by Robert Kirkman, Charlie Adlard, Cliff Rathburn, Rus Wooton
One challenge of writing a post-apcalyptic series is coming up with new ways to keep the cast of characters out of balance. They can never be allowed to become truly comfortable with their surroundings. This isn't easy with zombie horror since the threat is basically a faceless horde - something devoid of personality or intelligence. So it's not surprising that within the subgenre, the center of attention becomes the conflict between the living characters. How do they react to the crisis? And how do they succeed or fail to maintain common human bonds without the framework of a civilization to help them? In
Robert Kirkman's entertaining black and white series
The Walking Dead, the high point was the story arc were the survivors, having just ensconced themselves inside the remains of a maximum security prison, had to face the threat from the dystopian town of
Woodbury led by the heinous
Governor. There's nothing more terrifying than having to take on a better-armed and well-organized foe who's bent on your complete destruction.
Since the Woodbury arc, the series has felt a bit rudderless as the cast regrouped and travelled towards
Washington DC. The last arc had them situated in a walled-off community that was the complete opposite of Woodbury - an honest attempt to recreate an idyllic middle-class suburban enclave. During this time the zombies were largely regulated to the background as the living humans struggled with issues on how to run a small, totally isolated, community: How do you integrate back into society after having been on the run for so long? How do you settle power disputes? How do you handle interpersonal conflicts and keep everyone happy? How do you deal with the misfits and the criminals? But the most pertinent question for the genre-savvy reader would have been "When is this all going to fall apart again?" The last chapter of the arc closed with an ominous reminder that this was probably going to happen sooner rather than later.
This issue starts out with things returning to normal after the drama of previous chapter. The story jumps from scene to scene as each character resumes their normal duties. But it's obvious that at least some of them are still on edge, and a few are anticipating that something awful will occur at any moment. When two people discuss their inability to sleep, one remarks "It's good to know I can still be scared." This is the calm before the storm, and Kirkman is clearly telegraphing what's about to happen. The issue then intercuts between an organized attempt to clear the outer wall of zombies and a conversation between two of the community's founding members. As the zombie-clearing party begins to realize that the undead presence is more substantial than first anticipated, it begins to dawn on the two founders just how shaky the foundations of the world they've built for themselves. The two scenes collide with Kirkman's usual ominous cliffhanger ending. What is probably most pleasing to fans is that after a prolonged absence, the zombies have emphatically taken center stage.
After having introduced and developed several new characters, it's just about time for the next major reshuffling. It's a hallmark of the series that each arc gives the reader time to become emotionally invested in the cast, only to terminate them in random and unexpected ways.
Even the most central characters have been put through the ringer. That this hardly feels cheap or exploitative is due to the high emotional tension maintained throughout, and the gritty realism imbued by the art of
Charlie Adlar and
Cliff Rathburn. So while it's become predictable at this point that someone has to die, the ever-changing and engaging ensemble keeps The Walking Dead a terrifying and absorbing experience, even after an odd 79 issues.
