The Walking Dead: Price of Survival

Rick and I left Deanna's house, stepping into the cool night air. The party had ended, but the weight of the conversation still lingered.

We walked in silence, taking the long way back around the pond. The water reflected the faint glow of the streetlamps, rippling gently in the night breeze. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

This place had potential—I'd give it that. Fresh water, good soil, strong walls—but no real discipline. A house with no locks, a fortress with no soldiers. They had survived this long on luck.

Luck never lasts.

As we neared the gate, I spotted Nicholas and Aiden on watch.

Nicholas stood with his rifle slung across his chest, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Aiden leaned against the gate, arms crossed, looking half-bored. Neither of them looked alert.

That wouldn't fly in the world outside these walls.

I stepped up, eyes scanning their posture, their gear. "Who's replacing you later?"

Nicholas straightened slightly at the sound of my voice. "Heath and Kent."

I nodded. I'd seen Heath—he seemed competent enough.

As we turned to leave, Spencer's voice crackled over the radio.

"Spencer to Gate. Just a heads up—Price and some of his group will be making rotating patrols tonight. Tomorrow, we'll go over the full security plan."

Aiden looked surprised. Nicholas gave a quick glance at his partner before responding. "Copy that."

I didn't linger. We had work to do.

As we got close to the house, we spotted Pete sitting outside. A beer in his hand. Face blank, unreadable. He lifted the bottle in our direction, eyes dead behind the motion.

Didn't say a word.

Rick stared at him a second longer than necessary, then shook his head and kept walking.

I said nothing. But I saw the bruises on Jessie. Pete was going to be a problem.

When we reached the front porch, the others were already there—Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Carol, Noah, Tyreese, and Bob.

Waiting.

The moment we stepped up, Glenn gave us a curious look.

I just walked past him and gave him a pat on the shoulder to lean against the fence next to Daryl. "You were out hunting?" I asked.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. Aaron and Eric invited me to their place. Had spaghetti."

I raised an eyebrow. Daryl Dixon. Sitting down. Having dinner with strangers.

Hell really had frozen over.

Rick let out a breath, sitting down next to Maggie. His face was serious. "Tomorrow, we're meeting with Deanna to discuss jobs for everyone. But more importantly—" his eyes scanned the group, "—we told her about the Wolves and other potential threats. About what we've seen out there. What's coming."

The air shifted. Faces hardened.

Rick continued. "She needed to know that if any of these groups out there find out about Alexandria, we're a target. Price told them straight—we have to teach their people how to fight. And their security?" I scoffed. "It's shit. But we'll fix it."

Carol nodded, arms crossed. "You think they'll listen?" Rick glanced at me. I exhaled. "Some will. Some won't. Doesn't matter. We do it anyway."

A beat of silence.

Then Rick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was calm, but his words carried weight. "If they can't make it…" His eyes flicked up, meeting ours.

"Then we will just have to take this place."

I exhaled through my nose, looking at the quiet streets of Alexandria.

Rick wasn't wrong. If the people here weren't willing to fight for their home, then they wouldn't keep it.

And I don't fight for the dead.

------

The night patrol went without a hitch. No surprises, no breaches, no unwelcome guests. That's good—but it also makes people complacent. These walls, sturdy as they are, can lull folks into a false sense of security. Alexandria's been lucky. Too lucky.

That luck runs out eventually.

We split the patrol into three shifts. These people aren't used to walking for hours, not like we are. Hell, some of them probably haven't spent more than a few minutes outside the walls since this place was built.

They'll need time, training—discipline. That'll come later. For now, we rotate them in, get them used to the idea of watching their own backs instead of relying on walls and wishful thinking.

Spencer joined the first shift. Said he wanted to walk with me specifically. I didn't mind. Good lad, eager to learn, though maybe a little too eager. He had that restless energy, the kind that makes a man talk just to fill the silence.

"So, you were Special Forces?" He asked as we made our way along the perimeter, his voice carrying over the quiet of the night.

"SAS," I confirmed, keeping my eyes on the tree line. You don't patrol with your mouth; you do it with your eyes and ears. But Spencer wasn't there yet. He wanted a story.

"What was it like?"

I let out a short breath. "Hard."

That didn't satisfy him, of course. Young men always want the details. The glory. They think it's all heroics, kicking in doors and saving the day. They never ask about the waiting. The choices. The ones that haunt you when you try to sleep.

Spencer pressed on. "Did you fight in, like, big battles? Covert stuff?"

I glanced at him. "Something like that."

He took the hint and let it drop—for now. We kept walking, boots crunching against the dirt path near the wall. That's when I changed the subject.

"What can you tell me about Pete?"

Spencer frowned, caught off guard. "What about him?" "Bad temperament?" I asked, keeping my tone casual. "Ever known him to put his hands on Jessie?"

That got him quiet. He exhaled, long and slow, before answering. "How'd you know?"

