The Hershel family

The Jeep led the way, with the RV close behind, climbing the last gentle slope.

Ahead, an old wooden fence emerged through the thinning morning mist, enclosing a relatively orderly patch of land.

Behind the fence stood a huge red barn, with a white farmhouse and its chimney beside it. Several small outbuildings stood behind the barn.

The fields were yellow and withered, but tended, unlike the ruined wilderness outside.

The convoy stopped about fifty meters from the gate. The puttering of idling engines was the only noise.

Figures moved behind the fence.

The convoy had barely stopped before figures appeared on the farmhouse porch and beside the barn, about seven or eight in all.

They quickly took positions-behind the porch columns, in the gap of the half-open barn doors, and atop a haystack.

Sunlight pierced the mist, glinting off the weapons in their hands: shotgun barrels, the outlines of lever-action rifles, and the sharp steel tines of farm pitchforks.

In the icy air, a silent standoff began.

The Jeep's passenger door opened, and Lynn got out.

He carried no long gun, his hands hanging at his sides, but the holster at his waist was open, exposing a black pistol grip.

He walked a few steps forward and stopped ahead of the convoy, his gaze sweeping over the gun barrels before settling on the gray-haired old man surrounded by the others beneath the farmhouse porch.

The old man wore a faded plaid shirt and work pants. He stood straight, holding a double-barreled shotgun with its muzzle lowered, his finger resting on the trigger guard.

His face was deeply lined, his eyes sharp and wary.

Beside him stood a young woman with a sturdy build and a healthy complexion, likewise gripping a lever-action rifle as she warily surveyed the convoy and the stains on the vehicles-Maggie Greene.

A little farther away, a younger blonde girl nervously clutched the edge of the doorframe, revealing only half her face-Beth.

"Don't come any closer!"

The gray-haired old man's booming voice broke the silence.

He raised the muzzle of his shotgun an inch.

Lynn stopped, his voice clear but weary. "We're not here to cause trouble, sir."

"Your name, and what are you doing here?"

The old man demanded, scrutinizing Lynn and the convoy.

"Lynn." His answer was direct. "We escaped from Atlanta, and we're heading west. With so many people and a broken-down vehicle, we're running out of supplies."

He turned slightly to indicate the groaning RV behind him and the people getting out of the Jeep.

Supported by Lori and Min-seon, Rick straightened up, the bandage on his leg conspicuous.

Carol held Sophia's hand, the little girl's face hidden behind her mother. Carl squirmed in Lori's arms.

Dale leaned wearily against the RV, while T-Dog and Glenn stood to one side, their faces drawn with exhaustion.

Shane stood beside the Jeep with his shotgun in his arms, his brooding gaze sweeping the area behind the fence.

Merle leaned beside the motorcycle, picking his nails, his body tense. Daryl held his crossbow in silence.

Davis guarded the RV, his hand beside the pistol at his waist. Andrea was concealed at the rear of the vehicle, her rifle pointed toward the farm.

Hershel Greene's gaze passed over every face, lingering longest on the elderly, the women, and the children.

The sight of Sophia's frightened eyes seemed to make the old man's tightly pressed lips shift slightly.

He saw exhaustion, pain, and signs of people traveling with their families in tow.

"Atlanta..." Hershel's voice remained stern, but it had lost some of its harshness. "It certainly wasn't easy for you to get this far."

"It really wasn't." Lynn's tone was heavy. "Right now, we just want somewhere to catch our breath so we can tend to the wounded and repair our vehicle. We won't stay for free. We can work for you."

He pointed to Dale. "He's an experienced mechanic. Maybe he can take a look at the farm machinery." He pointed to Min-seon. "She knows medical care. She can help you."

Hershel's gaze lingered on Lynn's face for a few seconds.

Maggie stepped closer and murmured something to her father, her wary gaze passing over Shane and Merle before settling on the Jeep with steel plates welded onto it.

Jimmy and Patricia stood at the barn entrance, tightening their grips on a pitchfork and a crowbar, while Otis watched the children.

Time seemed to freeze.

There was only the sound of wind brushing through the dead grass and the fence.

At last, Hershel spoke again, his voice low and decisive. "Listen. Wherever you came from, whatever you've been through, this is my home, my land, and my family needs to stay alive."

He paused, his gaze passing over Lynn and the people behind him before stopping on Sophia. "Seeing the children... seeing the wounded... my heart isn't made of stone."

He took a deep breath. "You can come in. But you'll camp only on the grass outside the fence.

