6 Making An Escape And Meeting A Group

Slamming the rifle butt into a walker who got too close, I reached to my chest and ejected the mag currently in the rifle. Reloading with practiced ease and fluidity, I called over my shoulder as I pulled back the bolt, readying the rifle, "Rick, hurry up, man," I near shouted as I popped another walker in the face.

In reply, he threw up the food bag first, which I grabbed and smoothly swung onto my shoulder, not forgetting to clear the walkers before I did so.

Half a clip later, I heard him throw up the gun bag and I did the same with that one as well. Then up came Rick. By this time, I'd cleared out a considerable amount of the walkers but I could see more coming from down the street so I hurried him along some more and he nodded, holding at his side as he got up. With that, I turned and began clearing the way for us to run. Rick joined in and began firing shots off with his Beretta.

I looked over at him while reloading and nodded, motioning with my chin for him to jump off and make a run for it.

He froze for a second, looking at me before nodding in reply and jumping off.

I waited for him to make some space and did the same, trailing after him while clearing off walkers with headshots whenever they got too close to us or blocked our way. I was like a well-oiled killing machine as I turned left and right, my trigger finger constantly on the move and my breathing pattern calm and steady as I mowed the walkers down by the dozen.

We picked up our speed into a half-speed walk/half-jog and quickly found the alley the guy on the radio was talking about. He was a slender Asian guy wearing a baseball cap and a sort of jersey jacket. Wasn't too tall either - probably about 5'7"/5'8"?

Rick reacted on instinct when we ran into him, pointing his Beretta at the guy's face as he lifted his hands, "Not dead, not dead!" he said in a hurried and fearful tone. Rick soon put the gun down and the guy continued, "Come on! Back here! Faster!" he hurried us on as he shot back down the alley he'd come from. I pushed Rick to follow him as I turned around and covered our retreat, firing until I had an empty mag.

Turning, I slung the assault rifle over my shoulder and picked up into a sprint toward the ladder Rick and the radio guy were climbing up.

Reaching behind my shoulder, I pulled the fireman's axe out and began clearing a few of the walkers who'd come from the opposite direction and were blocking my way to the ladder. I sidestepped a lunge, swinging the axe in a backhanded manner and took off the walker's head at the neck. Not in the safe just yet, I leveled a kick at an approaching walker's midsection and blasted them back before bringing the axe into the forehead of another, dropping it.

With a gap in the walkers now revealed after my actions, I dashed for the ladder and rushed up it.

My overall size and the fact I was carrying two duffel bags made it a hard fit but I pushed on through it and soon made my way up the ladder. When I made it to the top, I was met by the radio guy looking at me with a gaped mouth and an awed expression, "...Damn Rambo, where've the US Army been hiding you?"

Smirking, I gave a reply, "Been in a coma in a hospital for who knows how long. Besides, I'm a Marine - the army couldn't produce this even if they tried," I joked, gesturing to myself and gained a somewhat uneasy smile from the guy.

Rick, who was catching a breather spoke up this time, "Don't mind him. His humor takes a bit of time to get used to," he said, jokingly ribbing me before standing up straight and putting his hand out, "Rick. Thanks for helping us out."

The guy looked at the hand for a moment, unsure on whether to take it or not but in the end he took it and loosely shook it, "Glenn. No problem," he then looked to me and I put out a hand as well.

"Harry. Like he said," I gestured to Rick, "Thanks for calling out on the radio. Not many people would do something like that for a bunch of strangers."

"Call it naive hope but my thinking is that if I'm ever that far up shit creek, maybe my good deeds will come in handy and someone'll come help me out, you know?" he gave a grin, shrugging nonchalantly as he took my hand and shook it, "I'm a glass-half-full type of guy, I guess. Eternal optimist. Even with all this..." he gestured to the walkers crowding around the ladder, "...Shit, going on around us."

With my free hand I clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a toothy smile, "Good to know even in the apocalypse there're still good people like you around, Glenn." Hearing some clanging, I looked down and frowned, "Well, shit. I ain't seen a corpse climb a ladder before," I nodded with a little humor in my voice, causing Glenn and Rick to look down at where I was looking.

"Oh no," Glenn paled before turning and looking at another ladder that led even further up, "...Well, at least it'll be the fall that kills us if we mess up on this ladder."

I chuckled at that and Rick just gave him a 'Is now the time to joke?' look.

Then we got to climbing.

. . .

We ran through a building and out onto a fire escape stairway, Glenn pulling out a radio, "I'm back. I've got two guests plus four geeks in the alley," he said into his radio as we rushed down the stairs. Pulling my axe free, I grinned and jumped over the edge of the railing intent on skipping the last flight of stairs.

Landing with a thud, my legs took the impact like the pair of champs there were, and I instantly set on the walkers in front of me.

