|October 20, 2010|
< Third Person POV >
Glenn was driving back to the camp, frustrated with the day. His searches for the men he had encountered the other day were fruitless. He searched the building where the confrontation had taken place and scoured the surrounding area but found no sign of them. "They must be from out of town," he thought as he drove the car. "They were just trying to get something in the city and ended up crossing my path."
Approaching the perimeter of the camp, Glenn flashed his headlights to signal his arrival. The guard greeted him with a nod, and Glenn returned the gesture before heading to the center of the camp. As soon as he parked, he got out and walked to Dale's trailer.
Dale was on the roof of the trailer, with his rifle in hand, keeping his usual watch. Glenn called him with a wave, and Dale soon came down to meet him.
"I didn't find anything in the city." Glenn said in a low tone, after making sure they were alone. "They must be from outside." "With the beating they took, they won't show up anytime soon."
"That's good." Dale replied, visibly relieved but still cautious.
The two began to walk towards the "shooting range," an improvised space near the edge of the camp where they trained for survival. As they approached, the sound of gunfire already filled the air.
At the shooting range, Shane was leading a group of volunteers: Andrea, Jacqui, T-Dog, and Morales. Merle was not present; he already had military experience and did not need the training. T-Dog and Morales, on the other hand, were still honing their pistol skills, despite having received basic instructions from Glenn earlier.
Upon noticing Glenn and Dale approaching, Shane momentarily interrupted the training and went over to them.
"So, how was it in the city?" asked Shane.
"Dale can explain it to you." Glenn replied, signaling for Dale to take over the conversation.
"I'll take it from here." Teaching can be exhausting; you deserve a break."Ensinar pode ser exaustivo; você merece uma pausa."
Shane accepted the suggestion, stepping away to drink water and watch the training from a distance.
Glenn started with T-Dog and Morales. He gave specific tips to improve aim and adjust stances. After a few attempts, both went from hitting five out of ten cans and bottles to seven and eight, respectively. Glenn smiled contentedly.
"You are improving." "Keep it up," he said, as he prepared to help Jacqui.
Jacqui was next. Glenn noticed that her posture was a bit misaligned. Without touching her, he adjusted her position verbally, asking her to raise her hands and take a deep breath before shooting. She hit seven out of ten, tying with Morales.
"Very well, Jacqui." "You're getting the hang of it," praised Glenn.
Finally, it was Andrea's turn. She was determined, but her stubbornness made her commit basic mistakes. Glenn decided to intervene.
"Let's adjust a few things," he said, temporarily taking the gun from her hand. "Keep a straight posture, but position your feet as if in a boxing stance."
He placed the gun back in her outstretched hand and positioned himself behind her, guiding her without invading her space. When Andrea fired, she hit nine out of ten targets. A broad smile spread across her face.
"Not bad, Jayne Wayne," joked Glenn, eliciting a laugh and a thank you from Andrea.
Andrea then offered the gun to Glenn, with a challenging look.
"Your turn, John Wayne." Show what you know.
Glenn accepted, reloaded the weapon smoothly, and in a quick succession of precise shots, hit all the targets. The silence of surprise was soon broken by murmurs of admiration.
"Wow!" "Not bad, Glenn," said Andrea, smiling and returning the compliment. "I think the title of John Wayne is all yours."
T-Dog didn't miss the opportunity to comment:
"Dude, one day you're going to have to tell me where you learned to shoot like that."
Glenn shrugged, with a modest smile.
"I already said obligation, not talent."
T-Dog burst out laughing, remembering the reference to the day they met.
"True. "Obligation," of course."
After shooting at static targets, Glenn wanted to challenge the group. He approached a tree with a hanging trunk and shook it, creating a moving target.
"A stationary target is very different from a moving one," he explained. "Let's train on that now."
The group started practicing, initially making mistakes but improving over time. After a few rounds, Glenn called everyone to wrap up the practice and gather for a meal.
As the group walked to eat, Glenn watched the volunteers with satisfaction. They were improving, and that could make all the difference in the upcoming searches and battles. Even so, he knew that danger was never far away and that each day was a struggle for survival.
The days went by quickly, and Glenn took the opportunity to train more people at the camp. At Andrea's request, he taught Amy, her sister, how to handle a weapon. Andrea wanted Amy to know how to protect herself, if necessary. Glenn also gave secret lessons to Carol, away from the eyes of her abusive husband, Ed. Carol had a daughter, Sophia, the kindest and sweetest child at the camp, and she wanted to know how to defend her.
