The JLTV rumbled along the cracked rural road, suspension groaning softly as it rolled through shallow dips and broken pavement. Pine trees blurred past on both sides, their shadows stretching across the hood in long stripes.
Inside the cab, Andrew sat in the front passenger seat , one elbow resting against the door, radio in the other hand, his eyes forward.
"Fort Ironwood, this is Ranger Actual," he said into the radio. "Approaching perimeter from the west. Objective complete."
Static hissed for a second.
"Ranger Actual, this is Fort Ironwood. Stand by."
A brief pause.
"Lieutenant Mercer, this is Major Griggs. Go ahead."
"Copy. We have checked multiple agricultural sites. Vineyard and dairy farm abandoned or compromised. One farm and one cattle ranch occupied and still operational. The civilians were cooperative. I have negotiated a supply arrangement."
There was a short silence on the line.
"Good work," Griggs said. "That's a solid win, Lieutenant."
Andrew allowed himself a small nod.
"However," Griggs continued, "we've got a situation here."
Andrew's jaw set. "Go ahead, sir."
"The individual we pulled off that rooftop yesterday, the one recovered by one of the overwatch squads, he's becoming agitated. Keeps demanding and is trying to leave. Says he needs to find his brother. Claims his brother was part of the group that stirred up the walker horde."
In the back seat, one of the Rangers leaned forward slightly.
"That's the guy they found cuffed on the roof of the building surrounded by walkers?" he muttered under his breath.
Another Ranger shook his head. "Yeah. Heard about that."
Andrew kept his eyes forward.
"What's his status?" Andrew asked.
"Uninjured. No signs of infection. But he's insistent," Griggs replied. "I'm assembling a team to head out and locate this survivor group."
Andrew was quiet for a moment, thinking.
That's Merle, he and Daryl were present in the show but not in the comics. And from what i noticed this world has things from both the show and the comic plus call of duty and god knows what else, with all of this, is going to be difficult knowing what to expect in the future.
Sighing, Andrew asked.
"Does he know where their camp is?"
"Claims he does," Griggs answered. "Says he can take us there."
Andrew exhaled slowly.
"Sir," he said, "my team's already outside the wire and mobile. We can handle it. We'll take him with us, have him lead the way."
Another pause.
"You sure about that, Lieutenant?" Griggs asked. "You've already been out most of the day."
Andrew didn't hesitate.
"I am. We're good to go."
A second of silence passed.
"Alright," Griggs said. " He's been taken to Wiltshire Estates, thankfuly there haven't been any problems, considering his personality. I'll call ahead to inform them of your arrival."
Andrew absorbed that.
"Copy," he said. "We'll divert to Wiltshire Estates. Ranger Actual out."
The radio clicked off.
Inside the JLTV, no one spoke for a moment.
The engine's low rumble filled the space, tires humming against asphalt.
Then one of the Rangers broke the silence.
"Guess the day's not over."
Andrew stared down the road, where Fort Ironwood's distant outline had been replaced by a maze of tree-lined streets and overgrown turnoffs leading deeper into the outskirts.
"No, it isn't," he said.
···
The road narrowed as they left the open stretch behind, trading fields and scattered farmhouses for dense tree lines and half-forgotten subdivisions. Asphalt gave way to cracked pavement, weeds pushing through in thick green seams. Street signs leaned slightly off-center, some bent from impacts. A few mailboxes lay knocked over in the ditches, victims of panicked driving and abandoned vehicles.
Wiltshire Estates rose out of the trees like a fortress that hadn't been meant to be one.
A tall brick wall ringed the entire community, with metal bars that climbed another six feet above the masonry. Through the gaps, rooftops were visible—sloped shingles, chimneys, a few solar panels hastily bolted into place. At each corner of the wall, watchtowers stood above the line, sandbagged platforms with mounted floodlights and dark silhouettes behind firing slits.
The JLTV slowed first. The Humvee followed suit.
Both vehicles rolled to a stop in front of the main gate.
It was a heavy steel double-gate, scarred with weld lines where additional plating had been bolted on. Razor wire coiled along the top. A pair of portable floodlights sat on either side, angled outward toward the road.
Waiting just beyond the gate stood several figures.
Most wore National Guard fatigues, rifles slung, posture wary but disciplined.
And one man in civilian clothes.
Andrew recognized him instantly.
Merle Dixon, he thought.
Before anyone inside could move, Merle stepped forward.
Without waiting for permission he began walking straight toward the vehicles.
Two Rangers shifted, rifles rising just enough to track him.
"Hold," Andrew said calmly.
Merle stopped about ten feet from the JLTV, hands loose at his sides.
"You boys ready to roll or you plannin' on starin' at me all day?"
Andrew stepped out of the JLTV.
Dust crunched under his boots.
"You're Merle Dixon," Andrew said.
"Last I checked."
Andrew nodded once. "You agreed to lead us to the camp where your brother's staying."
Merle's jaw tightened at the mention.
"Yeah," he said. "Old quarry north of here. Told your people already."
"Still willing?" Andrew asked.
Merle scoffed. "Ain't exactly got better plans."
Andrew gestured toward the JLTV.
"Then get in. You ride with me."
Merle glanced past him at the Rangers, the Humvee, the disciplined spacing of armed soldiers.
A beat.
"You get me to my brother," Merle said. "After that, we'll see."
Andrew met his eyes. "That was the deal."
