The peaceful days did not even last two full days before the Dix…
no, the Dixon brothers came back.
That afternoon, Luke Li was repairing a section of the defensive barrier north of camp.
A wild boar had barged through earlier and loosened it up.
Everyone had enjoyed the roast pork, sure, but the repair work still had to be done.
While he was fixing it, the sound of an engine came from the dense woods.
Luke Li stood up, alert.
A beat-up pickup jolted out from the forest trail.
Two white-tailed deer and a string of squirrels hung from the truck bed.
They looked fresh.
Blood was still dripping from them.
A man jumped down from the driver’s seat, shirtless, his copper-toned skin covered in mud and dried blood.
He held his signature hunting crossbow in one hand.
Even standing still, he swayed slightly from side to side, like he had been born with a built-in anti-aim cheat.
Daryl Dixon.
Codename: Crossbow Guy.
The SSR drawn at the start of the quarry camp, the cockroach of the apocalypse who could survive anything.
The guy who climbed out of the passenger seat was even more intense.
He had a buzz cut and half a cigar clenched between his teeth.
Unlit, of course.
Merle Dixon.
The strictest father around.
Luke Li dropped his tools and dusted off his hands.
Merle spotted him right away.
“Fuck!
Where the hell did this guy come from?” Merle swept his eyes around the camp.
There were several newly pitched tents, a lookout platform rising above the ground, and trenches and tripwires set up around the perimeter.
“We’ve only been gone a few days, and this dump looks like it got a goddamn renovation!”
Daryl was silent as usual.
He only gave Luke Li a sideways glance, then started unloading the deer from the truck bed.
Shane walked over.
“Dixon, looks like you brought back a pretty good haul this time.”
“No shit.
If I didn’t, you people would be chewing on grass roots.” Merle shoved the cigar back into his shirt pocket and jerked his chin toward Luke Li.
“Who’s that kid?”
“New guy.
Luke Li.
Firefighter.
Brought in about ten people and a good amount of supplies.”
“About ten people?” Merle bared his teeth.
“That’s ten more mouths to feed.
Why the hell did you let them into camp?”
“They brought their own food.
They also organized a scavenging run and hauled back more supplies than you’d bring in from two weeks of hunting.”
There was clear approval in Shane’s voice when he said it.
Luke Li’s performance had already surpassed anyone else in the camp.
Even Shane himself might not be able to match what Luke Li had done in a single trip into town.
Merle gave a dry snort, shouldered his rifle, and headed toward his tent.
When he passed Luke Li, he paused for a moment.
Luke Li saw the buffs above his head.
[Hostility: Low]
[Contempt]
[Territorial Instinct]
A typical mean, territorial thug.
Naturally hostile toward anyone who was not white, and just as territorial toward anyone who might threaten his position.
Luke Li glanced at him once, then crouched back down and kept hammering in the stakes.
As if Merle were nothing but air.
The corner of Merle’s mouth twitched, and he walked off in irritation.
Daryl never looked over the whole time.
He dragged the two deer to the processing area in the center of camp, drew his hunting knife, and started skinning them.
His movements were smooth and practiced.
In ancient times, there was the butcher carving up an ox.
Today, there was Daryl skinning a deer.
Luke Li noticed that the buffs above Daryl’s head were completely different from Merle’s.
[Alert]
[Indifferent]
[Observing]
Crossbow Guy’s emotions were simple.
He did not go out of his way to make friends, but he did not go around looking for trouble either.
People like that were comfortable to deal with in the apocalypse.
Luke Li was not in a hurry to approach Crossbow Guy.
With someone like Daryl, the more deliberately you tried to get close, the more guarded he became.
The best way was to let him observe and reach his own conclusion.
That night, the camp had a rare meal of venison.
Daryl handled the meat well.
He cut the venison into strips, seasoned it with salt and pepper, and roasted it over the fire.
Fat dripped onto the coals with a soft sizzle.
The smell of grilled meat filled the whole camp, and everyone got a portion.
Luke Li sat by the fire, chewing venison while watching the Dixon brothers from the corner of his eye.
Merle sat farthest from the crowd, drinking alone and sulking.
Every now and then, he shot a vicious look in T-Dog’s direction.
If there had been no one else around, Merle might have cut the Black guy down on the spot.
Daryl sat beside Merle, facing the camp.
His eyes kept moving, sweeping back and forth over the newly joined members.
Crossbow Guy was observing.
His gaze stopped on Luke Li twice.
Each time was brief, only a few seconds before he quickly looked away.
Luke Li pretended not to notice.
The mood around the fire was good.
It was a rare moment of ease.
Glenn was chatting with Andrea.
The guy clearly had no experience with women.
He stumbled over his words and was obviously nervous, but Andrea did not seem to mind.
Danny and Dale were talking about shotgun maintenance.
Those two were the easiest people in camp to find common ground.
Marcus’s wife sat somewhere warm with the baby in her arms, while Mrs.
Jones helped pat the child’s back.
It was one of those rare good nights in the apocalypse.
But Luke Li knew this calm would not last long.
In the original story, the quarry camp’s crisis came in the form of several walker night attacks.
He was not sure about the exact timing, but they should have happened one after another around the time Rick arrived.
And the second unstable factor was sitting across the fire, drinking by himself.
Merle Dixon.
Sooner or later, that racist would clash with T-Dog or someone else and turn the entire camp into a mess.
With someone like that around, nobody nearby could expect an easy life.
In the original show, Rick and Glenn were the ones who dealt with Merle.
The guy ended up handcuffed on a rooftop in Atlanta.
But that was still some time away.
Besides, Luke Li had no intention of copying the plot.
Merle was a bastard, but he had a brain.
He was no idiot, and his combat ability was solid.
In the apocalypse, someone like him was a blade.
The only question was whether you could keep hold of the handle.
Clearly, Shane could not control Merle.
The result was Merle lashing out at his own teammates and stirring up trouble everywhere he went.
Luke Li finished the last bite of venison and tossed the bone into the fire.
He would find a chance to approach Daryl tomorrow.
Win over the younger brother, and you had the reins on the older one.
The fire gradually dimmed, and people returned to their tents one after another to rest.
Luke Li climbed into the truck bed and lay down.
He began sorting through his plans for the next week in his head.
Organize two more scavenging runs.
Supplies had to be gathered early.
Wait too long, and someone else would take them.
Then came improving the camp’s defenses.
The spike-board traps had not been made yet.
As for relationships, it would be best to build a friendship with Crossbow Guy as soon as possible.
That was an SSR who could survive all the way to the end of the apocalypse.
Just as Luke Li was starting to drift off…
“Jingle.”
The tripwire rang again.
Luke Li opened his eyes and sighed.
This damn spawn mechanism.
Nothing during the day, nothing during dinner, but the moment someone lay down to sleep, it started spawning monsters?
What the hell, was this the Mountain Old Tavern or something?
Luke Li grabbed his fire axe, climbed quickly out of the truck bed, and asked silently in his mind.
“System, when is my Luck stat going to reach five?”
The System did not answer.
System had always been quiet.
It never said a word.