That evening, a warm campfire was lit at the camp.
Rick's family, survivors of the ordeal, huddled close together, enjoying this hard-won moment of reunion.
Rick first told everyone about the Jones Family still waiting for rescue at the farmhouse.
After a brief discussion, the group quickly reached a consensus, they could not leave any survivor behind.
"Then we must go help them," Carol said softly, a hint of determination in her voice. "We can't just leave them stranded halfway."
"I agree," Morales nodded. He was one of the most assertive people in the group, aside from Rick and Shane.
"But not all of us can go. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll take a car along Highway 85 to that house and pick them up."
Once that was decided, Rick proposed another plan.
He wanted to return to Atlanta.
As soon as this proposal was made, the atmosphere in the camp instantly fell silent.
"Rick..."
Lori gripped Rick's arm tightly, her eyes filled with worry, but she didn't voice any fierce opposition because she knew her husband carried a responsibility he couldn't set down.
"Lori, I have to go back."
Rick's voice was exceptionally firm. "My gun bag is still in that tank. It has the walkie-talkie inside, which is the only tool for contacting Morgan. And... Merle and Louis, they're still in the city."
At the mention of Louis's name, Lori's expression became complicated, and she said no more.
Shane also frowned and patted Rick on the shoulder. "Rick, I'm just as worried about that kid as you are, but for you to go alone..."
"He won't be alone," Glenn chimed in immediately. Though he still had lingering fears about the city, he summoned his courage at the thought of Louis. "I'll go with him. I know the city streets best; we can find them."
T-Dog also stepped forward, his face full of guilt and his voice heavy. "I'm going too. What happened to Merle... that's on me."
With that, Shane stopped trying to dissuade them, and the plan was set.
And so, the three-man team to return to Atlanta was tentatively formed.
Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, the people in the camp began packing their things, preparing to set out in two groups.
Just then, a lithe figure strode out from the woods. He carried a crossbow on his shoulder, a hunting knife at his waist, and returned covered in dust.
He was Merle's younger brother: Daryl Dixon.
"Damn Walkers, wasted all my hard work."
Daryl was in a foul mood because the deer he had finally managed to hunt had been corrupted by Walkers on the way back to camp.
"Merle! Get your ass out here!"
He looked around but didn't see the familiar figure, so he shouted in his raspy voice, "Merle! I caught some squirrels, come over and let's cook 'em."
When he repeatedly called Merle's name in the camp but received no response, an ominous feeling rose in his heart.
Eventually, from the mouths of Shane and the others, he received news that instantly made him explode with rage.
"Wait... let me process this..."
Daryl's sharp eyes were gradually stained red with a frantic fury.
He stared dead at Rick, who had stepped out from the crowd, pointed to his own ear, and confirmed word by word:
"You're telling me you handcuffed my brother to that damn rooftop, and then... you just left him there alone?!"
"...Yes." Rick didn't avoid the question. Even if it wasn't intentional, he had indeed done it.
"Argh—!"
Daryl let out a roar, suddenly drew his hunting knife from his waist, and charged at Rick like a lunatic!
But he was quickly subdued by the fast-reacting Rick and Shane, who pinned him firmly to the ground.
"Let me go! You bastards!" Daryl struggled wildly, the veins in his neck bulging one by one.
Once he had calmed down slightly, T-Dog stepped forward full of guilt and offered an explanation: "It wasn't Rick's fault. I had the key... but I dropped it."
"You couldn't just pick it up?!" Daryl turned his head, his bloodshot eyes glaring at him.
"It fell down a drain," T-Dog's voice was full of remorse.
"..."
This answer left Daryl completely drained of his temper, leaving only endless despair and anger.
"We're going back for him; we're already preparing to leave."
Rick pointed to their packed gear and said solemnly, "Yesterday's situation was too urgent; we had no choice. I didn't even have time to bring my son back."
Hearing this, Daryl calmed down a little, but his words remained harsh.
He sneered, saying in a highly sarcastic tone, "Ha! You can even leave your own son behind; you really are a 'big picture' hero!"
He stood up, brushed the dust off himself, his eyes full of contempt.
"But don't think saying that makes me forgive you; it doesn't make me feel a damn bit better. You might be okay leaving your son, but I am never giving up on my only brother!"
T-Dog wanted to say something more to make amends: "Before I left, I chained the rooftop door shut. The Walkers can't get in... does that make you feel any better?"
"Better my ass! Go to hell, all of you!"
That did indeed make Daryl feel slightly better, but he didn't want to forgive them. "Tell me where Merle is! I'm going to save him right now!"
Ultimately, after a brief argument, they reached a consensus.
Daryl joined the team of Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog. The four of them returned to Atlanta for the rescue... When they arrived back at the rooftop of that familiar department store, everyone's heart sank.
The fire escape door leading to the rooftop was locked tight, wrapped in thick iron chains.
However, what made everyone's skin crawl was the lower half of a Walker's body stuck firmly in the door crack. Its upper body was long gone, with entrails and shredded meat hanging from the door, emitting a foul stench.
"Damn it!" Daryl cursed, the ominous feeling in his heart growing stronger.
T-Dog took out the bolt cutters and snipped the chain.
Daryl was the first to rush in, frantically calling out his brother's name.
"Merle! Merle!"
But the rooftop was empty.
The group hurried over to the metal pipe where Merle had been handcuffed. The sight before them made everyone gasp.
There was a large pool of long-dried blood on the ground, and a rusty hacksaw lay discarded beside it.
"No..." T-Dog looked at the hacksaw, his legs going weak, nearly kneeling on the ground.
Everyone thought of the most terrifying possibility: that Merle, in order to survive, had sawed off his own hand.
However, Rick knelt down and carefully examined the handcuffs, his brow furrowed.
The handcuffs weren't intact; they looked like they had been notched by something!
"He... he cut through the handcuffs himself?" Glenn leaned in to look, also noticing the issue with the cuffs, and offered an uncertain guess.
"I don't think so," Rick denied the speculation after a moment's thought.
Daryl, seemingly sensing something, leaned close to the bloodstain, touched it with his finger, and brought it to his nose to sniff: "Smells like medicine... someone treated his wound."
"Someone saved him," Rick concluded.