"Hey, hey, hey, what are you all discussing here? Pushing me out isn't very nice!"
A voice heavy with the stench of alcohol came from behind the crowd.
Everyone turned back and saw Merle Dixon stumbling over.
His face was flushed, his eyes unfocused, and he reeked of cheap, overnight alcohol—leftover stock he'd dug up from some corner.
He had drunk too much last night and slept until the sun was high in the sky.
When he woke up and found the camp terrifyingly quiet, he thought those things had broken in.
Only after crawling out of his tent did he see everyone gathered at the mine entrance, chattering endlessly.
He swayed over and pushed through the crowd.
Then he saw those heavily armed people.
Black tactical gear.
Bulletproof vests.
M4 rifles.
And the woman standing at the very front, wearing the same equipment—
"Whoa?"
Merle's drunkenness vanished by more than half, his eyes widening like copper bells: "Isn't this little lady Andrea?"
He walked over quickly, looking up and down at this brand-new woman.
Her blonde hair was neatly combed, her posture upright, and there was a newfound confidence in her eyes.
Most importantly—this gear, it looked damn cool.
"Heard you joined some Umbrella Corporation?"
Merle grinned, revealing a few yellowed teeth: "Looks like you're doing pretty well! How about Daryl and I join too, what do you say?"
Andrea looked at him, her brow furrowing so tightly a fly could be crushed between them.
This hoodlum.
This scoundrel.
This foul-mouthed, sticky-fingered, trouble-making old rogue.
Back at the mine, she had hated him to death.
"You're not welcome."
She said coldly: "A person like you doesn't belong there."
Merle's smile froze for a moment.
"Wait, Andrea."
A voice came from the side.
Sandra stepped forward, glanced at Andrea, and said in a calm but unquestionable tone: "You have no right to reject anyone. The BOSS only let us be responsible for recruitment, not decide who can be recruited."
Andrea opened her mouth, wanting to retort, but finally closed it.
Sandra was right.
She was just an executor, not a decision-maker.
Merle looked at Andrea, then at Sandra, and a smile slowly piled onto his face.
He gave Sandra a thumbs up:
"Tsk, this lady is sensible, much better than some others."
He deliberately glanced at Andrea: "Once you put on that uniform, you forget who you are."
Andrea clenched her fists, gritting her teeth.
But she held back.
She remembered what Wu Fan had said— "We are a formal company."
A formal company cannot settle personal scores.
Andrea took a deep breath and pulled a photo out of her pocket.
It was what Wu Fan had given her before he left.
She had kept it in her pocket, not knowing when to use it.
Now, it was time.
She scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on a woman holding a child.
Lori Grimes.
Blonde, haggard, but one could still tell she used to be a beauty.
She held a seven or eight-year-old boy in her arms, and standing next to her was a man with a livid complexion—Shane.
"Lori."
Andrea called out: "My BOSS has a photo for you here."
The crowd went quiet instantly.
Everyone's eyes focused on Lori.
A photo?
BOSS?
That head of Umbrella Corporation, knows Lori?
Lori looked up blankly, not understanding why she was suddenly being called.
She hesitated for a moment, handed the child to Shane, walked over, and took the photo Andrea handed her.
She looked down.
She froze.
In the photo was a man in a hospital gown.
He was sitting on a hospital bed, with white walls and medical equipment in the background.
He was much thinner than in her memory, with prominent cheekbones and stubble, but those eyes—
Those gray-blue eyes were smiling at the camera.
Rick.
It was Rick.
Lori's hands began to tremble.
The second photo.
Rick was doing rehabilitation training in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with a woman in a white coat supporting him.
The third one.
Rick was lying on the bed, giving a thumbs up to the camera; although weak, his smile was still warm.
"He..."
Lori's voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible: "He is still alive..."
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Mom?"
Carl ran over at some point, pulling on his mother's shirt, his little face full of worry: "Mom, what's wrong?"
Lori crouched down, hugged her son tightly, and tears streamed down uncontrollably.
"Carl..."
