Chapter 9: The Farmer
Daryl heard this, looked back at Merle, and after seeing Merle nod silently, he returned to the car. Cradling his precious crossbow. Daryl couldn't swallow his anger.
Shawn exchanged a look with Merle and gave an imperceptible nod. He knew this was the first problem he had to solve as the team's leader. If he couldn't solve it, the loss would be far greater than just two motorcycles. The hearts of the two fierce fighters he had worked so hard to win over would likely drift away.
Merle was a natural troublemaker, and Daryl was no pushover. If he couldn't even get two motorcycles back, if he didn't even have that much capability, how could he command their respect?
"Let's go. Objective: the Farm."
Andrea started the car, and it sped off into the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust.
-----
Under the warm, golden sun, a well-built Maggie leaned over her horse. Her eyes were fixed on the approaching wooden house, as if all troubles would disappear once she reached it.
"Dad! Dad!" Maggie started shouting before she even dismounted.
Within a few seconds, an old man with white hair walked out of the house, followed by a chubby figure and a woman. A small head with golden hair peeked out from the second-floor window, and a tall, thin figure in the distance also came running at the sound.
(Image Here)
This scene alone was enough to show the unity and cohesion of this camp. In the face of a potential crisis, not a single member was idle.
"What is it?"
Maggie's father, Hershel Greene, felt his heart tighten. He hurried over. Having grown accustomed to the leisurely days on the farm, Hershel was particularly sensitive to crisis, even feeling a hint of resistance and fear in his heart. At the end of the day, he was just a pitiful old man struggling to survive in the apocalypse with his children and employees.
"A car, it's heading straight for us!" Maggie pulled a rifle from a leather pouch on her saddle, her eyes flashing as she stood close to Hershel.
Everyone looked toward the distant fields. As if to confirm Maggie's words, a silver-gray car was rapidly approaching, kicking up a cloud of dust. The car came to an abrupt stop right in front of the wooden house.
Maggie, Otis, and Jimmy raised their firearms, simultaneously swallowing nervously as they watched the man get out of the car.
The man was about 1.9 meters tall, with black hair and brown eyes, well-built but not bulky. This height was considered tall even in the United States; those over 2 meters were rare. Just looking at him from a distance, the group felt a faint sense of pressure from him. Especially when the man was holding a bone club, their hearts were in their throats.
'These people won't be easy to deal with.' This thought instantly appeared in Hershel's mind. Merle and Daryl, who got out of the car after him, only confirmed his suspicion.
Fortunately, when Andrea and Amy got out, Hershel let out a long, visible sigh of relief. One of the two women was a very young girl. This group didn't seem as difficult as he had imagined.
"Don't shoot. I'll go see first." Hershel blocked Maggie's gun barrel, afraid his daughter was too nervous and would start an unnecessary conflict.
"I'm the owner of this land. What is your business here?"
The first words out of Hershel's mouth made Shawn chuckle inwardly. 'Fucking polite, isn't he.'
"You can call me Shawn. This is Merle, Daryl, Andrea, and Amy." Shawn introduced himself first. Since he was the one showing up unannounced, he naturally needed to show some sincerity.
"We'd like to stay at your farm for a while, right next to the house."
Shawn pointed to an open space beside the wooden house, but he was met with Hershel's immediate, unspoken refusal.
Shawn raised his hands. "Don't be so quick to decide. Maybe we should go inside and talk it over. Believe me, if we wanted to take this place, we wouldn't be having a polite conversation with you out in the open."
The old man's mouth was slightly agape, his eyes filled with a warning, but the harsh words never came out. If he were 20 years younger, he would never have agreed to Shawn's proposal today.
"Please, come in. But no weapons are allowed." Hershel led the four to the door of the house and gave Otis a look.
Otis understood and took two steps forward to take the weapons from Daryl and Merle, but he was nearly knocked to the ground by a gun butt from each of them.
"Hey," Shawn said, looking at them.
Daryl averted his gaze and reluctantly handed over his crossbow and knife. Merle did the same, but his rapidly heaving chest told Shawn he was at his limit. First his motorcycle was stolen, and now he had to hand over his weapons. Merle's temperament was not suited for peaceful coexistence. Even at the quarry camp, he had to kill a few walkers every day to blow off steam.
Leaning close to Merle's ear, Shawn gently patted his back. "Give me some time. I won't let the thief who stole our bikes get away. For now, control your temper. We need to set up a home on this farm."
Only after hearing Shawn's words did Merle glare at the farm's residents and follow him inside.
Several small cups were placed in front of Shawn and his group, filled with freshly heated, steaming milk. This was an uncommon supply in the apocalypse, but for a farmer like Hershel, it was perfectly ordinary. It was just that, compared to before the apocalypse, they couldn't consume these resources as freely.
Andrea and Amy smiled shyly at Maggie, then took small sips of the milk. Daryl and Merle were silent, simply savoring the aftertaste… they had already finished theirs.
"So, Mr. Shawn, you can state your intentions now," Hershel said, his tone stiff. He was clearly still angry about what Shawn had said earlier.
"Then I'll be direct." Shawn wasn't going to coddle him. His gaze swept over everyone belonging to the farm. Though it was called a camp, the farm actually only had 6 people, which was why their supplies seemed plentiful.
Hershel's two daughters, Maggie and the little moonbeam, Beth. The chubby man Otis and his wife Patricia, and the tall, thin man Jimmy. The three of them were farmhands before the apocalypse and had banded together with Hershel's family after it started.
His gaze returned to Hershel.
"Even though you're holed up on this farm, you should know what the world is like now. Walkers are rampant. They bite anyone they see, and they eat any flesh they find. I've seen walkers eat a person alive, piece by piece."
Shawn wasn't here to be their therapist, so his very first sentence applied enough pressure. For this group of people who had been cooped up on the farm for a long time, this was already a harsh statement.
Sure enough, upon hearing Shawn's words, Hershel frowned, trying to stay composed, while his two daughters behind him showed a hint of alarm. Beth hid behind Maggie, whose face had turned pale.
"They are just sick patients!" Hershel insisted stubbornly.
"Really? You think if you were bitten, you wouldn't take a bite out of your own daughter?" Shawn raised an eyebrow and sneered.
Life on the farm was too comfortable. Hershel had seen too little, which was why he would say something so foolish. Of course, one could also say it was a difference in 'beliefs' between Shawn and Hershel. Hershel was still living before the apocalypse, while Shawn only trusted his people and the club in his hands.
"If you only came here to intimidate us, then please leave!"