The cleanup work in the small town was slower than expected.
With over two hundred houses, they had to search them one by one, looking through every room—behind doors, under beds, in closets, attics, and basements; every corner that could potentially hide a Walker could not be overlooked.
The twenty-five members of the Seventh Squad were scattered across the streets, working in pairs, advancing from the innermost building outwards.
T-Dog carried his M870 shotgun, walking in front of Morales.
His mouth hadn't stopped moving since they entered the town.
"If one pops out later, I'll just blast it with the shotgun, bang! Its head will explode. If two pop out, I'll blast left and right, bang bang! Take them all down. If a whole group pops out—"
He looked back at Morales: "You're in charge of covering me."
Morales rolled his eyes.
This guy had been as happy as if he'd won the lottery when he was assigned to the security squad, but today, after being specifically picked by Sandra to come out and clear the town, he had been dragging his feet and walking at the very back the whole way.
Sandra had simply dumped the innermost building on the two of them.
Morales pushed open the ajar door; the living room was dark, the curtains drawn, with only a few beams of light filtering through the gaps.
T-Dog followed behind with his shotgun raised, his nerves stretched taut like a fully drawn bow.
"You lead the way, I'll cover from behind."
Morales ignored him, his gaze fixed on a corner of the living room.
"Whoa!"
Morales exclaimed.
T-Dog was so startled he nearly jumped, aiming his shotgun in the direction Morales was looking, his finger already on the trigger, his whole body tensed up like a bow.
Then he looked where Morales was looking—a wine cabinet.
It was made of solid wood with glass doors, and inside, dozens of bottles of red wine were neatly arranged.
The labels were in French and English; some bottles were covered in dust, but the corks were sealed perfectly.
T-Dog stared blankly for two seconds, lowered his gun, and gave a confused look: "You're exclaiming over this?"
Morales walked over, squatted in front of the wine cabinet, and looked at the bottles as if he were appraising artifacts.
"'82 Lafite... '90 Petrus... These two are Romanée-Conti..."
His voice was trembling: "This cabinet of wine could have bought a house before the apocalypse."
T-Dog rolled his eyes: "Man, we're on a mission right now, forget about that damn wine cabinet."
Morales stood up and took one last lingering look: "If we could move this whole cabinet back..."
"You can't move it back."
T-Dog interrupted him: "One or two bottles is fine, but any more than that has to be handed over. You know the rules."
Morales sighed, pulled two bottles from the cabinet, and stuffed them into his backpack.
T-Dog watched his actions, hesitated for two seconds, and then reached out to take a bottle as well.
Since he'd already taken it, might as well.
First-floor kitchen.
T-Dog pushed open the kitchen door; it was dark inside, the stove covered in dust, and blackened dishes soaking in the sink.
He scanned the room, didn't see any Walkers, and casually pulled open the refrigerator door.
A thick, putrid stench, like a corpse that had been fermenting for countless days, rushed out at him.
T-Dog's face twisted instantly, his stomach churning. He slammed the refrigerator door shut, rushed to the window, grabbed the windowsill, and dry-heaved several times.
"What's wrong?"
Morales shouted from outside.
T-Dog leaned against the wall, tears streaming down his face, and waved his hand: "It's nothing... the fridge... this family bought so much fish and meat... and opened cans... all put in the fridge..."
Morales walked over, stood at the kitchen doorway, looked at the fridge from a distance, and shook his head.
"The power's been out for so long; it'd be strange if it didn't stink when you opened it."
T-Dog caught his breath, covered his nose with his sleeve, and opened the fridge again—this time he was prepared.
Inside, the unrecognizable mass of black-green mold and rotting liquid mixed together, some of it already dried into a hard crust.
He quickly shut it again and backed out of the kitchen, cursing.
Second-floor bedroom.
T-Dog kicked open the door with his foot, the muzzle of his gun entering first.
No movement.
He walked in slowly; the curtains were drawn, with only a little light filtering through the door gap.
He felt for his flashlight and clicked it on.
The beam swept across the room—a double bed, a vanity, a wardrobe, and a few pieces of clothing scattered on the floor.
Then the beam stopped on the bed.
A woman lay on the bed, wearing a bathrobe, her hair spread out on the pillow.
There was a bullet hole in the center of her forehead, dried blood spreading out from around the hole like a withered flower. Her face had largely rotted away, her eye sockets deeply sunken, her lips withered, exposing her teeth.
But her expression was very calm, as if she were asleep.
T-Dog stood by the bed, silent for a long time.
Someone had helped end it for her.
Perhaps it was her husband, perhaps her son, perhaps some passing stranger.
Fired a shot, let her rest in peace, then left.
T-Dog backed out of the room and gently closed the door.
Morales's shout came from downstairs: "T-Dog! Come down! We're done searching over here!"
Gunshots rang out in the distance.
Not just one, but several in a row, interspersed with the muffled sound characteristic of a silencer.
It seemed not everyone was as lucky as them; someone had encountered Walkers hiding in the houses.
T-Dog walked quickly downstairs and headed out with Morales.
