Chapter 59
Slaughter
Although Lloyd was old, he had spent most of his life on horseback and was an excellent rider.
One end of the ring was looped around the saddle head, pulling Cliff forward on the ground.
As his back rubbed against the ground, Cliff could feel a layer of skin and flesh being worn away. He was horrified to realize that he was going to be ground to death like this.
Despair gripped his throat. Cliff wanted to beg for mercy, to have a quick death, but his mouth was already gagged, and he couldn't utter a sound.
Lloyd didn't turn around, and said calmly, "Are you afraid? Terrified?"
"You have reason to be afraid, you have reason to be terrified."
Lloyd turned around and saw the terrified look in Cliff's eyes. He smiled slightly and said, "A cowboy never forgets his grudge."
"You should regret letting us go."
Cliff no longer felt any desire for revenge. His back, buttocks, and even the back of his head burned with a fiery pain, the pain of his skin being completely rubbed raw.
Cliff stiffened his neck, trying to keep his head off the ground to reduce the pain.
But whenever he could no longer hold on, and the back of his head made contact with the ground again, the pain would come even more intensely.
Lloyd seemed to sense Cliff's pain and urged his horse to increase its speed.
Cliff's whistling and the howling wind in his ears brought him immense pleasure.
Colby and Tite, following at the back, watched as the dashing Lloyd effortlessly tormented Cliff.
Tite nodded sincerely, "I still have a lot to learn."
"Lloyd has been a cowboy for decades. I heard he used to be a rodeo rider, and he's an amazing rider."
"He's much better than Ripley, but he doesn't seem as good as the boss."
Colby spoke of Lloyd's experiences with great pride, as if he, not Lloyd, had once stood at the pinnacle of rodeo competition.
"Colby, you need to work on your riding skills. You're the worst rider on the ranch."
At this moment, Ryan arrived late, appearing behind the two and making a casual remark.
Colby choked, his face flushed with shame in the dim light of the night. After a moment of stunned silence, he managed to stammer, "No, what about Jimmy?"
"Jimmy? Jimmy isn't back yet. Stop arguing, Colby." Ryan rode his horse past Colby with ease.
Colby mustered his courage and secretly urged his horse to speed up, but even after accelerating for a while, he still couldn't catch up with Ryan.
Ryan rode his horse at a leisurely pace, seemingly unaware of Colby's subtle actions.
Seeing Colby's fury, Tite stepped forward: "Don't worry, Colby. With me here, I definitely won't let your riding skills be at the bottom of the ranch."
Tite's protective words did not stop Ryan's smile.
Ryan turned to Colby and repeated sarcastically, "Colby, don't worry. I definitely won't let your riding skills be at the bottom of the ranch."
"Want some milk, Colby?"
Fuck you!
Colby was furious and cursed as he charged forward. Unfortunately, there was a clear difference in riding skills, and he couldn't get even a fraction closer.
When Lloyd dragged the deceased Cliff to the cabin on Cliff Ranch, Caesar had been waiting for a long time.
"Why are you so slow?" Caesar asked.
Lloyd glanced back at Cliff's body. "I couldn't help it."
Caesar followed Lloyd's gaze and saw Cliff's corpse, whose back had been almost completely scraped away, leaving a long trail of blood on the ground that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Break its head off and hang it up."
"Hurry up, we have another ranch to go to."
"it is good."
Lloyd responded and dragged Cliff to the edge of Cliff Ranch.
Several zombies were already hanging there, including the two companions that Cliff had shot earlier. Apart from Cliff, everyone else was hanging there neatly.
After Cliff's head was damaged, Lloyd struggled to hang Cliff up.
Now, several corpses swayed in the air, just like the other branches of the oak tree.
Blood continued to drip, and the stench of blood, along with the iron-blooded declaration, spread to other ranches.
……
Unlike Morales, Morco was not cautious; he rode his motorcycle, deliberately making a lot of noise.
The members of the target ranch were awakened.
Moore looked at the enemies in the window not far away and shouted with a hoarse laugh, "Little pigs, run!"
Shouting, Moore raised his carbine and fired wildly at the cabin.
The pickup trucks following behind also had soldiers popping out of their windows, shouting and firing.
A hail of bullets streaked across the grass, striking the wooden house with a series of whistling sounds.
The abundance of bullets and the heavy firepower alerted the enemies inside.
The enemy was few in number, only six or seven people, and each of them could only carry one gun, which was a pistol.
Comparing the two, they made a wise decision.
run!
The headlights of the motorcycles and pickup trucks pierced the wooden house like menacing swords, and the enemies inside quickly fled.
Seeing that he had achieved his goal, Moore's smile widened, and he raised one hand: "Go after them!"
The motorcycles and pickup trucks began to turn around and chase after the enemy.
The pickup truck rammed through the ranch's boundary fence and drove onto the ranch's internal road, its headlights shining directly at the enemy.
This ranch is different from Cliff's; it's surrounded by grasslands, with no trees or shelter.
The enemy ran forward in a panic, and when they saw Moore and the others appear behind them, they were startled and hurriedly started firing their guns wildly behind them.
Perhaps it was the overwhelming sense of pressure, or perhaps it was because Moore and his men were closing in too quickly, that the enemy fired indiscriminately without even aiming.
The bullets didn't hit a single person, and they didn't even graz the pickup truck.
Seeing that the distance was right, Moore made a decisive move and fired his gun.
Bullets struck the cobblestone road, sending up flying stones that stung the enemy, but they dared not stop.
"Shoot him."
Now, his men stopped firing randomly and started aiming at the enemy before firing.
At high speeds, bullets are less accurate.
Mohr kept his team's pickup trucks moving at a constant speed, not giving the enemy a chance to catch their breath, but also not running them over.
Moore wanted to take this opportunity to practice his team's marksmanship.
Several enemies ran forward for their lives, no longer thinking about fighting back. They even lost several of their guns and just ran mechanically.
boom--
Just like the previous gunshots, but this time, one of their comrades fell.
Then gunfire resumed, and every now and then a comrade fell down.
The two remaining people let out mournful screams, tears and snot streaming down their faces, their feet already blistered with blood.
But I still dare not stop.