TWD: Saving Merle First - Chapter 67: Reuniting with an Old Friend (Patreon)

By late afternoon, Wade and Merle were straining to lift a Honda CB750 onto the back of a pickup.

Merle's face was bright red. Whether it was from excitement or sheer exertion was hard to tell, but the way he looked at the bike made it obvious how much he treasured it.

"Merle, are you even trying?!"

"Bullshit! I'm putting everything I've got into this!"

"...Then you really don't have much."

That pissed Merle off enough to make him put some real muscle into it, and the two of them finally managed to haul the heavy bike into the truck bed.

Wade wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and planted his hands on his hips.

"So I really do have to piss you off before you'll put some effort in, huh?"

"..."

Merle stood in the truck bed with a wide grin. The bike might not have been his personal favorite, but Daryl loved it.

The kid had been on lookout duty and still kept glancing over every chance he got. He was practically drooling over the thing.

Wade looked over the four pickup trucks, all packed to the brim, and his grin slowly widened.

This trip had been a hell of a haul.

Six Remingtons, four AR-15s, eight M4s, four M16s, four crates of 5.56 rifle ammunition totaling 3,200 rounds, three crates of 9mm pistol ammunition totaling 1,500 rounds, and five crates of shotgun shells totaling 500 rounds.

And that wasn't even counting all the pistols, old hunting rifles, machetes, cut-resistant gloves, protective knee pads, and other miscellaneous gear they'd picked up.

They'd also gained another seven bulletproof vests. Two were heavy-duty hard-plate ballistic vests stripped from their previous owners, top-tier gear that could theoretically stop an M4 round from the front.

The only downside was the weight. Each one weighed around five kilograms even without anything else attached.

But for people like Wade and the others, that much extra weight was nothing they couldn't handle.

Merle secured the two motorcycles with chains, then carefully checked them over one more time.

When he saw the huge grin still plastered across Wade's face, he couldn't resist taking a jab at him.

"That grin of yours is creepy as hell. Makes me feel like you're thinking about something fucked up, bro..."

Wade immediately wiped the smile from his face and put on a serious expression.

"Quit bitching. We got you two your bikes. Now we're heading home."

For the sake of the motorcycles, Merle decided not to argue. He jumped down from the truck bed and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, yeah. Those damn monsters better know what's good for them and stay the hell away from Merle's good time."

Wade rolled his eyes, waved Daryl over, and the group quickly started their vehicles and headed out.

Halfway back, Wade spotted two SUVs stopped on the country road ahead.

One of them was already belching black smoke and looked like it had broken down after a collision.

Wade gradually slowed down.

Then his sharp eyes caught sight of a tall man in a tank top, with brown hair, a distinctive handlebar mustache, and a rifle in his hands.

Was that... some kind of action-movie commando?

Wade grabbed his walkie-talkie.

"Slow down. Pull over."

The other three seemed to have expected the order. They slowed down almost at the same time and pulled their vehicles off to the side of the road.

Cold sweat beaded across Abraham's forehead, and his cheeks were flushed as he watched the unfamiliar convoy loaded with freshly scavenged supplies approach.

He cursed under his breath and quietly clicked off the safety on his rifle.

Wade got out of the truck and took a closer look.

It really was Abraham.

He really did look like he'd stepped straight out of an old-school action movie.

Before Wade could say anything, Abraham stepped forward twice, supporting his rifle with one hand as he frowned at the young man in front of him.

"Stop right there, gentlemen. Otherwise, this rifle of mine isn't going to be nearly as friendly."

"Ngh..."

A muffled groan came from behind Abraham, the voice clearly struggling against intense pain.

At the same time, Wade caught glimpses of several figures moving around the other side of the vehicles. They appeared to be trying to help someone.

"Easy, veteran. If I wanted to attack you, I'd already have my gun pointed at you, wouldn't I?"

Wade remained calm.

"I've got a top-notch surgeon with me. He might be able to help your people, so how about we all keep this friendly?"

Abraham thought it over and realized Wade had a point.

He gradually lowered his rifle, and the tension in his expression eased.

"How'd you know I served?"

"Guessed. I've got someone like you back at my camp."

Wade pointed behind Abraham.

"But right now, I think we should let the doctor take a look first. No sense making the injured wait."

Abraham nodded and stepped aside, giving his permission.

Rosita sat leaning against the passenger seat, her face pale and her lips drained of color.

She didn't get out, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she studied Wade.

If an Asian guy could lead this group, then either everyone here was decent and there weren't any racist old white guys around, or Wade was strong enough to keep people like that under control.

And judging by the rough-looking guy behind him, smoking with a shifty look in his eyes, Rosita suspected it was probably the former.

Marcus walked over to her.

"Where are you hurt? How are you feeling?"

Rosita gave him a beautiful eye roll.

"I just have a high fever. I can wait. I'm more worried about the guy up front."

Marcus looked unusually embarrassed.

It wasn't because he'd been trying to impress her. Rosita simply looked like the person in the worst condition at first glance.

He nodded and headed toward the SUV that was still smoking.

The two heavyset men in the driver and passenger seats had already lost consciousness.

Both of them were burning with high fevers.

Marcus narrowed his eyes, pulled out some alcohol, and started disinfecting.

This couldn't be a coincidence.

Including Ryan from two days earlier, that made five cases of high fever.

Was some new infectious disease spreading?

Marcus couldn't be sure, but he made a mental note to bring it up with Wade later.

When it came to infectious diseases, prevention always came before treatment.

Abraham pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

He looked almost disgusted by them, but still took one out, lit it, and offered Wade another.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Still nothing.

No taste at all.

Abraham raised a hand to his forehead.

It was burning hot.

The damn fever didn't seem immediately fatal, but it was miserable. Food had no taste. Alcohol had no taste.

Even cigarettes were completely bland.

The two smoked in silence until their cigarettes were finished, but Wade still hadn't seen Eugene.

Was he hiding?

Or was Eugene the injured man they were treating?

Wade wasn't sure.

What he did know was that Eugene was definitely one of the few people capable of influencing Abraham's plans.

Wade had originally been thinking about coaxing Abraham back to the camp for treatment, then looking for an opportunity to convince him to stay.

But if Eugene wouldn't even show himself, there wasn't much Wade could do.

Wade studied Abraham's stern, commanding face for a moment before testing the waters.

"Veteran, you got somewhere to stay tonight? Why not come back to my camp and rest up?"

Abraham's first instinct was to refuse.

The only thing on his mind was getting Eugene safely to Washington, developing a serum, and ending this damned apocalypse.

It was the only path to redemption he had left.

Even if he died along the way, so be it.

But right now, nearly everyone in his group had come down with the fever.

They were short on medical supplies and didn't have a doctor, which had slowed their progress to a crawl.

Hell, today's car accident had happened because of the damn illness.

Maybe stopping for a while wasn't such a bad idea.

Abraham made his decision in an instant.

He nodded.

"All right."