On the street, another team was dragging the corpse of a Walker out of a house, its head blown open, black blood dragging a long trail on the ground.
"How was it on your end?"
Someone shouted.
T-Dog gave a thumbs up: "Clean!"
The other person gave a thumbs up as well.
Third floor of the CDC.
Wu Fan stood by the window, looking towards the town.
Sporadic gunfire occasionally came from that direction, muted by the distance, sounding like someone hammering nails far away.
Amy walked in carrying coffee, placed the cup on the table, stood beside him, and looked towards the town along his line of sight.
"How is the town cleanup going?"
She asked.
Wu Fan turned, picked up the coffee, and took a sip: "Over two hundred houses, twenty-five people—it's not that fast. The Walkers hiding in the dark have to be found one by one; you can't rush it."
"Why not send more people?"
"Practice."
Wu Fan said: "The Seventh Squad is newly formed and hasn't been on a mission yet. This kind of low-risk cleanup job is perfect for them to adapt. Later, other squads will also need to be rotated out for practice. The team is expanding too fast; we have to train them."
Amy nodded.
She hesitated for a moment, then asked: "What about Merle? Did he go to the farm to find tools?"
"He left this morning."
Wu Fan walked back behind his desk, sat down, and opened the system panel to take a look.
The rate of point accumulation had clearly slowed—it wasn't that there were fewer Walkers, but that there were more people, and consumption was higher.
Before, one hundred points could last two or three days; now, it took one hundred and twenty points a day.
Relying solely on Merle and his team to go out and scavenge couldn't fill this hole.
He closed the panel, leaned back in his chair, and calculated another account in his mind.
Most of the men had joined the security department; the rest were either laborers or drivers.
What about the women? More than half were idle.
They didn't join security, didn't look for work, and just relied on the men at home to support them.
This didn't fit his persona.
He wasn't a philanthropist, and this wasn't a shelter.
Everyone had to work, and everyone had to have value.
"Amy, have Jackie come over."
Ten minutes later, Jackie pushed the door open and came in, a hard hat tucked under her arm, blueprints rolled up in her hand.
"How's the progress on the perimeter wall?" Wu Fan asked.
Jackie spread out the blueprints and pointed to the northern section: "The main structure will be finished next week, but the gaps on the south and west sides still need shipping containers to fill them. We have enough materials and enough manpower, it's just—"
"It's just what?"
"It's just that after it's built, it's all empty space inside."
Jackie said: "We can't just leave it empty forever, right?"
Wu Fan glanced at the map on the wall, then turned to look at Jackie and indicated: "That empty space is reserved for the helicopter landing and material transport."
Wu Fan pointed to the helicopter landing area on the map and said:
"After the helipad is done, outside the perimeter wall next to it, fence off a few kilometers of land with barbed wire to use as a farm."
"This area is all flat land, it used to be farmland; just till it and we can plant."
Jackie's eyes lit up: "What are we planting?"
"Start with potatoes and sweet potatoes; these are easy to grow and have high yields. Then plant some corn and soybeans. Take it slow."
Wu Fan turned around: "Get all those women who have nothing to do to go farming. Those who don't want to farm can go raise pigs or chickens. They can't just be idle."
Jackie laughed: "Will they be happy about that?"
"If they aren't happy, they can leave."
Wu Fan said: "I don't support idlers here. When they go out, they'll realize the reality and understand that the high-quality life they had before no longer exists; they can only rely on their own two hands to support themselves."
Jackie packed up the blueprints, put on her hard hat, and walked out quickly.
Wu Fan sat back in his chair and picked up his coffee.
The coffee was already cold, and he drank it in one gulp.
Amy looked at him: "Are you planning to force all those women to go farming?"
"Not force."
Wu Fan said: "It's giving them something to do. Being idle all day will lead to problems sooner or later. Having work to do and something to look forward to makes people feel secure."
Amy thought about it and nodded.
She suddenly smiled: "What about me? Are you planning to send me to farm?"
Wu Fan looked at her and didn't speak.
Amy's face flushed slightly, and she turned to walk out: "I'll go check on how the town cleanup is going."
After the door closed, the office quieted down. Wu Fan leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, his mind still racing.
Farming, tilling the land, raising pigs and chickens—these are slow tasks, not to be rushed.
But points are an urgent matter; they are consumed every day.
He opened his eyes and looked at the sky outside the window.
The helicopter was parked under the Hive, ready to take off at any time.
Take a spin over Atlanta, strafe with the machine guns, and points would skyrocket.
But he had never done so.
Gunshots would attract Walkers, and the helicopter's noise would attract things from further away.
What if someone was hiding in the dark, waiting for him with a rocket launcher? In this world, living people are more terrifying than Walkers.
He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up.
He would figure out the points issue later.
First, get the farming started and stabilize the people.
One step at a time.
The gunfire in the town had stopped.
Under the setting sun, the cleaned-up houses stood quietly on either side of the street, waiting for their new owners.
~~~~~~~
A/N: Even though we didn't reach 100 Power Stones, I will still give you a bonus chapter. Thanks to everyone who gave Power Stones, and thank you all for your support!
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