Three days! Just three days! That's enough time to fix your vehicle, treat your wounds, and rest.

After three days, you have to leave."

His tone left no room for negotiation. "During that time, stay away from the house and the barn, and do not come inside the fence! Stay away from the water source. If anyone crosses the line, or... brings trouble..."

He raised his shotgun a few degrees, his eyes cold and hard. "Don't blame me for what happens."

"Dad!"

Maggie cried softly, worry showing on her face.

Hershel raised a hand to stop her, his gaze locked on Lynn. "Do you agree? Answer me now. If not, turn around and leave immediately."

Everyone looked at Lynn. They would have had little difficulty taking the farm outright if they wanted to, but ultimately, they were not vicious thugs.

Expressionless, Lynn met Hershel's gaze and slowly nodded, his voice clear and steady. "All right! Three days. We'll camp only on the perimeter, and we won't cross the line.

Thank you, Mr. Greene!"

Hershel stared into Lynn's eyes, trying to find insincerity, but saw only calm.

His tense jaw relaxed a little, but his wariness did not diminish.

"Jimmy!" Hershel called toward the barn. "Take Otis and bring some hay over for them to bed down on. Patricia, bring clean water and leave it by the fence."

The orders came quickly and clearly.

"Maggie, Beth, go back inside. Otis, Jimmy, come back once you're done moving things." He gave Lynn one last look. "Remember what I said. Only three days. Keep your people in line."

With that, he said no more, turned, and strode toward the farmhouse, shotgun in hand.

Maggie and Beth gave Lynn a long look, their eyes complicated, then followed their father away.

Only Jimmy and Otis remained behind the fence. They briskly carried several bundles of hay out of the barn and tossed them over the fence onto the grass in front of Lynn.

Patricia carried over a half-full plastic bucket of water, set it on the ground inside the fence, and immediately retreated a few steps, looking nervously toward them.

"The water... the water's here."

Patricia's voice trembled, and she ran back to the barn after speaking.

Once Jimmy and Otis finished tossing over the hay, they also retreated to the barn. The heavy doors were pulled mostly shut from inside, leaving a narrow gap.

Outside the fence, the grass stretched empty.

Inside the fence, the farm appeared peaceful, but the divide ran deeper.

"Davis," Lynn's voice broke the silence. "Organize everyone to set up camp. Park the Jeep and RV side by side, facing outward, to serve as cover.

Spread the hay in the middle. The wounded, the elderly, and the weak will sleep there. Everyone else will spread out on watch."

"Shane! Daryl! Take the first perimeter watch. Keep an eye on the farm and any walkers outside."

"Merle, Glenn, T-Dog, clear the area around camp and dig drainage ditches."

"Andrea, take the high ground on the RV roof. Cover the camp and the entrance."

"Min-seon, treat Rick's wound and change his dressing."

"Lori, Carol, look after the children and prepare food. Minimum rations."

"Dale, inspect the RV. See whether you can reinforce it or keep it going until the next stop. We don't have much time."

The orders came one after another, clear and cold.

The exhausted group immediately got moving.

No one complained about the three-day limit. No one questioned the arrangements.

Now, survival took precedence over everything.

Davis directed the vehicles into position, forming a crude vehicle barricade.

Merle cursed as he shoveled dirt, while Glenn and T-Dog cleared away stones and weeds.

Andrea climbed onto the RV's roof and set up her rifle. Min-seon opened the medical bag and had Rick sit down.

Lori and Carol sat on the hay with the children in their arms, sorting through the few cans of food that remained.

Sophia huddled close to her mother, gazing through the fence at the quiet house and barn with curiosity and fear in her eyes.

Shane and Daryl walked silently to the edge of camp, each finding a position, their weapons pointing toward the farm, whether deliberately or not.

Lynn remained where he was. He watched his people build their temporary camp, his gaze passing over the fence to a slightly open window on the barn's second floor.

There seemed to be a brief glint from a lens there.

At the edge of his vision, a system notification appeared:

[Side quest: Save Hershel's family (in progress)]

The only sounds in camp were shovels, clanking wrenches, muffled coughs, and children's murmurs.

Inside the fence lay a foothold.

Outside the fence lay the unknown.

Lynn's gaze swept over the farmhouse's tightly shut front door and the gap in the barn doors before finally returning to the long wooden crate covered with dirty canvas in the center of camp.

The outline of the rocket launcher was faintly visible beneath the canvas.