TWD: Awakened As Rick

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The morning air was heavy with humidity as Rick stood beside the lead truck, map in hand, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His fingers traced the route toward Dobbins Fuel Depot, a pre-collapse logistics site used by the National Guard. If it hadn't been overrun or stripped by raiders, it could be their largest haul yet.

Behind him, the strike team was prepping gear.

Guillermo led the assault squad.

Shane handled rear watch.

Daryl, Merle, and T-Dog were geared for close-range fighting.

Glenn and Morales loaded the utility truck for fuel transport.

Rick carried the suppressed AR-15 slung over his shoulder, a machete on his belt, and his revolver holstered tight.

"We're not going in blind," Rick said, addressing the team. "We breach slow, we clear quiet. But if it gets loud — we go loud together. No man left behind."

Merle cracked his knuckles. "I've got the itch for it, Sheriff."

Daryl shook his head. "You better not start shootin' before the rest of us."

Rick raised his voice. "Enough. Let's roll."

Approaching Dobbins — 11:43 AM

The depot emerged over a hill like a rusted carcass — chain-link fences wrapped in barbed wire, two metal warehouses flanking six large cylindrical fuel tanks. Grass had grown tall. A few walkers shuffled lazily along the outer fence.

"Too still," Shane muttered from the backseat.

Rick raised binoculars. "Gate's open. Looks like someone forced it."

"Raiders?" Glenn asked.

Rick shook his head. "Too old. Might've been abandoned early."

But then Daryl pointed toward the far corner. "Crows."

Everyone turned. A large flock circled above the smaller fuel shed.

Merle unslung his shotgun. "Where there's crows, there's meat."

Rick gave the order: "Daryl and I will go ahead. Glenn, Morales — you bring the trucks forward once we signal clear. The rest cover the perimeter."

Inside the Depot

Rick stepped through the side entrance, rifle raised.

Inside, the air was thick with the stench of old fuel and rot.

Shelves full of sealed gas cans. Coils of hose. A stack of toolboxes. Jackpot.

Then the sound came.

Scraping. Shuffling. Wet groans.

Daryl turned just in time to see the first walker crawl out from behind a toppled drum. Half its face was burned. Its fingers were missing. It lunged low.

CRACK — Daryl's crossbow bolt dropped it instantly.

But the noise stirred more.

From the shadows, they emerged — at least twenty walkers, all in various stages of decay. Soldiers, maybe. Mechanics. One still wore a hazmat suit, blackened and melted at the seams.

Rick raised his rifle.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Three clean headshots.

"BACK OUT!" Rick ordered. "Now!"

Outside — Chaos Breaks Loose

Shane heard the gunfire and raised the alarm. "They're in it! We move!"

Guillermo's squad charged the side gates. T-Dog tossed a smoke flare to draw some of the herd off. Merle kicked open the rear loading door and let loose with the shotgun.

BOOM! A walker's torso exploded in a spray of bone and fuel vapor.

Rick and Daryl emerged, dragging two full canisters. Behind them, more walkers followed.

"Fall back!" Rick shouted. "Corridor defense — don't get surrounded!"

The team regrouped at the loading dock. Shane and Glenn had climbed the second story scaffold. From above, Shane picked off walkers with precise bursts. Morales and T-Dog kept the trucks running, engines rumbling.

Rick spotted the hazmat walker climbing toward the fuel tanks.

"Merle! Top right! Drop it!"

Merle spun, grinned, and lobbed a homemade molotov. The fireball hit the walker mid-chest, igniting the ragged hazmat suit.

WHOOMPH!

The fire exploded, lighting the walkway and sending black smoke into the sky.

But more walkers came, pouring out of the maintenance tunnels like rats — dozens now. The depot had become a nest.

Rick pulled the group back behind the vehicles.

"We can't clear it all. Prioritize the haul!"

Daryl and Morales shoved barrels into the truck bed. Glenn secured the hose to the siphoning valve, filling their spare tanks.

Shane dropped another three walkers before the ladder gave way, forcing him to leap down.

Rick knifed two walkers with brutal precision — one clean jab into the chin, another through the eye socket.

Blood spattered his vest.

But finally…

"We're full!" Glenn shouted. "Truck's loaded!"

"Fall back!" Rick barked. "Everyone in the trucks, now!"

The trucks burst through the outer gate, smashing through weakened fencing. Walkers snarled and clawed at the sides, but the momentum carried them clear.

Rick sat in the back, breathing hard.

Daryl wiped blood from his face. "That depot was cursed."

