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The ground doesn't roar like a lion, it groans like a sleeping beast coming out of hibernation.
It's this low, even tired sound like something old finally deciding to lay down and die.
They're standing on what use to be the Oklahoma/Texas border. Though to be completely honest with you nobody calls it that anymore. There's no borders left, just broken memories.
The gulf of Mexico has been swallowing Texas for years now, swallowing cities from Galveston to Dallas. But today is different, today is the day they lose the 28th state.
This is the end for the Lone Star state, from this day forward when it's mentioned it'll be by word of mouth or by history books.
Nobody will be from there anymore, nobody new at least, it's just going to be gone like it never existed in the first place.
Ray was the first of them to notice the shaking was different today. Not like the ground ripping itself apart, like a crocodile doing a death roll.
"Its going," he had said quietly, well nudging everyone awake to witness what nobody else will. Nobody really knew what Ray meant by that. Weirdly enough, they could feel what Ray was talking about. Like a gut feeling. But, it's six am and the sun has barely made her grand appearance.
Visually they know what Ray is talking about because the horizon is all wonky, the line where land meets sky is dipping, like the world itself is taking a bow.
And maybe it is, maybe it's bowing for Texas and it's final showing, like it's a Broadway show, showing for the final time.
Which is exactly why Richard wanted to document this moment, because it's a curtain closing moment for the Jumbo State.
He the night before had decided to set up his camcorder on a tripod in the back of Oliver aka Texas's atrocious 2017 purple Toyota Rav 4 to capture one last final night for the Beef State.
So before he joined them ran over to the Toyota making mental note of the license plate definitely needing to stake claim on it, cause it needs to be in a museum someday.
He opens the trunk quickly changing the battery real quick before hitting record and carefully running back over.
As they watch as a crack starts splitting the earth in the distance, it's this long and jagged line like a scar that's running like lightening across miles of highways, towns, and empty looted suburbs.
Pete exhales through his nose. "Hell of a way for the Lone Star state to say goodbye."
No one laughs at that, they know Pete is trying to lighten the mood but it just doesn't hit. Because they're tired and sad from having to come down and do what needed to be done.
Every escort had gone back to their respective communities. With every last straggler they could find, some people they had to drag out, some had to be carried, and others forced out for their own good.
The Nomads are the only ones left. Not because anyone told them to stay but because leaving without seeing or documenting felt wrong.
It's like not going to a funeral. Sure Texas was nothing to be proud of at the end of the day but it's important to see the end of something. Because they never saw the beginning.
The wind carries the smell of salt water now. It's this sharp and clean smell that's cutting through the usual Rotter stink that lingers all over the world, no matter where you go. Like a dead rat stuck in the air conditioning and you can't find it.
No matter how fucking hard you look, the stink is still there. But somehow the salt water is almost masking the smell of the dead, almost.
Collie shifts beside them, restless in a way that has nothing to do with fear because he knows they're safe from this distance, tsunami risk is low at least according to Richard. Now if they die, we all point fingers at Harkness.
Collie's fingers are moving constantly as he turns over something over and over again. The metal glinting faintly in the early morning light.
It's a nuclear key, one of two. It's the last piece of the USS Pennsylvania.
It dangles from a worn cord Caden put together after the original chain broke because a certain someone Naomi (Florida) wouldn't stop fiddling with it aka choking himself out pretty much.
Instead of wearing it around his neck, Collie has it wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. It clicks softly against the rings on his fingers as he spins it around, nervous habit of his, it's either that or he fiddles with his rings.
He shouldn't still have the key, it's not important anymore and pretty much useless now, a paper weight if you will.
Because the submarine is dead now too, gutted and picked apart to rebuild Verona Beach back to its glory before the giant massive earthquake.
Still, Collie wants the key. So that he has a constant reminder of how horrible human beings can be to one another when pushed to the breaking point with no way out.
And because a long time ago Riley Joseph Payne trusted him with it for as long as he shall live, and Collie plans to do exactly that.
Art is standing on the other side of him, quieter than usual. His hand resting near his chest as his thumb brushes against the second key.
It's tucked right next to his small, battered cross, the both of them worn smooth from years of excessive fiddling.
