Third Person POV.
On the roof of the building, Glenn and T-Dog moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the surroundings for signs of danger. The heat was suffocating, and the air carried the odor of dried blood and decay. Merle was there, handcuffed to a pipe, covered in sweat, his eyes wild and paranoid. He pulled the chain frantically, like a caged animal trying to escape; when he saw he wouldn't succeed, he began to scream at imaginary enemies. "Come on, you bags of meat! I'll wipe you all out!" Merle was shouting, his hoarse and furious voice echoing on the roof.
Upon seeing Glenn and T-Dog, he froze for a moment, his eyes wide in surprise. Then he let out a deep sigh, which quickly turned into a nervous laugh. "Almighty God, finally! I knew you wouldn't leave me here to rot! Thank you! Thank you!" Merle shook his head, laughing almost hysterically, but his expression soon changed to disgust upon smelling the bloodstained capes that Glenn and T-Dog were wearing. He wrinkled his nose, retreating as much as the handcuffs allowed. "My God, you smell worse than a sewer clogged with carrion. But what the hell are you using? What the hell is this?"
"The wanderers identify us by smell. The noise also attracts attention, but the main thing is the smell. If we cover our bodies with their guts and blood, they don't realize we're alive. We pass among them without them noticing us," replied Glenn, trying not to waste time, while he and T-Dog still scanned the roof with their eyes, looking for any sign of danger. It was obvious that no one had passed through that locked door, but the instinct for survival kept them alert. Merle narrowed his eyes, absorbing the information. He stared at the two of them, then looked down the street where the dead wandered aimlessly. After a moment of silence, he spat on the ground and let out a short, dry laugh. "Well, I'll give that to you two, boys... This is one of the most twisted, disgusting, and brilliant things I've ever heard. And you two are alive, so... maybe it will work. Maybe." T-Dog replies to him curtly, "It works."
"Sure, sure... Now, take off that damn handcuff before those dead bastards come up here." T-Dog approached with the bolt cutter in hand, but before he could start, Glenn extended his hand, holding his companion's shoulder. "Wait," he said, calm but firm. T-Dog stared at him, confused, but did not protest. He simply handed over the bolt cutter and took a step back, grabbing his Mossberg hanging from the strap and walking to the rooftop door, positioning himself as a lookout. Merle, however, did not accept the interruption with the same patience. "Wait? What the hell is going on here? Are you messing with me? Let me go already, damn it!" He pulled the chain, his expression oscillating between anger and suspicion. Glenn took a deep breath, maintaining a calm but firm tone. "We're going to let you go, Merle. But before that, you need to understand a few things."
"I don't need to understand anything, kid!" Merle growled, his wounded pride evident. "You left me trapped here, and now you've come to free me. So do what you have to do!" Glenn stepped forward, meeting Merle's eyes with a disarming calmness. "You're right, Merle. We came here to save you. Because, despite everything, no one deserves to die like this. But if we set you free, you will have to follow some conditions. Or you stay here." Merle's eyes narrowed, her expression becoming even more defiant. "Conditions? Ah, so now the Asian boy has become the boss? Huh? You think you can give me orders? You need me. That group of weaklings needs me! Without me, you have nothing." Glenn moved closer, his voice now laden with intensity. "No, Merle. You can be tough, but who needs help is you. Look at your situation. You're here, handcuffed, without water, without food, with no chance of escaping on your own. Do you think you'll survive by cutting off your own hand? And even if you manage, do you think you'll survive down there alone?"
