The Walking Dead: Starting as a Cowboy

What's going on in Chapter 226?

When Daryl wiped the blood off the crossbow bolts and walked back downstairs, he was stunned.

The moonlight pierced through the dark clouds and spilled into the room, blending with the pool of blood on the ground to create a soft hue.

Two kneeling corpses, resembling performance art, were placed in the center of the living room. One was headless, and the other was scalpless, looking both bizarre and bloody.

Daryl's brows furrowed immediately, and he pointed to his bed. "What happened to you?"

"How are you going to sleep tonight?"

With a slightly reproachful tone, Michonne glanced at him and strode past Daryl. "I'll go to the room and see if there are any sheets or anything left."

Daryl looked helplessly at the living room, which reeked of blood. How could he possibly sleep there?

As for the corpse, the two were too lazy to deal with it that night, figurines would come to clean it up the next day.

The two gradually got used to this, but Daryl wasn't used to Michonne's tendency to create grand and impressive scenes.

After a whole night of fussing, the sun finally rose, its colors like the dawn appearing in the sky.

Daryl and Michonne quickly packed their belongings and put them on the motorcycle.

Fortunately, last night, those people tried to take the motorcycle away but didn't damage it.

When I first got on the road, the motorcycle was very clean and brand new, but now it looks like it has rolled around in the mud several times and is filthy.

Daryl didn't mind and got on the motorcycle, looking disheveled.

Michonne cleaned her face, ate something, and then got on her motorcycle. Before starting the motorcycle, she gave Daryl a speechless glance.

Daryl knew that she was disgusted by his lack of hygiene.

"It's a dirty day anyway, why bother washing?"

Daryl didn't understand.

Michonne had obviously argued with him many times, but she couldn't be bothered to pay attention to him. She turned on the accelerator and drove forward.

"Stupid woman." Daryl curled his lip and followed.

Just like yesterday, it was a calm and peaceful day.

The two continued driving their motorcycle along the road. When they encountered a car accident scene, they would detour around it. If there were only a few zombies, they would speed through. If there were many zombies, one of them would lead them away while the other continued forward.

In short, the two had a peaceful day.

Around three or four in the afternoon, Daryl's motorcycle gradually slowed down until it came to a stop on the side of the road.

Michonne stopped near Daryl. "What's wrong?"

Daryl looked at the fuel gauge with a helpless expression. Michonne noticed his look and asked with a hint of certainty, "Out of gas?"

Daryl nodded.

The two men carried limited gasoline, not enough to sustain them for long. When they left Yellowstone, Caesar even asked them...

They said they were looking for gasoline on the road.

Then, in fact, all the gas stations on the road were out of gasoline, so they had to find the cars at the accident scene to extract fuel from their tanks.

But the gains can never outweigh the losses.

Michonne pondered for a moment, then pointed ahead and said, "There's a small town up ahead. I'll go there to find some gasoline. You wait here?"

After a moment's hesitation, Daryl shook his head.

"We can't split up; it's too easy for problems to arise if one person acts alone."

Daryl is different now. With more experience carrying out missions with his partners, he understands that missions carried out by multiple people are much safer than missions carried out by a single person.

"Even if I keep watch for you or something, it's better than you going alone. Besides, we can't find gas in the town ahead, and we have your motorcycle to get us going."

Upon hearing Daryl's considerations, Michonne nodded in agreement.

So the two dragged Daryl's motorcycle into the pile of dead leaves below, where the soft leaves covered the motorcycle, obscuring its muddy body.

Daryl stepped onto Michonne's motorcycle, shifting awkwardly backward.

It was still a bit of a stretch to put their luggage on a motorcycle.

With the added weight, Michonne's motorcycle consumed significantly more fuel, and in fact, her motorcycle was running low on fuel.

The motorcycle started, kicking up a flurry of fallen leaves.

At the same time, a gust of wind blew by, causing the surrounding branches to sway and dance, and even the dead leaves at the base of the trees were blown away, revealing the Harley-Davidson motorcycles underneath.

On the way to the town, the two did not say a word, their silence as still as the stones by the roadside.

In fact, the two of them had already made up their minds that, given the extreme shortage of gasoline, they were unlikely to find any.

Not to mention Daryl's motorcycle, even Michonne's motorcycle would be stranded here.

After that, the two of them would have to walk north or find a means of transportation.

Yes, we also need gasoline.

The outline of the town soon came into view, and the two quickly stopped at a supermarket on the edge of the town.

The supermarket's glass doors were shattered, and the sunlight revealed an empty interior.

The two drove their motorcycle into the supermarket and parked it inside. Although it wasn't safe, it was better than leaving it exposed outside.

Daryl wore a thick cloth cloak that covered his upper body, with irregularly torn edges. He carried a crossbow on his back and pointed outside the door.

"I'm going over there, you stay here?"

Michonne nodded.

The two split up and searched the entire town.

The town wasn't big, but it still took a lot of time and effort for the two of them to search.

Soon, the two met in a small house on the other side of the town.

This little house is much more impressive than the others, clearly indicating that its owner is one of the most powerful people in the town.

After searching around, the two still felt that this small house was the most likely place to find something, and prepared to search it more thoroughly.

After searching for two or three hours, Daryl was running out of patience. He crouched down, lifted one end of the sofa, and with a sudden burst of strength, flipped it over.

He kicked the thick carpet off the floor and stomped his foot, the sound of which was clear and resonant.

Daryl shook his head and walked toward another room, casually knocking a vase to the ground as he passed it.

The vase fell to the ground and shattered.

Upon entering the room, the sound of rummaging through drawers and cabinets could be heard again.

The second floor was where Michonne was in charge of the search, and judging from the sounds that were comparable to the demolition of a house, she wasn't in a good mood either.

Just then, the roar of motorcycles echoed through the town.

That familiar engine sound.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and dashed out of the room, but he didn't rush out. Instead, he hid by the window and peeked outside.

From this angle, the source of the sound cannot be seen.

But he was certain that the rumbling sound came from his motorcycle.

Light footsteps approached from behind, and Michonne's katana gleamed coldly. "What's going on?"