Back to the Farm

New chapter is live.

Settle in, take your time, and let's see what waits in the dark 🖤

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Roaring engines tore through the night.

The sound ripped everyone inside the house awake.

Several of the faster men grabbed rifles and rushed out, only to find the gate already open, walkers shuffling through it, and two motorcycles vanishing down the road.

"Shit!" someone shouted. "Did we just get robbed?"

There was disbelief in his voice, and humiliation underneath it.

The wheel had turned. The people who robbed others had just been robbed.

"Wait."

"You smell that?"

One of the men sniffed the air and frowned.

They followed the smell to the side of a parked car.

On the smooth ground, a cigarette butt stood upright in a thin puddle. The cigarette had burned almost all the way down in the wind. A long, crooked curl of ash clung to the ember, ready to fall.

Below it, nearly invisible in the dark, was a slick pool of sharp-smelling liquid.

"Gasoline!" the man in front shouted. "They punched the tanks!"

He tried to retreat.

At that exact moment, the ember dropped.

Fire raced under the row of cars and swallowed the men closest to it.

Screams spread with the flames. Sparks snapped and jumped under the vehicles.

Boom.

Boom.

"Hahahaha!"

Merle heard the explosions behind them and laughed like a man losing his mind.

"Oh, hell yes!" Daryl shouted, wild for once as he rode beside his brother.

They were on the graffiti-ruined motorcycles, the crude paint still fresh enough to look insulting. Evan sat behind one of them and flicked away the cigarette he had kept in his hand.

The ember died in the wind, leaving only three men, two bikes, and a road fading into the dark.

[Apocalypse Quest Completed: Retrieve the Motorcycles]

[Reward: Mod - Cigar]

[Cigar: Strength +1]

By the time Evan, Daryl, and Merle returned to camp, dawn had begun to gray the sky.

They had only brought back one rifle and two motorcycles, but for the Dixon brothers, it meant far more than that.

Under Evan's lead, they had not only recovered the bikes. They had also hit the thieves in their own stronghold and left the place burning behind them.

When Daryl and Merle looked at him again, there was a new measure of recognition in their eyes.

Maybe their new boss wasn't so bad after all.

At the very least, he could back his people up.

"You see that, little brother?" Merle crowed. "Flames shot up fifteen feet. Took a whole damn car with it!"

His rough laugh carried across the camp as he climbed down and slung one arm around Evan's shoulders.

"Idiot," Daryl snapped. "Stop laughin'. The farm family's lookin' over here."

Hershel and the others were watching from a distance, curious and wary.

"Don't make trouble for Ward," Daryl added.

"What am I supposed to be scared of?" Merle muttered, though he lowered his voice anyway.

"All right," Evan said. "The bikes are back. Get some rest."

He handed Andrea's keys back to her, then looked at the brothers. "Sleep while you can. Don't forget our deal with Hershel."

"Where did you go?" Amy asked, curious.

"Set a fire," Evan said.

He did not answer directly. He only smiled at Andrea and pointed toward the two vandalized motorcycles behind him.

Andrea understood immediately and gave a small, quiet nod.

Some things were better handled privately. If Hershel's family heard the whole story, another argument would be unavoidable.

After the department store camp and Atlanta, Andrea understood the flaw in men like Hershel. Good intentions did not always keep people alive.

Sometimes a well-placed lie kept everyone moving in the right direction.

"You want breakfast?" she asked.

She lifted a pot filled with oatmeal mixed with milk. "Otis brought over some oats and milk as payment for yesterday's game."

Evan nodded, took the small pot, and emptied it in minutes.

He rubbed his stomach and exhaled into the thin morning mist.

"That hits the spot."

Satisfaction rolled through him, but he had no intention of sleeping.

He had slept through most of the previous day, and even after the night raid, he still felt wide awake.

"How did you two sleep last night?" he asked. "Any walkers?"

He had taken Daryl and Merle, the camp's two strongest fighters, with him. Leaving Andrea and Amy behind had been a real oversight.

Amy shook her head. "I slept with my sister. It was fine. I haven't seen her sleep that deeply in a long time."

Then she leaned closer to Evan and lowered her voice.

"I heard her say your name in her sleep. She said thank you for being here. Thank you."

Her breath tickled his ear.

Andrea's face went cold. She reached out and swatted at Amy.

"Keep talking and I'll tell him who kept saying, 'Evan, Evan is my he-'"

Amy blushed and clamped a hand over her sister's mouth before Andrea could finish, glaring at her in embarrassment.

Evan watched the sisters and understood enough.

'Not love. Mostly gratitude. As for Amy... she's still just a kid.'

He shook his head. After burning a raider camp in the night, his mind was almost painfully clear.

"All right," Evan said. "I'm going to bring back a few things for camp. When those two wake up, send them hunting. Don't let them spend all day prowling around the farm."

He stood.

Hershel, who had clearly been waiting for a while, took the chance to walk beside him.

"What's wrong?" Evan asked lightly. "Out for a morning stroll, Hershel?"

Hershel was in no mood for jokes. His expression was grim and unreadable.

He looked at Evan. "You're going to let me sleep at night, aren't you?"

He did not ask where Evan and the Dixon brothers had gone. He did not ask why two motorcycles had appeared in their camp again.

He only wanted a promise.

"Of course," Evan said. "I told you already. Our camp and your farm want the same thing. We can build on that."

Hershel studied his eyes for a long moment before nodding and turning back toward the farmhouse.

When the old man was gone, Evan let the smile fade and shook his head.

"Insecure old man."

A promise was only a promise. Anyone could give one. Hershel kept asking because he did not feel safe, and because he was not ready to face the world outside his fields.

Evan cast a discreet glance toward the barn on the other side of the farmhouse.

Others did not know what was inside.

Evan did.

Hershel had packed it full of walkers.

That was one reason Evan was heading into the woods. His camp needed defenses. Otherwise, a walker could wander in at night and reach them before anyone woke up.

He took the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer and entered the trees.

Aside from an occasional insect call, the woods were silent.

The ground was uneven, broken by roots and dips. Vehicles could not pass through it, and walkers would stumble easily over the rough terrain. Only horses, animals used to the land, could move through it safely and quickly.

"A natural wall," Evan murmured.

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