Chapter 3: Rick
The door wasn't closed, swinging back and forth in the wind, bumping against a foot—clearly a fallen corpse.
Caesar could vaguely make out several swaying figures inside one of the houses. Without question, Caesar knew those were walkers.
"Boss, you see that?"
Rip's voice came through the walkie-talkie. Caesar could hear the gravity in his tone.
Before Caesar could respond, he heard Tate's hard-to-understand accent.
"Hey, boss, looks like everyone at that ranch is kinda dead. Can't see anyone at all."
"Why don't we just take over that ranch?"
Tate's idea was constructive, though naive. It immediately lightened the heavy atmosphere in the vehicle.
Caesar couldn't help but chuckle as he picked up the walkie-talkie.
"Tate, if you want to be a rancher, we'll leave that ranch for you. We'll help clear it out."
"Hahaha, boss, I'd rather stay working for you."
The vehicle speed picked up again. One press of the gas pedal and they reached Buffalo Pass.
Buffalo Pass had gray stone cliffs on both sides. Caesar looked up. Yeah, if someone set up an ambush up there, they could definitely take out a lot of enemies.
Buffalo Pass had no barriers whatsoever—just a gravel road leading out.
Caesar got out of the truck and scanned the area.
Nearby were various grass, trees, and shrubs. Tall oaks on both sides stretched up the mountain in an unbroken line.
Behind them was open space. The only thing with any elevation visible was those few buildings at that ranch.
Rip walked over, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his pocket. "There's nothing here to block Buffalo Pass."
"Yeah. Too open!"
Caesar hadn't expected the area around Buffalo Pass to be completely empty.
Currently, the most convenient and quick solution would be large vehicles lined up to block Buffalo Pass. Or like Woodbury, use shipping containers.
Once he controlled the entire valley, he could gradually improve Buffalo Pass's defenses.
Having decided, Caesar spoke his thoughts directly. "Do any of you have better ideas?"
The three agreed with Caesar's thinking and had no objections.
Back in the vehicle, the pickup moved forward again, rushing out of Black Pine Valley.
Outside Black Pine Valley connected to Route 85. This area was full of farms and ranches.
Naturally, the land was vast and sparsely populated with very low population density. When the broadcasts gave warnings, not many people left their ranches—instead they stayed on their own small plots of land.
Just like Hershel.
Once on the highway, the pickup's speed was fully unleashed, speeding past.
Atlanta.
After the city was bombed, many skyscrapers had collapsed and toppled over, creating ruins along with blackened buildings left behind by fires.
Rick rode a bay horse, carrying a heavy gun bag. Under his sheriff's hat, his face was clean-cut and handsome, brow furrowed, blue eyes filled with unease.
After a moment's hesitation, Rick gently squeezed the bay horse's belly, urging it forward.
The bay horse's tail swished. The keen animal's instincts made it somewhat irritable.
As they entered the city, the tail swished with increasing amplitude. The bay horse trotted forward anxiously.
Rick on horseback looked at the desolate apocalyptic landscape, momentarily caught up in complex emotions.
Rumble rumble—
Rick's head snapped up. He saw a building covered in glass exterior walls reflecting a helicopter.
The helicopter flashed past. Rick's eyes burst with endless hope as he quickly urged the bay horse on.
"Hyah, follow it!"
The bay horse carried Rick at full speed.
On the wide avenue, the crisp sound of hoofbeats awakened one sleeping walker after another.
The walkers opened their cloudy eyes one by one, standing up to search for prey.
Rick's mind was entirely focused on the helicopter in the air. He completely failed to notice the walkers gathering behind him in increasing numbers, already blocking the road in twos and threes.
The commotion he'd created not only attracted the walkers' attention but also caught the eye of Glenn, who stood on a high-rise looking for escape routes.
Squinting, Glenn looked over.
"Jesus, is this guy playing some cop dropping into Atlanta or something?"
Glenn could hardly believe why Rick was so intent on getting himself killed.
Just then, Rick also saw the dense horde standing on the road ahead. They turned in unison, their gazes locking onto Rick.
Rick's hair stood on end. Waves of cold ran up his spine. He pulled the reins and turned the horse around.
The bay horse took the opportunity to push to full speed, charging forward.
But Rick hadn't gone far before he ran into the walker horde coming from behind.
Rick couldn't stop in time. The bay horse crashed into several walkers, sending them flying back with multiple broken bones.
The bay horse could no longer tolerate Rick. It whinnied, reared up on its hind legs, threw Rick off, and charged in another direction.
Landing on the back of his head, Rick's world began spinning. He staggered to his feet—walkers were already right in front of him.
Rick could clearly feel those filthy claws reaching for his abdomen, but though he desperately tried to move his body, it wouldn't respond. Even standing was difficult.
Fear seized Rick's heart.
Glenn, standing on the high-rise, turned his back and crouched down. He knew that man was beyond saving.
Just then, a loud explosion echoed through the entire street.
The shockwave instantly knocked Rick down. He curled up on the ground, his vision spinning.
The surrounding walkers were also blown over. After falling, they struggled to their feet and rushed toward the source of the noise.
Glenn was startled alert by the massive sound. He released his arms from around his head, straightened up, and looked.
"Hahaha, die, you sons of bitches!"
Pink hair flying, Tate tossed aside the rocket launcher, grabbed two submachine guns from the ground, and opened fire on the walker horde ahead.
Her marksmanship was good—she accurately hit the walkers' brains.
They fell like autumn wheat, row after row, lifeless.
Walkers were stupid in their fearlessness, just kept coming forward to die.
Tate's face flushed, her body trembling slightly with excitement as she laughed madly, expending bullets.
After emptying two guns, she put them down and grabbed two more.
For a moment, the powerful firepower actually pushed the death line back a dozen positions.
Rick lay on the ground. His ringing ears were finally slowly recovering, but then he heard a hoarse woman's shouting and battlefield gunfire.
Rick smiled bitterly. "Am I in heaven? Why is there still a crazy woman here?"
Having lost the walkers' attention, Rick even began reviewing his entire life.
"Hiss—"
Rick frowned and looked. "Fuck, why are there walkers in heaven too?"
A walker missing its lower half hadn't been attracted by the gunfire. Its attention was entirely on Rick as it crawled forward on both hands.
Staring straight at Rick, determined to tear off a couple chunks of flesh from him.
Rick looked around. Even if he was already dead, he didn't want to be eaten by walkers.
Looking around, Rick discovered his gun bag had been thrown not far away, and the gun on his body had also fallen.
That Colt Python was nowhere to be seen either.
Closer and closer. Rick could even see that half-walker's wide-open mouth. It was already impatient.
Rick completely failed to notice the gradually increasing roar of an engine, only thinking about one question.
If a person dies, can they die again?
Splat—
Suddenly, the half-walker's head in front of him exploded like a watermelon, shattered gore spraying out along with brain matter and other contents that covered Rick completely.
The fishy stench hit Rick's nostrils intensely, making him instantly realize he was still alive.
Tap tap—
In Rick's field of vision appeared a pair of cowboy boots. Looking up—jeans. Further up—a tall Asian man with black hair and black eyes.
Also a cowboy.
Caesar frowned and lightly kicked Rick. "You still conscious?"
Rick shook his head and said seriously, "I think I have a concussion."
Caesar said nothing, just bent down, lifted Rick up, and stuffed him into the back seat.