Chapter 5: The Quarry Camp
'Screech... Screech... Screech...'
"WOOHOOO!!!"
With a bottle of hard liquor in one hand and the other on the wheel of the wildly honking Dodge Challenger, Merle howled out the open window like an ape.
In the passenger seat, Shawn watched Merle's antics and secretly tightened his seatbelt. Forget the walkers, just don't flip the car...
Fortunately, as crazy as Merle was, he still had some skill. The drive from Atlanta back to the deserted quarry on the outskirts was bumpy, but they made it without any major incidents.
Before they even arrived, several armed figures emerged from the camp. One of them, a man with neat short hair, squinted his eyes. Upon seeing Merle's face, he slung his crossbow over his back and sprinted toward the car.
"Whoa—whoa—" Merle, drunk driving, was momentarily blinded and nearly crashed into his own brother.
"Fuck, Merle, you asshole! Are you tryin' to kill me?!"
Daryl jabbed his index finger at the air in front of Merle's face, but Shawn could still see the glimmer of tears the man was trying his best to hide.
"Hahaha, I'm back, ain't I?"
Merle even raised his whiskey bottle with one hand and did a little descriptive dance in front of Daryl. Today had been an extremely exciting day for him; otherwise, he wouldn't be acting this wild.
"Hey, little bro, let me introduce you—This is Shawn. He's the one who saved me."
Daryl broke free from Merle's hug. His eyes didn't look at Merle or Shawn, but somewhere else entirely. He raised a hand to rub his nose, sniffled, and put on a cool demeanor.
"Thanks ... Shawn."
His way of expressing gratitude was always so unique. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was the one being praised.
"It was nothing. Besides, your brother helped me too. We don't owe each other anything," Shawn said, drawing a clear line. Although Merle was clueless about it, he had indeed saved his life.
"Shawn!"
From a distance, Rick came running over. When he saw Shawn's face, his expression was a mix of surprise and vigilance. He quickly pulled the approaching little Carl behind him.
Seeing Rick's movement, Shane instinctively moved to block Carl as well, his large hands resting on his waist where a Glock 17 was holstered, its magazine full.
"You..."
"After you left, I hid back in the tank. I found out later that it wasn't a bite on my back, just a scratch. I probably got it before I passed out in the tank. The wound is already scabbing over."
As he spoke, Shawn pulled open his combat uniform, showing the wound to everyone.
Sure enough, under the effect of the antibiotics, the virus had been killed, and his body was gradually recovering. A thick scab had formed over the wound, which was impossible for an injury sustained only a few hours ago.
Staring at Shawn's wound, the light that had just appeared in Rick's eyes dimmed again.
"Sorry, at the time I just thought you..."
"Hey," Shawn patted Rick's shoulder and gestured with his chin at the little guy behind him. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Rick let out a sigh of relief and pushed Carl forward.
"My son, Carl. I was injured and in the hospital before the world fell apart. I only just found them at the camp today."
Unconscious smiles appeared on everyone's faces as they walked toward the camp. No one was hurt, no one was infected. This was perhaps the most fortunate thing in the apocalypse.
Another day survived.
***
After introducing himself around the camp, Shawn officially became a member of the quarry group. Seeing the military combat uniform he wore, the camp members were quite pleased, as it meant they had gained another fighter.
The next evening.
Everyone was gathered around a bonfire. Little Carl hid between Rick and Lori, his small eyes peeking out, looking curiously at Shawn. To be precise, he was looking at the horse bone club on Shawn's back. The club was still stained with walker blood, and the weapon as a whole gave Shawn an added air of gravity and pressure.
With the horse bone club on his back, Shawn looked like a Barbarian from Diablo, appearing both powerful and mysterious.
"What kind of bone is that?"
"Carl!" Lori exclaimed, pulling Carl closer into her arms. She gave Shawn an apologetic look. Perhaps in her view, having someone like Merle in the camp was already enough. Adding another one like Shawn... she was worried for Carl's safety.
"It's fine."
Shawn glanced at Carl with amusement and waved his hand.
After a moment's thought, Shawn turned and left. When he returned, he was holding a bag of firearms.
"Is that the gun bag we dropped in Atlanta?" Rick quickly stood up. The importance of firearms in this situation was undeniable; even a patient like Rick, who had only recently woken up, could realize that.
"Some of it was used up. The rest can be distributed among everyone."
Shawn looked at each person's face in the firelight. Almost everyone from the quarry camp was here, except for Ed. Earlier in the day, he had gotten a beating from Shane for abusing Carol and was still recovering in his tent.
Of course, it was also because Shawn had intentionally not invited him.
Knowing the plot, Shawn knew that a large number of walkers from Atlanta would raid the quarry camp that night. It was a good opportunity to use the walkers to take out the trash.
Since he had joined the camp, he naturally had to consider its well-being. Thinking this, a smile appeared on Shawn's face.
'When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Since I'm destined to live in this apocalypse, I won't let those tragedies happen again.'
If someone were to take a group photo of the people around this bonfire, they would discover that in the future, 85% of the photo would be gray.
Glenn, Merle, Carl, Lori, Shane...
(Image Here)
Shawn tightened his grip on the horse bone club behind him. He seemed to realize what he wanted to do now that he had been born into this apocalypse.
'If I must kill, then I'll kill to my heart's content.'
'Crack—'
A sharp snap pulled Shawn out of his thoughts. His expression shifted. He shot to his feet, his hand resting on the horse bone club on his back.
The others were startled by his sudden movement, then instantly got to their feet with their guns. Merle, who looked half-drunk, somehow ended up right behind Shawn, with Daryl naturally following his brother.
"What's wrong?" Rick asked with a frown, grabbing a Remington shotgun.
"Shh—" Meeting everyone's gaze, Shawn placed a finger to his lips. He moved carefully toward a dark corner hidden by tall grass, then parted the branches with his club.
A hideous face lunged out. A walker roared at Shawn, unafraid of the numerous firearms pointed at it, instead growing even more excited.
And with this walker's roar, a chorus of low growls came from all directions. Soon, a miserable scream echoed from the edge of the camp.
"It's Ed!" Carol screamed, her face pale with terror.
'Thwack—!' Shawn held the horse bone club with one hand and, with three quick blows, smashed the walker's head to pieces.
A golden light flashed!
[Level Up! Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]
[Skill Point Gained: 1]
[You can now assign points.]
This walker was the exact one needed to fill his experience bar, leveling him up to Lv. 3.
'The basic attributes are the trunk of the tree. The other combat passives and buffs are the branches.'
Without hesitation, Shawn put the skill point directly into his basic attribute—Strength.
[(Milk Drinker) Level 3/10, small increase to Strength and headshot chance.]
(Image Here)