When Morgan made contact with Rick, Rick Shane and the others had just finished dealing with the second team looking for Michonne
That group was being led by Crowley and Tim.
Those two, while not strictly part of the Governor's inner circle, were still trusted enough to be let in on secret missions—like attacks on other survivor camps and dirty work on the road.
Morgan then told Rick that it was time to move on to step two of the plan, and that they were to head back to the farmstead to coordinate the next step.
When Morgan finished laying my orders to Rick, he stepped up to me.
"I contacted Rick and his team like you asked," Morgan said. "They cleared their end and now they're heading back to the farmstead right now, so we can regroup for step two."
"Good." I nodded.
I turned over to Merle and Daryl, who were keeping a sharp eye on the kid tied near the dirt road. "Daryl, Merle—get that kid and his bike and let's head back to the farmstead," I said.
Daryl grunted, lowered his crossbow, and went straight for the red bike.
Merle stepped forward, grabbing the bound kid by the back of his shirt with one heavy arm and hoisting him up to his feet.
"You heard the boss," Merle growled. "Move. And no funny business unless you want a boot up your ass."
The courier nodded nervously, swallowed hard, and stepped in front of Merle without saying a word.
And so, we began the journey back home.
We kept our pace steady through the woods.
The forest was mostly quiet, save for the occasional crow cawing overhead or the heavy clinking of Daryl dragging the dirt bike over the fallen branches and leaves.
Nobody spoke much; we were all conserving our breath and keeping our ears open.
Forty-something minutes later, we were back at the farmstead.
The high container gates creaked open just enough for us to slide through one by one.
Rick and the others were already there, waiting for us up ahead—but with a couple new faces standing tied up among them.
One was a small-statured guy who was looking twitchy.
The other was a broad-shouldered guy wearing an oversized tactical vest, his face was bruised up and his hands zip-tied behind his back.
"Looks like we're not the only ones who returned with a guest," I said, holstering my pistol back as we closed in on the group.
"No," Rick said as he glanced at his two prisoners. "No, you're not."
"So," I said, eyeing the new additions. "I'm guessing this is the one who surrendered," I said, eyeing the twitchy guy. "And this is the one who did not," I said, looking at the broad-shouldered dude who was now glaring at me.
"Yeah," Rick answered, resting his hand on his hip. "That one gave up the second Shumpert hit the dirt." He pointed at the smaller guy. "This one, however…" He glanced at the bruised guy. "Fought to the very end. Or at least tried to."
"Admirable," I commented dryly.
Then Rick looked over at our captive kid, taking in his small frame, thin arms, and dusty sneakers, and he frowned. "This is the courier? He's too young to be doing this."
"Hey, it's a new world." I shrugged. "Not everyone is as lucky as us."
Rick sighed, looking at the sky for a second before nodding. "I suppose you're right."
I turned toward T-Dog, Morales, and Glenn, who were standing nearby with their rifles resting over their chests.
"Take the prisoners inside," I ordered them, pointing toward the back of the barn. "Keep them completely separate in the back. Put thick zip-ties on their wrists, take their boots off so they can't make a run for it, and keep an eye on them 24/7. Nobody talks to them without me or Rick around."
"Got it, Zephyr," T-Dog said.
He stepped forward and grabbed the guy in the tactical vest by the elbow, while Morales grabbed the twitchy guy by the shirt and Glenn the kid by the shoulder.
They dragged the three of them off toward the back of the barn.
Once they were gone and the barn doors slammed shut, the rest of the group gathered around the wooden porch steps.
Hershel, Carol, Lori, and the rest were watching us with anxious eyes, waiting to hear what came next.
I turned to Rick and the rest of the crew, leaning my hip against the barn.
"Listen up," I said, raising my voice a notch so everyone could hear.
"The second phase won't require too many guys. Only me, Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Merle are going this time. The rest of you are to stay put, keep the perimeter locked down tight, and wait for updates."
Hershel's brow furrowed. He stepped out from the crowd. "Why just you five? If you're goin' to Woodbury to take down the Governor, shouldn't you bring the rest?"
"This is more of an infiltration mission rather than a direct war," I explained, looking him straight in the eye so he knew I wasn't just talking nonsense.
"Moving a dozen people through those woods near their walls is too loud. A small squad gets in, takes out the watchtowers, handles the target, and gets out. It doesn't require a lot of people—just the ones who can handle themselves the best."
"He's right, Hershel," Shane cut in, stepping up beside me. "Too many boots on the dirt. Somebody steps on a dry branch, and their snipers light us up before we even reach the main gate."
Hershel looked at us for a second before he nodded slowly. "Alright, that makes sense."
"Keep the guard rotation strict while we're gone," I said, looking at Morgan and Hershel. "If anyone comes down that driveway who isn't us, don't ask questions. You lock the gate, you hold the line, and you radio us."
"We'll keep the place safe, Zephyr," Morgan said, giving a firm nod. "Don't you worry about home."
"Alright." I nodded.
Then I turned back to the four guys coming with me: Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Merle.
They were all checking their gear and making sure their extra mags were seated right in their pouches.
I double-checked my own suppressed handguns, made sure my bow was in good condition, and hoisted my pack higher onto my shoulder.
"Alright," I said. "Let's get this show on the road."
(To be continued...)