The Quarry Camp

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The horn blared.

"Oh, hell yeah!"

Merle had a bottle of high-proof liquor in one hand and the steering wheel of the Dodge Challenger in the other. The car screamed down the road while he howled out the open window like he was daring the world to stop him.

In the passenger seat, Evan silently tightened his seat belt.

'Forget the walkers. Just don't flip the damn car.'

Luckily, Merle might have been reckless, but he knew how to drive.

They made it from Atlanta back to the abandoned quarry outside the city with plenty of bumps and swerves, but no real disaster.

Before they even reached the camp, several armed figures stepped out to meet them.

One of them, a man with short hair and a crossbow on his back, narrowed his eyes.

The moment he saw Merle's face, he broke into a run.

"Whoa, whoa!" Merle swerved after taking the last turn too wide and nearly clipped his own brother.

"Fuck, Merle!" Daryl jabbed a finger through the air in front of him. "You trying to kill me?"

Evan still saw the wet shine in his eyes, no matter how hard Daryl tried to hide it.

"Hell, I'm back, ain't I?" Merle lifted the whiskey and, right there in front of Daryl, did a ridiculous little dance.

After the day he had just survived, maybe the madness was earned.

"Hey, little brother, let me introduce you." Merle slung an arm around Daryl, then gestured toward Evan. "Evan Ward. Man saved my ass."

Daryl slipped out from under Merle's arm. He looked at neither Merle nor Evan, focusing somewhere off to the side instead.

He rubbed the tip of his nose and sniffed, pretending not to care.

"Thanks, Ward," he muttered.

Daryl Dixon had his own way of showing gratitude.

Anyone who did not know better might think he was the one being praised.

"It was nothing," Evan said. "And your brother helped me too. We're even."

He made it clear that the debt was settled.

Merle might not know it, but he had saved Evan's life.

"Ward!"

Rick came running from farther inside the camp.

The moment he saw Evan's face, relief flashed there, followed immediately by caution. He pulled little Carl behind him without thinking.

Shane saw the movement and shifted too, silently putting himself between Carl and Evan. One hand hovered near the loaded Glock 17 at his waist.

"You..."

"After you left, I made it back into the tank," Evan said before Rick could finish. "Later I realized it wasn't a bite. Just a scrape. I must have scraped myself before I blacked out in there. It's already scabbing over."

He pulled open the combat jacket and showed them the wound.

The antibiotics had killed the infection and his body was recovering. A thick scab had already formed over the injury. It did not look like something that had happened only a few hours ago.

Rick studied the wound.

The light that had just returned to his eyes dimmed again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Back there, I thought you..."

"Hey." Evan patted his shoulder, then nodded toward the boy half-hidden behind him. "You planning to introduce me?"

Rick let out a breath and guided Carl forward.

"This is my son, Carl. I was in the hospital when all this started. I only found him and his mother today."

The tension eased as they walked into camp.

No one was hurt.

No one was infected.

In this world, that was worth more than almost anything.

Another day survived.

After introductions, Evan was officially part of the Quarry Camp.

The combat uniform helped. To the people there, it meant one more fighter, one more person who might hold the line when the dead came.

The next night, everyone gathered around the campfire.

Carl sat tucked between Rick and Lori, peeking at Evan with curious eyes.

More accurately, he was looking at the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer on Evan's back.

Walker blood still stained it. The massive bone weapon made him look even more imposing, like some barbarian out of a dark fantasy game.

"What kind of bone is that?"

"Carl!" Lori gasped and pulled him closer.

Lori shot Evan an apologetic look. Judging by her expression, Merle was already more than enough trouble for one camp.

Adding Evan to the mix did not exactly make her feel safer.

"It's fine." Evan gave Carl an amused look and waved it off.

Then he thought for a moment, turned, and walked away.

When he came back, he was carrying the remaining guns.

"Is that the gun bag from Atlanta?" Rick stood immediately.

"We used some of the guns and ammo," Evan said. "The rest can be divided up."

By the firelight, he looked at the faces around him.

Most of the camp was gathered around the fire.

Except Ed.

Earlier that day, Shane had beaten Ed half senseless for abusing Carol. The man was still recovering in his tent.

Evan had intentionally not called him over.

He knew what was coming.

Tonight, walkers from Atlanta would hit the Quarry Camp.

If the dead could help take out the camp's trash, Evan saw no reason to stop them.

Now that he had joined the camp, he had to think about its future.

A faint smile touched his mouth.

'I'm here now. If I have to live in this world, I won't let those tragedies happen again.'

If someone had taken a picture of everyone gathered around that fire, most of the faces in it would one day belong to the dead.

Glenn.

Merle.

Carl.

Lori.

Shane.

So many of them.

Evan tightened the strap of the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer across his back.

For the first time since waking in this apocalypse with a butcher's skills, he understood what he wanted to do.

'If there has to be killing, then I'll kill until it's done.'

Crack.

The sharp sound snapped him back.

He went still.

He shot to his feet, one hand already reaching for the hammer on his back.

The others froze for half a second, then grabbed their weapons and stood.

Merle looked half-drunk and half-awake, but somehow he ended up right behind Evan anyway. Daryl fell in behind his brother.

"What is it?" Rick asked, grabbing a Remington shotgun.

"Shh."

With everyone's eyes on him, Evan lifted a finger to his lips.

He stepped carefully toward a dark patch of tall grass behind them and used the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer to pull the branches aside.

The walker lunged out with a rotten snarl.

Its face was a nightmare of torn flesh and hunger. Several guns swung toward it, but the dead thing had no fear. The guns meant nothing to it.

Its snarl rolled across the camp.

Other low groans answered from every direction.

Then, from the far edge of camp, someone screamed.

"That's Ed!" Carol cried, panic tearing through her voice.

Evan took the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer in one hand.

Three blows later, the walker's skull burst apart.

Gold light flashed.

[System Notification]

[Level Up: Lv. 2 -> Lv. 3]

[Skill Point Acquired: 1]

[You can allocate points.]

After all the kills since Atlanta, that walker had finally been enough to fill the experience bar.

Level 3.

'Base attributes are the trunk. Combat passives and bonuses are the branches.'

Evan did not hesitate.

He put the point directly into the core attribute.

Strength.

[Status]

[Attribute: Strength]

[Rank 3/10: Milk Drinker - Strength and headshot chance moderately increased.]

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