"Calista, w-what should we do about that?" Leah pointed out the window at the walker lying on the ground.
Calista didn't turn around. "Ignore it. Just stay away from it," she said coldly.
She already knew how she was going to deal with it.
The convoy quickly pulled out of the forest clearing, leaving behind a ground littered with walker corpses and a female walker that had managed to crawl back to its feet, stumbling after the vehicles.
Once they returned to the relatively safe highway, the convoy stopped for a short break. They treated the minor scrapes on Morgan and his son and gave the frightened child some time to calm down.
Morgan had finally regained some composure and thanked Calista again.
"Thank you. Truly, thank you all! If it weren't for you, my son and I would have…" He shook his head, still shaken.
"So what are you planning to do now?" Calista asked, handing him a bottle of water.
Morgan glanced blankly at the desolate surroundings and said bitterly, "I don't know. We definitely can't go back home. Nowhere is safe. We were planning to head to the Atlanta Safe Zone, but someone told me Atlanta has fallen too."
(The one who told him this was Rick. Rick leaves Morgan a message over the walkie-talkie every morning.)
Morgan hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to look at Calista and the powerful-looking group behind her.
"You… where are you heading? If it's along the way, could you… could you take us with you?"
"You want to come with us?" Calista cut him off immediately. Her eyes were sharp, and she didn't sound like she had any intention of accepting them.
Leah said nothing.
She was kind by nature and usually willing to help innocent people when she could. During operations outside the base, she would sometimes take temporary command and issue orders to the team.
But that was simply because she had extensive combat experience—she used to be a mercenary captain.
The true leader of Rock Fortress was Calista.
Major decisions regarding the base's direction or whether to accept newcomers were matters for the leader. Leah would never publicly question Calista's decisions.
Even though she was Calista's older sister, she would never do anything in front of others that might undermine her sister's authority.
"I… is that okay? Duane and I won't freeload! I can work! I can do anything! My shooting's pretty good too. As long as there's somewhere safe…"
Morgan spoke urgently, trying to prove himself, while Duane looked at Calista with wide, hopeful eyes.
Calista fell silent.
She knew Morgan wasn't a bad person. In fact, he would become quite formidable later on.
But right now, his heart was filled with conflict and pain. He couldn't bring himself to harm someone he loved. That kind of "saintly father" mentality was a huge liability in the early days of the apocalypse.
She remembered how, in the original storyline, Morgan had nearly gotten Rick killed because of that mindset, and later lost his own sanity.
Calista couldn't risk bringing such an unstable factor back to Rock Fortress. There were too many people there who needed protection.
Yet the courage he had shown earlier—fighting desperately to protect his son and skillfully wielding his spear against the horde—proved he wasn't useless.
And rejecting them outright would essentially be sending the father and son to their deaths.
Calista wrestled with the decision.
She stood up and walked to Morgan's battered sedan parked by the roadside. Then she pointed toward the female walker—Jenny—who had slowly come into view again, still snarling.
At some point she had followed them. Or perhaps she had been chasing Morgan and Duane all along, never stopping.
Morgan's face instantly turned pale.
"Morgan," Calista said coldly, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.
"If you want to come with us, fine. But I need to know there's no weakling in my team who might get everyone killed."
She drew her pistol, checked the ammunition, and racked the slide with a sharp click before holding it out to Morgan.
"Prove it to me."
Calista's eyes burned as she stared straight into Morgan's anguished gaze.
"End her suffering. End your nightmare. Then you and Duane can come with us."
The air seemed to freeze.
Every member of the team fell silent, watching what was happening.
Leah frowned slightly but said nothing.
Guillermo, Felipe, and Miguel observed quietly.
Dr. Jenner, meanwhile, had no interest in anyone except Calista.
Merle grinned broadly, a cruel, entertained smile spreading across his face.
He liked the way this blonde beauty handled things more and more. Dixon had definitely picked the right person to follow.
Duane clutched his father's shirt tightly, trembling.
Morgan stared at the pistol like it was a venomous snake.
His entire body shook violently. His eyes were filled with struggle and pain.
"No! I can't… Miss Calista, please…"
He looked again at the face he had once loved so dearly, now twisted and grotesque. Tears poured down his cheeks as he cried out in grief.
"Then stay behind," Calista said without the slightest hesitation, her voice cold. "Take your son and keep hiding. Pray the next one she bites isn't you or Duane."
Those words struck Morgan's deepest fear like a knife.
He looked down at his son, who was clinging to him with a pale, frightened face.
Time ticked by second after second.
The only sound was the distant, rasping snarl of the approaching walker Jenny, grinding relentlessly on Morgan and Duane's nerves.
Finally, an expression of unbearable pain and despair flashed across Morgan's face. Then came a desperate resolve that looked almost like collapse.
Trembling, moving painfully slowly, he reached out and took the pistol.
In his hands, the gun felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.
Step by step, like a man walking to his execution, Morgan shuffled toward his wrecked car by the roadside. Through the filthy window, he stared at the walker that had once been his wife.
"Jenny… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
His voice was barely a whisper, tears blurring his sight.
Then Morgan raised the gun, his hand shaking violently.
"BANG!!!"
The gunshot thundered across the empty highway.
The walker's snarling stopped instantly.
Morgan seemed to lose all the strength in his body. The pistol slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground.
He collapsed beside the car, dropping to his knees, a broken, muffled sob escaping his throat like the cry of a wounded animal.
Duane ran over and threw his arms around his father, crying uncontrollably.
Calista slowly exhaled and stepped forward to pick up her pistol.
She looked at the shattered Morgan, her eyes complicated, though her voice remained calm.
"Jenson, check Morgan's car. See if there's any usable gas. Everyone else, prepare to move."
Jenson hurried off and soon shouted in surprise.
"Boss! This guy's got quite a bit of fuel left! Almost half a tank! That's enough to get us back!"
The unexpected find eased the tense atmosphere a little.
Calista looked at the father and son still kneeling on the ground, crying, then finally nodded to Leah.
"Take them to the Humvee. Give them some water and food."
She turned and walked back toward her own vehicle, feeling uneasy.
Calista knew it was cruel.
But these were the rules of the apocalypse: adapt or die.
Morgan had finally crossed that line, even if it had nearly broken him.
Maybe… there was still hope for him.
The convoy set off again.
This time, there were two new members in the group—silent, grieving—but they had also gained something vital.
Fuel.