Chapter 95
Violent Door-to-Door Visit
Caesar's voice was tinged with encouragement; he knew Glenn was currently in a state of disillusionment with humanity.
This is normal; people who have seen too much of the dark side of humanity will feel this way.
Not to mention, this is the apocalypse, and there are countless demons and monsters in the outside world.
Glenn knew Caesar was trying to comfort him, and smiled as he said a few words.
However, he did feel much better.
"Oh, right, Glenn." Caesar looked up at Glenn as if suddenly remembering something, "Didn't you recruit new people in King's County?"
Glenn paused for a moment, "You mean Morgan?"
"He's Rick's savior, and he's quite capable and courageous, so I let him join."
Caesar then asked, "What about his children?"
Dwyane, Morgan's son, can be considered the activator of the god of death, Morgan.
"Dwayne? He's a good guy, very cheerful and lively, completely different from other kids in the post-apocalyptic world."
"There is one thing. In Kings County, Morgan's wife turned into a zombie. Morgan couldn't bring himself to kill her, so I helped him kill her."
Glenn's voice lowered as he spoke.
Most people wouldn't feel good in this situation.
Caesar didn't say anything, but simply reached out and patted Glenn on the shoulder.
After a while, Caesar said, "Don't worry, if you get infected with the virus, I'll definitely kill you before you turn into that grotesque mess."
puff-
Sitting in the passenger seat, Jimmy burst out laughing. He looked up and met Glenn's gaze, shrugged, and said, "If you became a walker, you definitely wouldn't look good."
Glenn suddenly burst out laughing, giving Jimmy a disapproving look. "Thanks, sir."
Then Glenn smiled again, the heaviness on his face gone, and he seemed much more relaxed.
Inside the pickup truck, the three chatted briefly about the various things they had encountered in Kings County.
Before long, several pickup trucks approached their destination.
It's a small pasture, probably a few hundred acres, which is considered a small pasture. The number of cattle and sheep combined doesn't even exceed twenty or thirty.
Caesar, who was there to force a sale, didn't stand on ceremony and immediately ordered his men to charge in.
The pastures in the valley are demarcated by wooden fences, and this place is no exception.
Several pickup trucks, like enraged beasts, slammed into the wooden fence.
In an instant, pieces of wood flew everywhere, along with the wooden stakes buried in the ground, clearing a gap several meters long.
Then, the other pickup trucks filed in.
The pickup truck wasn't loud, but the closer it got to the ranch houses, the more attention it attracted.
Caesar had already put down his book, turned his head to look at the houses not far away, his face cold.
Rip, who was in the lead, slammed on the gas pedal, making the pickup truck roar louder. Rip's face was flushed with excitement, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up.
Beth, who was sitting in the passenger seat, reached out and slapped Rip. The slap wasn't hard, but it did calm Rip down a bit.
"Calm down, honey, it's not time yet."
The bassist's voice was a little hoarse, perhaps from smoking too much, like the sound of gently rubbing sandpaper with fingertips.
After a while, Rip finally said, "Whatever you say!"
As he spoke, Rip paused on the accelerator, slowing the car down to keep it level with the vehicles behind him.
Just then, a burly man with a bristling beard and hair ran out of a wooden house not far away.
He was wearing work suspenders, one of the straps of which had snapped and was hanging limply over his trousers. He was holding a shotgun, shouting something angrily, and then raised the gun to fire at the uninvited guests.
With a bang.
The bullet left the barrel but missed all vehicles.
Caesar raised an eyelid and said calmly, "He made the first move; we can open fire on him now."
Caesar didn't need to give orders to the other vehicles; the gunshots were the command.
The pickup trucks ahead jerked their steering wheels, kicking up a lot of fertile dirt, and headed straight for the man who had fired the shot.
Several cars suddenly turned around. The man paused for a moment, then continued firing.
At high speeds, the probability of being hit is greatly reduced, but a few bullets still struck the pickup truck.
These pickup trucks have all been modified. Not only have important parts like the hood been modified, but even the sheet metal has been doubled, and the windows have been replaced with bulletproof glass.
The man fired, ejected the spent cartridges, reloaded, and continued firing, but with little effect.
Several people also came out of the other cabins next to him. They first looked at the advancing pickup truck, then at the man who fired the shot, and shouted at him, as if they were scolding him.
The man who fired the shot frantically pulled out a bullet from his pocket, accidentally dropped it on the ground, and immediately knelt down, his hands trembling as he picked up the bullet and loaded it into the gun.
He didn't forget to turn to his companions behind him and yell angrily, clearly trying to justify his shooting.
Caesar's gaze remained fixed on the group of people who came out later, without glancing at the man who fired the shot.
There's no need to focus too much attention on a dead person, is there?
Everyone in Glenn's team knew who to kill and who not to kill.
The pickup truck was only twenty or thirty meters away from the cabin, showing no signs of slowing down. The man who fired the shot pointed his hunting rifle at the truck, oblivious to the danger, and shouted a warning: "If you go any further, I will continue to shoot."
The pickup truck didn't stop; the driver inside practically floored the gas pedal.
They charged forward with a roar.
Amidst the screams of the man who fired the gun's companion, the gunman leaped and rolled, narrowly avoiding the car.
Before he could even feel happy, another pickup truck suddenly appeared out of nowhere and crashed into the man who had fired the shot.
The man who fired the gun crashed into a nearby wooden hut like a rag doll.
Where the wooden wall broke, you could see a lot of splattered blood.
Rip pushed open the car door, strode out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door.
Beth casually got out of the car, one hand resting on Rip's.
After taking the bass, Rip pulled a pistol from his waist, went into the cabin, and with a gunshot, the matter was resolved.
Throughout the entire process from when Rip hit the shooting man with his car to when he shot and killed him, the shooting man's companions were in a state of shock and disbelief.
Until one of the women stared wide-eyed, let out a heart-wrenching scream, her legs gave way, and she collapsed into the mud, weeping.
The others quickly comforted her while keeping a watchful eye on the pickup trucks that were stopping in front of them.
The sound of doors closing rang out, and a group of burly men in bulletproof vests appeared before them.
These burly men surrounded a tall, imposing man with a cold expression.
Caesar stepped forward slowly, and Rip approached, reporting, "The one who fired the shot is dead."
Caesar nodded. "Well done. We know who deserves to live and who deserves to die."