Merle hesitated, visibly uncomfortable for a moment, but tried to mask it with a cynical laugh. "I always find a way. I always have." Glenn leaned slightly towards him, his voice as firm as a rock. "Maybe. But survival now is not just about you. It's about the group. It's about doing what needs to be done so that everyone has a chance. If you keep thinking only about yourself, you'll end up alone. And alone, Merle, you won't last." Merle swallowed hard, clearly trying to hide the doubt that was rising in his eyes. "Why should I trust you, huh? You already left me here once." Glenn shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on Merle. "You don't need to trust us. But trust what I'm saying: things are different now. Either you change, or you die. Just like that." Merle fell silent, the anger evident on his face, but something in Glenn's tone seemed to have struck him. He looked at T-Dog, who stood firm near the door, and then back at Glenn, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Alright," Merle growled, his voice heavy with reluctance. "But listen here, kid." I'm not your buddy; I'm not going to bow my head to anyone from that camp.
Glenn nodded slowly, without breaking eye contact. "I don't expect you to be my friend or to bow your head. I just hope you do the right thing to survive. Now stay quiet while I take off this handcuff." Merle mumbled something unintelligible but fell silent, recognizing that he had no choice. Glenn dropped the bolt cutter beside him, knelt down, and opened his backpack. From inside, he took out a bottle of water, opened it, and handed it to Merle's free hand, which he grabbed quickly and began to drink in large gulps, almost choking in her haste. While Merle quenched his thirst, Glenn was already focused on the next step. He took a small paper clip from his bag and began folding it methodically, with a precision that showed practice. Merle looked at him, frowning in disbelief. "Ah, come on. A paperclip? Good luck with that, Chinese Harry Houdini," he scoffed, with that characteristic tone of sarcasm mixed with irritation.
Without looking up, Glenn replied in a firm and direct tone, "I am Korean." Right after, with a slight click, the handcuff lock gave way. Glenn smiled to the side, satisfied. "Abracadabra, sucker," Glenn finished, looking up at Merle, silencing him instantly. "Whatever, man," murmured Merle, massaging his red and marked wrist from the handcuffs. He stood up with a sigh of relief, looking around as if he were expecting something or someone to appear. He seemed restless, like an animal that had just escaped from a trap. Glenn, on the other hand, was more focused on getting out of there as quickly as possible. Without wasting time, Glenn moved to the other handcuff, the one attached to the pipe, opening the second handcuff even faster. He picked up the two metal bracelets, stored them in the backpack along with the improvised clip, and began gathering his tools scattered on the floor. After putting everything away, he took a step towards the rooftop door. "Let's get out of this hellhole," said Glenn, his voice calm but full of urgency.
T-Dog, who was on guard near the door, quickly closed it and spoke with concern. "Hey, man, the freaks are coming back," he said, nodding towards the muffled sounds of the dead starting to gather around the building. "Fuck it. Hey, man, give me a gun!" shouted Merle, now nervous. He looked at Glenn with a barely concealed expression of panic. Without the "camouflage" that Glenn and T-Dog used, he knew he would be the first to be attacked if the dead invaded the roof. Glenn ignored the request, staying calm as he searched around. He spotted something on the other side of the roof: an iron door with a yellow sign hanging that said, "CAUTION—Watch Your Step." He ran over there and turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn't budge. "Damn," he murmured, pulling the wrench from the toolbox. With a few firm knocks and a quick force, the doorknob finally gave way, revealing a narrow and dark staircase that descended into the interior of the building.
"Hey! Here!" he called, gesturing to the others. T-Dog and Merle came running, clearly relieved to have an escape route. Glenn stopped at the entrance, blocking it with his body while quickly devising a plan. "Let's go down in formation. T-Dog first, Merle second, and me last," said Glenn, looking at both of them. It was a strategy to protect Merle, but also, he knew, a way to keep him under surveillance. T-Dog agreed without hesitation, grabbing his flashlight and preparing his machete. He was the first to descend, each step careful, attentive to the slightest sound or movement in the darkness. Merle, however, stopped at the door and cast a suspicious glance at Glenn. "I'm not going down there without a gun, man. You know I'll be more useful out there if I'm armed," he demanded, extending his hand, even knowing that time was against them.
