Chapter 50: Merle and Daryl
Hanks slept deeply but briefly—not waking naturally but jolted awake by subtle instinct.
The feeling was like being watched while resting at the motel.
He snapped his eyes open. The sunset's glow had already painted the sky orange-red.
Hanks had slept nearly an entire afternoon.
The camp atmosphere felt different. Kenny and Lee were still on watch, but their postures were noticeably more tense.
Kenny crouched on the RV roof, shotgun barrel angled slightly toward the western woods.
Lee used the pickup door as cover, Glock gripped in hand, scanning the same direction.
Clementine had woken. She sat obediently beside Katjaa, eating in small bites.
Seeing Hanks awake, she immediately lit up and ran over to hug his leg.
"Lee, what's going on?" Hanks's voice was slightly hoarse as he gently ruffled the small head attached to his thigh.
"Movement, officer." Lee kept his voice low, speaking quickly. "Western woods earlier—definitely something there."
"Not walkers. Walkers aren't this quiet or this... nimble. Looks like living people."
"They've been circling the tree line. Can't see exact numbers or intentions."
Kenny added, "Damn things have been facing us down for half an hour, just won't show themselves. Now it's gone quiet again."
Hanks's brow furrowed tight.
Living threats were sometimes worse than walkers. His mind raced. If they were lingering...
Either observing and assessing, waiting for an opportunity, or waiting for accomplices.
They couldn't sit idle.
"Lee, you're with me. We're checking it out." Hanks made the decision quickly. "Kenny, stay on high ground for fire support. Carley, protect the rear cabin."
Carley had already woken. At his words she immediately gripped her pistol tighter, signaling understanding.
Hearing there was action, Clementine obediently returned to Katjaa's side, staying with Duck.
Hanks adjusted his weapons to optimal positions and gestured to Lee.
The two didn't enter the woods head-on. Instead they used the riverbank slope as cover.
Moving silently nearly a hundred meters downstream before gradually stepping into the sparse woodland edge.
With Stealth and Awareness passives stacking effects, Hanks's footsteps were cat-light, making almost no sound on dead leaves and soft earth.
His gaze swept every shrub, every shadow behind the trees.
Lee followed close behind, trying to mimic his movements, breathing kept extremely low.
The forest light was dim. The air carried scents of rotting vegetation and earth.
After probing forward about ten minutes, Hanks suddenly raised his right fist—signal to stop.
He'd keenly heard extremely faint scraping sounds ahead, along with suppressed heavy breathing.
He gestured. The two split left and right, using tree trunks for cover, slowly advancing.
Through gaps in the brush, they saw a small clearing with a structure.
A ranger station stood there—weathered wooden walls, broken windows.
Hanks gestured. Two people were gathered at the cabin entrance.
A tall man in a ragged leather jacket—bald—was half-kneeling on the ground, using a hunting knife to pry at the padlock on the door.
His movements were rough. He muttered curses under his breath. "Fuck, this thing's solid."
Not far away under an oak tree, a large buck lay on the ground.
A crossbow bolt stuck from its neck. Its body still twitched slightly—clearly freshly killed.
A lean man with a crossbow slung on his back and wariness etched across his face stood guard over the deer carcass.
His gaze constantly swept the surroundings. He was clearly more alert than the lock-picker.
Living people. Two of them.
They looked like brothers, targeting this ranger cabin.
Hanks instantly assessed the situation.
Two living men—one with a crossbow, one with a knife.
They didn't look like the organized raiders from before. More like survivors struggling in the wild.
But their vigilance and aggression were definitely high.
Hanks lowered his voice to barely a breath beside Lee. "I subdue. You watch. Try not to shoot unless absolutely necessary."
Gunfire would attract unwanted trouble—walkers or possibly other humans.
Lee nodded tensely, gripping his Glock. His palm was sweating.
Hanks gestured. The two used tree and brush cover to quietly close in.
His target was the more threatening crossbow user. Lee would handle the lock-picking bald man.
Distance closed rapidly.
Footsteps on the soft forest floor were almost completely silenced, only the rustle of wind through leaves.
The bald man seemed to lose patience. With a low growl, he applied sudden force.
Click.
A crisp snap—the padlock broke under pressure.
"Ha! Got it! Daryl, told you this piece of shit couldn't stop your big brother!" The bald man laughed quietly with satisfaction, reaching to push the door.
Just then, Daryl seemed to sense something and whipped his head toward the rear.
Hanks moved.
Full burst of 4x Agility—his entire body shot from behind the tree like an arrow released, charging straight at Daryl.
"Merle!"
Daryl reacted extremely fast. Shocked, he instinctively tried to raise his crossbow.
But Hanks's speed was too fast. The instant Daryl lifted the crossbow, Hanks was already on him.
His left hand flashed out like lightning, precisely gripping the wrist holding the crossbow and wrenching it downward.
Simultaneously his right arm bent, delivering a vicious elbow strike without mercy toward the temple.
WHAM! A dull thud.
Daryl had no time for effective resistance—just felt searing wrist pain, vision going black.
The crossbow fell from his hand onto thick fallen leaves.
Hanks glanced at him with slight surprise.
For an average person, that blow would have them seeing stars, unconscious on the ground.
Daryl still stood, barely. Clearly a lifetime of beatings had given him above-average resistance to blows.
Lee quickly stepped forward with his pistol aimed, kicking the crossbow away.
Merle heard the commotion behind him and turned in shock—just in time to see a dark figure lunging.
He roared, abandoning the lock and swinging the hunting knife toward Hanks in a thrust.
Facing the incoming blade, Hanks didn't retreat—he advanced.
His body suddenly slid right in a sidestep. The knife whistled past, barely missing his tactical vest.
Almost the same instant he evaded, his left hand clamped like an iron vise onto Merle's knife wrist.
The massive grip made Merle feel like his bones were being crushed.
"Gahh!" Merle grimaced in pain, but his vicious nature flared. His other fist swung hard at Hanks's face.
Hanks tilted his head. The fist's force whistled past his ear. His left hand gripping Merle's wrist suddenly yanked toward himself, breaking the man's center of gravity while his right knee shot up like a cannonball, driving hard into Merle's gut.
THUMP!
Heavy impact accompanied Merle's pained grunt. His whole body bent like a cooked shrimp.
The hunting knife clattered to the ground. Stomach acid mixed with canned lunch meat erupted from his mouth.
Hanks didn't pause. His right arm pressed down, elbow slamming hard into the back of Merle's neck.
Merle's vision went black. His massive frame swayed twice before collapsing to the ground, completely unconscious.
The entire sequence was lightning-fast—in a few breaths, the seemingly fierce Merle was completely subdued on the ground.
On the other side, Lee's gun stayed locked on Daryl struggling to rise. "Don't move! Stay down!"
Daryl had taken the heavy temple strike. Though not knocked out, his vision was blurred, ears ringing.
He couldn't effectively resist—just gasped roughly with unwilling fury, glaring at Lee with savage eyes.
But his mind was more filled with shock.
Especially watching Hanks instantly drop his brother—a hint of barely perceptible fear crept in.
Who the hell was this guy?
Way too fast.
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