TWD: Merle - Chapter 11: What Else Could He Do? (Patreon)

Wade was in an excellent mood on the way back. Even the breeze seemed sweet.

He had hit the jackpot with that hidden compartment.

Three Remington 870 pump-action shotguns, along with five small metal boxes containing roughly two hundred shells. Five AR-15s, three large metal boxes holding around a thousand rounds, and four hand grenades.

Holy shit! They'd actually hidden four hand grenades in there!

God only knew how that gang had gotten their hands on something like that, but since Wade had found them, there was no way he was leaving them behind.

His Storage Space now held two shotguns, three rifles, four hand grenades, and plenty of ammunition.

Damn, that felt good.

The only shame was all that colorful American cash they'd found. At this point, if you couldn't eat it or use it, it was completely worthless.

Rick was in a good mood as well. This trip had gotten them medicine, guns, and even a doctor.

As long as they gathered some gasoline and other supplies over the next couple of days, they'd have enough for the long journey to the safe zone.

Daryl drove more steadily than Merle, and he didn't drink himself stupid either. He was just quiet and didn't talk much.

A little over half an hour later, they arrived safely back at the quarry camp.

Wade was the first to jump out of the vehicle. This time, he could finally see some basic defenses set up around the camp.

As he walked in, he saw ropes stretched haphazardly between different points, with empty cans filled with stones hooked onto them using wire.

Farther in, thick logs had been laid horizontally and secured between trees with wire, forming crude barricades.

The workmanship was rough, but they were practical enough for keeping Walkers out.

Wade had barely taken a few more steps when he spotted Merle sitting there with a sour expression.

The man had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a half-empty bottle of liquor sat beside him.

"Well, look who it is. Our little butcher boy. What happened? Somebody bully you out there, so you came running back to cry to good old Merle?"

Wade rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Daryl walked past with his crossbow on his back without saying a word either.

The two people Merle cared about had both completely ignored him. His face immediately reddened with anger. He planted a hand down and tried to jump to his feet so he could chase after them and start cursing.

Instead, he lost his balance, stumbled, and nearly crashed into a tree.

Glenn and Rick struggled desperately not to laugh. Neither dared look directly at Merle's ridiculous state as they hurried past, afraid they'd lose it right there if they slowed down.

Merle gritted his teeth.

If he didn't teach those two a lesson today, they'd walk all over him from now on.

They went out and did something without him. What the hell was that if not deliberately leaving him out?

His expression shifted several times. He had only taken one step when a clear little voice sounded behind him.

"Mister, are you okay?"

Merle turned around.

A little girl who didn't even reach his waist was standing there, clutching a rag doll in one hand and holding the hand of a young white man with the other. She stared at him with clear, innocent eyes.

All the fire that had been raging inside Merle instantly vanished, leaving him speechless.

Merle was undeniably an abrasive, deeply prejudiced man. He looked down on T-Dog, thought little of Glenn, and even tended to look down on Wade.

But he had never been the kind of man who would lay a hand on women or children. In fact, he genuinely despised men who did.

The air fell silent for a moment.

Marcus's expression changed, and just as he was about to pull Cathy behind him, he saw Merle storm off toward the camp with half a bottle of liquor in his hand.

Marcus could only stare after him in confusion.

Picking on a little kid was something Merle simply couldn't bring himself to do.

But saying something nice would make him feel like he'd completely embarrassed himself in front of the newcomer.

So what else could he do?

Obviously, he could go pick a fight with his dear little brother instead.

Fuck Daryl!

...

That evening, after dinner, Wade sat beside the campfire heating a kettle of water over the coals.

Not far away, Sophia and Cathy had already become fast friends. The two little girls were showing each other their dolls and chatting away about the sort of things only children found fascinating.

Carl seemed a little more mature by comparison. Or maybe he was simply too embarrassed to join a game meant for little girls.

He glanced toward Wade three or four times but never worked up the courage to approach.

Wade finally waved him over.

Carl hesitated, then looked around to make sure Wade really meant him before slowly walking over.

"Hey, Carl. You've been looking over here for a while. Something on your mind?"

Carl looked at Wade and blinked before asking seriously, "Wade, you know how to fight, right? Could you teach me?"

Wade paused. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to fight the Walkers like you guys do. I want to protect Mom."

Wade was quiet for a moment, then patted Carl on the shoulder.

"I know how to fight, but most of what you saw was just strength, nerve, and knowing when to strike."

"But that day, you killed so many Walkers by yourself..."

Wade smiled.

"Kid, if guns were an option, your dad, Shane, and the others could do just as well."

"These days, guns are what matter most. Melee weapons still have their uses, but they're usually what you fall back on when you don't have another choice."

"And right now, you're not tall enough, strong enough, or fast enough to take on Walkers safely with a melee weapon. So for now, learn how to handle a handgun properly, Carl."

Dead branches crackled in the campfire, the flames illuminating the puzzled face of one and the calm expression of the other.

"Well, well, well. Look at our little boy all grown up. Teaching kids now, are we?"

Reeking of alcohol, Merle staggered over to Wade and Carl.

He dropped into a seat across from them, though his expression didn't look particularly pleasant.

Wade glanced behind him.

Not far away, Daryl was sitting beneath a camping lantern, inspecting his compound crossbow and performing his usual maintenance. From this distance, Wade couldn't tell what kind of expression he was wearing.

Wade looked back at Merle's mocking face and sighed.

"Merle, if you keep drinking like this, aren't you worried a Walker's going to sneak up on you one day and bite you?"

Merle scoffed.

"What's it to you?"

Wade poked at the fire and watched the orange flames flicker.

Then he suddenly asked, "You free tomorrow?"

"What? Got another job?"

"We need to stock up on food. Fish from the lake, game from the woods, whatever we can get. I'm planning to head south. What do you think?"

The corner of Merle's mouth lifted slightly.

"Heh. In the end, you still need good old Merle to step in. Should've asked me from the start."

He never actually said he'd come, but the answer was obvious.

Wade smiled and didn't bother arguing with him.

Then he turned to Carl.

"All right, little guy. Time for bed. You need plenty of sleep if you want to grow tall and strong."

Carl quietly filed away what Wade had said about heading south, nodded obediently, then hurried back to the tent.