Once the convoy engines shut off, everyone got out one after another.
"Same as before," Calista said as she pushed open the door and scanned the area. "Bossie, Turner, left side security. Danny, Wells, right side.
Jenson, Ethan, take the high ground. Carver, Mike, check the vehicles. Everyone else, resupply and keep moving."
The team split up smoothly, moving with practiced coordination.
Merle jumped out and stretched exaggeratedly, his new metal arm flashing with a cold gleam in the sunlight.
"Holy shit! Stay in there any longer and my ass would've fused to the seat!"
Grumbling, he grabbed a bottle of water from the trunk, gulped down half of it, then casually handed another bottle to Calista as she stepped out.
Calista took it and nodded.
"Go help check the perimeter, Merle."
"Yes, boss," Merle grinned.
He swaggered toward the edge of the gas station.
He and Daryl had been hunters for years, experienced in tracking and reading signs.
Lorenzo was the last to get out. He carefully stepped around broken glass and grime on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed.
Wells glanced over and muttered to Danny, "Yo, I'll bet ten rounds that guy used to be a cleaner before all this. Can't stand a dirty floor."
Danny snorted.
"Yeah right. Guy's just putting on airs."
This Italian was ridiculously particular.
On the other side, Merle suddenly crouched down, brushing aside a patch of dry grass with his left hand.
"Hey, Bossie! Get over here, take a look at this!" he called out, the teasing tone gone from his voice.
Bossie walked over immediately. Calista and Leah followed.
"Look here," Merle said, pointing at the ground.
The dirt was marked with overlapping footprints, blurred but still clear enough, pressed deep into the dry surface.
"This ain't small time. Big group. Passed through not long ago."
Bossie crouched down, gauging the depth of the prints, then traced the direction they led.
"Agreed," he nodded. "Large-scale movement of walkers. Direction's pretty focused. No more than forty-eight hours ago. And it's a sizable group."
Calista and Leah both frowned.
"Can you tell which way exactly?" Calista asked.
Bossie shook his head.
"Too many overlapping tracks. Too much interference. Can't pin it down. But they definitely came through here."
At that moment, Lorenzo's voice drifted over lazily.
At some point, he had already walked closer. He was looking at Calista with a strange expression, completely ignoring the tracks on the ground.
"I've always been curious, Calista," he said, wearing that familiar, irritating half-smile, "what someone like you did before the apocalypse."
Calista ignored him, calmly studying the tracks as if she hadn't heard a word.
Lorenzo went on anyway.
"Your accent, your bearing… East Coast, I'd say?"
His gaze moved over her.
"Even now, you're still striking. I'd bet back on campus, you were the most popular type. Student council president, rides home with a chauffeur on weekends, a summer house in the Hamptons or Newport."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone confident, with a trace of provocation.
"So, how close am I? A rich girl playing survival in the apocalypse. That must be quite a story."
Calista rolled her eyes.
The original owner of this body had been rich, sure.
But her current accent came from years of dealing with international clients at work.
Nothing like how the original spoke.
He didn't get a single thing right.
Before Calista could respond, and before Leah could step in, Merle let out a loud scoff.
"Ha! Pretty boy, you been watching too many damn movies?"
He straightened up, swinging his metal arm, his face full of mockery.
"Chauffeur, huh? Why not just say the boss is some White House princess while you're at it?"
Leah stepped forward, her gaze icy enough to pin Lorenzo in place.
"Lorenzo, is there anything useful in that head of yours? Or just this kind of pointless guesswork? Maybe try focusing on your job."
Lorenzo's smile didn't change. He simply lifted a brow and glanced at her.
"Just passing the time, Leah."
Then he looked back at Calista.
"Besides, there's nothing shameful about admitting where you come from. An advantage is an advantage, whether it's money, education, or anything else."
He gave a soft chuckle.
"After all, people like us are simply born different."
So that's where his arrogance comes from.
Not just his talent, but his upbringing.
The Calabria family, a long-standing mafia family from the Calabria region of Italy, powerful and deeply rooted.
Someone like Lorenzo didn't even see ordinary people as worth his attention.
The only ones he acknowledged were people like Wagner, who had real ability, or those from similar backgrounds.
And Calista fit both in his eyes. Born into wealth, yet able to build and lead a powerful base after the apocalypse, and even defeat him in an unexpected way.
On top of that, she was young and striking, a sharp contrast to her position and methods.
No wonder Lorenzo was so interested in her.
Was he ever going to stop?
Calista finally lost her patience.
"Lorenzo, times have changed. In this world, there are only two kinds of backgrounds.
The living and the dead. And only two kinds of useful skills. The ones that keep you alive, and the ones that don't."
She stepped forward slightly, her gray-blue eyes locking onto his.
"You'd better hope those skills you keep bragging about fall into the first category. As for my past, it's none of your business and has nothing to do with the mission.
The only thing you need to worry about is what happens if you keep wasting my time with stupid questions. You don't eat my supplies for free. Every bit of it needs to earn its keep. Clear?"
For the first time, Lorenzo's smile stiffened.
He gave a small nod, still trying to keep his composure.
"Crystal clear, Miss Norton."
Merle burst out laughing beside them, slapping his thigh.
"Hell yeah, boss! Shut that Italian pretty boy right up. Couldn't even get a word out. Hahaha!"
"Everyone, back in the vehicles," Calista said, no longer looking at anyone as she turned toward the Humvee. "Break's over. We've got work to do."
The convoy moved out quickly, leaving the incident behind.
Before getting in, Lorenzo glanced back one last time at Calista's retreating figure and muttered under his breath, so quietly it was almost inaudible.
"Oh, I doubt that, dear."
Then he got into the vehicle as if nothing had happened.