Two very powerful keys made to be used in mass destruction being carried by two of the most powerful men out of the Nomads, one in their faith, and the other in his empathy.
Hank is the first of them to break the silence. "Feels weird," he mutters. "All that fight to keep this state from falling apart, and it just..." He gestures out toward the collapsing land. "Does that."
Stebbins huffs softly. "Mother nature doesn't care about our fights."
"Or our wins," Richard adds looking at Stebbins.
Barkovitch spits into the dirt, though even that feels pointless now. "Or our losses."
They fall quiet again at that, because that couldn't be a more true statement. Another tremor rolls through the ground, stronger this time, the crack in the distance widens and for a moment....just a moment...they can see the gulf of Mexico rushing in to claim it's land, all dark and endless swallowing everything in it's path.
Ray steps forward slightly, not enough for the other Nomads to worry about his safety, just enough for him to feel closer to it all.
"That's it," he says. "That's the last of the Lone Star state."
And with that Texas doesn't fall at once, it sinks in pieces, sections of land break away, titling, collapsing as it's dragged under by forces no one can fight against.
Buildings all the way in Amarillo which is seventy to eighty miles away from them can be seen crumbling like sandcastles, well route 87 vanishes beneath churning water.
And somewhere beyond that is the submarine, the Pennsylvania, safe haven for so many people and animals alike, a teaching facility for hundreds of doctors, and their home during the initial evacuations.
Collie stops fidgeting because for the first time since they arrived in Guymon, his hands go still as he stares out at the sinking land, his jaw tight, eyes distant.
"Never thought we'd get to see it go," he says quietly.
Art glances over at him. "Nothing stays."
Collie lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. "Yeah, I know."
Another section collapses, the sound reaching them seconds later....it's this deep, distant crash that echoes like thunder across the water.
Pete shifts his weight. "You think it's better this way?"
No one answers right away, mostly because nobody knows what to say at first.
Ray finally does, because he always knows what to say to Pete. "Better than what Pete?"
"Better than letting what's left to rot," Pete says. "Better than letting it turn into another Alaska."
Ray considers that for a second as he watches another piece of land disappears. "Yeah," he says. "But maybe it wouldn't have turned out like Alaska."
Hank snorts at that, because somehow the walking dead know about uninhabited lands, it's like they have a beacon for it or something. "How optimistic of you."
Ray shrugs. "Just thinking out loud Olson."
Collie looks down at the key again, turning it slowly between his fingers. "We could've used the land, for communities, and other stuff you know."
Art's voice is calm. "We couldn't have, because almost every major city was overrun by the dead, and the rest would have taken years to just start something. Years we didn't have."
"I know," Collie says quickly, "I'm just saying, we could have tried harder."
Barkovitch shakes his head, because they did what they could, with the time they had for the state of Texas. "Or made it worse Parker, we aren't the old world anymore."
"The old world made it worse," Collie snaps, a little sharper then he meant it to, then he exhales his shoulders dropping. "Sorry."
Stebbins glances between them like this entire conversation is pointless. "You guys know this doesn't matter now, right?"
Art nods, ever so slightly. "No, it doesn't but it's nice to talk about something."
The ground steadies for a moment, like the world is taking one last breath before detaching the infected limb.
Ray turns to them, one by one, Pete, Collie, Barkovitch, Art, Hank, Stebbins, and Richard.
"Come on," he says quietly.
They don't ask what he exactly means by that, they just know from years of spending their lives together, they're more connected then most married couples are.
One by one they step closer to each other, close enough that the space between them disappears, it's not something they do often, not like this anyway. But this is something different, this is something that deserves it.
Ray being the unappointed leader reaches out first, and with no hesitation whatsoever Pete takes his hand.
Collie only hesitates for half a second before grabbing Pete's other hand, the key that's looped around his wrist presses into Pete's wrist, it's cold against his skin.
Art takes Collie's other hand, running his thumb along his wrist before gripping tightly, the key and cross clicking together as he moves.
Hank takes Art's other hand, he then takes Stebbins hand who takes Richards's who takes Barkovitch's, until all forty seven of them are linked together looking like they're apart of Hands Across America as they face the dying horizon.
