Night fell, and downtown Atlanta fell into an eerie silence.
It wasn't a true silence.
From time to time, the roars of Walkerss drifted from the distance, occasionally accompanied by the sound of shattering glass and the wailing of wind passing through the dilapidated streets.
But those sounds only made the night seem even more deathly still.
Rick and Shane were hiding on the fifth floor of an apartment building, and after clearing out the last Walkers, they could finally catch their breath.
The two of them pushed the corpse out of the door, closed it, and then collapsed onto the sofa in the living room.
"Damn it."
Shane cursed, took off the thick black tactical jacket he was wearing, and tossed it onto the floor.
There was a bulletproof vest underneath, but he was too lazy to take it off, so he just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Rick also took off his jacket and tossed his helmet to the side.
The room was dim, with only the moonlight filtering in from the window, barely enough to see each other's outlines.
"Any regrets?"
Rick asked suddenly.
Shane turned his head to look at him: "Regret what?"
"Jumping down with me."
Shane was silent for two seconds, then laughed: "We're partners. We grew up playing together, and we've been together since the police academy. How could I possibly leave you alone?"
Rick laughed as well.
The two were silent for a while, then Shane spoke again: "But seriously, that Wu Fan, he's damn ruthless, just tossing us here like that."
Rick shook his head: "He has his reasons. The helicopter is too big to land on the roof, and there are at least twenty of those people. It couldn't fit that many. What would happen to the people who couldn't get on the helicopter? What if the situation turned extreme..."
Shane snorted: "You're really defending him."
"I'm not defending him."
Rick turned his head to look at the moonlight outside the window: "I just think he did the right thing. He has to consider the entire base; he can't be emotional."
Shane didn't speak again.
The two just lay there, listening to the sounds outside, and slowly fell asleep.
The next morning.
Sunlight shone through the tattered curtains, casting mottled light and shadows on the floor.
Rick and Shane woke up almost simultaneously—this was an occupational hazard for policemen; no matter how tired they were, they could instantly become alert when necessary.
The two ate some compressed biscuits simply, then went up to the roof.
They had already observed the surrounding environment last night.
The distance between this building and the one next to it wasn't far. If they could build a bridge, they could move across the rooftops without having to go downstairs.
Rick found a few wooden boards, and Shane dug out a roll of rope.
It took the two of them an hour to build a makeshift "bridge" between the buildings—in reality, it was just a few wooden boards placed on the railings and secured with rope. It was wobbly when walking on it, but it was barely passable.
"You go first."
Shane said.
Rick didn't stand on ceremony; with his gun on his back, he carefully stepped onto the boards.
He crossed in a few steps and landed steadily.
Shane followed over.
The two stood on the rooftop of the new building, observing their surroundings.
This building was two stories higher than the previous one, providing a better view.
In the distance, dense groups of Walkerss wandered the streets like an army of tireless ants.
"If we keep building bridges like this, we won't even need to fight; we can just escape Atlanta directly."
Shane looked at the distances between the buildings: "No wonder the boss couldn't be bothered to land and pick people up."
Rick nodded without speaking and continued forward.
They built two more bridges and crossed three buildings.
Every time they built a bridge, it took time to find boards, secure them, and test them—but compared to going downstairs and fighting the Walkerss head-on, this was already heaven mode.
Just as they were about to pass a rooftop exit, suddenly—
A person rushed out from the side!
The man swung his fist and smashed it hard into Rick's face!
Rick was knocked staggering, his vision going black.
Before he could react, the man started tugging at the gun strap on his body.
Rick instinctively grabbed the gun, and the two of them entered a stalemate, wrestling on the ground.
"Damn!"
Shane cursed and was just about to rush up to help when another person popped out from a different direction.
A Mexican man, holding a double-barreled shotgun, aimed the pitch-black muzzle at him.
"Don't move!"
The man shouted: "Tell your friend to let go! Or I'm shooting!"
Shane raised his hands, but his eyes were locked on the gun.
Rick was still wrestling over there.
The person attacking him couldn't get the gun, so he simply gave up, kicked Rick away, and then dragged off the tactical vest and gun on his body.