I shrugged. "Noticed the bruises on her arms earlier. Not from work. Not from an accident. You learn to spot those things when you've been around long enough."

Spencer sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "It's… complicated."

That word. Complicated. I've heard it a thousand times, from a thousand people trying to justify the inexcusable.

"He's a surgeon," Spencer added. "Saved a lot of lives." I ignored that. Had nothing to do with my question. "You didn't answer me."

Spencer hesitated, then finally muttered, "Yeah. He has."

That was all I needed. I gave a small nod.

"Right," I said.

He glanced at me, uncertain. "What're you gonna do?"

"Not my place to do anything," I lied. "Just wanted to know." I've had the chance to get acquianted with her. She's a nice girl and Rick have taken a fancy to her.

Spencer didn't push further, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He was torn between loyalty to a man who'd been part of Alexandria since the beginning and the knowledge that Pete was a problem no one had the guts to deal with but that's not a problem anymore we have Dr. Holloway who's a more competent surgeon than him.

As for me? I've seen men like Pete before. And I know exactly how they end up.

-----

3rd Person POV

The morning sun rose steadily over Alexandria, casting a golden hue over the quiet streets. Life inside the walls continued as normal, but there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air after the revelations from the previous night. The truth about the virus, the looming threats outside the walls—reality had sunk in deeper than before.

After breakfast, the community began preparing for an important meeting. The cafeteria, usually a place for shared meals and lighthearted conversation, was being transformed into something more formal—an organized hall for the day's discussion. Residents worked together, shifting tables and chairs, arranging them into designated sections marked with hand-written signs. Each table represented a crucial role in the community, both existing and new, reflecting the growing need for structure and security.

In one corner, an Alexandrian set up a speaker and microphone, making sure the sound carried through the entire room. The last of the preparations wrapped up quickly, and within minutes, Deanna Monroe stepped forward, her usual composed demeanor firmly in place. If the previous night's discussion had rattled her, she didn't show it.

Standing before the gathered residents and newcomers, Deanna took a breath before addressing them.

"Good morning, everyone," she began, her voice steady and commanding. "We've had time to settle in, to understand our strengths and weaknesses. Now, it's time to determine how we move forward. Every single one of us has a role to play if we want to keep Alexandria safe and thriving."

She gestured to the tables behind her, each labeled with a different category. "We've organized several essential jobs for the community. Some of these you already know, but others will be new to accommodate the growing demands of our survival."

Deanna then began listing the roles:

Scavenging & Supply Runs – "Those assigned to this role will be responsible for leading expeditions to nearby towns, abandoned stores, or other locations where we can find food, medicine, ammunition, and other critical supplies. It's a dangerous job, but it's also one of the most necessary."

Medical & First Aid – "Doctors, medics, and nurses will tend to injuries, manage illnesses, and ensure proper hygiene within Alexandria. With Dr. Holloway, Dr. Cloyd, and Dr. Anderson, we are lucky to have trained professionals, but they'll need extra hands."

Farming & Food Production – "Long-term survival means self-sufficiency. This group will cultivate crops, manage gardens, and care for any livestock we can maintain to keep food on our tables."

Construction & Maintenance – "We have strong walls, but they won't hold forever without upkeep. This team will be responsible for repairs, fortifications, and building new structures when needed."

Administrative & Community Management – "Organization is key to survival. Those in this role will help track supplies, manage schedules, and keep Alexandria running efficiently."

Training & Education – "Not everyone here knows how to defend themselves, and that needs to change. This group will be responsible for teaching survival skills—whether it's combat, first aid, or basic resource management."

Security & Patrols – "Keeping the walls guarded, scouting for threats, maintaining patrol routes—this will be crucial in ensuring Alexandria remains safe from both the dead and the living."

Armory & Weapon Maintenance – "Firearms and melee weapons are our lifeline. This group will be in charge of storing, maintaining, and distributing weapons as needed."

As Deanna finished, she let the weight of her words settle over the room. There was an air of determination among the gathered residents. Some exchanged glances, already thinking about where they could contribute. Others remained still, absorbing the reality of what lay ahead.

Finally, Deanna spoke again, her tone resolute. "We need to work together, or we won't last. Starting today, everyone will have a place, a purpose. If you're unsure where you fit, talk to me, talk to Rick, or talk to anyone who has experience in these fields. But understand this—Alexandria will not survive if we remain complacent."

There was a murmur of agreement, some nodding, others already stepping forward to align themselves with the roles best suited to them. The community was taking its first real step toward not just surviving, but truly securing a future.

As Price stood at the back of the room, watching it all unfold, he crossed his arms and studied the faces around him. This was a necessary step, but there was still so much work to be done. Security was too lax. The people were still too soft. If they weren't careful, Alexandria would fall just like every other so-called safe haven before it.

He glanced at Rick, who gave him a knowing look. They both understood—this was only the beginning.