Chapter 51: Merle Stands Up Again
Hanks's expression remained neutral.
He glanced at the unconscious Merle on the ground, then at Daryl held at gunpoint by Lee.
"Search him, Lee." Hanks's tone left no room for argument. "See what other weapons he has."
Lee carefully approached Daryl and quickly patted him down with his free left hand.
From Daryl's waist he pulled a backup hunting knife and a dozen or so crossbow bolts.
"That's it." Lee tossed them aside.
Hanks bent to pick up Merle's dropped knife, weighed it, and casually tucked it into his belt.
Then he walked to the crossbow and kicked it farther away.
Daryl stared hard at Hanks. The savagery in his eyes hadn't faded, but strong wariness dominated.
His temple throbbed. The ringing hadn't completely stopped. That strike had been fast and vicious.
Definitely not an ordinary person.
Hanks walked to Daryl and crouched down, blue eyes calmly observing him.
That invisible police authority radiated naturally. "Name."
Daryl pressed his lips tight, resisting in silence. His gaze flicked to unconscious Merle, showing worry.
Hanks didn't press, just continued watching with that calm yet oppressive stare.
"We're not raiders."
He spoke, voice not loud but clearly reaching Daryl's ears. "But if you choose to become a threat, I won't hesitate to eliminate you."
He paused, gaze sweeping the still-twitching deer. "Looks like you're hunting for food."
"We're survivors too. Just looking for a place to catch our breath and resupply."
Hanks gestured to Lee. "Open the door. Carefully."
Lee nodded, took a deep breath, and used the gun barrel to gently push the wooden door open, peering inside.
"Clear," he reported quickly.
"No one inside. Some dust, but things are fairly orderly. An old table and a few cabinets."
Only then did Hanks look back at Daryl, extending his hand. "We can talk, or—"
"You can choose to keep lying here until dark, or until walkers smell the blood and come."
Daryl's gaze swept between Hanks and unconscious Merle.
The man's combat ability was terrifying, but he hadn't killed them immediately. Seemed to lack obvious hostile intent.
And he'd mentioned walkers... that loosened Daryl's taut nerves slightly.
Daryl swallowed with difficulty, his dry throat making a faint sound.
He finally spoke hoarsely. "...Daryl. The guy on the ground—he's my brother, Merle."
Hanks extended his hand. "Hanks. This is Lee."
Daryl hesitated, then finally raised his hand with difficulty. Hanks pulled him up forcefully.
A fragile ceasefire was reached.
Hanks tilted his head at Lee. "Watch him."
He quickly walked toward the ranger cabin, pushed the door open, but didn't immediately enter.
Instead he stood in the doorway rapidly scanning the interior. Dust danced in sunlight streaming through windows.
The furnishings were simple—an old wooden table, several filing cabinets, a rust-spotted iron stove.
Miscellaneous items piled in the corner.
Just as Lee said, it looked long-abandoned but relatively intact.
Hanks walked inside, gaze sweeping every corner, Awareness passive constantly operating.
He noticed one filing cabinet drawer had subtle signs of recent movement.
Daryl, held at gunpoint by Lee, slowly followed inside, eyes never leaving unconscious Merle.
Lee guarded the door, gun barrel lowered but ready, alert to both outside and Daryl's every move.
Hanks walked straight to the cabinet with traces and tried the drawer. Locked.
He didn't hesitate. Stepped back half a pace and kicked hard near the lock.
WHAM! A dull thud.
The wooden drawer face splintered.
He kicked again. The entire drawer broke open, revealing yellowed files inside.
An old revolver and a small box of .38 caliber rounds. A key hanging on an internal hook.
Hanks grabbed the key, glanced at the small revolver and ammunition, and stuffed everything into his pack.
His gaze fell on a wooden gun cabinet against the wall, also secured with a large padlock.
He walked over, inserted the key into the lock, and turned. Click—the lock opened.
Hanks opened the cabinet door. The contents made his brow relax slightly.
A reasonably well-maintained Remington 700 hunting rifle lay quietly on the rack, with half a box of .308 rifle rounds beside it.
At the cabinet's bottom, scattered boxes of various hunting rifle calibers and some 9mm pistol rounds—not a huge quantity, but undoubtedly invaluable for them.
Hanks slung the rifle over his back and collected all the ammunition.
Just then—
A suppressed groan came from outside.
Merle shook his head hard, struggling to rise from the ground.
Daryl immediately tried to rush out but was stopped by Lee's gun barrel. "Don't move!"
Hanks quickly stuffed the found ammunition into his assault pack, then told Lee, "Let him check on his brother. Keep an eye on him."
Only then did Lee step aside from the door.
Daryl immediately rushed out, crouching beside Merle. "Merle? How you doing? Damn..."
Merle shook off Daryl's attempt to help, standing shakily on his own. A large lump had swollen at his temple, blood running down his cheek.
He shook his still-ringing head. Those savage eyes locked onto Hanks emerging from the cabin, filled with violence and humiliation.
"You sucker-punching bastard!" Merle growled, seeming ready to charge again.
Daryl quickly grabbed him tight. "Enough, Merle! You can't beat him!"
He lowered his voice urgently. "There's more of them, and... this guy's not normal!"
Merle gasped heavily, chest heaving violently. He glanced at Lee watching like a hawk.
Then at Hanks—expressionless, eyes cold. That desperate outlaw ferocity was suppressed by a trace of remaining reason.
He knew his brother was right. That last exchange had made the power gap clear.
"What? Still not satisfied?"
Hanks pulled out a cigarette and lighter—courtesy of Scarface—and with a click, casually lit up.
"Tch. What kind of skill is a sucker punch?" Merle's voice wasn't loud but lacked its earlier hardness.
"Fine. Don't say I bullied you by ambushing." Hanks led the way out of the cabin. "Come to the clearing—we'll go again!"
"Bro... don't you fucking—" Daryl tried to grab him but was shaken off.
Merle stood up again.
Hanks, cigarette dangling from his lips, walked first to the clearing in front of the cabin. The sunset stretched his shadow long.
He casually rolled his neck and shoulders, producing soft bone cracks, and crooked a finger at Merle.
That contemptuous gesture—
Completely ignited Merle's remaining fury.
"Fuck!" he growled.