Chapter 48 Heavy Rain! Blood Moon!

The second day of the convoy’s journey passed under clear skies. Magnus Vane and the others covered roughly a hundred and ten miles before stopping for the night in a stretch of undeveloped land far from any town.

Sometime after midnight, a lone walker wandered close enough to scrape against one of the vehicles, but Daryl was already awake on watch atop the fire engine. Before anyone inside even realized what had happened, a crossbow bolt punched through the corpse’s skull and dropped it silently beside the road.

The third day was overcast, and the convoy managed less than sixty miles despite spending most of the day moving. The delay came when Daryl spotted a family farm along one of the smaller roads, close enough in layout to Hershel’s old property that everyone agreed it was worth checking.

Magnus entered first and found the family dead together in the living room, their bodies making it clear that when the outbreak became unbearable, they had chosen death instead of waiting for the walkers to reach them. Magnus didn’t judge them for it; after what he had seen at the CDC and on the road, he understood that some people simply reached a different answer when deciding how much suffering they were willing to endure.

Without anyone left to tend the property, most of the crops had already died, but the stop still produced an unexpected prize.

Maggie discovered two domestic pigs wandering inside the barn, one male and one female, both weak from hunger after breaking out of their pen and eating almost everything stored within reach, including much of the bedding hay.

If the convoy had arrived a few days later, they probably would have found the animals dead beside their owners. Instead, the group wrestled both pigs into transport, dug up several surviving sweet potatoes that had remained protected underground, and collected whatever usable seeds they could find for future planting.

The detour cost them most of the day, but nobody complained much. Two breeding pigs and viable crop seeds could become far more valuable once they reached the prison than another fifty miles of travel ever would.

By the time the convoy stopped around nine that night, they had barely crossed a hundred kilometers, yet Hershel and Maggie looked more optimistic than they had since leaving the farm. For the first time, they were carrying pieces of an actual future with them instead of merely supplies for another day.

The fourth day brought steady light rain. Dark clouds covered the sky from morning onward, making the entire landscape look like a storm was waiting just beyond the horizon, but thankfully the rainfall never became severe.

Because they had lost so much distance the previous day, everyone woke earlier and stayed on the road longer, covering roughly another forty miles before Magnus finally ordered a stop for food and rest. The closer they came to the forested region where Magnus believed the prison was located, the more the convoy’s exhaustion began turning into anticipation.

People were smiling again.

The prison no longer felt like some distant idea Magnus had sold around Hershel’s bonfire.

It was getting close.

The fifth day was different.

Rain had been falling since morning, and although it started lightly, Magnus noticed it steadily becoming heavier as the hours passed.

His calf twitched beneath the dashboard, his fingers tapped impatiently against the steering wheel, and thin red veins had begun spreading through the whites of his eyes. He tried to ignore the irritation building inside him, but the restless pressure in his body felt increasingly familiar.

Magnus looked through the windshield.

The rain was coming down harder.

“It’s been getting worse all day,” he said. “Rick, ask Daryl if he can find somewhere ahead where we can get the convoy under cover. We’re losing daylight.”

Rick nodded immediately.

Even without Magnus saying it, he had been thinking the same thing. The vehicles gave them protection from the weather, but spending another night packed inside them during a hard storm would mean poor sleep, limited visibility, and almost no warning if walkers approached through the rain. Even the fire engine’s external camera system would be far less useful once the lenses were coated in water and mud.

Rick raised the radio.

“Daryl, this is Rick. Find us somewhere to stop before dark. Shelter if you can. Come back if you can’t. Over.”

Static answered him.

Nothing else.

Rick tried again.

Still nothing.

Half an hour passed.

The sky darkened rapidly.

Daryl and Merle didn’t return.

Magnus kept driving, though the muscles along his jaw had begun tightening.

Another thirty minutes passed.

The world outside had turned almost black, with the rain swallowing the last traces of evening light. Yet the Dixon brothers still hadn’t answered a single call.

Carol knocked against the partition from the rear crew cab. “They’ve been gone too long.”

Rick twisted around. “They’re probably just out of range.”

His words were meant to comfort her, but when he turned forward again and met Magnus’s eyes, neither man believed that explanation completely. Daryl had a radio and knew the convoy’s procedures. Even if he and Merle hadn’t found shelter, they should have stayed close enough to check in or returned before nightfall.

The silence itself was wrong.

And everyone in the convoy knew it.

Rick lowered his voice. “We should stop and let them come back to us. Searching blind in this weather will just make things worse.”

Magnus didn’t answer immediately.

Rick was right.

If they started splitting vehicles onto side roads at night during heavy rain, they might lose far more than two people. The safest move was to stay on the route Daryl and Merle knew and let the brothers trace their way back. Magnus had just begun easing off the accelerator when the RV ahead suddenly slammed on its brakes.

Screech!

The sound cut even through the rain.

Magnus hit the brakes immediately, keeping the fire engine from closing the gap.

The convoy compressed behind them.

Then the radio exploded with static.

“Hiss… Rick… RV… hiss… can’t keep… tank’s dry… we’re stuck… hiss…”

Dale.

Rick grabbed the radio with both hands. “Dale? Can you hear me?”

Only static answered.

“Dale?”

Nothing.

Rick lowered the radio and rubbed one hand across his forehead before dragging his fingers through his beard. The nervous movement gave away exactly how much pressure he was feeling.

Daryl and Merle were missing.

The RV had run out of fuel.

The radios were barely functioning in the storm.

And darkness had completely settled around them.

Rick exhaled and looked toward Magnus. “We’re staying here tonight. We can transfer fuel, deal with the RV, and wait for Daryl and Merle to come back.”

Magnus’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

His breathing changed.

Rick noticed immediately.

“Magnus?”

No answer.

“Hey.”

Rick leaned slightly toward him. “Listen to me. This isn’t a disaster. Everybody’s still here, and Daryl can take care of himself. You know that.”

Magnus’s fingers creaked against the wheel.

“We keep the convoy together, fix the fuel problem, and wait. That’s all.”

Still nothing.

Rick frowned.

“Magnus?”

“No.”

The word came out low.

Almost a growl.

Magnus kept his face angled downward, trying to hide his eyes.

“I’m going after them.”

Rick stared at him. “Not in this weather.”

“I said I’m going.”

There was something wrong in Magnus’s voice now.

Something feral.

He could feel his heartbeat accelerating inside his chest, each beat harder than the last. Heat spread through his body despite the cold rain outside, and the veins in his eyes burned as though they were filling with blood.

Magnus slowly looked upward.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, beyond the storm clouds, an enormous red moon hung in the sky.

The Blood Moon.

It made no sound.

It didn’t move unnaturally.

Yet the moment Magnus focused on it, the moon seemed to fill his entire vision.

Pressure crushed against his chest.

His pulse surged.

His breathing became heavier.

Blood rushed through his body with such force that every muscle seemed to tighten at once.

Magnus’s face flushed.

His eyes burned red.

And somewhere far beyond the convoy, the dead were beginning to change.

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