TWD: Saving Merle First - Chapter 105: Glenn's Transformation (Patreon)

Morning fog covered the farm, and the sun hung halfway above the distant mountains, glowing red like fire.

Wade slowly woke and looked down at Beth asleep in his arms.

He gently kissed her forehead.

Beth murmured in her sleep and tightened her arms around him.

Wade smiled.

She'd been the same way last night. Even when she was completely exhausted, she still refused to let go, stubborn even in the middle of all that craziness.

Carefully, Wade eased himself free, got dressed, put on his gear, and slipped out of the tent.

He stretched and took a deep breath.

He felt fantastic.

He'd gotten up late again.

Not far away, Glenn and Ryan were already training.

It wasn't sparring, though.

It looked more like... reaction training?

Wade had no idea where Ryan had found the thin wooden stick in his hand, but he kept flicking it at Glenn from different angles like he was playing Fruit Ninja.

Ryan wasn't moving especially fast.

But every time Glenn reacted too slowly, the stick left another mark on him.

Leon was awake too.

Or rather, Crane had dragged him out of bed and forcibly booted him into morning-training mode with a barrage of punches.

Leon spotted Wade and immediately looked ready to reach for his hand, desperate for rescue.

Wade didn't even look at him.

He simply turned his head away.

What a joke.

Wade was the one who'd arranged this suffering in the first place.

And Leon thought he could escape?

A faint, smug smile appeared on Wade's face.

Hands clasped behind his back, he quietly strolled away.

Bristleback and Superman Crane had finally found each other.

What a beautiful meeting of destiny.

Too bad they didn't have a video camera.

Leon, meanwhile, was miserable.

Crane wasn't Shane.

The man's strikes were viciously accurate. He wasn't putting much power behind them, but Leon was still getting hit over and over.

It was maddening.

He had strength, but Crane never gave him a chance to use it.

Wade leisurely inspected the trenches and spiked barricades before strolling back toward camp like a retired old man taking his morning walk.

"Oh, Leon. You look terrible. Didn't sleep well?"

Leon grimaced and rubbed his chest.

He'd let his guard slip a moment earlier and Crane had tagged him cleanly.

Then he caught the amusement in Wade's eyes.

For one glorious moment, Leon got angry.

And then that was about as far as it went.

Caught between standing up for himself and swallowing his frustration, he chose to stay quietly pissed.

What else could he do?

At the moment, the man sitting comfortably at the very top of the camp's food chain was Old Man Wade himself.

Crane stretched, looking thoroughly refreshed, then smiled at Wade.

"When are we leaving?"

"After breakfast."

Wade glanced at Leon and briefly considered bringing him along.

After thinking it over, he decided against it.

It wasn't because Leon wasn't capable enough.

Shane needed some dependable fighters nearby too, and for now, Glenn and Leon could each only count as half of one.

The reason was simple.

Both of them still had very strong moral lines.

If something ugly and difficult happened, Shane might already have dealt with the problem while those two were still struggling over what the right choice was.

After breakfast, Wade gathered the same group that had gone out the day before, added Glenn, and headed for the CDC in one SUV and three pickup trucks.

Glenn sat in the SUV looking slightly tense.

This was the first time he'd gone on this kind of mission with Wade and the others.

Underneath the nervousness was an excitement he couldn't quite put into words.

Marcus glanced at him from the driver's seat, smiled as usual, and held out a piece of candy.

"Relax. Have some candy."

Glenn remembered the piece Marcus had given him before.

His face reddened slightly, but he still accepted it and popped it into his mouth with a smile.

The candy tasted exactly the same.

But somehow, what it meant to him had quietly changed.

They pushed the vehicles hard along the way and managed to reach the area near the CDC before noon.

After hiding the vehicles, they readied their weapons and began moving toward the military position they'd seen before.

The streets ahead were empty and silent.

Abandoned cars sat scattered everywhere.

Every so often, a loose sheet of paper drifted through the air on the wind.

The apocalypse had only been going on for three or four months.

Barely a hundred days.

Yet without people maintaining it, the city had already become cold and lifeless, like a jungle made of steel.

Daryl, moving at the front of the group, fired his crossbow.

The bolt punched through a walker's skull, leaving only the fletching visible.

Then more than a dozen walkers slowly emerged from around the corner ahead and began shambling toward them.

Merle stepped forward with a vicious grin.

He kicked the first walker off its feet, knocking several others down with it, then started crushing skulls with the stock of his rifle.

Ryan gave Glenn a shove and motioned toward the walkers.

Go help.

Glenn pulled an eighteen-inch machete from his waist.

He swallowed hard.

Then he charged in.

At first, there was no real technique to his movements.

He relied entirely on his speed and reflexes.

His swings were broad, his steps messy, but the machete was sharp enough that whatever it caught was cut cleanly apart.

Ryan watched without interfering.

Beginners were always like this.

They knew what they wanted to do in their heads, but their bodies couldn't execute the commands cleanly yet.

So instinct and muscle memory took over.

But as Glenn kept fighting, his brain began adjusting.

Little by little, conscious control replaced blind reaction.

His breathing slowed.

His swings became more deliberate.

His footwork started serving a purpose.

A rhythm gradually formed in his attacks.

It still wasn't proper blade technique.

But at least he no longer looked like he was flailing around wildly.

Merle stopped fighting and watched him with growing interest.

The mockery in his eyes slowly gave way to a trace of approval.

He still remembered when they'd first met.

Back then, forget killing walkers with a blade.

Glenn barely dared to look Merle in the eye whenever Merle raised his voice.

Now?

The kid was finally starting to look like a man.

After killing five or six walkers in a row, Glenn backed off and sucked in several deep breaths.

Once he'd steadied himself, he didn't wait for anyone to remind him.

He went over to the severed walker heads and drove his blade through each skull to make sure they were finished.

A spark of satisfaction appeared in Wade's eyes.

Glenn had never been weak.

He'd simply needed the right path to become stronger.

And Wade was very pleased with what he was seeing.

There was just one thing.

It was already strange enough that Glenn had started carrying a blade at his waist.

But why the hell had he picked a machete that big?

Was he planning to clear walkers like they were brush?

With the path ahead clear, Daryl resumed moving forward.

As he passed Glenn, he patted him on the shoulder and pulled one corner of his mouth upward.

It wasn't much of a smile.

But from Daryl, it was rare praise.

Merle didn't say anything.

He gave a low whistle instead, his usual mocking grin carrying a faint trace of approval.

Ryan passed Glenn next.

"Nice work. But next time, think about using a shorter blade. Stabbing is more efficient than chopping."

Glenn wiped the gore and debris from the machete on a walker's clothes.

And somehow, as he cleaned the blade, the fear he'd once felt toward walkers seemed to stay behind with the blood.

When he looked up again, there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Then he gave Ryan a serious nod and slid the machete back into its sheath.