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Chapter 96 – Everything Worked Out
On the desolate and quiet roads of Georgia, the sound of an engine echoed in the distance. Several nearby individuals quickly crouched, but as they looked closer, they saw two pickup trucks approaching from their side of the road.
Martínez frowned as he glanced in the direction of the noise. From afar, he recognized one of the drivers, but what really caught his attention was the cargo in the back of the truck—loaded with numerous supplies.
When the truck passed by them, it turned right, not going far before taking a fork in the road.
Martínez's group exchanged glances before he signaled forward. "If I'm thinking correctly, that truck belongs to the group that rescued the helicopter pilot—the same one we couldn't even find. If I'm right, it wouldn't be a bad idea to follow them and take a look."
Upon hearing Martínez's words, Crowley leaned toward Michonne and whispered, "If we follow them, what do we do with her? Kill her?"
"We won't," Martínez shook his head. "You know the Governor. At least one of these women has to go back with us. The other—the one with the weapon—we had no choice but to kill her. If we kill this one too, we won't have anything to show when we return."
"Fine," Crowley huffed, resigned. He then told someone to bring him a rope. Quickly, he tied Michonne's torso tightly, making sure she couldn't move. When he was done, he looked at her and said, "Listen, we're not gonna kill you. But don't try to escape. Just follow us, and nothing will happen to you."
Michonne, still sitting on the ground, stared at him expressionlessly, not responding for a long moment. Crowley, wasting no time, yanked her up, grabbed her by the neck, and coldly growled, "Listen to me, bitch. Just follow along and don't do anything stupid. If you can't keep up, don't blame me for what happens."
After those words, Crowley flashed a malicious grin, but Michonne paid him no attention. She stared back coldly, lips pressed, unimpressed—and completely ignored him.
While the others finished up what was left at the scene, Michonne was dragged in the direction the trucks had gone, following the tracks of the group that had passed just minutes earlier.
At that very moment, Jason was sitting in the back of an armored vehicle. After hearing from Welles earlier that morning about the approximate location of their companions, he quickly organized a team to head toward the destination together.
"Zz…"
Suddenly, the radio on Jason's vest, which had been silent until now, crackled to life.
"Zz… Jason, it's Rick! We're back at the prison!"
Jason calmly opened his eyes, lifted the radio with his left hand, and replied in a steady voice, "This is Jason. I got your message. We're currently on a mission—I'll contact you later!"
"Copy that!"
The message over the radio pulled Jason from his thoughts about his next move. He looked out at the road ahead, then asked the driver, "Estimated time until arrival?"
"About ten minutes or so, sir," the driver replied quickly.
Jason gazed down the endless road ahead, rubbed his tired face, and took out his canteen for a sip of water. As the cool liquid trickled down his throat, he sighed softly, easing some of his fatigue. He tried to shake it off, feeling energy return to his body.
"Let's get this done quickly. I don't have much time," he thought to himself.
The sun shone brightly on the faces of those inside the armored vehicle. Everyone was fully equipped for the encounter with those soldiers. But Jason couldn't shake the feeling that this situation was different. Unlike the Governor, who could act more freely, Jason had faced far more enemies. And these weren't just civilians—they were cops and soldiers who had become something far more sinister.
"I don't expect it, but I must be ready for the worst," Jason reflected. That was the only reason he had never been defeated—he was always prepared for the unexpected. Even in calm moments, he kept a knife hidden in his boot, ready to strike if needed.
"Can we really trust that group of soldiers?" T-Dog asked with a skeptical expression. Since he'd started following Jason, he'd learned a lot—but this felt different.
"It won't be a problem," Glenn replied, his face lit up with a confident smile. "We've got their comrade, and they probably need our help. We should help them."
Hearing Glenn's words, Jason couldn't help but smirk before replying, "They're desperate. A helping hand—especially from us—is all they need. We'll help them, but… who said we can trust them?"
After speaking, he narrowed his eyes and adjusted his grip on his weapon. He knew he wouldn't let any opportunity pass—not with the knowledge of the future he possessed.
