Lorenzo leaned closer to the map, then broke into a knowing smile. "Complicated terrain, dense vegetation. A perfect place to hide something. The entrance probably requires a specific signal to activate, or brute force."
He spoke casually, as if he were talking about his own backyard.
"Brute force is the last option," Calista said coldly. "We need to get in quietly. Your job is to find and open that door, or at least figure out a way around it."
"As you wish, Calista." Lorenzo gave an exaggerated little bow.
Even though he was good-looking, Calista still felt a wave of discomfort at his tone.
"What about personnel?" Leah asked, focusing on execution.
"Our usual team," Calista replied without hesitation. "Me, you, Carver, Mike, Turner, Bossie, Jenson, Wells, Danny, and Ethan. Ten people, plus him."
She pointed at Lorenzo.
"Ten plus one? That's enough for a high-level research facility's security system?" Rickson sounded doubtful.
"It's enough," Calista said firmly. "We're infiltrating, not launching an assault. And there might not even be anyone inside. Dealing with walkers will be easier."
She glanced at the National Guard soldiers training outside. "We're well-staffed now. Holding the base is the best support you can give us.
And we need to speed up preparations for winter supplies. Have Maya and the others increase scavenging efforts in Knoxville."
Then Calista seemed to remember something. She tapped the Atlanta area on the map. "Add one more person. Merle."
"Merle Dixon?" Leah looked surprised. "That one-armed troublemaker? Why bring him? Isn't that just asking for problems?"
Rickson also frowned. "He's too wild. Hard to control."
A sharp glint flashed in Calista's eyes. "He knows the Atlanta area better than we do, especially the rural parts. Taking shortcuts, avoiding herds, finding hidden routes. He's useful. And…"
She paused, lowering her voice slightly. "This route might pass near that farm. You said there was someone there in a police uniform.
If, and I mean if, that group is connected to Merle's past, then he might be a card worth playing if we run into them."
Leah immediately understood.
Merle had said he was handcuffed in Atlanta by a cop.
In times like this, someone still wearing a police uniform was rare.
Very likely the same group.
But Leah hesitated. "Weren't they on bad terms? What if it backfires?"
"Then we read the situation," Calista said calmly. "If it doesn't work, we keep Merle in the car."
She knew the full story, but she could not say it outright.
Merle and Daryl were brothers. Rough and violent, but still family.
Using Merle to influence Daryl could at least avoid unnecessary conflict.
They might even gain a strong ally.
"Makes sense," Leah nodded. "But will he listen?"
"Tell him mission points are doubled. And we're heading to Atlanta. He might run into his old group." Calista's tone remained calm. "He'll go."
"Alright. Your call." Leah stopped arguing.
"Lorenzo," Calista said, turning to him, "this is your first chance to prove your value. Don't disappoint me. And don't try anything."
Lorenzo only smiled, eyes glinting. "I'm always loyal to my partners. Especially partners as charming as you."
The meeting ended, and everyone split up to prepare.
When Rickson found Merle by the livestock pen, chewing on a piece of grass and idly watching two boys feed sheep, and told him about the mission, Merle's eyes lit up instantly.
"Huh? Heading south?" Merle spat out the grass and grinned. "I'm in. Of course I'm in. Forget the points. Just seeing how those 'old buddies' are doing makes it worth it."
He looked unusually excited. Especially when he thought about his baby brother possibly not doing as well as him, he could not help laughing out loud.
Merle even went to the armory himself and exchanged points for a left-handed pistol, checking it carefully.
Seeing that, Calista remembered something.
She went to Ancheta, sketched a simple blueprint, and asked him to make a small gadget when he had time over the next few days.
A few days later, after Calista's fever had completely subsided, everything was ready.
Three vehicles, fully fueled, reinforced, and carefully maintained, were parked outside the main gate.
Two Humvees and one modified heavy truck.
Last time they went to Atlanta, they had used a pickup truck and had been forced to leave large equipment behind at the CDC.
This time, since they were specifically going to retrieve equipment, they brought a heavy truck suitable for lifting and transporting cargo.
The team was fully armed. Carver and Wells were checking ammunition.
Turner was calibrating his machine gun. Mike and Jenson were checking scopes.
Bossie and Danny tested communications and recon equipment. Ethan organized medical supplies.
Lorenzo stood nearby.
He had changed into a fitted black outfit with a tactical vest, looking quite presentable.
Merle was there too, his right hand tucked inside his jacket, trying to hide it.
Jenson snorted. "What, embarrassed now? Too ugly to show?"
Merle ignored him. His usual harsh expression was replaced with something almost childlike, barely able to contain his excitement.
When he saw Calista and Leah walk out, his eyes lit up. He raised his hidden right hand and shoved it right in front of Jenson's face, chin lifted high.
"Take a good look. Let me show you what the boss got me."
He shouted loudly, instantly drawing everyone's attention.
Merle stepped into the open space between the vehicles, then suddenly raised his right arm.
At the end of his stump was a metallic mechanical structure.
It fit tightly around his wrist, built from black steel and brass-colored alloy, with a design that looked both brutal and practical.
At the front was a modular mount, currently fitted with a short blade that gleamed coldly.
The blade resembled an Indian tomahawk but sharper, clearly designed purely for killing.
Small gears and locking mechanisms hinted that it could be swapped out for other attachments.
It looked far more impressive than the crude hook he had in the original story.
A low murmur spread through the group.
Jenson's eyes widened. Wells blurted out, "Holy shit."
Turner let out a whistle. "Damn, Merle. You look like something straight out of a wasteland comic."
...
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