TWD: Saving Merle First - Chapter 47: You Won't Even Point Your Guns at Me (Patreon)

With engines roaring and dust billowing behind them, the convoy quickly pulled up in front of the warehouse.

A burly white man with a thick beard was the first to climb out. The moment he saw the pickup trucks loaded with supplies, greed flashed in his eyes.

"Hey, buddy. What are you doing out here all by yourself? Run into some trouble?"

A crooked smile spread across his round, bearded face as he glanced around, clearly checking whether Wade had any companions nearby.

Before Wade could answer, the others in the convoy seemed to notice the fully loaded pickups. They piled out of their vehicles with weapons in hand and gathered around.

Someone let out a whistle and joked, "Damn, guys. Looks like today's our lucky day. Three pickup trucks loaded with supplies just fell right into our laps."

Wade wore an easy, good-natured smile, looking completely harmless, while his eyes quietly took in everything around him.

Thirteen people.

Three rifles, four hunting rifles, one old-fashioned shotgun, and three jungle machetes.

Their arsenal was nothing special. It wasn't particularly well equipped, but it wasn't weak either. It was enough for them to survive out here.

And it was something Wade's group could handle.

Some of them had already started rummaging through the packed supplies, acting as though everything there already belonged to them.

The scene quickly grew noisy. A few Black guys looked like they were starving. They dug out some cans, pried them open with their machetes, and started wolfing down the food.

Wade took note of them.

There were only five.

The bearded man saw Wade standing there quietly with that honest, harmless look on his face, and his smile took on a distinctly contemptuous edge.

"Hey, buddy. You understand what I'm saying?"

"I do. Is there something I can help you guys with?"

"Great. We're survivors from a small town in Georgia. We've been traveling for a long time, but we've run out of food."

As he spoke, his eyes kept drifting toward the pickup trucks.

"You've got plenty of food here. Enough to last a long time. Think you could spare some for us? I promise, once we get what we need, we'll leave. We won't stick around."

The bearded man kept smiling as he slowly edged closer. At the same time, some of his people began reaching for their guns.

Wade had probably been an archer or a hunter before all this. His skill with a bow was obviously pretty good. The walkers scattered across the ground made that clear enough.

As for why they hadn't simply ordered Wade to drop his weapon, it was probably the usual arrogance of people with firearms toward someone armed only with a bow.

They simply didn't believe Wade could draw and loose an arrow faster than they could fire.

Wade noticed every little movement they made but acted as though he hadn't seen a thing.

"Hey, guys. You came all this way. Do you have somewhere to go?"

He kept probing them without giving anything away.

His expression showed just the right amount of hesitation and consideration, with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. It looked as though he'd realized he might be in danger and was trying to win them over instead.

That one question only made them look down on him even more.

Or maybe greed had simply blinded them.

They stopped reaching for their weapons, almost as if they wanted to prove they weren't a threat.

The bearded leader, in particular, figured the two steps between them were close enough for him to overpower Wade with his bare hands, so he stopped advancing.

After all, Wade looked a little thin and hardly seemed like much of a fighter. If anything, he looked more like a lookout assigned to keep watch for the rest of his group.

"No. We've been driving for a long time without stopping. Those damn walkers have been following us the whole way. What about you, buddy? You got somewhere to stay?"

Hearing that answer, Wade seemed to relax.

He lowered the bow in his hand, looking every bit like an overly kind, helpful guy trying to ease the tension with friendliness.

He wasn't even keeping his weapon ready anymore?

What a stupid, naive kid.

That was what the bearded man thought, though the look in his narrowed eyes didn't change at all.

They were still filled with cunning and greed.

Maybe they'd even find a camp today that they could take over and use for a long time.

He wondered if there were any women there.

Wade sighed, shrugged, and casually rested both hands on his hips. A look of almost genuine pity appeared in his eyes.

"You guys won't even point your guns at me?"

"What?" the bearded man asked instinctively.

Had this kid been scared stupid?

Could he not even speak properly anymore?

Wade suddenly exploded into motion.

With one quick step, he positioned the bearded man between himself and the others, blocking their line of fire. At the same time, his right hand closed around the handle of his hunting knife.

He drove the blade upward beneath the man's chin, burying it all the way into his brainstem.

At that exact moment, Daryl's arrow arrived, punching straight through the skull of a man who was about to fire.

Wade immediately seized the opening and rolled behind a white Chevrolet.

The sudden attack shattered the enemy's already loose formation. Everyone scattered, diving behind vehicles for cover before opening fire toward Wade's position.

Gunfire erupted across the street.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Kill that fucking bastard..."

"Bang!"

Marcus's bullet cut off the insult before the man could finish it.

Blood sprayed from his throat along with the words he'd been trying to shout.

After that shot, Marcus remained on the second floor of a nearby building and calmly continued firing.

He had the high ground, while the people below had almost no protection from his angle.

It was like Death was calling roll.

Shane leaned half his body out from cover, aimed his Remington in roughly the right direction, and pulled the trigger.

A storm of steel pellets tore through the area, instantly cutting down two unlucky men who had been eating and hadn't even managed to grab their guns.

Some of the people who were hit didn't die immediately.

Their screams of agony began echoing through the street.

Merle would make sure they stopped.

The sudden outbreak of violence left Glenn and T-Dog frozen for a split second. Their bodies tensed instinctively before they drew their pistols and started firing as well.

At this point, there was nothing left to talk about.

As long as their fingers could pull the trigger, the bullets would provide the answer.

As for a certain cheater holed up in a dangerous position, he also reached for the Glock 17 at his waist and began calmly firing back.

"Holy shit! Wade! You're fucking insane!"

An unnatural flush crept across Shane's face.

"Shut up! You're exposing half your body. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

But Shane had been bottling up his frustration for too long and was desperate for a chance to let it out.

At that moment, there was only one thought in his head.

Fighting felt fucking great.

The shotgun in his hands kept blasting out clouds of pellets, hammering against the enemy's vehicles with a violent series of metallic clangs.

Wade saw what he was doing and cursed repeatedly under his breath, but still used his Glock 17 to cover Shane.

Half a head sticking out from behind a car?

Shoot.

The bullet punched straight through, shutting the guy's "CPU" down for good.

A hand sticking out for some blind firing?

Shoot.

That immediately put an end to the dangerous behavior and delivered the most painful possible warning.

Spent shell casings kept hitting the ground with sharp metallic clinks, only to be drowned out by the next gunshot, followed by muffled groans and cries of pain.

Two minutes later, a gun slowly rose from behind one of the cars.

A piece of white cloth, apparently scavenged from somewhere, was tied to it.

"Cease fire! Cease fire! We surrender! We surrender!"