"Worth it," Rick replied, looking back at the smoke still rising behind them. "We've got enough fuel to run the entire camp and power grid for months."

Shane leaned against the doorframe, face pale but steady. "Barely made it out."

Rick nodded. "And that's why we train."

The Right Arm – That Night

Crates of gear, jugs of fuel, and toolboxes were stacked high inside the barn. Rick addressed the soldiers as they unloaded.

"Today was a victory. But it was luck too. We were nearly overrun — because we got comfortable."

He looked each of them in the eye.

"We can't let comfort kill us. Tomorrow, we sharpen our drills. We double the guards. We prep evac routes for every mission. This is war now — and it's only just begun."

The crowd stood silent… then nodded.

Daryl spoke. "We'll be ready."

The sun filtered through the treetops as Glenn stood in the clearing just east of the Right Arm's walls. The trees rustled quietly, birds chirped overhead — but the dozen recruits in front of him didn't dare let their guard down.

"Alright," Glenn said, pacing slowly, a wooden baton in hand. "Rule number one in scouting: you don't get to die. That's the luxury of the frontline. You die out there, your whole unit's blind."

The recruits stood in a semi-circle — a mix of experienced fighters like Morales' nephew Daniel, fast learners like Amy, and a few younger adults who had shown promise but lacked discipline.

Glenn tossed the baton to Daniel. "You're my shadow today. Watch, follow, and mimic. No noise. No ego. Got it?"

Daniel nodded. "Got it."

Glenn turned and pointed to the dense woods. "Today's drill — move from this point to the far watchtower without being seen, without breaking a branch, and without leaving a trail."

Merle, who watched nearby with a smirk, shouted, "You sure this ain't a game of hide and cry, Glenn?"

Glenn ignored him. "You want to scout like me, you shut your mouth and think like prey first, predator second."

He crouched low, demonstrating proper posture and hand signals.

"Scout Unit isn't just about speed," he said. "It's eyes and silence. You'll report positions, track herds, mark enemy paths, and survive long enough to report back. If you think that's easy, you're dead weight."

Amy raised a hand. "What if we spot a hostile group?"

"You mark it. You don't engage unless ordered. We don't get to be heroes. We get to be ghosts."

Meanwhile – Inside the Walls

Rick watched from the tower as the Scout Unit fanned out across the treeline. Daryl stood beside him, scanning through binoculars.

"They're moving cleaner than last week," Daryl muttered. "Glenn's shaping 'em up good."

"He has the right instincts," Rick said. "Didn't think he'd take to leadership this fast, but he's stepping up."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Better him teaching 'em how to move quiet than me yelling at 'em to stop breathing."

They both chuckled.

Below, Carol and Clara supervised food distribution while Joel worked with Sarah on reinforcing a perimeter drain. The Right Arm was humming with purpose. But Rick's mind stayed alert.

"We've stirred up the region," he said, his voice low. "Three military sites raided."

Rick nodded at that.

Back at the Training Field

Daniel crouched near a bush, motioning to Amy behind him. He pointed to broken moss — subtle, but Glenn had taught them to read it like ink on paper.

Amy whispered, "They went west?"

Daniel nodded. He marked it with a piece of charcoal and moved forward, silent and low.

From behind a tree, Glenn watched quietly. He gave a small approving nod as the pair passed.

From the ridge above, Merle whispered to Morales, "They're still green"

Morales chuckled. "Give 'em two weeks."

That Night – Command

Rick sat with Glenn, Daryl, Guillermo, Shane, and Morgan. Glenn unrolled a rough hand-drawn map.

"Recruits have made full passes through the northeast woods and southern valley trails," he reported. "We've marked potential supply roads, found three abandoned cabins, and spotted a rusted radio tower that could be repurposed."

Shane scoffed. "All this running around just to avoid a fight."

Glenn looked up, calm but direct. "My people find the fight before it finds us. That's the job."

Rick nodded. "Glenn's scouts will be our first warning system. We'll rotate shifts. Keep them sharp."

Guillermo added, "We've got radios now — scout reports come hourly."

Morgan leaned back. "With Glenn's eyes and Rick's walls, we've built something damn close to an army."

Rick nodded, but didn't smile

That Evening – Perimeter Tower

Carl climbed up the tower, slingshot slung on his back.

"Dad," he said. "Glenn said I did okay in shadow tracking today."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "He did?"

Carl nodded. "Said I stepped where he stepped."

Rick smiled faintly. "That's how it starts."

Carl looked at the distant trees. "Do you think people are gonna come take this from us?"

Rick didn't answer right away. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"They might try," he said. "But we'll see them coming."

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