Chapter 91: Psycho Killer
Warm yellow lamplight illuminated the walls, the air filled with the sweet smell of alcohol and the spice of roasted meat—an incredibly warm atmosphere.
Blood splattered in sheets across the rough walls, accompanied by angry cursing.
"Fuck, why is it so hard to cut off a head!"
"Damn it, it looks so easy in movies, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!!"
Ford stood up staggering, covered in fresh blood. He looked back to see blood everywhere on the floor and walls, and broke down shouting: "Fuck! How am I supposed to clean this up!"
Looking down, he saw that after spending so much effort, he'd barely managed to cut through the necks of two or three people. Three heads were piled to the side—his handiwork.
Unfortunately, the floor had already become a complete mess, turned into a pool of blood. One step on it and it was very slippery.
Ford complained for a while, then lowered his head and continued hacking at the corpses.
By the time Ford finished dismembering the bodies, the entire dining room had become completely unwatchable—a total psycho killer scene.
Ford collapsed into a chair, reached out and grabbed a bottle from the table. Just as he was about to pour it into his mouth, he squinted at the label on the bottle, then threw it violently against the wall.
"Made too many of those, what a waste."
Ford felt regret as he rummaged under the table, smashing all the poisoned wine bottles one by one, then picked out an unpoisoned bottle, opened it, and chugged directly from it.
The liquor flowed like scalding flames into his stomach. Ford let out a comfortable sigh.
He looked at both sides of the dining table—on one side were piled headless corpses, on the other side were the heads separated from their bodies.
Ford suddenly froze, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He was certain he hadn't seen wrong.
"Damn, these people can still turn into walkers after dying!"
Ford felt he'd discovered something incredible. Among the pile of heads to the side, one head's mouth suddenly moved.
Like a fuse being lit, the other heads began moving too.
Ford stroked his chin. "So you can turn into a walker even without being infected with the virus."
"No wonder... no wonder..."
Sunlight streamed through the window into the dining room, diluting the violent atmosphere inside.
Creak—the door was pushed open. Wind blew into the dining room, and the bloody smell surged out.
Wayne walked into the dining room and froze. In the dining room—slightly illuminated by sunlight but still dim—a burly man was eating the leftover scraps on the table, devouring meat in big bites.
Blood was everywhere on the floor and walls, as if an obsessive-compulsive psycho killer had arranged things—bodies with bodies, heads with heads.
"Mm, Wayne, you're here." Ford gnawed on a turkey leg, casually pointing at a seat. "Sit down, what are you staring at?"
Wayne felt his brain had been impacted by this scene until he was a bit dizzy. He wanted to take a deep breath to calm down, but ended up inhaling a mouthful of bloody smell. In the end he couldn't hold it in, turned around and left the dining room to find a place to vomit.
When Wayne returned after recovering, Ford had already found a large burlap sack and packed up those skulls.
"You're back. Find some people to help me clean up these corpses, and also get all the blood in the room cleaned up."
"Oh right, don't let the residents see, in case they think I'm some kind of psycho killer, that wouldn't be good."
Hearing this, Wayne raised his head and looked at Ford.
He nodded inwardly—you're not 'like' one, you damn well ARE one!
Wayne wisely didn't say it out loud. He knew Ford didn't care whether the ranch residents knew or not that he'd killed these people, he was just worried they'd be frightened by the killing and word would get to Caesar.
Ultimately affecting Ford's own future position.
After all, as a ranch leader, one had to consider the residents' opinions.
Wayne found a few of Ford's trusted men and worked with them to dispose of all the corpses and clean the dining room.
Afterward, Ford rode a horse carrying a burlap sack, followed by Wayne and others, heading toward Caesar's ranch.
At Caesar's ranch, everything was peaceful and settled.
Because last night the ranch people had rarely stayed up late in the apocalypse, playing until very late.
Many had gotten drunk. Quite a few people, even though they'd sobered up, still carried a strong smell of alcohol.
Caesar held Amy in his arms, also lingering in bed.
Faint sounds reached Caesar's ears, along with urgent reporting voices.
Caesar's eyes snapped open. Before him was the sleeping Amy.
Amy hugged Caesar, both hands and feet wrapped around Caesar's body like an octopus.
Caesar pinched Amy's cheeks, carefully separated her hands and feet, and covered the naked Amy with a blanket.
He casually grabbed a robe from the clothing rack and wrapped his body.
Caesar walked out of the stone house. As soon as he came out, he saw Daryl and Morales standing at the garden gate.
"What's wrong?"
Caesar walked over and opened the wooden fence of the garden.
Daryl looked at Caesar. "Ford's here—the new manager from Leon's ranch."
Caesar's eyes narrowed. "He's here to surrender?"
"Yes." Daryl nodded.
"An unexpected pleasure." Caesar didn't doubt it, a smile appearing on his face.
After Caesar cleaned up and changed into a cowboy outfit, he rode a horse to the council hall.
The council hall was still the same as before, not yet renovated or rebuilt.
Walking into the meeting room, he saw Ford and Wayne and several others sitting upright in chairs.
Seeing Caesar's arrival, Ford and his men immediately stood up, smiling warmly and saying: "Hello, I'm Ford, temporarily managing Leon's ranch."
"This is Wayne."
Both sides introduced their members. Seeing their good attitude, Caesar didn't put on a cold face either, pointing at the chairs and saying:
"Sit, sit, sit, everyone sit. I know why you're here. I never intended to do anything to your ranch."
"But the fact that you can come join our ranch family still makes me very happy."
Ford knew this was just polite talk, but still smiled and agreed a few times.
"So, what are your requests?"
After some pleasantries, Caesar went straight to the point and asked.
Time to plan benefits for himself.
Ford's eyes lit up. He pointed at those around him and said: "My request is to become a combat squad captain at the ranch."
"These old subordinates of mine also want to join the combat squads."
"Of course, they don't have to join my squad."
Ford's words were watertight. If all his original squad members joined Caesar's ranch and were still part of his squad...
Then would they listen to Caesar, or listen to Ford?
The very possibility of this would bring suspicion. Ford just wanted status, not a private army.
Caesar laughed heartily. "That's all?"
Ford showed an honest smile. "Boss, we're really just trying to get by."
"At Leon's ranch, though we could still herd cattle and sheep, there was no place to grow grain. If we continued like that we'd definitely starve to death."
"We have to survive."
"Of course, I also brought a gift."
Ford picked up a large burlap sack, smiling honestly as he opened it. "Look, these are all the people who opposed us joining Caesar's ranch."