She choked out: "Your dad is still alive... He's okay... He's doing just fine..."
She handed the photo to Carl to see.
Carl stared at the man in the photo for a few seconds, then a big smile bloomed on his little face: "Dad! It's Dad! Dad is still alive!"
Mother and son hugged, crying and laughing.
Beside them, Shane froze in place.
He was still holding Carl's other hand, but he was as motionless as if he'd been struck by lightning.
Rick was still alive.
His good brother, his partner, the man he had left behind in the hospital—was still alive.
Then what about Lori? What about him and Lori?
Shane's mind went blank.
Lori wiped away her tears, stood up, and grabbed Andrea's hand: "Take me to see him, please, take me to see him."
Andrea nodded: "He is at the base, very safe. If you come back with us now, you'll be able to see him very soon."
Lori nodded repeatedly, then turned and grabbed Shane's arm.
"Shane, you come too!"
Her tone was unquestionable: "We're going to see Rick together!"
Shane opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't say anything.
He looked at Lori's expectant eyes, then at Carl's excited little face, and finally nodded.
"Okay."
He said hoarsely: "I'll join."
But in his heart, he was thinking: How do I explain this to Rick? How do I tell him I slept with his wife?
Glenn watched all this from the side, and seeing Shane nod, he had nothing to hesitate about.
He stepped forward: "I'll join too! Besides, I'm on my own, it's the same wherever I go."
On the edge of the crowd, Ed pulled Carol and a little girl over.
His face still bore the bruises from when Shane hit him, but at this moment, he squeezed out a fawning smile:
"Uh... our family of three, we'll join too."
Andrea looked at him, her eyes cold.
This man often hit his wife, was never around when there was work to do, and would never go out to look for supplies.
Now he knew how to opportunistically climb the ladder.
But she remembered Sandra's words.
No right to refuse.
"Fine."
She said stiffly, then looked away, not wanting to look at him any longer.
Carol lowered her head, holding her daughter Sophia's hand, saying nothing.
Merle watched this scene from the side, suddenly remembered something, and slapped his thigh:
"Damn it! My brother!"
He turned and ran a few steps toward the woods, then stopped, scratching his head, looking troubled.
Daryl had gone out hunting and hadn't returned yet.
If he came back and found the camp empty, what would he think?
He had to leave a note.
But the problem was—Merle had dropped out of elementary school, and in his life, apart from his own name, he basically didn't know any other words.
Write a letter? That was a fantasy.
He shamelessly walked back to Andrea: "Uh... beauty, do me a favor, help me write a note?"
Andrea rolled her eyes, but still took the paper and pen.
"Speak."
"Just write..."
Merle scratched his head, struggling to organize his language: "Just say... I went to the CDC with the Umbrella Corporation, it's safe there, there's food and drink, you just find me when you get there. Oh right, sign it Merle."
Andrea scribbled it down and handed it to him.
Merle took the note, looked at it—although he couldn't recognize all of it, he got the general idea.
He nodded with satisfaction, folded the note, walked to the edge of the camp, stuck it on the fuel tank of Daryl's motorcycle, and weighed it down with a stone.
After doing all this, he ran back and squeezed into the car.
"Let's go!"
Sandra shouted.
The convoy started slowly.
Several pickup trucks led the way, Dale's RV followed behind, and the humvee brought up the rear.
Those without cars squeezed into the truck beds or simply sat on the roofs, holding their luggage, with anticipation and unease about the future on their faces.
The mine grew further and further away.
Shane sat in his car, looking through the window at the land that was gradually blurring, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
He looked back—Lori was holding Carl, looking at those photos.
Her face wore a smile he had never seen before.
Shane looked away and stared at the road ahead.
He didn't know what was waiting for him.
But he knew that from today on, everything was different.
The convoy kicked up dust along the way, driving in the direction of Atlanta.
Behind them, the mine fell into silence.
Only the wind blew through the empty tents, blew over the pile of extinguished campfires, and blew over the lonely motorcycle.
On the fuel tank of the motorcycle, a note fluttered gently.