Glenn hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he sighed and handed the griffin key to Merle. "Here. It's better than nothing," he said while waiting for Merle to pick up. Merle picked up the tool with a grunt of disapproval. It wasn't what he wanted, but he didn't have much choice. Without saying anything more, he followed T-Dog, descending the stairs carefully. Glenn, now at the rear, took one last look at the roof before closing the door behind them and beginning the descent into the darkness.
…
Glenn Rhee POV.
The smell of mold and rust was suffocating as we descended the narrow, dark stairs, but there was no time for hesitation. As soon as we reached the bottom, I whispered, "Break formation." My voice was low but firm. Merle and T-Dog nodded, moving cautiously. Each one covers a direction. The area was poorly lit by the flashlight; the corridor ahead of us stretched into an oppressive gloom. Soon we encountered a few wanderers aimlessly roaming. The few who appeared were eliminated with silence and efficiency, a knife in the skull or a quick blow to the right spot. I felt tense but focused. Each dead one we took down increased our chances of getting out of there alive. We moved forward, our footsteps echoing softly as we passed what seemed to be an old office. Some of the chairs were overturned, papers scattered, and dust accumulated on the furniture. There were marks of dried blood on the walls, but no immediate threat. The silence was so heavy that even the slightest noise seemed amplified. We walked until we reached a kitchen, the smell of spoiled food mingling with the already heavy air. It was a cramped space, with stainless steel countertops and open cabinets. Two walkers stumbled in our direction; T-Dog and Merle knocked them down with precise blows. They worked well together, despite the glaring differences between the two.
While I was checking the space, I approached a window and looked outside. It was the same alley where Rick and I had climbed the fire escape. I caught their attention with a gesture, and when they both approached, I whispered, pointing outside. "Fire escape. It leads directly to the alley on the street where the sheriff dropped the bag." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Before we leave, I'm going to grab the weapon bag that Rick left. You wait for me in the alley." My eyes went straight to Merle. He had no idea about the existence of the bag until that moment, but now he did. His mocking smile disappeared immediately. He crossed his arms, tilted his head to the side, and gave me a look full of disbelief. "Grab a bag in the middle of a city full of walkers? And I thought you guys already had enough stupid ideas. This is starting to look like a suicide mission. Alright, it's your ass out there, not mine." He let out a dry laugh, but then his expression changed when he realized that, one way or another, he would also have to pass through the dead. He turned to me, his gaze sharper.
"Tell me something, kid... After you grab that damn weapons bag, how am I going to get through the dead? I don't have a raincoat with this hellish carcass, and I certainly won't put that crap on my skin to get past the walkers." I kept my calm and replied without hesitation. "If we walk close together, we can hide your scent as well. We just need to maintain formation until we reach the cars we left behind." Merle laughed, but it didn't seem fun at all. He shook his head, incredulous, and ran his tongue over his teeth before responding. "To walk closely together? Is that your grand plan? And I should trust my skin to a raincoat dirty with guts, which I'm not even wearing? That's asking too much, kid. I'll only believe it when I see it with my own eyes."
He stared at me for a few seconds, as if weighing his options, then let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Ah, to hell with it... But listen well, kid," he pointed a dirty finger at me, his voice lowering and becoming threatening, "if your makeshift plan doesn't work and I end up surrounded by those things, I promise you'll regret it." His crooked smile returned, but this time without humor, just a silent warning. In the end, he agreed to go but made it very clear, with that cold and sinister look, that if my tactic failed, I would pay dearly.
We opened the window carefully, trying not to make any noise. The fire escape creaked slightly as we descended, but no passerby seemed to have noticed. In the alley, a partially open fence led to the street. I looked at the sky; the sun had already disappeared, and the darkness was beginning to take over. The feeling of urgency was growing. I handed the toolbox to T-Dog, freeing my hands. We moved cautiously, eliminating any threat that appeared. A walker stumbled into the alley, and I quickly took it down with a precise blow to the head. Then, I carefully closed the gate, ensuring that no other dead could enter there.