Merle nodded once, sharp and final.
"Alright, soldier. Let's get to that camp."
He then walked and climbed into the JLTV.
Andrew did the same.
The engines rumbled back to life.
Wiltshire Estates slid away behind them as the convoy pulled back on the road.
The convoy rolled north, tires crunching over the gravel road as the estates disappeared behind a line of pine trees. Dust rose in lazy plumes and settled back into the brown grass along the roadside. The JLTV led, the Humvee following at a careful distance, engines low enough to leave their movements audible but not announce them like a parade.
Merle leaned against the doorframe of the JLTV, arms crossed, eyes scanning the rooftops that peeked over the treeline. His jaw tightened, lips moving in a silent snarl. Andrew stayed in the passenger seat, eyes on the road ahead, voice calm.
"You sure you know where you're goin'?" Merle asked, sharp. "Don't tell me we're cruisin' in circles so your boys can feel important."
Andrew didn't flinch. "We follow your directions. Trust us, and we'll get there."
Merle snorted. "Trust, huh? That's a hell of a thing to throw at someone you just pulled off a rooftop yesterday."
Andrew glanced at him. "You agreed to lead us to the camp. I intend to hold up my end."
Merle shifted, leaning forward slightly to peer out the side window. "Yeah, well… don't expect me to get sentimental about it. You save me, I save my brother. That's it."
A Ranger in the back muttered something under his breath, and Merle caught it immediately. He smirked, teeth flashing briefly. "What'd you say? Can't hear you over the smell of wet city?"
The Ranger said nothing.
Merle grinned. "Figured." He turned back to the road, eyes narrowing. "You see that? Ain't much left. Used to be street after street. Bars, houses, folks alive, kids laughin'. Now…" He gestured vaguely at the burned-out shells lining the route. "Now it's ghosts."
Andrew's voice stayed low, measured. "This is what's left. And we're going to keep alive what we still got left. That includes you and your brother."
Merle let out a short, harsh laugh. "You sound like one of them officers back in the barracks. All polished and certain. Might actually be tellin' the truth for once."
The convoy passed through a stretch of what had once been a suburb. Burned cars leaned against each other like casualties of a long-forgotten war. Windows were boarded haphazardly, some covered with sheets, others left open to the sky. A few walkers shuffled along a distant street, more curiosity than threat, and Andrew's Rangers kept them in sight without breaking pace.
Merle followed every movement, every clatter and groan, his expression unreadable. "Your men moved like damn shadows," he said quietly. "Didn't hear 'em." After a pause, he added, "How the hell'd all of you survive in that mess of a city?"
Andrew's reply was simple: "Discipline. Focus. Awareness. Same reason you're still alive."
Merle let that sit for a moment, then muttered, almost to himself, "Hell… don't give me the credit, soldier boy. Just doin' what I gotta do."
They passed under a tangle of power lines. Some poles were split in half; wires drooped dangerously low.
Almost an hour passed in tense quiet. Conversations were few. Rangers spoke softly when necessary, checking equipment, scanning the road, nothing more. Every so often, Merle muttered to himself, comments half in anger, half in worry.
Then, in the distance, he raised a hand. "There. That ridge. See the smoke? Couple tents. A trailer or two. That's it."
Andrew raised binoculars, focusing past the trees. An RV was parked, canvas tarps covering what might have been storage areas. Smoke from a small fire spiraled into the early evening sky.
Merle's voice was low now, almost reverent. "If my brother's still kickin', he's there. Otherwise…" He trailed off, jaw tightening.
Andrew gave a short nod. "We're almost there. Stay ready."
Merle watched from the side window, hands gripping the frame, teeth set. For all his bravado, a flicker of hope shone through, though he wouldn't admit it.
"We're getting close," Andrew said.
Merle leaned forward, jaw tight, eyes sharp. "Damn… I hope he's alive."
The convoy crested the small rise, dust trailing behind the vehicles.
···
The camp sprawled across a flattened ridge, a mixture of tents, tarps stretched over wooden frames. Smoke curled lazily from a central fire pit.
Rick emerged first from a tent. His eyes widened slightly as they caught the dust cloud approaching. Beside him, Shane straightened, one hand resting lightly on his shotgun. Glenn and a few others shuffled forward from the tents, curiosity written across their faces. Children peeked from behind canvas walls, their hands gripping the edges of fabric.
···
Merle's head snapped toward the ridge, scanning. "There," he muttered. "That's him."
Andrew slowed the JLTV, bringing it to a stop at the edge of the main clearing. The Humvee parked behind it. Dust settled in lazy clouds, and for a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through dry grass.
Rick's brow furrowed. "Who… who are they?"
Shane's gaze narrowed. "Look like military."
From the JLTV, Andrew stepped down first, MP5 slung across his chest, handgun at his side. Merle followed, arms crossed, his jaw tight, scanning every person. The Rangers moved smoothly from their vehicles, spreading slightly but keeping distance, silent, disciplined, ready.
"Easy," Andrew called out, voice firm but calm. "We're not here to fight."
Rick's hand hovered near his holster, Shane's still resting lightly on the shotgun. Glenn stepped a little forward, more curious than nervous.
Andrew raised his hands slightly, palms open. "I'm Lieutenant Andrew Mercer. Army Rangers."
The group exchanged glances, unsure but clearly relieved there were no weapons drawn at them.