Chapter 139: Problem Children
A small crowd had gathered around the notice board.
Most of them were workers who had just finished their shifts. Their hard hats were tucked under their arms, some were smoking, and others held cups of water while chatting.
The notice had been posted by Amy at noon.
The message was simple and direct:
Atlanta Broadcasting Station equipment damaged. Seeking professionals skilled in electronics, communications, and radio repair.
Eugene walked out of the school gate carrying his worn briefcase and waved goodbye to the last few students.
Only after the children had disappeared into the distance did he turn toward the notice board.
He had been living here for quite some time now.
Once known as a "top scientist" whose lies had been exposed, he had somehow become a physics teacher at the community elementary school.
After Paul left, the school had been short-staffed, and Eugene had stepped in to help.
To his surprise, he was actually a decent teacher.
At the very least, none of the children fell asleep during his classes.
He squeezed through the crowd, stood on tiptoe, and carefully read the notice from beginning to end.
Radio station repairs.
His eyes immediately lit up.
This was a major project.
No danger.
No guns.
No Walkers.
No risking his life outside the walls.
Just repairing equipment, soldering circuits, tightening screws, and tuning frequencies.
More importantly, contributions would earn points.
His current points were only enough to exchange for the cheapest compressed rations and canned food.
But if he successfully repaired the radio station, perhaps he could earn enough for something better.
Fresh bread.
Milk.
Maybe even meat.
He tightened his grip on the handle of his briefcase and swallowed.
"I'll sign up tomorrow."
---
Sean leaned against the Humvee with his arms crossed, staring at the smoking Walker corpses in the distance.
Nearby, Paul stood beside a corpse, gripping a machete covered in black blood.
His work clothes were splattered with gore, and even his face had been stained.
Sean sighed.
Walking over, he took the machete from Paul's hand, wiped it clean on the Walker's clothing, and returned it.
"Paul, if you can kill them with a gun, then use a gun."
His tone was calm but firm.
"Stop trying to handle everything in melee combat. Those things are stronger than you think. A moment ago, two of them were already trying to flank you. Didn't you notice?"
Paul sheathed the machete at his waist.
"I noticed."
He paused.
"So I cut my way through both of them."
Sean stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"You still don't understand."
He pointed toward the distant streets.
"What if there aren't ten of them next time? What if there are hundreds? Are you going to fight all of them with a machete?"
Paul lowered his head.
Sean continued,
"Use rifles. Use bows. Use crossbows. Stop trying to look impressive."
His voice softened slightly.
"The only thing that matters is coming back alive."
Paul remained silent for several moments before nodding.
"I'm sorry. I was impatient."
"I wanted to improve faster."
Sean patted his shoulder.
"I know."
Then he turned toward another source of trouble.
Abraham.
The red-haired giant was squatting beside a Walker corpse, proudly carrying a machine gun with an ammunition belt dragging through the mud.
He looked like a man who had just won a war.
"Abraham."
Sean's voice was flat.
"Hmm?"
"Machine guns are for defending the city."
Abraham glanced at the weapon in his hands.
Sean continued,
"When we're outside, we're fighting Walkers—not Middle Eastern guerrillas."
"Every burst you fire can attract thousands of zombies from miles away."
"Next time, use a suppressed rifle. Or a submachine gun. Or a crossbow."
Abraham looked down at the machine gun, then grinned.
"Relax, buddy."
"I just wanted to test it out."
He slung the weapon over his shoulder.
"Next mission, I'll bring a rifle."
Sean opened his mouth, wanting to argue.
Then he gave up.
He simply turned around and climbed into the Humvee.
Some battles weren't worth fighting.
---
Rosita sat in the passenger seat.
As Sean started the engine, she suddenly winked at him.
Sean froze for a brief moment.
Then he started the vehicle and drove away.
The Humvee rolled out of town and headed back toward the base.
Sean's eyes remained fixed on the road.
But his thoughts were elsewhere.
What was that wink supposed to mean?
He glanced sideways.
Rosita was looking out the window, her profile illuminated by the setting sun.
Sean quickly looked away and pressed harder on the accelerator.
---
That night, Eugene sat on his bed.
An old book lay open in front of him.
Principles of Radio.
It had been borrowed from the library.
The pages were yellowed.
The corners were curled.
The entire book smelled of age and dust.
He read a few pages of Chapter Three before flipping back to the beginning.
Truthfully, he didn't need the book.
This was what he had studied in college.
Electronic engineering.
His graduation thesis had focused on the design and calibration of FM radio transmitters.
Although he had later become a teacher, the knowledge remained in his mind.
It was simply rusty.
Knowledge that needed polishing.
Eventually, he closed the book and placed it beside his pillow.
The lights went out.
In the darkness, Eugene stared at the ceiling.
The radio station.
He had repaired something similar before.
Back in Texas, he had once restored an amateur radio shack filled with outdated equipment.
It had taken an entire week.
Afterward, it worked perfectly.
The problem was that nobody was left to listen.
But Atlanta was different.
Perhaps this would be the last opportunity in his life to truly use his expertise.
He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and closed his eyes.
---
The next morning, Eugene stood before the registration desk with a completed application form in hand.
JD was eating breakfast.
One hand held a bowl of oatmeal.
The other held a piece of bread.
He glanced at Eugene and accepted the form.
"You know how to repair radios?"
"Yes."
"I studied it in college."
JD raised an eyebrow.
Then he stamped the form and handed it back.
"Third floor."
"Find Amy."
"She'll take you to see the Boss."
Eugene nodded and hurried away.
JD returned to his breakfast.
---
On the third floor, Wu Fan studied Eugene's application.
Then he looked at Eugene himself.
The room remained silent.
Under that gaze, Eugene felt increasingly uncomfortable.
He lowered his head and stared at the tips of his shoes.
"You studied electrical engineering?"
Wu Fan finally asked.
"Yes."
Eugene's voice was quiet but steady.
"Your graduation project involved FM transmitters?"
"That's correct."
Wu Fan leaned back in his chair.
"The Atlanta broadcasting station suffered severe damage."
"Can you repair it?"
Eugene met his eyes.
"I need to inspect it first."
"After I see the equipment, I'll know."
Wu Fan nodded.
He opened a drawer, removed a map, and circled a location.
"This building in central Atlanta was once a public radio station."
"All the equipment should still be there."
"Take a team and repair everything that can be salvaged."
"If you need parts, submit a list to Logistics."
Eugene accepted the map and carefully folded it into his pocket.
His footsteps were noticeably lighter as he left the office.
Wu Fan watched him go.
No wonder he's able to work with drones.
He's the real deal.
We need to make good use of his talents.
More importantly, we need to give him a sense of belonging.
Only then will he continue contributing to the settlement.
He lowered his gaze to another document on the desk.
Sean's training report.
The names Paul and Abraham stood out immediately.
Paul: Severe tendency toward melee combat. Requires correction.
Abraham: Excessive use of heavy firepower. Risks attracting large Walker hordes.
Wu Fan rubbed his forehead.
These two problem children really are giving Sean a headache.
He opened the Hive System personnel records.
Paul — Loyalty: 90%
Abraham — Loyalty: 80%
Rosita — Loyalty: 100%
Wu Fan blinked.
"...?"
What happened?
Why is Rosita's loyalty suddenly at one hundred percent?