The Mexican man turned the muzzle toward Rick and shouted at Shane: "You too! Hand it over! Fast!"
Shane slowly knelt down and placed his gun on the ground.
Then he started taking off his bulletproof vest.
Halfway through, he suddenly used force to smash the vest into the man's face!
The thick tactical vest hit the man in the face, and he instinctively took a step back, the muzzle shifting.
Shane took the opportunity to pounce on him, grabbing the gun barrel with one hand and striking his face with the other!
Rick also scrambled up.
He rushed toward the guy who had stolen his equipment, one punch, two punches, three punches—the man was quickly beaten unconscious on the ground.
The two worked together to subdue the Mexican man as well.
Rick panted heavily, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and looked at the Mexican man pinned to the ground.
"Why attack us?" he asked.
The man had blood flowing from his nose, and the corner of his mouth was split, but there was no fear in his eyes, only helplessness.
"Of course, to take your guns."
He said: "To protect my family."
Shane sneered: "Protect your family? Just for this?"
He pointed the gun at the man's head: "Last chance, tell the truth, or I'll send you to meet God."
The man looked at him, was silent for two seconds, and then said: "Really, my family is right over there, a few hundred meters away."
Rick and Shane looked at each other.
Rick walked over and woke up the person who had been knocked unconscious.
The two of them, hands bound, stood together.
"Lead the way," Rick said.
The Mexican man led them downstairs and through a cleared alleyway.
At the end of the alley was an iron gate, locked tight.
Some debris was piled behind the door, clearly used to block it.
The Mexican man knocked on a rolling shutter door.
The door slowly rose.
Standing behind the door were seven or eight people. There were men and women, holding various weapons—baseball bats, machetes, rusty fire axes, and two small pistols.
They stared at Rick and Shane vigilantly, their expressions unfriendly.
A leading man walked forward, looked at the two bound people, and then looked at Rick and Shane.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The Mexican man lowered his head and recounted what had happened.
The man listened, silent for a few seconds.
Then he walked over and patted the Mexican man on the shoulder.
"I don't blame you; you did it for everyone's sake."
He turned to Rick, his tone sincere: "I'm sorry, my man was too impulsive. He was desperate, which is why he resorted to such a measure."
He made a gesture of invitation: "Come in! Don't stand outside."
Rick and Shane looked at each other and walked in cautiously.
They passed through a door and went up some steps.
Then they froze.
Before them was a small lawn.
It wasn't large, but it was kept very tidy.
Several wheelchairs were placed on the lawn, and a few elderly people were sitting in them, sunbathing.
Some were chatting, some were dozing with their eyes closed, and there was even an old lady knitting a sweater.
Further away, at the entrance of a small three-story building, even more elderly people were cooling off.
"This is..."
Rick muttered.
The middle-aged man smiled: "A nursing home, St. Bernard's Nursing Home. The day the outbreak happened, we moved the elderly here to the basement, then cleared the Walkerss around the area bit by bit, and finally fenced off this building."
He looked at the elderly with a trace of pride in his eyes: "Some of them have lived here for over a decade; they've long treated this as their home. We can't just abandon them."
Shane looked at the elderly, not knowing what to say for a moment.
These people had no weapons, no combat capability, and would only be a burden.
If this were at the mine, or anywhere else, they would have been abandoned long ago.
But the people here chose to keep them.
"What did you do before?"
"Security guard!"
Rick was silent for a long time.
Then he spoke: "How many of you are there?"
The middle-aged man thought for a moment: "Including the elderly, thirty-seven. Those who can fight, twelve."
Rick nodded: "Do you want to leave Atlanta?"
The middle-aged man was stunned: "Leave?"
"There's a place,"
Rick said: "A safe place, with walls, guards, food, and it needs people."
The middle-aged man looked at him, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes.
But soon, that hope extinguished.
He looked at the elderly and shook his head: "They can't leave."
Rick also looked at the elderly.
The elderly in the wheelchairs—some were so old they couldn't walk, some were senile, and some were just sitting there quietly, indifferent to everything around them.
"There will always be a way,"
Rick said.
He didn't know why he said that.
But looking at those elderly people, and looking at the people who refused to abandon them, he felt they should give it a try.