You see, the thing about walkers is, is that they're not really that dangerous in groups smaller than a dozen. Fifteen walkers? Kinda hard to deal with if you don't have a gun. Four walkers though? I don't even consider that a warm-up.

Moments later, two fellas dressed up in riot gear burst out of a nearby door, baseball bats raised and at the ready, but stopped frozen in their tracks soon enough because they saw me standing there, over four headless walkers and cleaning the blood on the axe off with a relatively clean piece of shirt I'd ripped off one of the corpses.

"Hey there, fellas - bit late to the party, don't ya think?" I quipped but didn't get a reply from them.

I did, however, get a reply from Glenn who'd just came down the flirt of stairs behind me, "...Seriously, what are you? A super soldier or something?"

"Or something," I joked in a purposefully mysterious way before stuffing my axe back in one of the duffel bags on my back. Seconds later, the two in riot gear awkwardly lowered their bats and I turned to Glenn, pointing to the door they'd just burst in through, "This where the rest of you are held up?" I asked and he gave a muted nod, obviously still a bit shocked with the ease I had dispatching those walker.

After my training, with my innate physiology and my Alpha powers...let's just say I was probably blurry from his point of view when I took out those walkers. I could almost see the 'Try not to fuck with him' mental note being made in his head based off of his expression.

Anyway, seeing his affirmative, I turned and sidestepped the two in riot gear who warily watched me go past them and I walked to and then through the door they'd come through.

When I entered, I found a gun pointed at my face and I held back the instinct to grab the gun. Why? Because I needed good relations with these guys and making them fearful of me would just put a gap between me and them. Showing them fighting ability is one thing but showing them I'll always solve problems via violence will instantly put them on guard against me for the foreseeable future. I don't have the time to work them down from that point, so it's best to use my words right now.

"You son of a bitch, we should kill you," she spat out venomously - the origin of the voice being a blonde woman in her thirties - her gun pointed upwards at my face. She tried to push me back but couldn't make me budge even a little, "We're dead because of you two stupid assholes."

"How so?" I said, a cocky grin on my face, "It's my fault because some assholes in a chopper tried to gun us down while playing 'The Flight Of The Valkyries'?" I scoffed before shaking my head in disbelief and replying, "Lady, get your facts right before you go accusing people like this. And if you point a gun in my face? You better take the safety off first and be prepared to pull the trigger."

Her eyes instantly went through a itinerary of emotions; going from confused, to disbelief, to hopeful, to despair--she was like a kaleidoscope of emotions. No doubt thinking the heli might be the army but then realizing the army wouldn't open fire on civilians without there being some sort of scorched earth policy. Then she probably figured it wasn't the army who was in charge of that helicopter anymore.

Could I blame her for getting angry and frustrated enough to lash out at someone who was a part of the reason for why the herd of walkers were gathering on the streets? Not really. I'd be pretty pissed too if I were in hers shoes.

Does it mean I'll forgive her ignorance for thinking I wanted to attract all those walkers? No.

Finally, her eyes darted down to her gun, obviously looking for the safety but I beat her to it, "Don't think about switching the safety off now, darlin'. I'll disarm you before you could even get close to it."

One of the men who'd been wearing riot gear walked up behind the blonde woman and put a hand on her shoulder, "Calm down, Andrea. It ain't their fault. They're in this mess just as much as us now," he said, a pleading expression on his face and a pleading tone in his voice to match. His riot helmet was off now, showing a Hispanic man with curly black hair and stubbly facial hair all across his lower face.

Andrea looked away from me - big mistake - and to the man and then back to me. Her indecision reached an end, however, and she lowered the gun.

I smiled at this, "Good choice," I said and she scowled, turning away and walking away from me.

But that scowl son fell apart as she dropped into a crouched position and cradled her head in her arms, mumbling something about us all being dead. I will admit, the situation does seem pretty dire for everyone other than me - an entire herd was attracted to the surroundings and they probably figured out we're hiding in here. I could escape, sure, but I ain't heartless. I still have my humanity (what's left of it, anyway) and I can't just leave a bunch of innocent people behind to get eaten alive.

I mean, goddamn. I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemies. Gotta be up there with being set on fire or drowning as the most painful ways to die.

Looking around, I spoke up seeing most of the people around were just glaring at Rick and I, "So, I assume the walkers were riled up by the shots? Got any ways outta here?"

The Hispanic guy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, you assumed right, genius. Geeks from all around heard you guys shooting. Whether or not you started the shooting or not, you led them here - to us. You've put us in a shitty situation," he said and then turned to Glenn, "What were you thinking, Glenn? Huh? You brought a herd with you, man!" he said in a harsh tone and I stepped in between them when I saw the guy go to walk at Glenn aggressively.

"Woah, hold up there, bud," I pressed a hand against his chest and held him back, "He did the right thing. You ain't about to guilt trip him in front of me for being a decent human being and saving two people," I said, frowning down at the man.

