Andrea even gave Rick a somewhat surprised look: "You look so young, yet you have such a big son? But he sounds much more reliable than you."
"Regardless, he's still just a child."
Unaware of their assumptions, Rick's tone grew heavy, "I have to go find him and bring him back."
The group, who had been full of complaints about Rick, couldn't say much more upon hearing that he might have inadvertently put his own son in danger. Andrea pursed her lips and fell silent.
Morales shook his head and said, "You should worry about yourself first. With these things around, we won't be leaving here easily."
Only Glenn stepped forward firmly, patting Rick on the shoulder to comfort him: "Don't worry, man. That tough little guy definitely won't go down easy! I know the area pretty well, maybe I can help you later..."
Before he could finish, a rapid burst of gunfire suddenly rang out from the direction of the rooftop!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
"Damn it! It's that bastard Merle!" Morales's face changed.
Immediately drawn by the gunshots, everyone rushed toward the stairs leading to the rooftop.
When they pushed open the door to the rooftop, a wave of heat mixed with the pungent smell of gunpowder hit them.
They saw a burly white man with a short buzz cut, standing excitedly at the edge of the rooftop.
He wore a dirty brown tank top and an open leather vest, holding a large-caliber rifle, shooting at the aimlessly wandering Walkers on the street below as if at a shooting range.
"Damn it! Merle Dixon, are you wonderful!?" Morales rushed forward and shouted angrily.
Merle didn't even bother to turn his head, just leisurely fired another shot before slowly turning around, jumping down from the edge of the steps with a contemptuous and arrogant smile on his face.
"Hey! I'm saying, shouldn't you show some respect when talking to someone with a gun? Huh?"
He pointed the gun barrel at Morales, "Use some common sense, will ya."
At that moment, a tall but simple-faced black man couldn't help but step forward and argue with him: "Damn it! We're almost out of bullets, and you're wasting them here?!"
"Hey! Listen to who's talking!"
Merle acted as if he'd heard the biggest joke. He walked up to T-Dog, looking him up and down with an extremely insulting gaze, his mouth sweet as honey:
"Since when the fuck do I need a monkey like you to tell me what to do? Get the hell out of here!"
His blatantly racist remark instantly ignited everyone's anger.
"What the hell did you say!"
"Merle! You've gone too far!"
Everyone stepped forward to criticize him, and T-Dog, enraged, charged forward and started wrestling with Merle.
However, Merle, high on drugs, was like a frenzied beast at that moment, incredibly strong.
He knocked T-Dog to the ground in a few moves, shoved aside others who tried to intervene, and still unsatisfied, grabbed the fallen T-Dog and punched him hard in the face, blow after blow!
"Oh no! Stop it!"
Andrea, Glenn, and others hurried forward to stop him but were roughly pushed away by Merle.
Finally, Merle pulled out a pistol, pressed it against T-Dog's forehead, then stood up arrogantly, looking around at the intimidated group.
"Alright," he spat to the side, "let's have a little meeting here today to decide who the fuck is in charge!"
"I vote for myself, how about you? Huh?"
Merle, with both hands intact, held the gun in one hand and raised the other, laughing arrogantly: "Damn, today I'm gonna have a little democracy."
"Everyone who agrees that I'm in charge from now on, raise your damn hands!"
Facing the dark gun barrel and Merle's strength, Morales rubbed his bruised stomach and could only reluctantly raise his hand to temporarily placate Merle.
Seeing this, the others, though filled with anger and resentment, had to reluctantly follow suit. Only a Short-haired Black Woman silently raised a middle finger in defiance.
But Merle didn't notice these details. Seeing that everyone had "voluntarily agreed" to let him be in charge, Merle smiled with satisfaction.
"Anyone else have any objections!"
No one responded. He tapped the gun barrel toward the group and repeated, "Anyone else!"
"Me."
A calm and steady voice came from behind the crowd.
"Huh?"
Merle turned his head sharply. Before he could see who it was, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain shot through his cheek!
"Thud!"
Rick had somehow rushed behind him and slammed Merle's own rifle butt hard into his face!
Merle screamed in pain, stumbling from the blow.
Rick then stepped forward, kicked him to the ground, and without hesitation dragged him to a metal pipe at the edge of the rooftop, handcuffing him tightly to it with a "click"!
The whole process took only a few seconds.
"Who the fuck are you!?" Merle lay on the ground, holding his bleeding face, shouting in disbelief.
"A friendly cop."
Rick expressionlessly took Merle's pistol, crouched down, and looked at him coldly.
"Listen, things have changed. There's no racism or white supremacy here. This isn't the time for infighting. We can only survive by working together, understand?"
The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
Merle looked at Rick and suddenly gave a friendly smile: "Asshole, go to hell."
Rick sighed, immediately flicked off the pistol's safety, and pressed the dark gun barrel directly against Merle's forehead.
"Show some respect when talking to someone with a gun."
Rick's voice was as cold as ice, "I think... that's common sense?"
This direct death threat finally sobered up Merle's drug-addled brain a bit.
"You... you won't shoot," he said with a bit of bluster, "you're a cop."
"Right now, I just want to find my wife and son." Rick looked at him, enunciating each word, "Anyone who gets in my way dies."
After saying that, he ignored Merle's frantic curses and roars, stood up, and without hesitation threw a small packet of drugs he'd found on him off the rooftop.
Morales looked at Rick, who had walked to the edge of the rooftop and was gazing into the distance, and raised an eyebrow: "You're not a cop from Atlanta. Where are you from?"
Rick looked at the gray city overrun by Walkers in the distance and said slowly, "The other side of the highway."
"Ha," Morales chuckled, "Welcome to the big city, Friendly Cop from the other side of the highway."
...While Rick faced constant turmoil, Louis's journey back alone was equally difficult.
He had been careful about how he used magic, not exhausting himself completely when luring away the horde of Walkers, but he seemed to have overestimated the physical stamina of his eleven-year-old body.
The city was already in ruins, with overturned cars, collapsed scaffolding, and various construction debris everywhere.
They piled up in the middle of the roads, forming natural obstacles that fragmented the once-wide streets.
When riding a horse, he could rely on the horse's height and jumping ability, aided by the weight-reducing effect of the Levitation Charm, to easily leap over them.
But now, on his own, he could only slowly climb over or detour around them using his hands and feet.
Although he could now levitate himself off the ground for a while with his wand, maintaining such high concentration throughout was extremely draining on his energy.
He couldn't afford to waste his stamina and focus on traveling; he had to keep enough in reserve to handle unexpected situations.
The only relief was that he had brought that Skateboard ahead of time. On relatively flat stretches, it really helped, saving him a lot of energy.
"Whew... this is really tough!"
Louis stopped, wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked at the outline of the department store in the distance, and quickly sorted through the upcoming plot in his mind, laying the groundwork for his future "character script."