Pinning Down the Prison

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"Next, a prison needs roads that are accessible, but not too accessible."

"If the roads are too convenient, too much traffic passes nearby."

Evan's finger moved over the remaining two-thirds of the map, following main roads, then rural roads.

He vaguely remembered that the Prison had open ground nearby, but thick woods on three sides. Only one straight road led away from the front gate.

"So the Prison should sit off a branch road in the outer countryside."

"It would have some emergency measures inside, but there should also be a town with a proper hospital, a fire station, and basic infrastructure somewhere nearby."

"That way, if a major incident happened, it could still be handled quickly enough."

"So the Prison won't be too close to those facilities, but it won't be extremely far from them either."

"A small town with a hospital is a good reference point."

As he spoke, Evan eliminated another third of the map. Only one large section remained.

Taking the three-sided woodland terrain into account, he finally tapped a forested area in the lower diagonal portion of the map.

The region would take roughly forty miles to cross.

Evan looked up at the others.

"The Prison isn't a tourist attraction. It won't be printed on a travel map. I can only narrow it down to this area."

"Like I said before, it sits on slightly higher ground. Once we find the right smaller road, it shouldn't be too hard to spot."

"As for the exact distance..."

He was not completely sure.

With the state of the roads, highways and main routes were not realistic. Too many abandoned cars blocked them, and a group this size could not clear the way.

They also had to match the RV's speed and avoid surprises, which meant they were moving slowly. The distance covered today proved that.

If the highways were clear, this trip would only take two days at most.

"If you're crossing Georgia north to south, three or four hundred miles might be enough," Evan said. "But if we have to use back roads and detours to reach the Prison, I would estimate around five hundred miles. That's conservative, and it doesn't include problems on the way."

If everything went smoothly, they could reach the area by the fourth day and rest that night. On the fifth day, they could find the Prison and scout it. On the sixth, they could clear part of the walker presence and take the place. On the seventh, they could move fully into the cell blocks.

Rick's brow tightened. His beard had grown another fraction, making him look older than he was.

Evan had only said five hundred miles and four or five more days.

Rick heard more than that.

It meant several more days of sleeping rough like they had tonight.

The apocalypse was still the apocalypse. Every extra day outside meant extra danger.

But the Prison Evan described was too valuable to give up.

'It's a rare chance. One risk now, and things get much better afterward.'

Rick drew a deep breath.

"Okay," he said. "From here on, the others depend on all of you. We'll divide by vehicle. I need each of you to look after the people riding with you."

"If there is a problem, you use the radio and notify me or Evan."

"Like Evan suggested, at least one person in each vehicle stays awake at night in case something happens."

"And for these next few days, no infighting. No arguing. This group needs every one of us."

Rick looked at them, his tone grave.

The others nodded in silence.

Shane glanced instinctively toward Lori and Carl in the rear compartment of the red brute.

Through the glass, he gave Lori a small nod.

Rick saw it.

The short meeting broke up. Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and walked to Evan's side, tapping his arm.

"Me and Merle'll sleep on top of the truck tonight. If anything happens, I'll wake you."

He meant the roof of the fire truck, nearly ten feet up.

Sleeping up there was one of the safest choices. Walkers and people were unlikely to notice it immediately, while Daryl would see them first.

Evan nodded and smiled at him, then climbed back into the passenger seat.

As the taillights of the other vehicles gradually went dark, Evan rested the Stone Sledgehammer head-down, held the end of the handle against his chest, and drifted into sleep.

After the world ended, the cities were still noisy, and the countryside was still quiet.

It was not the best sleep, but nothing happened in the middle of the night. Evan slept until morning.

When his eyes slowly opened, he was about to stretch when a dark shape passed the side window.

Evan threw a punch without thinking.

"Shit! Man, you trying to murder me?"

At the last possible instant, Merle jerked his head back. Cold sweat broke out down his back.

For a second, he had felt that punch might actually blow his head apart.

He lay on the roof for a moment and waited.

When no response came from inside, he cautiously lowered his head again and saw Evan's almost-smiling expression.

Merle let out a breath.

"Brother, it's me. Not a walker."

"I know it's you," Evan said with a shrug. "If it were Daryl, I wouldn't have punched."

"Don't joke like that. I'm your man, brother."

Merle grinned at him, not angry in the slightest about nearly getting his skull cracked.

Evan understood exactly what Merle meant.

That did not just mean friend or brother.

Merle was telling him, openly, that he stood with Evan. He had picked Evan's side.

Unless Evan cut him loose first, Merle would not betray him.

That was Merle's promise.

It was not the sentimental forever-and-ever nonsense lovers said to each other, but it still proved loyalty.

Merle had been watching Evan's face since he said it.

Only when he caught that faint smile did he relax.

'Lori made nice with Evan yesterday too. Once we get to the Prison, Evan's probably the one calling the shots.'

'I was close to him first. If there's someone worth backing, I'm backing him before anyone else.'

Merle was a bastard, but most of the time, he understood where his interests were.

When it came to his own survival, he would have stood behind whoever held the strongest position.

And in Atlanta, on that department store roof, Evan had saved his life.

By the time Evan climbed down from the fire truck, everyone else was ready to move.

He did not have much appetite that morning.

Two pieces of bread with honey and one canned coffee drink were enough before he climbed into the driver's seat.

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