These lessons were brief, limited by the need to conserve ammunition. Despite having collected a considerable amount, Glenn knew he could never predict when they would be truly needed. Moreover, he supplemented the training with self-defense classes for the volunteers, teaching them how to handle melee weapons against zombies and, in case of emergency, against other humans.
The night before, on October 26, 2010—Glenn still kept track of the days, something useful for organizing the routine—the group finalized the preparations for the supply search mission. They reviewed the plan in detail, checked the weapons, and ensured they were clean and loaded. Each would carry a knife or a non-firearm weapon, a pistol with two spare magazines, as well as a Mossberg 500 shotgun or an M1014, which would only be used in emergencies.
The cars were also prepared: a 2008 Subaru Outback and a 2004 Toyota Hilux would be the vehicles used in the mission.
…
|October 27, 2010|
Glenn woke up later than usual, without the need to rise early, as there would be more people to help, making the work faster. After completing his routine exercises and having breakfast, he went to inform Merle about the plan.
Merle, to Glenn's surprise, was sober, although he carried his usual sarcasm. He armed himself with a rifle and a pistol but didn't miss the chance to complain about not receiving a shotgun. Glenn, without patience for arguments, explained that all the shotguns had already been distributed.
He considered calling Daryl, but he knew he had been in the woods for a few days, searching for a deer or another animal to feed the camp.
The group gathered in front of the cars. T-Dog, Morales, and Jacqui went in the Subaru. Glenn took the wheel of the Toyota Hilux, with Andrea in the passenger seat and Merle in the back, filling the atmosphere with his biting comments and bad jokes the whole way. Glenn ignored most of it, focusing on the road.
Upon arriving at Glenn's operations base, he signaled the group to follow the plan. Each one took on their tasks, collecting supplies with care and discretion. There was a horde of zombies near the base, but fortunately, they seemed "asleep." Glenn knew that as long as they avoided unnecessary noise, the walkers would remain still or eventually disperse over time.
The tension in the air was palpable, but the group was well prepared. Under Glenn's leadership, they began to gather the necessary items, mindful of every step to avoid awakening the dormant threat around them.
...
< Andrea Harrison POV >
Atlanta looked like a dead city, literally. Walkers roamed the streets in scattered groups, some grunting, others in disturbing silence. The tension was constant, and the mission to gather supplies felt like something out of a horror movie.
Glenn led the group with impressive precision. He had a detailed mental map of the city and seemed to know exactly where to go, which streets to avoid, and where to hide. His gestures were quick and silent, and he guided us as if we were soldiers on a military operation.
I expected more action, maybe some confrontations, but Glenn's ability to avoid trouble was undeniable. He knew the right moment to stop, the right corner to duck, and the right interval to run. Even Merle, with all his usual sarcasm, seemed impressed. At a certain moment, he couldn't resist.
"Alright, Asian, Were you a cop, in the army, or what?" asked with that characteristic rude tone.
Glenn didn't get upset.
"No." His answer was simple, but no one believed him, not even me.
"I know... And I am the President of the United States..." Morales joined the conversation, laughing, and sarcastically nicknamed him "Soldier boy."
Glenn just rolled his eyes and continued leading.
We arrived at Glenn's operations base, an abandoned building strategically located in an area with a lower concentration of walkers. There, we gathered everything we could: canned food, ammunition, medicine, and even some hygiene items. The bags were full when we finished.
The next step was to wait for a horde of walkers to pass by the street in front of the building before we returned to the cars, parked at the end of the block. While we waited, the atmosphere began to tense up.
Merle, as usual, started using drugs. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was already unbearably sober; now, he was putting everyone at risk.
"You are an idiot!" I whispered, but my voice was filled with anger.
Before I could continue, Morales and T-Dog pulled me back.
"Forget it, Andrea." It's not worth it." T-Dog murmured, trying to stay calm.
They were right, but it was hard to swallow. Merle was a walking problem, and in that situation, he was a risk no one needed.
While we were waiting, Glenn notified us over the radio that he would be back soon. A few minutes later, we heard something strange: the sound of galloping and screams. We all stopped, alert.
Right after that, the shots came. We ran to the edge of the building and, with binoculars, spotted the scene. A man, dressed as a police officer, was falling off a horse while shooting at pedestrians.
He had attracted the horde we were waiting to pass. The street, which had just begun to feel safe a few minutes ago, was now full of walkers again.
"Shit!" I shouted loudly, frustrated.
"¡Maldita sea!" Morales shouted in Spanish, the anger evident in his voice.
Even T-Dog, always restrained, let a curse slip. The plan had gone down the drain. Now, we needed to figure out how to get out of that situation without being devoured.