Chapter 21: What!
"Thanks to you, I'm still alive and well," Shawn said, holding his meat broth and nodding wearily.
"Oh, right." Shawn pointed to the fire truck behind him. "Did you get settled up for the game from the last two days? If it's not enough, I'll make it up with other food. I brought a lot back."
As soon as Shawn said this, Maggie, Otis, and Jimmy, who were standing behind Hershel, exchanged glances. The three of them quickly went to the truck, opened the storage, and let out a collective gasp.
Inside, it was more than half-full of bottled drinking water and food. The Farm had a lot of harvested food, but they hadn't seen this much processed food in a long time.
"You brought all this back from town?" Hershel asked, looking at the pile of food his daughter was holding. And hearing that there was still much more in the fire truck, he couldn't help but look at Shawn.
In response to his question, Shawn just nodded, not mentioning the survivor camp. Simply put, there was no need for Hershel to know. After careful analysis, Hershel and Rick were essentially cut from the same cloth, which was why Hershel could get along with the Quarry Camp group. It was just that Rick was more rational and courageous than him. If Hershel found out about the destruction of an entire survivor camp, it would only cause a lot of avoidable trouble.
And Shawn didn't like trouble.
"Then this truck is…" Hershel frowned.
Shawn waved his hand. "Hershel, why are you so troublesome, just like a cranky old man? I brought back a lot of booze. How about we have a party tonight?"
Shawn raised an eyebrow at Hershel, who stood there with his mouth agape. He 'was' a cranky old man… But looking at Shawn and the well-behaved Sophia sitting beside him, Hershel had many questions he wanted to ask. He had no choice but to nod in agreement.
Two hours later.
The flames of the bonfire danced on everyone's faces as they moved their bodies in a state of abandon. Although there was no music, they were still wild, chugging from the disposable plastic cups in their hands.
It was a release of the self, a madness that had been suppressed for a long time since the apocalypse began. It was less like they were dancing with each other and more like they were immersed in their own fantasy worlds, enjoying the peaceful beauty of the moment.
'Thump—'
Hershel swayed and fell to the ground. Shawn was right beside him. He put his hand on Hershel's shoulder and slurred, "I'm tellin' you… 'hic'… you shouldn't keep so many walkers in the barn… 'hic'—"
"They're just a bunch of trash produced by the virus, not… not your family…"
"Tomorrow, you drag out that big harvester and grind them all up. Listen to me, you can't go wrong!"
Hershel didn't seem to realize what Shawn was saying. He let out a drunken burp, his face flushed with a silly smile.
"You're… you're right!"
"Right?!" Shawn's face lit up.
"You're… right!" Hershel just kept repeating this sentence. He was already completely incoherent. The poor man had wanted to get information out of Shawn… but instead, he was nearly drunk under the table and tricked into a stupor.
In the crowd, only Sophia remained sober. She held her doll and a cup of soda, curiously watching these strange adults.
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The next day.
"Damn it!" A figure crawled out of a tent.
Daryl gritted his teeth and clutched his head, which was throbbing with a sharp, scratching pain.
"If I ever party with Shawn again, I'll snap all my crossbow bolts!"
Hearing Daryl's harsh words, Merle squinted his eyes, reeking of alcohol, and waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, everyone in this area knows that crossbow is your lifeline. Are you really going to break your own lifeline?"
As he spoke, Merle suddenly stopped and shivered, regaining his senses. He stared at Daryl. "Wait, you… would you?"
"Go to hell!" Daryl cursed irritably.
Daryl's nose wrinkled in anger. Still feeling the effects of the alcohol, he picked up his crossbow and was about to load it.
"Hey! Hey! Hey~ C'mon, I'm your brother." Merle's eyes widened, and he wrapped his arm around Daryl's neck, afraid the kid would do something stupid in his current state.
"Morning," Andrea said, sticking her messy blonde head out of her tent. Behind her, Amy and Sophia followed suit. The three women looked as disheveled as 'three groundhogs'.
Hershel's family had been helped back to the house last night. Now sober, they exchanged smiles. But then they looked around, a little confused. "Where's Shawn?"
They opened Shawn's tent but didn't find him. Could it be that he had just returned yesterday and left again today?
Merle yawned. "We can just ask Hershel later, can't we?"
But when they knocked on the door of the main house, they found that Hershel was also gone. Maggie, Otis, and the others were just like them, having just woken up from their hangovers.
"Did you see where Shawn went?" Amy leaned over and asked Sophia.
"I only know that last night, Shawn said he was going to take Hershel to fight walkers," Sophia whispered back, hugging her doll.
Fight walkers? With Hershel?
Hearing Sophia's words, everyone looked at each other, stunned. Could Hershel, at his age, even lift a knife?
As they discussed it amongst themselves, Maggie couldn't wait any longer. She immediately got on her horse and rode toward the woods, afraid that the crazy man had taken her old dad to do something insane.
After some thought, Daryl told Merle to watch the camp, took his crossbow, and followed.
Meanwhile, Shawn, the subject of everyone's concern, woke up in the dark barn.
"Ughh…"
A series of low growls from a nearby throat woke him up.
Shawn opened his eyes, stared at the pitch-black ceiling, then closed them again, turning over to go back to sleep.
But just five seconds after closing his eyes, he suddenly snapped them wide open.
As far as he could see, the entire barn was filled with walkers wandering back and forth. There seemed to be 30 or 40 of them, comparable to a small horde.
Shawn instinctively reached behind him. He didn't feel his Stone Sledgehammer, but he did feel an arm.
'Gasp!'
His heart leaped into his throat, but in the next second, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "It's warm. Not a walker."
Shawn turned his head. Hershel was sleeping comfortably on a haystack beside him. They were on the second floor of the barn, which was the only reason they hadn't been devoured in their sleep.
Watching Hershel occasionally snore and rub his belly, Shawn sighed inwardly. "Fools have fool's luck, eh—"
But he quickly realized: "Did I just insult myself too?"
Whatever. He slapped Hershel's face, jolting the old man awake. But the moment Hershel sat up and saw Shawn's face, he relaxed.
"What's going on so early, Shawn…" Hershel was a bit slow on the uptake. Shawn irritably slapped him again.
Seeing Hershel sit up, frowning and looking like he was about to curse, Shawn put a finger to his lips and pointed to the barn below.
Hershel was still a little dazed. He peeked over the edge and instantly broke out in a cold sweat, completely terrified.