Chapter 42 Departure for the Prison!

The bonfire meeting finally came to an end, but Magnus Vane didn’t immediately return to the fire engine.

Instead, he leaned against a tree outside the Greene farmhouse and listened to the muffled argument coming from the second floor.

Ever since Hershel announced that he still needed time to think about leaving, the house had been anything but quiet.

When another door slammed upstairs, Magnus casually picked up a stick and drew a fourth line in the dirt beside three identical marks.

“Four times tonight,” he muttered with a grin.

Hershel was still trying to convince himself that the farm could remain safe indefinitely, but Magnus wasn’t worried.

The facts were already obvious to almost everyone else, and even if Otis, Patricia, and Jimmy refused to challenge Hershel directly, Maggie certainly wouldn’t stay quiet.

Beth was gentle enough to follow her father’s decision even if she disagreed, but Maggie had never been that passive, especially now that Glenn had become part of the equation.

Magnus understood exactly where the argument was headed.

The prison offered walls, fences, buildings, and a future the farm simply couldn’t guarantee, while Glenn gave Maggie a personal reason to leave with the quarry group.

She had grown close to him quickly, and neither of them wanted to separate just because Hershel couldn’t bring himself to abandon the land.

At that point, Magnus didn’t need to pressure the old veterinarian at all; his own family could make the argument far more effectively.

A door opened again inside the farmhouse.

Muffled voices rose.

Then came another heavy slam.

Magnus added a fifth line to the dirt.

“Five.” The arguing continued on and off until nearly six in the morning.

By then, the eastern sky had begun to brighten, and the camp itself had almost disappeared.

Tents were down, supplies were packed, and what remained on the property was a six-vehicle convoy waiting to leave: Dale’s RV, Magnus’s fire engine, two cars, and the two Dixon motorcycles.

Everyone was ready.

Except Hershel.

Then the farmhouse door opened one final time.

This time, it stayed open.

Magnus turned and saw Hershel step outside wearing his usual work clothes with a dark jacket and hat.

Faint circles under his eyes made it obvious he hadn’t slept at all, and behind him came Maggie, Beth, Otis, Patricia, and Jimmy carrying bags, boxes, and whatever belongings they had decided mattered enough to bring.

Unlike Hershel, several of them looked visibly relieved.

Glenn moved before anyone else could say anything.

He hurried over to Maggie and pulled her into a hug, ignoring Hershel’s expression completely.

Maggie laughed softly and kissed him in front of everyone, and Glenn looked almost embarrassingly pleased with himself afterward.

“Your dad agreed?” Maggie nodded, cheeks slightly red.

“Yeah.” Glenn immediately took the bags from her hands, then stopped when he reached Magnus and looked toward the fire engine with obvious expectation.

The other vehicles were already packed tightly, while Magnus still had some room left in the rear storage compartments.

Magnus stared at Glenn for a second before rolling his eyes.

“Go ahead.” Glenn grinned.

“Thanks, Magnus.” He hurried away with Maggie’s luggage.

Magnus watched him go and shook his head.

Even at the end of the world, Glenn had apparently found time to show off his relationship.

It was irritating in the same harmless way it probably would have been before the outbreak, which made the sight almost comforting.

Magnus then walked over to Hershel.

“I thought you might stay behind and guard the place by yourself.” Hershel looked across the fields instead of answering immediately.

“This farm has been my whole life,” he said quietly.

“But if my daughters aren’t here, then it stops meaning what it used to mean.” His gaze moved across the farmhouse, the fences, the fields, and every piece of land he had spent decades caring for.

“I suppose home is where the family is.” Magnus didn’t joke after that.

Hershel had spent the entire night choosing between the land he loved and the people who gave that land meaning.

In the end, family won.

One by one, the Greene household loaded the rest of their luggage into the convoy until even the fire engine’s remaining storage space was nearly full.

Before climbing into his vehicle, Hershel stopped.

He looked back at the farmhouse one last time.

The front door slowly swung shut behind them.

Then the engines started.

The convoy rolled away from the farm.

Long tire tracks stretched across the dirt as the six vehicles moved toward the road, and morning sunlight broke through the thinning clouds above them.

The Greene farmhouse gradually shrank in the distance until trees and rolling land finally hid it from view.

For Hershel, it was the end of one life.

For everyone else, it was the beginning of another.

“As long as we keep moving, there’s no reason to rush ourselves into a mistake,” Rick said from the passenger seat of the fire engine.

Lori and Carl sat in the rear crew cab on one side, while Carol and Sophia occupied the other, giving both families room to stay together during the trip.

Rick watched the road ahead as the convoy settled into its formation.

“We move steady, keep everyone together, and stop before people get too tired.” Magnus nodded from behind the wheel.

Ahead of them, Dale’s RV set the pace because it was the slowest large vehicle in the group.

Two smaller cars followed behind the fire engine, while Daryl and Merle rode their motorcycles farther ahead as scouts, checking intersections, abandoned vehicles, and anything else that might force a detour.

Nobody was allowed to get so far ahead that they disappeared completely.

Rick checked his watch.

“About five and a half hours, then we stop for lunch and fuel if we find a good spot.” He glanced toward Magnus.

“If Daryl and Merle get lucky, maybe they’ll find some game along the way.” “Works for me.” Magnus shifted gears and kept the fire engine moving smoothly behind the RV.

The weather had cleared completely.

After days of rain, the sky was bright and the road dry, though the heat was already beginning to build.

Fortunately, traffic outside the Atlanta suburbs was much lighter than the highways closer to the city, so they weren’t forced to weave through endless walls of abandoned cars.

The occasional wreck slowed them, but nothing stopped the convoy completely.

Walkers appeared every so often from tree lines, drainage ditches, and abandoned properties along the road.

Most began shambling after the vehicles the moment they heard the engines, but even Dale’s RV moved faster than they could follow.

After a few dozen yards, the dead fell behind and gradually returned to their aimless wandering.

The road remained quiet for most of the morning.

Around one in the afternoon, roadside signs pointed toward a small motel just ahead.

It wasn’t a formal highway rest area, but rural routes were dotted with motels, gas stations, diners, and similar places often enough that travelers could usually find somewhere to stop.

Magnus glanced toward Rick, and Rick reached for the handheld radio.

“We’ll stop at the motel ahead,” Rick said into it.

“Eat, stretch, check the vehicles, then move again.

Over.” Static crackled.

“Copy.

Over.” Another voice came through moments later.

“Copy.

I need fuel too.

Over.” Then came Merle’s voice.

“Copy.

Daryl just rode up asking when the hell we’re eating.” A pause.

Then Daryl cut in over the radio.

“Nobody asked you, jackass.” Static.

“Over.” Laughter broke out inside several vehicles at once.

Magnus smiled as he listened to the radio traffic.

For the moment, everyone sounded good.

The convoy was moving.

The weather was clear.

The prison was somewhere ahead.

And for the first time since leaving Atlanta, the entire group was heading toward the same future together.