive when I got there—the low scrape of chairs, the muted clink of utensils, and the smell of eggs and something close enough to pass for coffee.
Sunlight pushed through the windows in thin beams, cutting across dust motes and tired faces.
Rick leaned against the counter, his arms folded, his eyes already working angles.
Daryl sat at the table, hunched slightly over his plate, eating without really tasting it.
Merle had claimed a chair like he owned the place, his boots stretched out, mug in hand.
Jim sat quieter than the rest, a notebook open in front of him, though he wasn't writing—just thinking.
Jenny was tending to the fire while Carol was chopping vegetables, already preparing lunch, no doubt.
"Morning," I said as I stepped in.
"Good morning," Rick and Jim answered in succession.
"Good morning."
"Morning."
Daryl looked up briefly before he greeted me back with a grunt, while Merle just lifted his mug.
I grabbed a mug and helped myself to a pot of coffee nearby, then took a seat at the table.
Carol came over with a plate of eggs and sausages.
"Thanks," I said. Carol smiled and returned to her work.
"Let's talk while we eat, shall we?" I said, cutting through the silence. "We're going to the Inman rail yard today, the five of us, so we need to get things right before we go."
I paused for a bit before I continued. "Since Glenn stayed on the perimeter, he didn't go deep."
Rick nodded once. "Smart of him."
"Yes, but that means we don't know the situation inside," I continued. "And that's a problem."
Daryl swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You think it's packed?"
"I think it's bottled."
That got their attention. Merle lowered his mug slightly. "Define bottled."
"Rail yard's enclosed enough," I said. "Fences, choke points, stacked cargo. Walkers drift in, get stuck, pile up. No natural spread."
Rick's jaw tightened slightly. "A contained horde," he muttered.
"Exactly. Now, we don't know the situation for sure, but the possibility is high enough."
I let that set in for a bit before I continued. "So, we need to take into account this scenario while we advance forward."
Silence stretched for a second.
"Next is the problem of how we are gonna get the containers on the truck beds."
That made eyes shift to Jim, which startled him a bit. He exhaled slowly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. Then he spoke.
"Right," Jim said, his voice steady. "If we're talking rail yard equipment, you've got three main options." He held up a finger. "One: gantry crane."
"Another: forklift."
"A third: reach stacker."
He glanced between us, making sure we were following.
"Gantry's your heavy lifter," he continued. "Runs on either huge rubber wheels or on rails. Spans the yard. Can move containers like they're nothing."
"Sounds good," Merle said.
Jim shook his head immediately. "It's loud," he said flatly. "Metal on metal. That trolley rolling across the beam? It screeches. Echoes. You fire that thing up, it's not just the yard hearing it—half of Atlanta's gonna get the invitation."
Daryl grunted. "Dinner bell."
"Exactly." Jim tapped the table lightly.
"Forklift's quieter," he went on. "More maneuverable, but it's limited. Can't stack high and can only take what's in front. Meaning, if we want to take a container that's stashed behind another, then we'd have to take the containers off one by one to get to the one we want."
He paused slightly, taking in our reactions, before he continued. "Meaning, it's slow."
Silence hung for a bit longer.
Rick tilted his head slightly. "And fuel?"
Jim gave a humorless huff. "Two months of sitting?" he said. "Diesel's probably got condensation in the tanks. Water buildup. You'll get sputtering, maybe full engine failure if it's bad enough."
"Batteries?" I asked.
"Dead," Jim replied without hesitation. "Or close to it. Anything not maintained is gonna need a jump at minimum." He shifted slightly, eyes sharpening. "That leaves the reach stacker."
I nodded once. "Go on."
"Best of both worlds," Jim said. "Handles heavy containers. More flexible than a gantry. Still loud—but not that loud. Lower profile movement, too."
"Still burns diesel," Rick pointed out.
"Yeah," Jim said, "but significantly less." He leaned back slightly. "It's our best shot… if we're trying not to wake the dead."
The room went quiet again.
Not uncertain, just… calculating.
I straightened slightly.
"Then that's our target," I said. "Reach stacker."
Daryl nodded immediately. "Works."
Rick gave a slow nod. "Agreed."
Merle shrugged. "Long as it gets us paid."
Jim didn't say anything—but the look he gave said he approved.
Finishing my food, I pushed off the table.
"Let's get one thing clear, this isn't a smash-and-grab. We go in quiet, we move quiet, we finish off walkers quiet, and we get out." My gaze moved across each of them. "Suppressors on anything that takes one. Melee where it makes sense."
Merle smirked. "What, no fireworks?"
"No noise," I said flatly. "One bad sound in that yard and we're not dealing with dozens."
Rick finished it: "We're dealing with hundreds."
"If not more," I added.
That settled it.
Chairs scraped back as the meeting broke. Plates were dumped in the sink.
The mood shifted from discussion to action in seconds.
(To be continued...)