The group stood clustered near the RV, their voices hushed but urgent. The weight of Fort Benning's fall still lingered over them, thick as the Georgia humidity. Woodbury—despite its manicured streets, clean homes, and the illusion of peace—felt wrong. It felt controlled. A place built on something dark, something that made the hairs on the back of Rick's neck stand on end.
Then the roar of a truck's engine cut through their uneasy conversation.
Heads turned toward the gates as they groaned open. A battered military-style truck rolled in, its tires kicking up dust as it screeched to a stop. A man hopped out, stretching his arms with a lazy, satisfied grin.
Merle Dixon.
Daryl's jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the crossbow at his side. His brother, the last he had seen of him, had been left cuffed to a rooftop in Atlanta—abandoned to his fate. But here he was, very much alive, strutting back into Woodbury like he owned the place.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Merle drawled, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto Daryl, and his grin widened. "Miss me, baby brother?"
Daryl didn't respond. He kept his expression neutral, but his sharp eyes flicked over the rifle on Merle's back and the bags of supplies in his hands.
Glenn, standing slightly behind Rick, frowned as he took a step forward. "Where'd all that come from?"
Merle snorted. "Got it off some poor bastards a few miles out." He hefted the bags with a satisfied grunt. "They weren't gonna need it."
Andrea's expression darkened. "You killed people for it?"
Merle gave her an incredulous look, then let out a bark of laughter. "What's it matter? World's changed, sweetheart. Ain't no rules no more."
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Even Shane, who was no stranger to crossing lines, looked disgusted.
Rick exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "So that's how this place survives?" he asked, his voice tight. "By raiding and killing other groups?"
Merle shrugged, clearly unfazed. "World's about winners and losers now, officer friendly. Either you take what you need, or you get taken."Daryl crossed his arms. "And how many people died for that haul?"
Merle snorted. "Oh, c'mon, don't start with that moral high-ground bullshit." He gestured around. "This place runs because we make the hard choices. The Governor? He gets that. That's why I'm sittin' up top while the rest of y'all are still figurin' out where you fit in."
Shane scoffed, muttering under his breath, but Rick kept his expression unreadable. "So that's it, then?" he asked evenly. "You're just gonna keep followin' orders?"
Merle's grin widened, but there was something sharp behind it. "That's right, officer friendly. See, you boys might still be dreamin' about the way the world used to be, but me? I'm livin' in the world that is." He tilted his head. "And in this world, bein' on top means makin' the hard calls."
Murphy, leaning against the nearby fence, studied him with an unreadable expression. "And you trust the Governor to keep you there?"
Merle chuckled, shaking his head. "Boy, you don't trust nobody in this world. But you make yourself too damn valuable to get rid of. That's what I did.
Murphy, standing slightly apart from the group, let out a slow breath. He had done questionable things to survive. But this? This was something else
As he walked away, the group stayed silent, watching his retreating figure disappear through the heavy doors of the Governor's compound.
Shane, still paranoid about Murphy's blood, crossed his arms over his chest. "So what do we do?" he asked, voice low. "Just walk out the front door? Governor ain't gonna let that happen."
Rick stood, hands resting on his belt, his jaw tight as he looked at each person in turn.
"We can't stay here," he said, his voice firm but calm. "That much is clear. The Governor's dangerous, and the longer we wait, the more control he has over us."
Shane, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. "We didn't need a damn meeting to figure that out, Rick." His jaw tightened, paranoia gleaming in his eyes. "The question is—what the hell do we do about it?"
Dale, sitting with his hands clasped, sighed. "There are three options." His voice was steady, but the lines on his face deepened as he spoke. "We leave, try to slip out before the Governor sees us as a real threat. We fight, take him down before he gets the chance to do the same to us. Or…" he hesitated, "we try to take this place for ourselves."
Silence followed.
Murphy, leaning against a crate in the corner, watched the group, his blue eyes unreadable. He had seen power struggles before. He had lived them. But he knew this wasn't just about survival—it was about control. The Governor ran this place with an iron grip. Taking Woodbury meant war.
Andrea was the first to break the silence. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Rick. "Are we even sure he's a tyrant? I mean, yeah, the gladiator fights are sick, but…" She hesitated, rubbing her arms. "The people here—they trust him. Maybe we're the ones causing problems."
Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. "C'mon, Andrea. You really think he's just some misunderstood leader?" His voice was edged with frustration. "This place ain't right. People are afraid of him, even if they don't see it yet."
T-Dog shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he planted his feet firmly on the ground"And what happens when he decides we ain't welcome anymore?" His dark eyes flicked to Rick. "You think he's just gonna let us go?"
Rick exhaled sharply, nodding. "No. He won't."
Lori, who had been holding Carl close beside her, frowned. "And if we fight, what then? We kill him? We kill the people who do trust him?" Her voice was soft but heavy with worry. "We've already lost so much. We can't just—just start a war."
Sophia, sitting next to Carl, looked between the adults, eyes wide.
Carl, however, spoke up, his voice small but steady. "He's bad. I can tell." His grip tightened around the strap of his backpack. "Bad men don't just stop being bad."
A beat of silence.
Murphy finally spoke, his voice smooth, calculated. "There's no easy way out of this." He locked eyes with Rick. "If we run, we'll be hunted. If we fight, we either win or we die. There's no middle ground." He let his words settle, then added, "And if we don't make a decision soon? He'll make it for us."
Rick nodded. "That's why we vote. Right here, right now."
He took a breath, steeling himself. "Option one: we leave, try to slip out quietly and take our chances on the road."
Dale, Lori, and Andrea hesitated before raising their hands.
Rick's gaze swept over the group. "Option two: we take him out. Clean. Before he knows what's coming."
Shane raised his hand immediately, his eyes cold. Daryl followed, then Glenn and T-Dog.
Rick clenched his jaw. He looked to Murphy.
Murphy didn't hesitate. He lifted his hand.
That left only a few undecided.
Rick inhaled. "Option three: We take over. Woodbury becomes ours."
Murphy's hand remained raised. Daryl's as well.
Rick looked at the others.
Lori didn't move. Amy hesitated but ultimately raised her hand. Glenn and T-Dog glanced at each other before Glenn finally, reluctantly, raised his hand.
Dale sighed heavily, rubbing a hand down his face. "God help us." He raised his hand too.
Rick took one last look around.
"We take Woodbury," he said, voice firm.
Shane smirked. "Damn right."
Andrea looked away, her arms crossed tightly.