Chapter Thirty-Five: I'll Do It Myself

Listening to Eugene’s suggestion, Gavin shook his head and said, "Even if we were to camp here, we wouldn't be staying long. It’s too early to start thinking about setting up traps for other survivors."

"Ha, fair point. Your place is our real destination. A mother-flipping huge ranch—I absolutely love the sound of that!" Eugene rattled off excitedly, then leaned back in his seat and asked, "By the way, Quarterback, how many cattle do you have?"

"Cattle?" Gavin pondered for a moment before replying, "I’ve bought cattle in batches over the years. The last time was three years ago, when I added eight thousand Angus to the ranch. But in the last two years, the influence and commercial revenue from winning four and five consecutive championships have been so overwhelming that I haven't had time to keep track of the ranch. Still, there should be at least several tens of thousands left."

"Several tens of thousands?!?" Eugene’s expression turned into a mask of exaggerated disbelief. "Whoa, haha! That’s more than you could eat in a lifetime! What about the horses? A ranch that big must have racehorses. How have they placed?"

Eugene pressed him eagerly, earning an eye-roll from Gavin.

"Placed? My ass." Gavin cursed. "I’ve only been buying the land all these years; my dad has been handling the management and development. He has no experience raising champion racehorses, so the stud farm didn't really take off. The racehorses have only ever placed third in the Austin Derby twice."

Eugene grinned. "Placing at all is pretty good, haha! I’ll have to pick out a good horse when we get there. Damn, I never thought I’d get to ride a thoroughbred!" He sounded expectant as he vigorously rubbed his thighs—the very spots that usually chafed while riding.

Time slipped away in idle chatter, and within a few minutes, they turned off the small path and back onto the highway.

Seeing the Tyrannosaurus approach, Madison was already waiting outside his vehicle. As the truck pulled up, he asked impatiently, "So, Boss, where does that path lead?"

"To an estate. They must have been holding an RV party last night. There are more people than I expected, but it would make a decent emergency campsite." Gavin explained, pointing toward the RV. "Go get back in the vehicle, Old Mac. It’s time to move out."

"You got it." Madison nodded readily, climbed back into the RV with Eugene, and they continued toward Corsicana.

The stretch between Ennis and Corsicana was not merely empty forests and fields. Less than four kilometers from the turnoff, Gavin spotted a few stray zombies wandering on the road ahead. Their attire was remarkably uniform: they were all wearing pajamas, and one was completely naked. This fit the timing of the outbreak perfectly, as the crisis had begun at three in the morning, catching people in their sleep. Much like William’s half-a-dad, who had only been wearing the top half of his pajamas.

As for Eugene’s sister losing her shoes, Gavin suspected she might not have been wearing any to begin with—or perhaps even less. In America, many people liked to sleep in socks, and even more preferred to sleep in the nude. The naked zombie on the road was likely a member of the latter group.

Seeing the zombies, Gavin squinted in understanding. He wasn't surprised by their presence, as they were about to pass a motel. Many American highways were lined with motels that often doubled as repair shops, gas stations, convenience stores, and small bars. Gavin didn't stop for the motel or the zombies; he drove the Tyrannosaurus straight past.

In the RV, watching the motel flash past the right window, Madison asked Eugene skeptically, "Hey, Red, what happened with you and the boss? Why didn't he stop? He should have pulled over to check things out!"

"Oh? Did I not mention it to you guys?" Eugene proceeded to give an exaggerated account of Albert’s phone call.

Upon learning that Gavin still had an acquaintance capable of calling him, the group was stunned. Without a word, they all pulled out their phones. This time, they didn't just try to reach family; they began bombarding their entire contact lists—mass texts, phone calls, every method imaginable.

But barely five or six minutes later, the signal cut out completely.

At the same time, sitting in the Tyrannosaurus, Gavin looked at the two clusters of buildings on either side of the road and let out a silent sigh of relief. He no longer had to worry about whether they would find a suitable campsite if they couldn't make it through Corsicana.

To his left was a large-scale feed supply center. Most ranches within the Texas "Iron Triangle"—Dallas, San Antonio, and Houston—bought their supplies there. Because Gavin had focused on his career as a sports star in recent years, he hadn't been involved in the ranch's management and didn't realize that he was actually the center's biggest client. After all, the 6666 Ranch, which was larger than his, was closer to Oklahoma and preferred to source supplies from there. Besides the 6666, there weren't many ranches larger than Gavin’s in Texas.

Large feed centers and processing plants were inevitably surrounded by vast tracts of corn and soybean fields. The farmland stretching out before him was almost endless. It was only February, nowhere near planting season; aside from a few greenhouses, all the corn and soybean fields were barren. With such a massive expanse of open land, Gavin was confident that even if ten or twenty thousand zombies showed up, he could lose them in the fields without breaking a sweat.

As for supplies? That was even less of a concern. Directly across from the feed center, on the right side of the road, was a small town home to over a hundred families. Once they found a way to lure the zombies out, the town would be theirs for the taking. And if there hadn't been a town? Well, this was a place that sold feed. If they were truly desperate, they could eat the feed! If the cattle and horses could eat it, why couldn't humans? Aren't we all just cattle and horses in the end?

Gavin’s mood lightened, and he subtly increased his speed. The two vehicles pressed on, soon reaching a town even smaller than Palmer. As they neared it, Gavin slowed down, parking the truck about 170 meters from a gas station.

As soon as he stopped, Madison jogged over, looking worried. "Boss, the phone signal is gone!"

"Is it?" Gavin hadn't used his phone and hadn't noticed. He pulled it out, opened a few apps, and found no network. After calling Madison to confirm, he shrugged. "Old Albert was truly lucky."

"Yeah, he sure was. Eugene told us about it when he got back." Madison nodded, sighing with concern. "After hearing his story, we started calling everyone in our contacts, but the signal died just minutes later! If your old acquaintance had called even ten minutes later, you might not have been able to reach him either. Uh, wait, he’s still sick, right?"

"Well, I’m not sure if he’s truly lucky anymore. His luck seems to have been tainted by a bit of misfortune, too..."

Madison spread his hands and looked toward the gas station. With the naked eye, he could see a zombie wandering between two of the pumps.

Gavin put his phone away and said softly, "If it’s gone, it’s gone. Without management and maintenance, more than just the internet will disappear. We have to learn to adapt." He pointed toward the gas station. "Back to business. Old Mac mentioned the issue of feminine hygiene products earlier..."

After a moment of silence, Gavin patted Madison on the back with a wry smile. "I’ll be damned, I never knew you were so thoughtful. You’re right, we should pick up some pads and similar supplies. But I must emphasize: this situation is different from before. There’s more than one clerk in that station, and the town is only about a hundred meters south. If we cause a commotion dealing with the clerk, it’ll trigger a chain reaction."

"So, Madison, you take the RV; Eugene, you drive the Tyrannosaurus. Get into position to cover my retreat. This time, I’m going in alone."