Chapter 28 You’re Talking to Me About Democracy

The next morning, Magnus Vane climbed down from the fire engine with the Stone Sledgehammer resting against one shoulder.

After breakfast, he asked Rick to gather everyone for a full meeting, including Magnus’s group, the people who had arrived with Rick, and Hershel’s household.

Between the quarry survivors and the Greene family, nearly everyone currently living around the farm was present.

Magnus waited until the conversations died down before stepping into the middle of the group.

“This about the prison?” Rick asked.

He looked considerably better than he had when he first arrived.

One uninterrupted night at Hershel’s farm, without walkers pushing them off the road or another disaster waiting around the corner, had done more for Rick’s appearance than anything else over the last week.

His family was safe, Sophia had been found, and for the first time in days he had been able to sleep without keeping one hand near his Colt Python.

The rest of his group looked noticeably healthier as well.

“Yes,” Magnus answered.

“But not completely.” That immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Magnus planted the Stone Sledgehammer heavily into the dirt in front of him and rested both hands on the handle.

“Before we talk about leaving for the prison, I want everybody to answer a few questions honestly.” His gaze moved from Rick’s people to Hershel’s family.

“First question: raise your hand if you’ve personally killed a walker at close range with a knife, axe, hammer, or some other hand weapon.” People looked at one another, slightly confused by the question, but hands gradually went up.

Rick.

Shane.

Daryl.

Merle.

T-Dog.

Glenn hesitated before raising his as well.

Then Maggie lifted hers.

Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“Maggie too?” Maggie crossed her arms.

“You sound surprised.” “A little.” Magnus counted silently.

The exact weapon used didn’t matter; what mattered was that these people had already stood within grabbing distance of a walker and deliberately destroyed its brain.

Far fewer hands were raised than he wanted to see.

Most of the people standing around him had survived largely because somebody else had been between them and the dead.

“All right,” Magnus continued.

“Keep your hand up if you’ve done that, and everyone else raise yours if you’ve killed a walker with a gun.” More hands appeared.

Andrea raised hers immediately.

Dale followed.

Others from the old quarry camp did the same, since most of them had fired during the attack on the camp.

By the end, a decent portion of Rick’s original group could at least say they had killed a walker somehow.

The Greene family, Carl, Sophia, Beth, and several others remained still.

Magnus studied them carefully.

Knowing how to pull a trigger wasn’t the same thing as being able to fight.

Plenty of Americans had handled firearms before the outbreak, but shooting at a paper target or hunting deer was very different from keeping your hands steady while a rotting human body rushed toward you.

Ammunition also created noise, and gunfire could bring every walker—and every desperate survivor—within earshot.

If the group needed to fight quietly, the number of people Magnus could actually rely on dropped sharply.

That was the problem.

Magnus looked around once more before speaking.

“Everybody remembers what I said about the prison last night.

I know where the place is, generally south of here.

With fuel, clear roads, and no major delays, we could probably reach the area within about a week.” Expressions brightened immediately.

Magnus let them.

“If everything went perfectly, maybe next week we’d be sitting inside those fences, cooking dinner and celebrating with whatever beer we could find.” Several smiles appeared.

Then Magnus’s voice hardened.

“But everything won’t go perfectly.” The smiles faded.

“I thought about this again after I got some sleep,” Magnus said.

“And I realized I made taking that place sound too easy.

If we leave right now exactly as we are, we’re not walking into a new home.

We’re walking into a prison full of walkers with half the people here unable to reliably kill one without somebody helping them.” Nobody interrupted.

“Could we take the prison?” Magnus asked.

“Probably.” He paused.

“But how many people would we bury afterward?” That hit harder.

Magnus pointed slowly around the group.

“Think about the person standing beside you.

Your wife.

Your husband.

Your father.

Your sister.

Your kid.” His gaze settled briefly on Carl and Sophia before returning to the adults.

