The next morning came entirely too fast, almost too fast for me.
My eyes snapped open.
The early morning air was crisp and freezing.
The dim gray light of dawn barely seeped through the window.
Maggie was still asleep beside me, buried deep under the blankets to stay warm.
I didn't want to wake her so early, so I slid out of bed as quietly as I could, shivering the second the cold air hit my bare skin.
I quickly put on my jeans and shirt, then threw on my thick flannel jacket for good measure, laced up my boots, and finally checked my gear.
When I walked out into the main yard, the morning fog was heavy, hanging low over the dirt, making it hard to even see more than ten feet ahead.
But the guys were already moving.
Rick was standing by the second truck, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, while Daryl was throwing some heavy chains into the back of the flatbed.
Merle was leaning against the passenger door, smoking a crushed cigarette and looking miserable in the morning chill—clearly not a morning person.
Morgan was standing near the third truck, while Morales was by the last truck, his arms were hugging his sides, shivering every now and then.
"Everyone ready?" I asked, my voice sounding deep and raspy from sleep.
"Trucks are gassed up," Rick said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Glenn's checking the tires on the last truck's flatbed now. We've got enough room to haul a massive load of concrete and rebar if we find what you're talking about."
"Oh, we'll find it alright," I said.
"There are plenty of construction sites that we can hit. The closest is a commercial development site about twenty miles north. I passed right by it right before the world went to hell, and a couple more times during my scavenging runs. They were right in the middle of pouring foundations for a strip mall. There should be pallets of bricks, bags of cement under tarps, and plenty of steel. Maybe a couple of cement mixers that we'll also take with us."
"And walkers?" Daryl asked from the side.
"Probably. Last time I passed by, there were a couple of walkers roaming about," I replied honestly. "The place's out in the open. Any noise we make with the trucks is bound to draw them out from the nearby woods. We need to keep our eyes open, load up fast, and don't stall."
"Sounds like a regular Tuesday," Merle cackled, tossing his cigarette butt into the dirt and roughly stomping it out.
Glenn ran up to us, breathing heavily, his face was flushed from the cold. "Last truck is good to go, Zephyr. We brought extra straps and a few heavy-duty tarps just in case it rains on the way back. Concrete won't do us any good if it gets wet."
"Smart thinking," I told him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Alright, let's mount up and get moving. I'll lead. Rick, you're right behind me. Daryl, you take the third truck. Morgan and Morales, the fourth and fifth trucks. Glenn, you drive the last truck."
Glenn was surprised. "Me?" He asked, pointing a finger to his face.
"Yeah," I replied. "I need Merle for another reason."
I turned to Merle. "Merle, I need you to stay in the back of the last truck's flatbed to watch our six. If you see anything watching or shadowing us on the road, you let us know."
Merle just grunted in response.
And with that, we climbed into the cabs.
The engines roared to life and, breaking the morning silence, the trucks vibrated violently as they warmed up, sending plumes of gray exhaust into the cold air.
I pulled out of the farm gate first, the tires crunching loudly against the gravel road, with Rick and the rest following right behind me.
The drive was quiet.
Nobody spoke much in the morning, everyone just staring out at the abandoned vehicles lining the highway and the occasional rotting corpse left from previous trips.
It was a reminder of what was waiting for us out here, a constant reminder of how dangerous this new world had became.
But my mind was focused on the farm.
We needed that cement, we needed that steel, we needed these bricks and cement mixers if we wanted to build that cellar and Jenner's lab, and maybe even some more lodging.
Because the temporary lodging is not cutting it anymore.
We need more space.
We needed to build something that could actually hold up against the dead and the elements.
After about thirty minutes of navigating around rusted-out pileups and cracked asphalt, the construction site came into view.
It was exactly how I remembered it, just more decayed.
A massive crane stood abandoned there.
Half-finished concrete walls littered the property.
I slowed the truck down and scanned the perimeter. In the distance, about a hundred meters ahead, there were blue weathered looking tarp near a couple temporary lodging containers.
I reached for the radio and keyed in, "Guys, look ahead. One o'clock. These blue tarps near these temporary worker lodging containers, that's the jackpot."
"Good, let's start. The sooner we finish loading, the sooner we return home," Morgan's voice carried out from the radio.
"But it looks quiet," Rick said. "Too quiet."
"Yeah, you're right."
I grabbed my bow and arrows and stepped out of the truck.
The rest followed suit and stepped toward me.
"We need to make some controlled noise to draw these hidden walkers out," I told them.
"How are we supposed to do that?" Morgan asked, his eyes squinting at the unfinished buildings.
I turned to the truck and tapped the hood twice. "Using this."
Rick's eyes widened. "You wanna blast the horn? But that's dangerous. It's an open area. The sound's gonna carry too far. We don't know how many walkers are here in this area. If there's a lot of them, this could turn ugly really fast."
"Tsk, pussy."
Daryl slapped the back of Merle's head hard. Merle squawked, glaring at his brother.
"Shut up, Merle," Daryl grunted.
I ignored them both and looked back at Rick.
"It is dangerous," I admitted. "But we just need to move fast and clear out every walker that appears. We do it quick to avoid them crowding up on us."
Rick looked at the site, then back at me.
He didn't like it. It was clear as day on his face, but he knew we didn't have all day to clear the place bit by bit.
He drew his revolver and nodded slowly.
"Alright," I said. "Everyone get into position. Keep your eyes on the woodline and the half-finished walls. The moment Glenn hits that horn, they're gonna come crawling out."
The guys spread out, weapons ready.
Daryl raised his crossbow, tracking the shadows near a row of temporary worker lodging containers.
Morgan and Morales took the flanks, while Merle stood by the truck bed, gripping his rifle with a twisted grin on his face.
I turned to Glenn, who climbed into the truck, and said, "Hit it."
Glenn nodded and slammed his hand down on the horn.
The loud, piercing blare shattered the morning silence.
It echoed off the concrete pillars and bounced into the surrounding woods, sounding deafening in the quiet air.
Glenn held it for three long seconds before letting go.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The echoes died down, leaving an eerie silence hanging over the construction site.
Then, the noises started.
Low, raspy groans came from inside one of the concrete shells, then more from the trees.
The weeds began to rustle violently near the edge of the property.
Six walkers stumbled out from behind a pile of rusted pipes, their gray, decayed faces turning instantly toward the sound of the trucks.
From the main building structure, more shadows began to move forward, shuffling toward us.
"Here they come," Rick warned, raising his gun.
"Don't shoot unless you absolutely have to!" I called out, pulling my knife from my belt. "Save the ammo. Use blades and blunt weapons. Let's take them down before they get crowded."
The first walker reached us, is arms outstretched and teeth snapping.
It was a big guy wearing a torn construction vest, his skin rotting off his jaw.
I stepped inside his reach and buried my knife straight into the side of his skull.
He went down like a sack of potatoes.
I yanked the weapon free just as two more closed in from the left.
Daryl's crossbow clicked, and a bolt punctured one walker right through the eye socket.
It dropped instantly.
Merle laughed, stepping up and swinging his machete into the neck of the other one, nearly decapitating it in one fluid, brutal motion.
"Is that all you got?!" Merle yelled toward the buildings.
As if answering him, a dozen more walkers spilled out from the shadows of the main structure, drawn by the smell of living flesh.
"Move in!" I shouted to the guys. "Clear the front yard before they pile up!"
(To be continued...)