The Walking Dead: Survival Code

Note to Readers.

Hi, everyone.

I apologize for the delay in releasing new chapters. I recently lost a close family member and wasn't in the right mindset to write. I also want to clarify that I don't have a fixed release schedule, so chapters come out as I'm able to write them.

Thank you for your understanding.

L Russ

P.S.: I wrote this on my phone, so I apologize for any typos or errors.

...

Glenn Rhee POV.

I glanced at the van, taking my eyes off the scene of the just reunited family. I became aware that Merle was not among the others at that moment. I couldn't help but look at T-Dog and ask him after a tiny weight grabbed hold of me. "What happened to Merle?" T-Dog gave me a guilty look, but he spoke the truth without holding back. "I dropped the key down a drain while I was going back to free Merle. He's still handcuffed up there on the roof. I was able to secure the door chain with a padlock before I left. The lock and the chain were strong; the walkers won't get in."

Something about hearing that nearly made me feel bad. Merle might still be alive, confined, and in danger. He was undoubtedly a dumb hillbilly, but he was still one of us. He had an impact when he was helpful, and his brother Daryl was much more vital. Furthermore, Daryl wasn't the kind to just forget that we had abandoned his brother to perish. "Fuck!" I thought, frowning because of this confusion. I acknowledged T-Dog's effort with a slow nod. "Good, you did well," I said, trying to show support, even though my mind was already racing, trying to formulate a plan.

The night was falling quickly, and time was our greatest enemy. I was torn. Should we prioritize the safety of the group or take the risk of going back to save a man who, frankly, wasn't exactly the most beloved? But it wasn't about liking him or not. 'He's an idiot,' I thought to myself, 'but no one deserves to be eaten alive by the dead, not even Merle.' His brother also doesn't deserve to find his body, walking among the dead.

I already knew what I needed to do. It wasn't a matter of choice, but of responsibility. "Merle got stuck on the roof," to the others, who were beginning to huddle around me because of the somber tone of the exchange. "T-Dog was able to secure the door chain with a padlock, so the dead can't reach him for now. He is still alive. I made the decision to return to retrieve him. Is there anyone prepared to assist?"

The ensuing quiet was nearly deafening, interrupted only by the wind rustling the trees and the distant sounds of voices in the camp. The first to respond was Shane, who crossed his arms and gave me a disbelieving glance."You can't be serious. Go back to look for a white trash like Dixon? We can't risk anyone's life going after him. You barely survived that search, and you already want to go back? For Merle? It's a bad idea."

Shane continued, his voice becoming firmer, almost aggressive. "Listen, Glenn, I know you want to act morally, but this isn't the world we used to live in. It has nothing to do with ethics or being a good Samaritan. It's a matter of survival. And Merle? He's not the type of man you should risk anything for. In addition to being angry, he is a piece of shit and, let's face it, would eventually endanger us. I know that, and so do you."

I spoke with a conviction I had never felt in my life as I turned to face Shane and the group. "Look, I understand your thoughts completely. If nothing else, Merle Dixon is a walking problem. He is violent, prejudiced, and a stereotypical Southern redneck who has made it abundantly evident that he just cares about himself. I can appreciate your reluctance, but this isn't about agreeing with Merle or loving him. It concerns the group's safety." I stopped and met each of their eyes; resolute and firm, I went on. "You and I both know that the world is collapsing. Last week, a bunch of people searching for supplies attacked me. living individuals. They only wanted what we had and were prepared to murder for it; they didn't want to converse or engage in negotiations. The idea that we can rely on people's goodwill is foolish. We will need individuals like Merle and Daryl when things get very bad, which they will. They serve a purpose. sturdy. They know how to defend, battle, and live.

This is a survival issue, not merely a human one. Merle has his flaws, but he is a resource we cannot afford to waste. Daryl won't forget that we left his brother to die, and frankly, I wouldn't forget either. I'm not asking you to like Merle or trust him, but if we want to survive, we need to see beyond our differences. So, think about this: do we want to be the kind of group that decides who lives or who dies? Because if we are, we are moving in the same way as those monsters out there, and I'm not just talking about the walkers."

I looked around, observing everyone's reactions. Morales, in silence, just shook his head and walked away with his family. He had already expected this. He was never the type to put himself at unnecessary risk, especially for someone like Merle. The rest of the group seemed hesitant. The guilt was written on their faces, but no one wanted to be the first to volunteer. Everyone knew how dangerous it would be to return to the city so soon, especially with nightfall approaching. Rick finally broke the silence, his expression reflecting the internal conflict. He hated the idea of leaving someone behind, but he also couldn't just abandon his family after having reunited with them. "If the current is as strong as he said, maybe we don't need to go today. We can pick him up tomorrow. He'll still be there." Lori, upon hearing this, shot an irritated look at Rick but said nothing. She understood his altruistic impulse but clearly did not agree.

