The Walking Dead: Starting as a Cowboy

Chapter 224 The Smell of Rust

In a post-apocalyptic world overrun by zombies, anyone who dares to rest outdoors is definitely considered very brave.

Daryl had no desire to fight walkers in the wild.

So stupid.

Michonne pursed her thick lips and pointed to the small house that was gradually coming into view.

The little house was built by the roadside; it was a very ordinary country house.

"Go there."

Michonne was a woman of few words.

Fortunately, Daryl wasn't a talkative person, and he twisted the accelerator hard.

With a loud crash, Daryl rode his motorcycle past Michonne and sped away first.

Michonne glanced at Daryl, twisted the throttle, and the motorcycle immediately followed.

Daryl noticed that Michonne was catching up. Without turning around, he twisted the throttle again, creating some distance between himself and Michonne.

Michonne narrowed her eyes, leaned forward, and accelerated.

The two of them, one after the other, quickly arrived at the small house.

As soon as she got out of the car, Michonne gave Daryl a cold look; "Childish."

Daryl calmly ignored her, drew his crossbow downwards, and stepped up the stairs in front of the cabin.

He was going to barge in from the front, and Michonne, understanding his intention, walked around to the back door of the house.

Michonne moved her hand up to the hilt of the samurai sword, spread her five fingers, and then closed them one by one.

With a whoosh, the sword was drawn, its cold, sharp blade reflecting a chilling glint in the setting sun.

With a thud, a zombie's head smashed through the glass, its upper body hanging from the window, its head drooping almost touching Michonne.

Michonne's face turned cold. She shifted her feet, taking a step to avoid him, and at the same time, the blade fell.

He cleanly and decisively cut off a human head.

A few drops of black blood dripped from the clean cut on the neck, and the head rolled on the ground.

"Uh... I'm sorry."

A man peered out of the shattered window; it was Daryl, who spoke awkwardly.

Michonne didn't reply, she just stared at him coldly.

"Okay." Daryl reached out and pulled the walker's body back into the house.

Michonne continued walking backwards, the blade pointing towards the house. She was now starting to wonder if it had been a mistake to go on the mission with Daryl.

Unfortunately, she no longer has the chance to refuse.

Michonne walked up the stairs to the back door of the house and kicked it open.

The back door was wide open, revealing a pitch-black interior, like a thick, dark patch of ink.

Michonne held the knife in both hands, the blades pointing vertically forward, and stepped inside.

As soon as I entered the room, the visibility suddenly became dim.

With a series of crisp sounds of shattering dishes, a hoarse roar gradually grew louder in my ears.

Michonne whirled around, twisting her waist and swinging the blade diagonally upwards.

The walking corpse that suddenly appeared in front of me had a gruesome gash cut open on its chest and neck, from which black blood gushed out.

But the zombies had not yet lost their ability to move and still did not stop their forward momentum.

Michonne took a step back and then kicked forward with tremendous force, sending the walker flying.

The zombie fell to the ground, and a plate from the nearby cabinet fell and hit its face.

Michonne stepped forward, held the knife to the walker's neck, and murmured, "Farewell."

A flash of cold light, and the man's head was severed.

A series of footsteps approached from behind, and Michonne quickly assessed the distance at which the other person was getting closer.

Finding the right moment, Michonne held the knife in one hand, using her left hand to brace against her right hand for added force, twisting her body from her legs to her waist, and then slashing out.

But when she saw Daryl's dirty face, Michonne turned and slammed her blade into the door frame beside her.

The force was so great that sparks flew from the impact.

Daryl paused for a moment, then came to his senses and said in a hoarse voice, "Clear all the walkers here, drag them all out."

Michonne glanced at him. "Okay."

The two men laboriously dragged the zombies out of the house and threw them into the thicket of weeds behind it. The weeds were waist-high, so the zombies were no longer visible once they were thrown in.

After clearing out the zombies, the two drove their motorcycle to the back of the overgrown field, laid it flat, and hid it.

When the two of them dragged their tired bodies back into the house, they simply laid out a makeshift bed on the floor, ate something, and closed their eyes to look at the dim light outside the window.

That was the light of the moon.

Both of them were exhausted every day, fighting and running around, then fighting and running around again, in a continuous cycle that was enough to drain all of their energy.

Although there were minor disagreements between the two, this did not affect their ability to carry out their mission.

They were all there for Yellowstone.

The silence inside the house lasted until late at night. The moon hung high in the sky, obscured by thick, dark clouds, which seemed to be helping to conceal the crimes of some people.

"Hey, there's definitely someone here. Look at all this blood, it's definitely from a recently killed zombie."

"Damn, there are motorcycles here."

"Walkers, oh oh alien, look at the knife wounds and the arrow wounds, they have both knives and bows and arrows."

"Hehehe, kill them, and everything will be ours."

'

The soft sounds of conversation reached Daryl's ears, his eyelashes fluttered, and he suddenly opened his eyes.

When Daryl realized someone was outside, he reached out and covered Michonne's mouth and nose.

Before Daryl could even pat Michonne, Michonne woke up.

Daryl put a finger to his mouth to signal her to be quiet, pointed to the doorway, and then picked up his crossbow and began to nock it.

After loading his crossbow, Daryl quietly stepped out of the house and disappeared.

Michonne pulled off her coat, stood in a corner, closed her eyes, and disappeared.

A creaking sound came from the back door that Michonne had kicked open, and a bald man with a few sparse hairs strode in, carrying a double-barreled shotgun.

He widened his eyes, took a big step forward, and then followed with his back foot, continuing to step forward.

I walked a few steps into the house and didn't see any traps or anything like that.

The bald man turned his head and nodded repeatedly to his accomplice.

No danger, fast forward.

The five people behind him had their eyes glowing green, like hungry wolves who had discovered a large, delicious piece of meat.

The third person who entered the house had no front teeth. He was stunned as soon as he entered. The man with the missing teeth patted the second person who came in with a bulbous nose and pointed blankly into the house.

He whispered, "Where's the bald guy?"

The man with the red nose was also stunned. With his small brain capacity, he found it hard to understand why his accomplice had disappeared.

So, the man with the red nose took several steps forward, keeping a certain distance from the man with the missing tooth.

"Hehe"

The man with the bulbous nose turned his head and paused slightly in surprise.

Hmm? You're missing a tooth.

What about people?

Where did it go?

The man with the bulbous nose turned his head but couldn't find the missing tooth. He looked up and saw his two remaining companions outside, staring at him with horrified expressions.

The man with the rosacea realized something was wrong, looked down, and saw a pool of blood on the ground, the sweet, metallic smell of which had already permeated the air.

"ah