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Chapter 19: Jim Goes Mad
Dale followed the gentle gravel path up to the platform.
He looked over and saw only Jim continuously digging holes. With each shovel thrust, his body swayed.
Dale's brow furrowed deeply. He called out, "Jim?"
Jim didn't answer. Dale could see beads of sweat the size of beans rolling down his body, drop after drop.
Dale suspected he was suffering from heatstroke, his consciousness unclear.
Taking a deep breath, Dale walked over, wanting to get closer to ask.
Unexpectedly, Jim swung the shovel horizontally and glared at Dale. "What do you want?"
Dale hadn't expected such a strong reaction. He could only raise both hands placatingly. "I don't want anything. Jim, do you know what you're doing?"
"I know exactly what I'm doing." Jim's gaze was firm.
Dale hesitated for a moment, then slowly retreated and left.
Returning to camp, Dale noticed Rick and Shane had already come back.
The two were eating, the atmosphere peaceful.
"Everyone, I have some not-so-good news."
Dale's heavy tone made everyone's hearts sink.
Shane's brow furrowed again. He stood up. "Go ahead, Dale."
After Dale explained, Shane immediately led people up to the platform.
A group of people scattered around Jim in a loose circle. Jim paid no attention, focused on digging holes.
Rick took a deep breath and extended his hand. "Hello, you're Jim, right?"
Jim glanced at him, then at Shane beside him, and scoffed.
The laugh was jarring, but Shane understood what Jim meant. His face immediately flushed red.
Rick wanted to continue questioning, but unexpectedly Shane stopped him and directed Glenn, T-Dog, and Morales to surround Jim from multiple positions.
Jim sensed trouble. He swung the shovel twice, but he'd exerted too much force digging and had little strength left.
Shane found an opening, stepped forward and seized Jim's shovel. The rest rushed in together.
They pinned Jim to the ground together.
Seeing Jim subdued, Rick had them lift Jim's face up, wanting to ask questions.
The surrounding crowd suddenly parted at one corner, accompanied by exclamations.
Rick looked over. It was Caesar, Rip, and Jimmy—the three of them.
All three looked quite disheveled, covered in black blood and chunks of flesh. You couldn't even see their actual clothing colors.
Especially Caesar—even his cowboy hat was splattered with blood.
Caesar, carrying a thick aura of blood, walked into the circle and saw the restrained Jim.
He had no mood to listen to this nonsense. He strode forward and delivered a fierce punch to Jim's jaw.
Jim's eyes rolled back and he passed out.
"Someone drag him down and tie him up. Use some water to cool him down."
After speaking, two or three unfamiliar faces emerged from the crowd, stepping forward to drag Jim away.
Caesar looked toward Rick and Shane. "We need to prepare. A large herd of walkers is about to attack."
After Caesar explained the situation, Rick and Shane fell into silence.
The quarry camp—Shane and the others had stayed here for quite a long time. Although there weren't many food sources here, the low number of walkers allowed them to feel the stability of peacetime.
But now, a walker herd was about to attack.
Whether they fled or fought, Shane understood that they wouldn't be staying at the quarry camp anymore.
Caesar said, "You don't have a choice. We can only stay and fight this group of walkers."
Rick and Shane raised their heads to look at Caesar.
"You think if you run, the walkers won't chase you? Also, how can you be sure that outside the valley, there won't be even more walkers?"
"From my observations, these walkers are from an outside herd that accidentally wandered into the valley during migration. Their numbers only represent a small portion of the entire herd."
"But if you go out there, you'll run straight into the herd's main force."
Imagining leading his group and plunging headfirst into a tide of hundreds of thousands of walkers, Shane's back broke out in cold sweat.
Rick also drew a sharp breath.
"So we actually only have one choice—eliminate this group of walkers, then get out quickly."
"Wait, even if we eliminate this group of walkers, won't we still run into the walker herd when we leave?"
Rick asked in confusion.
Caesar shook his head. "The herd will leave the valley area tonight. So we at least need to hold out through tonight."
Hearing Caesar's explanation, Rick nodded, indicating he understood.
After the discussion, Caesar grabbed some clothes and headed to the lake to bathe, while Rip walked over.
"What's wrong?"
Caesar noticed Rip's expression wasn't right and stopped to ask.
"I need to kill that Ed."
Rip stated directly.
"Mm, okay. Tonight when the walker tide attacks, I'll give you a look. You just throw Ed into the herd."
"Don't do it yourself—too easy to tell."
Caesar didn't ask for reasons. He provided his assassination plan.
Having received his answer, Rip turned and left. Actually, he didn't need Caesar to plan how to kill Ed—he just wanted Caesar's approval, to avoid causing trouble for Caesar.
Throughout the afternoon, no one left camp. Everyone single-mindedly set up traps and moved vehicles.
The camp was positioned in the middle section of the gravel road. In front was a cliff, behind was forest—a circular formation.
Caesar learned from Rick that there weren't many walkers in the direction they'd come from, indicating the walkers were mainly coming from Caesar's approach direction.
The walkers should be entering from the gravel road at the valley entrance, then going into the forest and using the camp's occasional noises to locate it.
Therefore, Caesar arranged the main traps in the forest direction.
The traps were made by the Dixon brothers, Daryl and Merle. They were skilled hunters with their own unique methods for making traps.
Limited by the camp people's manual abilities and insufficient personnel, Caesar didn't place high expectations on these traps. He only needed them to alert when walkers were approaching.
The main deterrent to walkers would still be the vehicles—vehicles belonging to camp people that unfortunately lacked sufficient fuel or had mechanical problems and couldn't be driven away.
Caesar made use of these废 resources, dismantling the vehicles and removing all usable parts.
He used the car frames to block the forest side, filling the vehicles' undersides with dirt to prevent walkers from crawling through underneath.
The traps were the first line of defense, the cars the second line, and the third line was themselves.
Walkers were creatures without fear. Caesar's group couldn't scare them away—they could only eliminate them all.
Caesar issued orders for everyone to wear sufficient clothing to reduce the possibility of walker bites.
Even if they sacrificed some agility, it was better than being bitten.
Caesar also instructed the camp to make wooden spears. Although they lacked proper tools, they still made over a dozen—enough for the camp people to defend themselves.
These tasks should have been Shane's to do, but somehow command authority had been transferred to Caesar.
Perhaps it was when Caesar emerged from the woods, covered in the blood of slaughtered walkers yet uninjured, bringing his people out alive.
The camp people believed Caesar was someone capable of keeping them alive.
Shane's leadership position hadn't been very stable to begin with. This completely transferred it to Caesar.