"By then, he might already be dead or, worse, have been bitten," I replied firmly. Realizing that I was right, he couldn't find any more arguments. Then, the first person to offer was T-Dog, just as I expected. "The mistake was mine. I will help to resolve this." He still carried the weight of guilt and knew he couldn't live with himself if he didn't try to fix what he had done. I nodded, accepting his help without hesitation. Seeing that there was at least one person to help and that no one else seemed willing to volunteer, I decided to end the discussion. "That's it; one person is already helping. Andrea, Jacqui, come with me to grab some things for the match." Andrea and Jacqui nodded without questioning and began to follow me. Without wasting any more time waiting for any reaction from the rest of the group, I turned and walked towards the tents, with T-Dog, Andrea, and Jacqui right behind me.

As we moved away to prepare for the rescue, Shane shook his head, making his dissatisfaction clear with every movement. "This is crazy. You guys are going to kill each other over that idiot hick," he grumbled, with his usual sharp tone. Despite the harsh words, he didn't try to stop us. Deep down, everyone knew the risks, but we had decided to face them, aware of the consequences.

We were racing against time to rescue Merle. I looked to my right, at T-Dog, who was already visibly nervous. "Grab some things to distract the walkers, like stones, cans, anything. And go to Dale to get the bolt cutter," I said quickly, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. "Tell him we're bringing the toolbox back." T-Dog hesitated for a moment but then nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. Dale was a sensible man; he wouldn't ask questions. Besides, I had managed to turn that rusty piece of junk of his into something useful, so in a way, he owed me that.

Next, I turned to Andrea and Jacqui, who seemed surprised by my firmness. "Grab a raincoat, some water bottles, granola bars, a first aid kit, and any protective gear you can find: glasses, masks, gloves, whatever you can find." They exchanged brief glances but didn't ask any questions. I couldn't waste time waiting for answers, so I turned and hurried to my tent.

I grabbed a tarp to cover the car, checked the cartridges in my pocket, and slung the strap of my rifle over my shoulder. Outside, the camp seemed calm, but my mind was racing. I walked towards the car parked at the entrance. There it was, my red Dodge Challenger. He seemed out of place amidst that chaos, like a reminder of a world that no longer existed. I opened the driver's door and threw the backpack into the back seat.

Carefully, I placed the rifle between the door and the driver's seat, adjusting it so that it was within reach. Then, I crouched down to connect the wires and start the engine. As soon as the deep and powerful sound filled the air, I felt my heart race along with the vibrations of the car. It was almost as if he were as eager as I was to leave.

I sat in the driver's seat, taking a deep breath as my hands gripped the steering wheel. The roar of the engine seemed to echo through the campsite, attracting some curious glances. Andrea and Jacqui appeared first, carrying makeshift bags with the items I asked for. Andrea placed the water bottles and cereal bars in the back seat, while Jacqui arranged the extra raincoat, a first aid kit, and the protective gear she managed to find. Glasses, masks, gloves. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Is that enough?" Andrea asked, her voice carrying a note of concern. "It'll have to be," I replied quickly, trying not to let my own uncertainty show. "You did a good job. Thank you." T-Dog appeared shortly after, carrying the bolt cutter he got from Dale. He seemed tense but determined. "Dale asked if we're really going to come back with this," he said, raising the tool with a half-serious, half-ironic expression. "Of course we will," I assured him. "We won't stay in the city any longer than necessary." He nodded, but the hesitation was clear in his eyes. I couldn't blame him. Even I knew that this was a risky decision, perhaps even insane. But there was no way to ignore the weight of this responsibility, not when failure would mean much more than just a mistake.

I looked at the sky. The sun had not yet begun to set, but night was approaching quickly, and that only increased the urgency of our mission. We couldn't waste any more time. "Ready?" I asked, looking at T-Dog. He didn't respond immediately, but his expression quickly shifted from resignation to determination. "Let's settle this once," said T-Dog, getting into the passenger seat.

Andrea and Jacqui stayed behind, watching as I closed the car door and started the engine again. The deep sound echoed down the road, almost drowning out the rapid beats of my heart. I took one last look at them through the rearview mirror and made a quick gesture with my head. "Take care of the camp until we return." Without waiting for a response, I shifted gears and pressed the accelerator. The car moved along the dirt road, kicking up dust as we drove away from the camp.

The silence inside the car was almost as deafening as the noise of the engine. T-Dog was tense, holding the bolt cutter on his lap as if it were a shield. "Do you think he's still alive?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "I don't know," I replied honestly, keeping my eyes on the road. T-Dog sighed, looking out the window. "I just hope this isn't a mistake."