No one says anything at that moment, they all just stand there together, the wind moves around them, tugging at their clothes, carrying the distant sound of water that's consuming what's left of Texas.
The sky is now a dull, washed out gray, the kind of sky before a big storm.
Collie tightens his grip slightly on Pete and Art, it's not enough to hurt, just enough to feel.
Art notices but doesn't comment, he just squeezes Collie's hand back, just once to acknowledge Collie.
Ray just keeps his eyes forward as another tremor hits....stronger and final, the largest section yet breaks away, the land tilting dramatically before sliding into the sea, the water surging before swallowing it whole.
And then...
Absolute stillness, no more cracks, no more falling, just open ocean.
Where Texas use to be there is now nothing but endless, shifting water stretching to the horizon.
Pete lets out this slow breath. "That's it, 191 years of history just gone."
"Yeah, that's it," Ray says looking down the line at the Nomad Texas (Oliver) who's resting his head on Ohio's shoulder (Ceaser).
He doesn't have a state to represent anymore or his home, all of it just gone.
Ohio puts his head against Texas's trying to comfort him.
"You can take Sandusky Ohio."
Texas's eyes flick to him in curiosity wondering why there of all places.
"Why?" He asks, interest peaked.
"Because there's a water park hotel there known as Kalahari, it's a big facility that's pretty empty now, and the water park is pretty much sterile so Alex..."
He looks towards the corpsmen as he speaks, who's off in the distance standing with Riley and Pierce.
"...can turn it into a hospital where he can train so much more doctors than before, you and your navy family can have a safe haven again. Make it your own community, it'd be like Pearson's in Myrtle Beach but your version. I know it's not the Pennsylvania but it's something."
Texas looks about ready to cry, as he just nods completely lost for words in that moment, so thankful for the Nomads and thankful for this community they built.
They don't go right away, there's no ceremony, no spoken words, and definitely no grand meaning assigned to the moment, but oddly enough it lingers all heavy, quiet, and real.
As they have a moment of silence not just for the people who lost their homes, or for the people who they couldn't save in the end, but for everything that happened before, all the history now sitting under the ocean like the fable of Atlantis.
Collie is the first one to loosen his grip, the others follow, hands dropping back to their sides one by one. He looks at the key around his wrist before looking at Art.
"You ever gonna take that off?" he asks, nodding towards the one around Art's neck.
Art shakes his head. "No, 'cause even though it can't do harm it doesn't mean that it doesn't mean something. It's a reminder of what we once were as a society, and a reminder of what we must never go back to."
"Good," Collie says, looking down at his key.
Ray turns away from the ocean first.
"Come on guys," he says. "Nothing left for us here."
They take one last look....not because they need to, but because it feels right in that moment...and then eventually they start walking either to their vehicles or just walking in general.
Chris is making sure Rank and Curly are in his line of sight as he escorts them to his ratty pickup, where he's got paper cranes and one very special Elmo on the dashboard.
Texas helps Richard get his camcorder out of his trunk, afterwards Richard hugs him tightly.
"You gonna be okay?"
Texas just nods as he closes his trunk after hugging him back.
"Yea I'll be okay, Sandusky sounds interesting enough."
Before Richard could speak Texas put his finger up in one minute, he opened the back door digging around in the backseat before pulling out a Texas license plate. He then came back over handing it to him.
"Authentic Texas license plate, with registration dated back to 2023 got it off a Yukon Denali somewhere in Lubbock Texas."
Richard gasps so excited, because he has one but it was made by New Chicago. New Chicago is the only community that makes license plates and registration, Verona Beach has their own specific license plate but it's made in New Chicago.
They're made out of old metal that can't structurally be used for something.
But anyway Richard hugs the plate so excited before putting it in his pack, knowing Barkovitch is gonna wanna do a charcoal rubbing later.
"Thank you Ollie."
Texas just nods hugging him again before heading towards the driver side of his Rav. Well Richard heads back to his boys, he takes Stebbins hand.
Well Texas watches eight figures from his rear view mirror move away from the edge of the world as they leave behind a place that no longer exists.
It's only existence is on a map, and someday those will be gone too.