“Now imagine that when we come back out of those cell blocks, half of those people aren’t with us anymore.” The excitement surrounding the prison disappeared completely.

Magnus wasn’t exaggerating the danger.

In the original course of events, Rick’s group hadn’t reached the prison until they had spent months becoming harder and more experienced, and even then the place had nearly killed them.

Hershel had been bitten in the lower leg and survived only because Rick amputated it almost immediately.

T-Dog later died during the chaos inside the prison, while Lori died giving birth to Judith after Maggie had to perform an emergency C-section.

Those outcomes were no longer guaranteed.

Magnus had already changed too much.

Shane was still alive.

Amy was alive.

Merle still had both hands.

Jim had never been bitten.

Carl hadn’t been shot.

Sophia was standing safely beside Carol.

That meant Magnus could no longer assume the story would protect anyone or unfold the same way twice.

If they attacked the prison now, the group might be stronger in some ways than before, but they were also less experienced than the people Rick had originally led there.

Magnus wanted more than simply taking the prison.

He wanted to take it without losing anyone.

Their first real victory as a united group shouldn’t end with graves.

Silence spread through the farm.

Carol slowly ran one hand through Sophia’s hair as she stared at the ground.

One question had clearly lodged itself in her mind: if Magnus and Rick weren’t standing nearby, could she personally kill a walker before it reached her daughter?

Watching Daryl or Magnus do it a hundred times didn’t mean she could do it once when Sophia’s life depended on her.

Others seemed to be thinking the same thing.

There was a major difference between watching violence and performing it yourself.

Magnus quietly exhaled.

At least nobody was pretending.

They had survived this long, which meant none of them were completely helpless.

What they lacked was experience, and experience could be created without waiting for another disaster to force it on them.

Rick stepped closer.

“So what do you want to do?” Daryl and Merle were already standing behind Magnus, one on either side, waiting for the answer.

“Training.” Magnus didn’t hesitate.

“We don’t leave for that prison until everyone who can physically fight knows how to defend themselves.” His eyes moved across the group.

“Guns, knives, axes, blunt weapons, movement, noise discipline—whatever fits the person.

Nobody gets to stand around waiting for Rick, Daryl, Shane, or me to save them every time a walker gets close.” A few people shifted uncomfortably.

Magnus continued anyway.

“And I mean everybody.” He looked toward the younger members of the group.

“Even the kids learn the basics.” Lori’s expression changed instantly.

“No.” She pulled Carl closer against her side.

Magnus looked at her.

“You want Carl training against walkers?” Lori demanded.

“He’s a child.” “I said learning to protect himself.” “He’s still a child.” Lori turned immediately toward Rick, expecting him to intervene.

“I thought decisions in this group were supposed to be democratic.” Magnus went completely still.

“Democratic?” The word came out low enough that several people instinctively looked toward him.

Then his voice rose.

“You’re talking to me about democracy?” Even Daryl and Merle stopped moving.

They knew Magnus well enough by now to recognize the change in his posture.

This wasn’t the restless aggression of the Blood Moon, but something colder had entered his expression.

He stepped forward, carried the Stone Sledgehammer with him, and planted its heavy head in the dirt between himself and Lori.

Magnus rested both hands on the handle.

The atmosphere around the meeting changed immediately.

“You think a walker takes a vote before it bites your kid?” Lori stiffened.

“You think a herd is gonna ask whether Carl is old enough before it tears through a fence?” Nobody spoke.

Magnus’s stare remained fixed on her.

“The world doesn’t care what age he is.” Rick immediately stepped between the tension before it could go any further.

“Hey.

Easy.” He raised one hand toward Magnus.

“Lori isn’t saying nobody should learn.

She’s talking about Carl.” Magnus didn’t look away from her.

“Magnus,” Rick said more firmly, “she didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.” Still, Magnus remained silent.

His hands tightened around the Stone Sledgehammer.

And his eyes never left Lori.

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