He was about 6'1" and I was 6'5". Not much of a difference on paper but when you consider how broad I am and the amount of muscle mass I have, the difference between us looks much bigger.

And this guy could obviously feel the difference because he deflated like a balloon.

"I-I get that!" he said in a aggravated voice, "But now we're all fucked!" he said in a real defeatist way. I mean, you're only fucked if you think you're fucked...or if you die. But we aren't gonna die! I'll make it so. Promise.

"Goddamn, how'd you make it this far? With that defeatist attitude, I'm surprised you ain't off'd yourself," I taunted him, knowing doing this would be better than having him sulking and moping around like that blonde woman was. He glared up at me but didn't do or say anything, so I just continued, "Now, before you all lose your minds thinking 'We're all dead!', how about we try and figure a way out?" I suggested and got a look of slight respect from Rick.

Turning I saw a thankful expression on Glenn's face, obviously happy I stepped in before the other guy could get near him.

Before I could get a reply, however, we all heard a gunshot coming from above.

The blonde woman who'd slowly been calming down looked up and then stood, her face one of worry, "Oh no...was that Dixon?"

Another woman, this one a black woman who was slightly older than the blonde, rolled her eyes and scoffed, speaking under her breath, "What's that maniac doing now?" she asked, mainly to herself but the Hispanic guy from before seemed to think it was aimed at him because he gestured for us all to follow him and began walking deeper into the building.

The building seemed to be a clothes shop, and as we entered the main part of the shop, we could all see the dozens and dozens of walkers all bashing their hands against the glass doors. I 'tsk'd knowing the situation was a bit more dire than I'd previously thought but it wasn't too much worse.

Everyone spared a glance at the walkers but continued onward, willfully ignoring the corpses in a frenzy and banging against the glass, while I had to forcibly drag Rick along after he stopped and stared at them in a mixture of shock and fear. He was obviously having a hard time adapting to this new reality we'd found ourselves in - he was normal. I was the abnormal one.

Shaking the thought from my head, I followed the group onward and onto a dimly lit stairwell.

Rick was capable of walking on his own by this point, so I could focus on getting up the stairs in a swift manner. By the time I'd reached the top, everyone was a few flights behind and I walked out the doors.

"What are you doing, old timer?" I asked the man who was either in his late forties or early fifties and was holding a rifle, taking pop shots at the walkers on the streets below.

Upon hearing me, he spun around, confused at my appearance for a few seconds before cracking a cocky grin, "Shouldn't you be more respectful to a man with a gun? Common sense, right?"

"Shouldn't you be more respectful to a man with a dozen guns on his back?" I refuted and he stopped in his tracks for a minute, just as the first of the group dashed through the doors behind me. It was the Hispanic guy followed by the guy they called T-Dog.

"Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?" the Hispanic guy yelled, rushing across the catwalk and passed me, toward the guy holding the rifle.

He smirked and pointed the rifle to me in a gesturing manner, "I'm just talkin' to our new friend here. Tell me, Morales, when did we get a guy in our merry lil' group with such backbone? He's got a bit of a lip to him as well. I like 'im," he laughed in a loud and unrestrained manner, like the glares and fed-up looks from the other survivors meant nothing to him.

No one answered his question and instead, T-Dog rushed over to him, "Man, you wastin' bullets we ain't even got! And you're bringing even more of them down on our ass! Just chill!" he shouted, gesturing about with his hands for more emphasis.

This caused the old dude dressed like a biker to frown, "Hey, bad enough I've got this taco-bender on my ass all day," he spat on the floor, casting a dirty glance to the Hispanic guy - Morales, it would seem he's called - before turning back to T-Dog, "Now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so bro," he scoffed, sarcastically putting emphasis on the word 'bro', "That'll be the day. The day I take orders from a n*gger*."

(*A/N - I was contemplating leaving this part out but it don't have the proper impact without it. Merle's a racist prick and you're not supposed to like him. I'm not gonna change anything but I will censor any racial slurs he uses.)

T-Dog wasn't having any of that, for obvious reasons. Only, when he tried to lunge at the old dude, the old dude leaned back and used the butt of his bolt action rifle to bash in the guy's face.

Rick instantly sprung into action, only to get the same fate.

Yet when he tried that shit on me, I grabbed the rifle, pried it from his hands and gave him a taste of his own medicine. Added in a little extra oomph to his rifle butt as well. Knocked him right the fuck out.

Spitting on his unconscious form, I scowled, "Racist prick," I said before turning to T-Dog who was still down and then holding out a hand for him, "You okay, man?" I asked.

He didn't answer but he still took the hand and mumbled a "Thanks," to me as he stood up and brushed off his sports team jersey.

Holding out the rifle to Morales, he took it with a way more subdued attitude. No doubt realizing he could've been on the end of that fight if he'd pursued Glenn anymore back when we were in the shop's back room.

"Now that that's dealt with, what about we try and figure out a way out of this situation?" I asked.

This time I only got nods.