TWD - Chapter 495: Clearing the Lodges (Patreon)

“I’ve got the count.”

Joe lowered his binoculars and whispered to Merle, who had moved closer. “Five or six in the tower. The eastern lodge has the most. From the sound of it, there must be a dozen or so packed in there. The western one looks empty. And those few outside should be easy enough.”

“How are you planning to handle them?” Merle rubbed the axe blade on his right arm against his pants, clearly itching to get started.

Joe reached into his pack, pulled out a small leather pouch, and poured several dark pellets into his palm. They gave off a strong, bloody stench.

“I got some animal blood from the kitchen and mixed it with fat to make bait. We toss these far enough away and lure the ones outside off.”

Merle clicked his tongue in disgust. “Damn! Smells like goat shit. Why the fuck didn’t you just bring some Walker Attractant?”

Joe blinked.

“Damn it, why didn’t you tell me that sooner? I went through all that trouble making a whole pile of these things!”

Annoyed or not, he still divided the pellets between two team members. The pair hurled them toward the woods near the edge of the cliff with sling-like throws.

The pellets hit the ground, and their scent spread through the night air.

The walkers wandering across the clearing stopped.

Their rotting, crumbling heads turned toward the smell. After hesitating for a few seconds, they began shambling toward the trees.

“Go, go, go!”

Joe waved them forward, and the team quietly slipped toward the observation tower.

The stone tower itself was solid, but the wooden door had badly decayed. As Joe carefully pushed it open a crack, he was already thinking about how the place could be reinforced and modified.

A sour mixture of mildew and decay washed over him.

He gave a hand signal.

The people behind him pressed the buttons on their Walker Disruptors, releasing a mist so faint it was almost invisible.

Joe slipped through the doorway first.

Three walkers stood in the first-floor lobby with their backs to the entrance, staring blankly at the collapsed reception desk.

Under the effects of the Walker Disruptor, they showed no reaction at all to living people standing only a few feet away.

Joe didn’t move immediately.

After watching them for a few seconds, he pointed toward the stairs, then at himself and one of the others, signaling for the man to follow him.

Then he pointed at the remaining two men and made a cutting motion through the air.

Take care of these three.

Daryl and the other two hunters already had their weapons ready.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Three bolts struck the walkers cleanly in the backs of their heads.

The bodies crumpled without making much noise.

Merle clicked his tongue, looking slightly irritated.

Before losing his right hand, his aim had been every bit as good as Daryl’s. Hell, he was the one who had taught Daryl how to hunt in the first place.

Joe and another team member started upstairs.

The staircase was stone, but cracks ran through it, and some sections gave faint creaks under their weight.

They moved slowly, testing every step before putting their full weight on it.

The second floor was an exhibition hall.

Two walkers swayed in front of ruined display panels. Under the influence of the Walker Disruptor, they completely ignored the two living men slipping past them.

Joe didn’t linger.

He drove his weapon through their eye sockets and continued upward.

Third floor.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Each level held one or two walkers, and every one of them was silently dealt with.

The entire operation played out like a pantomime, broken only by the faint sound of footsteps and the even softer thumps of bodies hitting the floor.

Sixth floor.

The observation deck.

Joe pushed open the door, and mountain wind rushed inside.

The platform was completely empty except for a rusted telescope standing alone near the edge.

Joe walked to the railing and looked down.

The entire summit stretched out beneath him.

Through the second-floor windows of the eastern lodge, he could make out shadows wandering inside.

The western lodge was completely dark.

Farther away, the winding mountain road stretched downhill like a pale, dead snake.

“Tower’s clear,” Joe whispered into his radio. “Hunters, get ready to clear the lodges. Team A comes with me to the east. Team B checks the west.”

Daryl glanced at the black box on his belt and added over the team channel, “The disruptor won’t last much longer. We need to move.”

The group split again.

Joe took four people toward the eastern lodge, while Merle and Daryl led three others west.

They approached a two-story wooden building that had probably once been a vacation lodge.

Half the porch had collapsed, and the front door hung slightly open.

Merle pointed with his left hand toward the second-floor balcony.

A tall spruce stood close beside the building, its branches extending almost to the balcony railing.

“Too many windows, and that porch is rotten as hell. Going through the front will make too much noise, and there could be walkers tucked into any damn corner. We go around the side, find a way up to the second floor, then clear downward. Keep it clean and quiet.”

Daryl studied the building for a moment.

Then he slung his crossbow onto his back, moved silently to the base of the spruce, and started climbing.

Using knots, scars, and protrusions in the bark for leverage, he reached a thick horizontal branch within moments.

He steadied himself, pulled a coil of sturdy nylon rope from his waist, secured one end around the branch with a tight sailor’s knot, and lowered the other end toward the dark balcony below.

The rope dropped softly.

The three men below caught it and tested its strength.

Then, following Daryl’s example, they braced their feet against the trunk and used the branches for support, climbing one after another until they slipped onto the balcony without alerting whatever might be inside.

That left only Merle below.

He looked up at the hanging rope.

Then he glanced at the mechanical arm on his right side.

A muscle in his face twitched.

He stepped forward and grabbed the rope with his left hand.

Merle tried to brace his feet against the tree and climb the same way the others had.

But losing an arm meant more than losing a point of leverage.

It had thrown off his balance and coordination as well.

He pushed hard against the trunk and managed to jerk himself upward a short distance, but his body immediately twisted out of control.

His back slammed into the tree with a dull thud.

“Fuck...” Merle muttered under his breath.

He was breathing hard, but he didn’t let go of the rope.

The three men on the balcony instinctively looked toward Daryl.

Daryl crouched on the thick branch and stared down at his older brother.

The same Merle who had once been arrogant, domineering, and seemingly capable of anything now looked like a wounded animal caught in a trap, stubbornly fighting against the limits of his own body.

Merle tried again.

He locked his legs tightly around the rope and hauled himself upward with his left arm, veins standing out across his forehead.

This time he gained more than half a meter.

But the position was awkward, and he was relying almost entirely on brute strength.

As the remaining distance stretched above him, his breathing grew heavier.

His face and neck turned red, and sweat ran down his temples.

Daryl suddenly leaned forward until his entire body was pressed against the branch.

He stretched his right arm downward as far as it would go, fingers spread wide, his hand hanging less than a meter above Merle.

He stared at his brother.

No urging.

No encouragement.

He simply waited.

Merle looked up.

Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging them.

He saw the hand reaching down toward him and let out a low growl, impossible to tell whether it came from anger, frustration, or something else entirely.

He stopped trying to climb the hard way.

Instead, gathering every ounce of strength he had left, he reached his left arm upward and kicked off the tree trunk with both feet.

The instant his body swung upward, Daryl lunged down and locked his hand firmly around Merle’s wrist.