The return trip passed without incident, and the convoy drove steadily all the way to the foot of the Smoky Mountains.
Looking at the fork in the road ahead, Calista suddenly had an idea and tapped the back of Turner's seat.
"Take a detour. Let's swing by Blackberry Ranch at the base of the mountain—it's not far."
She needed to see what her future territory looked like now.
The convoy followed a desolate ranch road.
From a distance, they could already see scattered walkers wandering slowly across the ranch.
"This place has fallen too..." Leah said quietly, her mood sinking.
Just over a month ago, after finishing a mission, they had passed through here on their way to rest at Calista's estate.
At the time, Blackberry Ranch had been picturesque and luxurious, attracting tourists from all over the world.
Now the once-neatly trimmed lawns were choked with weeds, and the beautiful vacation cabins had fallen into ruin.
"Should we stop?" Turner asked.
"Let's check it out. If there's anything useful, we'll take it," Calista said, signaling the vehicle behind them. The two cars slowly came to a stop.
"Spread out and search. Clear the walkers. Focus on the livestock sheds and warehouses," Leah ordered.
She also had Jenson take position first on the roof of a barn with a wide field of view.
Carver and Turner formed one team. Bossie and Danny formed another. Leah led Calista and Mike as the third group, advancing deeper into the ranch in a fan-shaped formation.
Most of the walkers on the ranch were dressed either in ranch work clothes or tourist outfits.
There weren't many of them. Their movements were slow, and their bodies were already heavily decayed—clearly people who had been trapped here since the early days of the apocalypse.
For a battle-hardened mercenary squad, clearing them out was nothing.
"Pfft!"
A walker in a floral shirt collapsed in front of Carver.
"Crack!"
Turner's bayonet drove cleanly through another walker's eye socket.
Bossie and Danny worked with perfect coordination—one drew its attention while the other circled behind and smashed its skull.
Because Leah and Rickson had repeatedly reminded everyone to conserve ammunition, and because the mercenaries were skilled enough, they now dealt with small groups of walkers using melee weapons most of the time.
Except for Calista.
Her hands itched with anticipation. She rubbed her palms together more than once, wanting to try killing a walker with a knife up close, but Leah always stopped her out of concern.
"Cali, using a knife means getting right in their faces. It's dangerous. Our weapons aren't that scarce. Just use your gun."
The rest of the team: …You definitely don't say that to us.
After Leah and Mike cleared most of the walkers along their route, Calista finally managed to wear Leah down and got permission to try using a knife for the first time.
In front of a warehouse, the last few walkers had already collapsed into the dirt, their skulls precisely destroyed.
Mike nudged a walker in work pants with the tip of his boot to confirm it was completely dead, then casually wiped the black blood splashed on his chin with his thumb.
"Area's clear. Just the 'gatekeeper' inside left," he said, tilting his head toward the warehouse door. The tip of the machete in his hand was still dripping sticky liquid.
"Saved it just for you. Fresh… well, relatively fresh. Not as smelly."
Calista said nothing. She simply tightened her grip on the hunting knife in her hand.
Her palm felt damp, though she couldn't tell whether it was sweat or something she had touched earlier.
Leah stood beside her with her arms crossed.
"Relax, Cali. Remember what we just taught you? Stay steady, find the angle, put your strength into it, then pull the knife out."
Simple.
Calista took a deep breath and slowly approached the half-open iron door.
In the shadows inside, a blurry figure shuffled clumsily, making hoarse, broken sounds from its throat.
It heard her footsteps—or sensed her presence. Its movements became more agitated as it dragged its feet toward the door.
The light gradually revealed the walker.
It had probably once been a warehouse manager, wearing a faded blue uniform. Half of its cheek was gone, exposing pale bone and blackened gums.
One eye was murky and clouded. The other was nothing but a rotting hollow.
A gray, lifeless hand stretched toward her, clawing at the air.
"Don't freeze up, girl!" Mike urged from behind, his voice now serious. "Wait for it to come out. More space. Now!"
The walker finally squeezed through the doorway and staggered toward her.
It wasn't fast, but that lifeless, greedy posture still sent a chill down her spine.
Calista quickly stepped backward and to the side, dodging its first swipe. The movement was a little rushed, and she nearly tripped over loose gravel on the ground.
Leah weighed the dagger in her hand, already poised to move at any moment if she needed to save her sister.
The walker missed, and its momentum carried it forward in a stumble.
Now!
Calista sucked in a breath, forcing down the scream and nausea rising in her throat. Her right foot stepped forward firmly as the strength of her entire body flowed from her waist into her arm.
The hunting knife cut through the air with a sharp hiss.
"Thud!"
The blade pierced diagonally in just below the temple. After meeting a brief resistance, it easily broke through the decayed skull and sank all the way to the guard.
The walker froze instantly, its clawed hand only inches away from her arm.
The one remaining cloudy eye seemed to focus for the briefest moment before all traces of life—if it could even be called life—faded completely, leaving nothing but emptiness.
The hoarse rasp stopped abruptly.
Calista yanked the knife free.
Sticky black-red fluid spurted from the blade's groove, a few drops splashing onto her face—warm and foul-smelling.
The heavy corpse collapsed with a thud, kicking up a puff of dust.
Mike walked over and slapped her shoulder with a heavy hand, almost knocking her sideways.
"See? Not that hard, right? The feel's just a bit rough. Next time strike more decisively—don't let those filthy claws get that close!"
His tone returned to normal as he glanced toward Leah and lowered his voice.
"Don't always listen to your sister. She protects you too much. Learning more never hurts."
Calista raised her free hand and wiped the blood from her face with the back of it, leaving a faint smear.
This was the first time she had personally killed a walker.
It didn't feel bad.
Watching what had once been a living person collapse into a rotting corpse gave Calista a faint sense of reflection—but her hands remained steady.
After clearing out the scattered walkers, a pleasant surprise appeared.
Deep in the ranch's livestock quarantine area, Bossie and Danny discovered a small group of surviving animals.
They had probably been locked in there when the outbreak happened and had narrowly escaped disaster.
Several dairy cows looked thin but still healthy, over a dozen goats huddled together trembling, and even a small flock of chickens clucking noisily.
"Hahaha! Good stuff!" Mike laughed. "Live protein!"
"Careful, don't scare them!" Calista couldn't help smiling as well. These were precious sustainable resources.
"Danny, check if any of them are injured. Carver, Turner—go see if there's a trailer or cart we can still use. Bossie, watch the perimeter. Don't let the noise attract more walkers!"
After some chaotic work, they successfully loaded several cows, more than a dozen goats, and the entire flock of chickens onto an empty hay trailer from the ranch.
The process had been a bit of a circus—Calista and Leah both ended up with chicken feathers stuck in their hair, something they preferred not to discuss—but seeing the lively livestock bouncing around on the trailer made everyone feel the detour had been worth it.
Calista looked back at Blackberry Ranch as it gradually disappeared into the mountains.
In her mind, the blueprint for that "secondary base" became even clearer.