Quarry Camp
Er… Er… Er… "Oh-ho!!!!"
Merle, holding a bottle of high-proof liquor in one hand and steering the wildly roaring Dodger Challenger with the other, howled like an ape out of the wide-open car window.
Shawn, in the passenger seat, watched Merle's antics and secretly tightened his seatbelt.
Forget about the Zombies; at least don't flip the car… But it was fine; although Merle was crazy, he still had some skills.
The drive from Atlanta back to the desolate Quarry Camp in the suburbs, apart from being a bit bumpy, didn't cause any major issues.
Before they even arrived, several Fully Armed figures emerged from the Camp. One man with neat short hair squinted, and after seeing Merle's face, he quickly ran towards the car with his crossbow on his back.
"Woah~~ Woah~~" Merle, driving drunk, swerved, almost hitting his own brother.
"Fuck, Merle, you bastard, are you trying to murder me?!"
Daryl vigorously poked the air in front of Merle, but Shawn still saw the tears in the old man's eyes that he was trying hard to conceal.
"Hahaha, didn't I come back?"
Merle even held up a whiskey bottle with one hand and vividly danced in front of Daryl for a bit. Today had been an extremely stimulating day for him, otherwise he wouldn't have been so wild.
"Hey, little brother, let me introduce you—Shawn! He's the one who saved me."
Daryl broke free from Merle's embrace, his eyes not on Merle or Shawn, but looking elsewhere.
He raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose, sniffed, and looked utterly cool.
"Thanks, Wu… Shawn."
Daryl's way of expressing gratitude was always so unique; someone who didn't know him might think he was the one receiving praise.
"It was nothing. Besides, your brother also helped us. We don't owe each other anything."
Shawn was very clear on this. Although Merle was confused and didn't realize it, he had indeed saved his life.
"Shawn!"
Rick also ran over from a distance. Seeing Shawn's face, there was surprise but also a hint of wariness. He quickly pulled little Carl, who was clinging to him, behind his back.
Even Shane, seeing Rick's actions, tacitly positioned himself in front of little Carl, his two large hands resting on his waist, where a Glock 17 was tucked, its magazine full of bullets.
"You…"
"After you left, I hid back in the tank. Later, I realized it wasn't a bite wound on my lower back, just a scratch. I must have gotten it before I passed out in the tank; the wound is already scabbing over."
As he spoke, Shawn pulled open his combat uniform, showing the wound to everyone.
Sure enough, under the effect of Antibiotics, the virus was killed, and his body was gradually recovering. A thick layer of scab had formed over the wound; it was impossible for it to have been injured just a few hours ago.
As he examined Shawn's wound, Rick's recently brightened eyes dimmed again.
"I'm sorry, I just thought you were…"
"Hey." Shawn patted Rick's shoulder and gestured with his chin towards the little guy behind him: "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Rick sighed in relief and pushed little Carl forward.
"This is my son, Carl. Before the apocalypse, I was injured and in the Hospital. I just found them in the Camp today."
Unconsciously, smiles appeared on everyone's faces as they walked towards the Camp.
No one was injured, no one was infected—this was perhaps the most fortunate thing in the apocalypse.
Another day passed smoothly!
…After introducing himself in the Camp, Shawn officially joined the Quarry Camp.
Seeing Shawn's army combat uniform, the Camp members were quite happy, as it meant the Camp had gained another fighting force.
The next day, in the evening.
Everyone sat around the lit bonfire. Little Carl hid between Rick and Lori, peeking out with his small eyes, curiously looking at Shawn.
To be precise, he was looking at the Ma Bone Warhammer behind Shawn.
The Warhammer was still stained with Zombie blood, and its sheer size added a sense of gravitas and oppression to Shawn.
Shawn, carrying the Ma Bone Warhammer, resembled a barbarian from Diablo, appearing both powerful and mysterious.
"What kind of bone is that?"
"Carl!"
Lori exclaimed, pulling Carl closer into her arms, her apologetic eyes looking at Shawn.
Perhaps, in her opinion, having someone like Merle in the Camp was already enough; with another Shawn… she was concerned about little Carl's safety.
"It's fine."
Shawn glanced at little Carl with interest and waved his hand.
After a moment of thought, Shawn turned and left, returning with a bag of firearms in his hand.
"Is that the gun bag left in Atlanta?" Rick quickly stood up. The role of firearms in the current situation was undeniable; even Rick, a patient who had only recently woken up, could realize this.
"Some of it was used up; the rest everyone can share."
Shawn looked at everyone's faces by the firelight. Almost everyone from the Quarry Camp was there, except Ed.
During the day, he had been beaten by Shane for abusing Carol and was now recovering in his tent.
Of course, it was also because Shawn had deliberately not called him.
Knowing the plot, Shawn knew that many Atlanta Zombies would raid the Quarry Camp that night. It was a good opportunity to use the Zombies to clear out the Camp's trash.
Since he had joined the Camp, he naturally had to consider its well-being.
Thinking of this, a smile appeared on Shawn's face.
"Since I'm here, I'll make the best of it. Since I'm destined to live in this apocalypse, I won't let those tragedies happen again."
If someone were to take a group photo of the people gathered around this bonfire, they would find that, in the distant future, 85% of the photo would be gray.
Glenn, Merle, Carl, Lori, Shane… Shawn tightened the Ma Bone Warhammer on his back, seemingly realizing what he, the Butcher, wanted to do after being born into this apocalypse.
"If I must kill, then I will kill to my heart's content."
Crack—
A crisp sound pulled Shawn's thoughts back.
Shawn's expression changed, and he suddenly sprang up, his hand resting on the Ma Bone Warhammer behind him.
Everyone was startled by Shawn's actions, then quickly stood up with their guns. Merle looked half-drunk and half-awake, but he came straight to Shawn's back without deviation. Daryl naturally followed his brother.
"What's wrong?" Rick picked up a remington shotgun and asked with a frown.
"Shh—" Meeting everyone's gaze, Shawn put a finger to his lips.
He carefully moved his feet, came to a dark corner obscured by tall grass behind him, and parted the branches with the Ma Bone Warhammer in his hand.
Boom—!
A hideous face burst out. The Zombie roared at Shawn, completely unafraid of the several firearms, but rather becoming more excited.
And with the Zombie's roar, low growls came from all directions. Soon, a tragic wail came from the edge of the Camp in the distance.
"It's Ed!" Carol cried out in panic.
Splat—!
Shawn held the Ma Bone Warhammer with one hand, and with three strikes, he smashed the Zombie's head to pieces.
Golden light flashed!
[Level Up, Lv2 → Lv3]
[Skill Point gained: 1]
[You can now allocate skill points]
This Zombie just happened to fill the experience pool, and his level advanced to Lv3.
"Basic attributes are the trunk, and other combat passive skills and buffs are the branches."
Without hesitation, Shawn directly allocated the skill point to the basic attribute—Strength.
[(Milk Fiend) Level 3/10, Strength and Headshot Rate slightly increased]
Level 3/10 Milk Fiend