TWD: Saving Merle First - Chapter 69: On the Importance of Timing (Patreon)

The vehicle was coming in fast. It didn't look like someone in a hurry so much as a suicide charge straight toward the camp.

"Fuck! You wanna die?!"

Wade quickly raised his recurve bow, nocked an arrow, aimed at the driver's seat, and released.

The arrow streaked across the thirty or forty meters like a meteor, punching into the driver's body and through the seat behind him.

Wade faintly heard a piercing scream.

A second later, the vehicle swerved violently out of control and dropped halfway into the trench.

The sudden turn of events left everyone in camp stunned for a moment.

Ryan was the only one who reacted immediately. He rushed back to his tent, grabbed his M4, chambered a round in one smooth motion, then crouched low and advanced in quick, controlled steps.

The others quickly snapped out of it.

Shane, Rick, Merle, Daryl, and Marcus grabbed their weapons and instinctively formed up before moving forward.

Once the lead vehicle crashed into the trench, the rest of the attacking convoy veered aside. The people inside grabbed their weapons and piled out.

In the shifting light, Wade quickly got a rough count.

Around twenty people.

A roaming gang of thugs.

He dropped his recurve bow, grabbed one of the brand-new M4s, and pushed forward with the others.

Back when Wade had planned the camp's defenses, he'd considered the possibility of a direct frontal assault. That was why he'd built several sandbag positions near the entrance.

Ryan reached one first.

He poked his head up, took a quick look outside, and cursed under his breath.

Almost every attacker had a long gun.

Most were old shotguns and hunting rifles, but they were still far more dangerous than handguns.

They couldn't let this turn into a prolonged firefight over fixed positions.

That would only turn the entrance into a meat grinder and drag everyone down with it.

The attackers advanced unevenly, their combat skills clearly varying from person to person.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets flew everywhere, forcing the camp defenders to keep their heads down.

The attackers began laughing and shouting as though victory were already theirs.

Merle and Shane had tempers far too short to put up with that for long.

Both raised their Remingtons and pulled the triggers.

"BOOM!"

A storm of buckshot tore forward like a massive net of death, instantly shredding the two unlucky men at the front of the group.

Blood mist and chunks of flesh sprayed across the men beside them.

Instead of frightening the attackers, the sight only seemed to excite them more.

"Hahahaha! Someone's dead! One of the little pigs is dead!"

"They're behind that dirt wall! Push up on them!"

"Spiked barricades! What, you think we're cavalry? Hahahaha!"

"Hey, why'd the car flip over? Why didn't it explode?"

One of the men repeatedly mashed the button on a remote control, even raising it around as though he were trying to find a better signal.

Wade ducked behind a sandbag position.

Ryan was beside him, constantly reassessing the attackers.

"Fuck! Are these guys insane?"

"Maybe they're high."

Wade went quiet for a second, then turned toward him in disbelief.

"There are still junkies around in the apocalypse?"

Merle gave a dismissive snort.

"Christ, you're sheltered. Who says they couldn't have become junkies after everything went to shit?"

Fair point.

Under the extreme pressure of the apocalypse, it wasn't hard to imagine some people turning to drugs to escape reality.

But did getting high really make people this fucking crazy?

Merle seemed about to explain further, then thought better of it and shut his mouth.

Forget it.

Forget it. Wade clearly didn't know much about this stuff anyway.

Ryan listened carefully to the pattern of gunfire and gradually reached a conclusion.

He nudged Wade with his elbow.

"About ten more seconds and they'll all be reloading. You ready?"

The people huddled behind the dirt wall exchanged looks.

Hard smiles spread across their faces.

Ready?

They'd been burning with anger ever since the attackers pinned them down back here.

They were just waiting for a chance to hit back and shut those bastards up.

Did these idiots really think they could just roll in and rob us blind without a fight?

The constant gunfire gradually began to thin out.

Ryan raised three fingers.

Then lowered them one at a time.

Three.

Two.

One.

The instant the last finger dropped, everyone leaned out almost simultaneously and returned fire.

Gunfire erupted again.

This time, though, it was far more controlled and concentrated than anything the attackers had managed.

"Fuck you, you sons of bitches!"

Merle roared as he rose from cover.

Spent shells flew from his shotgun as he poured buckshot downrange, unloading all his pent-up rage.

Ryan stayed low and angled his body sideways, exposing as little of himself as possible.

He fired short, controlled bursts, snapping his muzzle from target to target so quickly it was almost as if he were politely handing each man two bullets.

The fight ended quickly.

The attackers barely used cover at all.

They simply stood exposed in the road and launched what amounted to a suicidal assault.

Wade almost felt like he hadn't done much before the entire group had already been torn apart.

He clicked his tongue.

Then silently added another rule to the camp's recruitment standards.

No addicts.

Absolutely none.

That had been fucking terrifying.

Those people had practically been trying to get themselves killed.

"Cease fire! Clear the area and collect anything useful. And..."

Wade looked toward the vehicle hanging halfway into the trench.

"Check if anyone in there is still alive. If there is, Merle, you know what to do."

Merle grinned.

"Leave it to me!"

The counterattack hadn't been nearly enough to burn off all his anger.

If anything, he was hoping someone had survived.

Ryan gave him a surprised look but didn't comment.

He engaged the safety on his rifle, cleared the chamber, slung it over his back, and drew his pistol.

Rick's face was full of relief.

If Wade hadn't spent so much time strengthening the camp's defenses, those attackers could have driven straight through the barbed-wire fence and stormed the camp.

How many people would have died before they managed to win?

Rick didn't want to know.

He didn't even want to think about it.

They were safe now.

That was enough.

He walked over to Wade without saying anything and patted him on the shoulder.

Then he turned back toward camp to calm Lori and Carl.

As for any surviving prisoners...

Rick hadn't seen any.

There weren't any.

Wade was right.