A fenced clearing lay just beyond the forest. Inside was a quiet little farm—complete with a chicken coop, a stable where horses stood tied, and an elegant wooden farmhouse that looked untouched by the chaos outside.
"Don't forget to feed the chickens!"
A man's voice called from inside the house.
"I know, Dad. I won't forget."
The door creaked open, and a woman with chestnut-brown hair stepped out. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt and jeans, her voice casual as she shouted back over her shoulder.
Somehow, this place seemed to have been spared by the apocalypse—maybe thanks to its remoteness. Most farms were tucked away from the main roads, isolated enough to avoid the early waves of infection.
—Meanwhile, on the other side of the forest, Jason and the others had reached a dead end. The map had led them this far, but now there was nothing ahead but dense forest.
"This doesn't make sense."
Rick frowned, holding up the map and pointing to a line. "It says there's a road here. But… there's clearly not."
"Old map, maybe?" Jason asked, though he wasn't sounding confident. Truthfully, he couldn't quite remember how to reach the farm either—he just knew they were close.
"Well, how about this?" Jason offered, glancing at the trees ahead. "I'll scout ahead and see if there's a way through. You all keep moving forward—maybe we'll spot something."
The group agreed. Jason slung his gear over his shoulder and stepped into the forest alone, while the convoy continued along the highway, trying to find another entrance.
The forest was thick and damp. The heavy rain from the day before had left the ground waterlogged, and Jason found himself trudging through wet, clinging mud.
"Who's there?!"
He stopped suddenly, spinning around with his weapon raised.
"It's me."
Out from behind the trees stepped Daryl, crossbow in hand. He looked as casual as ever.
Jason lowered his weapon and blinked. "Why are you here? I thought you were with the convoy."
Daryl shrugged. "Been hunting since I was a kid. I know my way through woods better than roads. Figured I'd help."
His words were simple, but Jason could see through it. Daryl was the kind of guy who acted cold but never hesitated when someone needed backup.
"Well, I'm not gonna say no to that. Let's go," Jason said with a half-smile.
Together, they continued through the woods. The sun rose higher, drying out the morning dew, and the path gradually became easier to walk.
"Wait," Jason said suddenly, raising a hand to signal Daryl. The two crouched low, silently easing forward.
Just ahead, a deer grazed peacefully, completely unaware of their presence.
Daryl's eyes lit up. He lifted his crossbow slowly and took a few careful steps forward, lining up his shot.
But Jason's eyes suddenly widened. Something clicked in his memory.
"Down! Now!" he yelled.
Daryl didn't hesitate—he dropped to the ground instantly.
Bang!
A gunshot echoed through the trees. The deer jolted, then collapsed with a fresh wound in its side.
"Holy hell…"
A massive man burst through the brush on the other side, a shotgun clutched in his hands. He was panting heavily, clearly the one who had fired the shot.