"I do too," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

The city soon began to appear in the distance, the shadows of the buildings emerging against the orange sky. It was a grim reminder of what we had left behind and what we were about to face again. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.

"We're almost there," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Stay alert." This is going to be quick." T-Dog nodded, adjusting himself in the seat. The silence enveloped us again as the Dodge Challenger moved along the train tracks, taking us back to danger and to Merle.

The air smelled of iron and decay. We parked the car, still on the tracks, under a bridge, using the shadows to hide any trace of our presence. As I turned off the engine, I felt my heart beat so hard it seemed to echo in the silence. "Let's walk from here on," I said, trying to sound more confident than I really felt.

I took my rifle, the first aid kit, the rope, and some tools from the backpack. Covering the car with the tarp was quick, but I had to check twice to make sure it was completely hidden. It wasn't our only escape route; we still had the cars we had left behind on the road, but the Challenger was, without a doubt, the best option. Fast, discreet, and reliable, it could be the difference between escaping or becoming walker food.

After passing through the fence that I had already cut earlier, we put on our raincoats and protective gear. The plastic creaked slightly with our movements, an annoying reminder that any noise could be a problem. When I finished adjusting my glasses and mask, T-Dog looked at me.

"So, do we get the weapons first or Merle?" he asked, trying to hide the tension in his voice."Merle is closer," I replied without hesitation. "Besides, if he's injured, he won't last long without help." He just nodded, although I could see the doubt in his eyes. You couldn't blame the guy. All of this was insane, but we also had no choice. We cautiously advanced through the desolate streets, avoiding debris and abandoned cars. It didn't take long for us to find the first walkers. Two of them, wandering near a corner. I made a quick gesture to T-Dog, and he understood immediately. We split up. He stayed to the left while I went to the right, both of us moving silently.

I drew my knife, took a deep breath, and attacked. The first walker didn't even have a chance to react before the blade pierced its head. At the same time, I heard the muffled sound of T-Dog taking care of the other one. Everything was quick and efficient, but even so, my stomach was in knots. "We need to camouflage ourselves," I whispered, wiping the knife on the raincoat. T-Dog frowned. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only way to get past them unnoticed," I insisted, already crouching down to tear pieces of decomposing flesh from the first walker. The smell was horrible, but I didn't let it distract me. I passed the material over the raincoat, covering it with the putrid remains. T-Dog sighed, visibly disgusted, but ended up imitating me. "That's disgusting, man," he murmured, almost vomiting as he rubbed the bloodstained fabric on his own clothes. "I know," I replied, getting up and trying to ignore the smell that now seemed to cling to my mask. "But it will work."

We crossed the streets slowly, passing by a group of walkers who were wandering near a destroyed store. They barely noticed our presence. As disgusting as it was, the camouflage worked. My heart seemed to leap with every step, but we didn't dare speak or make any sudden movements. When we finally arrived at the building where Merle was imprisoned, the number of walkers had increased. They were crowding near the entrance and the stairs, blocking our way. "We need to get them out of there," I whispered to T-Dog.

He just nodded, pulling out some cans from his backpack. We picked up stones and other small objects from the ground, using them to make noise at strategic points. I threw a stone towards a trash can at the end of the street, and the metallic sound was enough to attract the attention of a good portion of them. T-Dog did the same, creating a pattern of distractions that opened a small path to the building.

We entered quickly, still covered by camouflage and keeping our steps light. The stairs were relatively clear, but the echo of our movements was unsettling.

My heart was in my throat as we climbed, stopping on each floor to make sure there were no hidden walkers. Finally, the padlock gave way with a dry snap, almost like a mechanical relief after all the effort. I let out a deep sigh, feeling the momentary weight lift off my shoulders. I looked at T-Dog, and our eyes met for a brief moment. We didn't exchange words, but there was a mutual understanding in that look: anything could be on the other side of that door.

My hand was steady when I raised it to turn the doorknob. I took a deep breath, trying to stay focused on what needed to be done. The air around us felt heavy, laden with the smell of the dead that still clung to our clothes. Despite this, there was a forced calmness among us, the kind of calm that comes when you know there is no other option but to move forward. I thought of Merle. He could be injured or unconscious. Of course, there was a chance he was angry or suspicious, but dealing with him was part of the plan. It wouldn't be easy, but leaving someone behind was simply not an option at the moment.

T-Dog took off the rubber gloves and wiped his hands on his pants, clearly trying to contain his nervousness. Despite that, he gave a small nod, as if to say, "Let's get this over with." With my hand steady, I slowly turned the doorknob, feeling every small metallic movement as the door began to open. When it creaked slightly, my body went on alert. We were ready for anything, or at least we wanted to believe we were.