I knew that the odds out here would be better if everyone was armed, especially in a city infested with walkers and now shrouded in darkness. I didn't trust Merle, but I understood that, at that moment, keeping him useful and able to defend himself was a necessary evil. Survival, after all, rarely offered easy choices. Before heading to the center of the street where the weapon bag was, I took a deep breath and pulled my backup gun from my back, the J-frame. As much as I hated the idea, I handed the gun to Merle. He looked at me with a provocative smile, clearly enjoying the situation. "I knew you would open your eyes, Korean boy." I gave him a disapproving look for the comment, but I remained silent. It wasn't worth arguing. I turned and went over the fence, ignoring the feeling of regret that was already starting to haunt me. "Good luck," T-Dog said sincerely before I left.
I nodded in gratitude and moved forward, entering the darkness of the street. My hands were steady, but my mind was racing. That bag wasn't vital, but it would be a valuable boost. They had weapons at the camp, but what Rick had left behind could make a difference. The better equipped they were, the greater the chance of getting out of the city alive. And with night already fallen, the risk only increased. More weapons meant more security for every step from then on. I walked for a few blocks, moving carefully and maintaining a slow pace among the few undead on this side of the city. Each step was calculated and measured to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. The camouflage worked, but the discomfort was unbearable. The sensation of that soaking my clothes, sticking to my skin, was revolting. The smell then... was a constant battle to hold back the urge to vomit. Breathing through my nose in short and quick breaths was what kept me going.
Finally, I spotted the tank. The bag was still there, hanging where Rick had left it. There weren't as many dead as earlier, but there were still enough to force me to dodge, sneaking between them with controlled movements. I crouched down, grabbed the bag, and held it tightly. The weight of it, full of weapons and ammunition, brought me immense relief. It was as if I were holding our best chance of getting out of there alive.
I stood up and started walking back to the alley. I was almost convinced that it had worked, that things were finally under control, when something caught my attention. Rick's sheriff hat was lying near the tank. I stopped on the fourth step, hesitated for a moment, and then turned around. I walked slowly towards him, bent down, and picked it up. I couldn't resist: I put the hat over the cap I was already wearing. A wave of good humor, something rare in that situation, washed over me. "Now all that's missing is the badge and the horse," I thought, almost smiling. Even with the walkers around me, that small moment made me feel... human. But the feeling didn't last. Before I could take half a dozen steps, I heard screams. Someone is asking for help. My heart raced, and my attention was immediately drawn to the sound. There was no time to think. I tightened the strap of my bag and began to walk quickly among the dead, trying not to bump into any of them.
When I turned the corner, a shot echoed through the air, loud and clear. My head spun, searching for the source of the sound. That's when I saw it: a car speeding away, leaving the alley where I was supposed to meet T-Dog and Merle. The engine roared loudly, tires screeching on the asphalt as it disappeared from sight. My attention immediately returned to the alley fence, and my stomach sank. There was a walker at the entrance, thrashing against the air as if it were sniffing something. Without hesitation, I drew my knife, ran up to him, and plunged the blade into his head. The body fell immediately, and with a quick movement, I pushed it aside and closed the gate, preventing more dead from entering.
Only then did I look around. T-Dog's raincoat was lying on the ground, still covered in blood, blending with the dirt of the street. T-Dog was standing further ahead, holding my J-Frame .38 revolver, aimed at a boy. He kept him under control as if he were a hostage, keeping a watchful eye for any suspicious movement. The boy struggled and screamed, not only for T-Dog to let him go but also for his companions who had fled in the car. "Don't leave me here! Come back, damn it! Don't leave me!" he yelled, his voice trembling with despair. The boy looked familiar to me, but I quickly focused on the more important issue. I looked at T-Dog, my heart still racing. "What the hell happened here?" I asked, trying to stay calm, although everything inside me screamed for answers. He pressed his lips together, clearly irritated, but his voice came out controlled, firm. "They took Merle."