At the same time, he wanted to train the people inside the prison—T-Dog and Glenn had amazing potential. They could become truly trustworthy allies, and Jason was determined to help them reach their full potential.
The weather had turned colder, and while it was comfortable inside the armored vehicle, Jason knew things outside wouldn't be as easy—not even when walking across the corpses of walkers.
As the pair of armored vehicles began to slow down, Jason's group was nearing their destination. From a distance, they could make out several trucks and Humvees parked in an open area to the left. Some soldiers were on patrol, while others worked on maintaining the vehicles.
Scattered on the ground nearby were piles of walker corpses—evidence that this group had been here for a while.
The armored vehicles didn't stop and continued into the open space where the others were stationed. The soldiers' leader crouched behind a car for cover, observing that the vehicles belonged to the military, though they had been completely repainted.
Two faces were visible behind the machine guns mounted on the armored vehicles—both covered. If those guns opened fire, there'd be no question: they'd be wiped out in an instant.
Some soldiers had already noticed the situation. As the vehicles approached, a young soldier rushed forward and urgently asked his superior, "Corporal, what do we do?"
The corporal peeked outside and, after a moment's hesitation, exited the vehicle. The armored trucks had stopped just a few meters away, and he saw a group of people wearing military uniforms get out. The uniforms matched theirs—but their weapons… no, their weapons were far better, and their gear was clearly more advanced.
The corporal raised his weapon and stepped forward, shouting at Jason and his group, "Stop right there! Identify yourselves!"
Jason stepped out of the armored vehicle without hesitation and began walking slowly toward the soldiers. With a firm voice, he shouted, "My name is Jason, Special Forces Captain. Since the chain of command was lost, I've been protecting civilians with my men. What's your status?"
The corporal, surprised by Jason's words, looked confused and asked, "Sir, if that's true—how did you find us?"
Jason raised his hand, showing a military ID badge for all to see, and replied, "Corporal, we have Welles. My team found his crashed helicopter, but thankfully, we managed to save him."
"Where is he?" the corporal asked anxiously. They'd been waiting for Welles for a long time. The sergeant had been gone for a full day, flying the helicopter, and according to their estimates, he should've been back hours ago.
Jason pointed in the right direction as he approached and said, "We have a large base that way. Sergeant Welles is severely injured, and under the circumstances, we need your help to reinforce our defenses."
Hearing this, the soldiers behind the corporal burst into cheers, laughing and pumping their fists in the air.
The corporal stepped forward, took Jason's ID, and inspected it carefully before asking, with a hint of doubt, "And the others? How are they?"
Jason looked at him for a moment before putting his hands in his pockets and replying, "I'm really sorry about the others—we couldn't do much for them."
The corporal's face darkened at that, but he quickly recovered and extended a hand. "Hello, sir. I'm Corporal Rayan. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"You can call me Jason," he said, shaking Rayan's hand. "My team and I were protecting the CDC in Atlanta when the outbreak began. When the command structure collapsed, I started gathering survivors and fellow soldiers in the same situation. They joined my refuge."
Rayan's expression turned serious, and with a respectful look, he gave a military salute. "Captain Jason, it's an honor to meet you."
Jason returned the salute with equal respect but quickly focused on the objective. "Corporal, follow us. We're heading back to base now. We can catch up when we get there."
Rayan nodded, but with a strained tone, said, "Sir, our vehicles are low on fuel. We had full tanks earlier, but they ran dry after reaching this location."
Upon hearing this, Jason signaled to Shane, and shortly after, T-Dog and Glenn arrived, carrying several fuel containers.
The corporal, now fully convinced of Jason's words, realized that if it weren't for some luck painted over a streak of misfortune, they wouldn't have access to this kind of fuel. He knew the other side was well-prepared, and seeing this, all his doubts vanished. Along with Glenn, he began refueling the vehicles.
Once Jason saw that the problem was solved, he wasted no time. The group soon set course for the return.
Meanwhile, Rick and the others had already arrived at the prison. They instructed everyone to unload the supplies from the vehicles and then headed to their rooms.
Lori was about to give birth, which filled Rick with excitement: she was expecting her second child any day now. All he wanted was to be by her side...