Chapter 11: Guillermo
"So where are we going?"
"The quarry, your camp. You didn't know?"
"Of course I know, but I didn't expect those idiots to trust you so easily."
"Trusting a savior is normal. Aren't you?"
Merle choked, then said slowly, "Not necessarily."
"Hmm, compared to family, a savior is insignificant. Right?"
Caesar finished a bottle of water and stuffed it out through the window gap, speaking casually.
Merle took a deep breath and glanced at Caesar. "Did those idiots tell you about my family?"
"Not at all. They just said you're a bastard, and if stuck in a desert together with one last bottle of water, you'd never give it up. Instead, you'd make someone watch you drink before they died of thirst."
"Tsk, they're right. Total bastard!"
Caesar nodded, very much affirming Andrea and the others' assessment.
Changing the subject, Caesar continued.
"But you've never killed anyone, have you?"
Merle's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his brow furrowed, and his wild, arrogant smile froze.
"The difference between never killing and having killed is huge. You can tell at a glance. Like you and me."
"You believe you're a predator. You don't trust the people at camp, but you won't leave them either."
"Why? Because of your family?"
Caesar understood very well what kind of person Merle was—an absolute egoist, but he had a brother he loved deeply.
Merle's brother was his most vulnerable spot, and also his strongest belief.
As long as Daryl existed, Merle could never betray Daryl.
This loyalty could even extend to the force Daryl belonged to.
Merle didn't respond, only remained silent.
The wheels rolled and turned, passing through Atlanta's central area showing no signs of living life, gradually reaching the outer districts.
The number of walkers in the surrounding area decreased sharply. Even most walkers were in a dormant state.
Abandoned storefronts, walkers lying randomly on the roads like battlefield sandbags and defensive fortifications.
Aside from these, it wasn't much different from peacetime.
Caesar looked at the scenery outside the window, his brow furrowing. He realized something was wrong.
Two or three alley entrances all had cars parked there. Though the cars had bloodstains, there was no dust—someone had driven them recently.
Then Caesar's gaze locked onto two or three vehicles parked by the roadside.
Those vehicles shook slightly—their engines were running.
People inside!
The situation wasn't good. Caesar's expression grew increasingly calm, trying to find traces on these vehicles that matched his memories.
Looking up, Caesar saw another black pickup. His pupils contracted.
That was Beth's car.
Beth was Rip's girlfriend. She was staying with Jimmy's grandfather.
When Caesar had previously brought people to find them, he'd discovered they'd packed up and left. He hadn't expected to find traces of them here.
No time to think more. Caesar pointed at the black pickup and commanded, "Merle, ram it."
Merle said, "Okay."
He'd also noticed something wrong with these vehicles, but he instinctively obeyed Caesar.
Merle floored the gas pedal. The internal combustion engine roared.
The wheels spun rapidly, carrying the vehicle straight into the pickup by the roadside.
The person in the pickup saw in the rearview mirror that a car was ramming them.
That pickup had just moved forward a few meters when Caesar's vehicle crashed into it.
With a loud bang, a large dent appeared in the pickup's body. Then it was pressed against its side and forcibly pushed toward a nearby wall.
The pickup's wheels spun, creating blue smoke from friction with the ground, but it couldn't break free no matter what.
Another loud crash, and the interior shook violently.
Philip's bald head hit the car door. He covered his head and screamed in pain.
His cousin was thin and frail but didn't get injured. He shrank back, looking at the car outside the passenger window in terror.
Caesar and Merle opened the car doors and got out, no longer holding cold weapons—each carried a rifle.
Merle turned around, his gun barrel facing the street. Those accomplices saw the pickup under attack and all surged forward.
Vehicle after vehicle surrounded Caesar's car in a fan shape.
But no one got out of these cars, wary of the rifle in Merle's hands.
Caesar stepped on that pickup's front end, climbed onto the hood with a cold face, and stomped down hard several times.
Shattered glass sprayed onto the faces of the two people inside. Philip fearfully covered his face, screaming each time the boot came down.
His cousin was even more terrified, curled up shaking constantly and screaming miserably.
After several kicks, he finally smashed the windshield.
Caesar raised his gun, aiming at the two. "Talk. Where'd you get this car?"
Philip looked at Caesar on the hood, backlit so his face couldn't be seen—tall figure and cold words, an icy face under the cowboy hat.
For a moment, Philip was too frightened to make a sound.
His cousin beside him rolled his eyes back and passed out, a wet patch spreading beneath him.
Caesar didn't like such tough people. He fired several shots into the sky, the sulfur-smelling barrel aimed at Philip's head.
"I ask, you answer. Understand?"
Philip nodded repeatedly. "Understand, understand."
"Where'd this car come from?"
"...A companion gave it."
"Oh, so a companion gave it. A companion gave it?"
Caesar narrowed his eyes. "Your companion's name is Beth?"
"You know her?" Philip brightened and asked back.
Caesar lowered his gun, a trace of embarrassment appearing on his face. Well, talk about friendly fire.
Then Caesar carried his gun toward the outer vehicles.
As Caesar passed Merle, he patted Merle's shoulder, signaling he didn't need to hold the gun up anymore.
Caesar spread his arms wide, gun barrel pointing skyward, and called out loudly, "Let's talk."
One of the vehicles—the door opened. A buzz-cut man stepped out, wearing a striped shirt with a black vest underneath.
Guillermo strode out from the circle of vehicles surrounding the force, walking toward Caesar with an unfriendly expression.
"You, what do you want?"
"You misunderstood. I got the wrong person." Caesar pointed at that pickup.
"That's my friend's car, but the person sitting inside isn't my friend. I thought he knew my friend's whereabouts."
"Beth and Jimmy's grandfather?" Guillermo asked.
Caesar nodded. "Right, that's them."
Guillermo's expression worsened.
Out of nowhere someone just suddenly attacks, then it turns out to be a misunderstanding.
Great. Now they had no target for revenge and also lost a pickup.
"I'll compensate."
Seeing Guillermo's face turn frighteningly dark, Caesar could only say this.
"Compensate? What can you compensate with?"
Speaking of compensation, Guillermo's eyes immediately lit up.
Looks like even in the big city of Atlanta, Guillermo and his people weren't having an easy time.
"This pickup—Beth already gave it to us as compensation for her and Jimmy's grandfather eating and living at our base."
Caesar nodded. "How about guns?"
"Guns? You have guns?" Guillermo's eyes brightened. Most of their guns were handguns.
Small-caliber handguns at that—not very powerful. Even regular people could take a few shots.
Let alone walkers.