The Walking Dead: Starting as a Cowboy

Chapter 227 Whistle

"I don't know." Daryl shook his head.

"They could be scavengers, they could be raiders, they could be a bunch of religious prostitutes, who knows?"

"But the only thing I'm sure of is that they were driving my car."

Daryl said this in a low, melancholy tone, his eyes filled with resentment.

Michonne didn't question Daryl's words; she nodded. "I'll go check the back door and seal it up."

It's best not to act rashly if we're unsure about the composition of that group outside.

Michonne turned and walked into the house, leaving Daryl alone to look out the window.

A short while later, the roar of another motorcycle could be heard.

Michonne emerged from the inner room with a grim face. She twirled her katana, seemingly itching to make a move.

That's my car.

Daryl nodded. The other party seemed to have ill intentions and might have come after the two of them.

"Is that door sealed off?"

"It's sealed off."

"I suspect they're starting to search for our location. Your car has gas, not much, but they definitely won't give up. They can guess we're nearby."

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Daryl's tone remained as calm as ever, but Michonne could detect the fluctuations in his emotions.

"Then let's wait. If we go out now and wait for them to come looking for us, we'll be hunted down and killed even faster."

"Get the gun."

Daryl placed the crossbow inside the house, then came out carrying a black gun bag, unzipping it.

There were several shotguns, automatic rifles, submachine guns, pistols, and even a sniper rifle inside.

There were also two sets of bulletproof vests, as well as some other small equipment.

They usually carry this bag with them, which, although inconvenient to move around, gives them a great sense of security.

Donning bulletproof vests and loading automatic rifles, the two men positioned their guns at the two windows on either side of the front door, ready to engage the enemy.

Wearing a bulletproof vest calmed my agitated emotions and made me more patient.

Several loud rumbles of car engines could be heard.

Daryl looked out the window and saw a group of people appear outside.

There were two cars and two motorcycles, but the number of people was much larger. Not only were the cars full, but each motorcycle also had three people on it, making it look very crowded.

The car did not continue driving forward, but stopped right on the road in front of the cottage.

The motorcycle was turned off, and the people on it got off; there were indeed many people.

Everyone was covered in tattoos, with studs on their faces, lips, eyebrows, and noses. Some even had black sclera in their eyes, looking like urban thugs.

The leader was the most outrageous; his entire head was bald, but his full head was covered in tattoos, and you could also see from his exposed wrists that he had full-sleeve tattoos.

As soon as the leader got out of the car, he bent over with his thin waist, clung to the car body, and vomited a few times.

After vomiting, the man straightened up.

Several people around him wanted to help, but the man quickly raised his hand and took a few steps away.

"Don't touch me, don't touch me! They're talking to me, I know!"

The man closed his eyes, raised his hands as if listening intently, and grinned, "Yes, yes, they're inside."

The man opened his eyes, his pupils trembling abnormally. He shouted frantically, "They're in there! Give me—give me some! Hey you, give me some more right now!"

"Fuck." Daryl knew what the man in the lead was doing just by looking at his familiar movements outside the window.

The other person is completely high; they're mindless lunatics. Unable to communicate, unable to speak.

Looking at his subordinates, they were all in a typical state of mental instability, some with their eyes glazed over, standing on the ground in bizarre shapes.

This person hasn't even been completely eaten by the zombies yet.

Daryl couldn't imagine how they had survived; they probably wouldn't even move if bitten by a walker in that state.

"Michonne, don't hold back. If they charge in, kill them all."

"Do you understand?"

Daryl had been around these kinds of people since he was a child and knew their instability and madness. He frowned and gave them a serious warning.

Michonne nodded heavily and pulled the bolt back.

Suddenly, the group outside let out a wild howl. Four of them got on their motorcycles, twisted the throttle, and revved the engine to crash directly into the front door of the hut.

The dull thud of gunfire rang out, bullets shattered the glass, and quickly pierced the bodies of the four people riding the motorcycle.

Under concentrated fire, the four men and their motorcycle tumbled to the ground and died instantly.

Even the motorcycle was hit, sending sparks flying.

Suddenly, two loud bangs rang out.

The motorcycle exploded.

The sudden gunfire and explosions startled several people, who screamed and fled in panic.

Many people stood there, craning their necks to watch the fireball rise, as if they were watching fireworks.

The leading man, instead of being surprised, was delighted and began to laugh wildly, "Hahahahahahahahahaha————"

He laughed so hard his saliva was dripping down his face. He scrambled into the driver's seat of a car, stepped on the gas, grabbed the steering wheel, and shook his head.

"Kill them! Kill them! Charge in and slaughter them all!"

"Kill them, I'm going to hang them up."

For some reason, when the leading man gave the order, his madmen, who had been standing there dumbfounded, grinned, revealing their rotten teeth, and picked up various guns to fire at the hut.

In an instant, smoke and fire filled the air, and the street was completely turned into a battlefield.

The man in the lead turned around, shook his head groggily, swallowed hard, and said, "Come with me and charge in."

As he spoke, he slammed on the gas pedal.

The car's tires rubbed against the asphalt, emitting a puff of blue smoke, and the car suddenly surged forward.

"Get out of the way!" Daryl exclaimed, clutching his gun and running backward.

With a loud crash, the fragile wooden wall collapsed inwards in an instant, and smoke and dust billowed up, obscuring the view of the entire first floor.

The car was parked in the living room. The man in the lead was not wearing a seatbelt and was no longer in the driver's seat. There was only a large round hole in the windshield.

And in the opposite wall, there was a broken hole where a lower body was hanging, while the upper body had disappeared.

A frenzied mob, armed with guns, charged in, yelling like monkeys, and began firing indiscriminately.

They had no target, nor did they distinguish between friend and foe.

Before Daryl and Michonne could even show themselves, most of them had already been killed or wounded in the crossfire.

Blood and gunpowder smoke filled the dilapidated living room.

Daryl had blood streaming down his forehead. He peeked out and saw three dazed, humanoid figures standing in the living room.

A soft whistle sounded, and Daryl turned around to see Michonne.

Michonne wasn't in much better shape either; she was slumped on the ground, and a swollen patch on her ankle was visible.

She tilted her head and ran her thumb across her neck.