Chapter Thirty-Four: The Blacksmith and the Veterinarian

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As soon as the words left his mouth, Gavin answered the call and hurriedly switched on the speakerphone.

Beside him, Eugene thought for a moment before finally understanding.

If the person calling Gavin was not Madison, then who could it be?

If Doris, William, and the others were not in danger, there would be no reason for them to bypass Madison and Gavin to make contact.

So if another member of the team was calling, that meant something had happened to them!

At the thought, Eugene’s expression turned solemn, and he pricked up his ears to listen to the voice coming from the phone.

As Gavin and Eugene waited tensely, several dry coughs came through the speaker. Then an aged, slightly feeble voice spoke.

“Cough, cough… damn it… cough, cough, cough… Is that little Gavin?”

“Yes, this is Gavin. And you are…?”

Gavin hesitated as he spoke into the phone.

He had never saved this number in his contacts, but anyone who had his private number could hardly be a complete stranger.

As for the voice itself—

It was so hoarse and distorted that he could not recognize it at all.

Upon hearing Gavin’s reply, the person on the other end coughed heavily twice before speaking in an especially weak voice.

“That’s good. Cough, cough… Good Lord, it’s Albert. I changed my number two years ago.”

“Little Gavin, you remember old Bert, don’t you? When you were little, I even… cough, cough… I even held you… urgh, cough, cough, cough!”

A violent fit of coughing erupted from the phone. Eugene almost feared the man would cough up his lungs.

As for Gavin—

The moment he heard the name Albert, he remembered. Albert had been his father’s old friend, as well as the first blacksmith and veterinarian on their family farm.

More than a decade ago, before Gavin had begun making a fortune through his foreknowledge, their farm had covered only about three thousand acres.

At the time, fewer than forty families lived there. Apart from a dozen or so families of cowboys, five or six families of hunters, seven or eight families of fishermen, and the owner of a bar, old Albert had been the farm’s only blacksmith.

He had forged every horseshoe on the farm and trimmed the hooves of every cow.

He sounded as though he ought to have been an easygoing man, and in truth, he was. Old Bert had a relaxed nature and a lively sense of humor. He had even taken eleven-year-old Gavin deer hunting once.

But after Gavin entered high school, making money while devoting himself to football, first breaking into the college league and then advancing to the professional league, he became so busy that he could barely return to the farm, much less catch up with old Bert.

And as the farm’s resident blacksmith, old Bert had gradually become swamped with work as the property continued to expand. He simply had no time to contact Gavin.

After briefly recalling Albert’s circumstances, Gavin immediately spoke to the phone, from which coughing continued to pour.

“How could I forget you, Albert? How are you doing now?”

“Me? Cough, cough!”

Old Bert coughed twice and answered weakly.

“Gavin, you can probably hear it yourself. I’m in terrible shape… cough, cough.”

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“I may have caught a chill swimming in the lake yesterday. I’ve had a terrible fever since before dawn, and my back and legs hurt so badly I can’t even crawl out of bed… cough, cough…”

“Good Lord, my useless sons… cough, cough… not one of them can get through on the phone.”

“That bunch of bastards only know how to come begging me for work… cough, cough… but now that I’m sick, not one of them cares about me…”

By the time he finished, old Bert’s voice had weakened considerably.

Hearing that, Gavin took a deep breath and spoke quickly.

“There may be another reason for that. In any case, where are you now? Are you still staying in the cabin by the lake?”

“That’s right. The lake water… cough, cough… was too cold… cough, cough, cough, cough…”

At that, old Bert coughed continuously for more than ten seconds before finally managing to stop. Breathing shakily, he continued.

“I called my ex-wife. I called Joanna. I even called your parents, but I couldn’t get through to any of them.”

Old Bert drew a deep breath, the sound of it clearly audible through the phone.

After exhaling, his voice dropped even lower. He continued, exhausted and in pain.

“I suppose I’ve reached the age when everyone finds me a burden. So far, you’re the only one who answered. You’re a good boy. Can you help me… help me get in touch with Joanna?”

“These old bones of mine are finally going to end up on Joanna’s hospital bed… cough, cough… where she’ll jab me full of needles… cough, cough, cough, cough!”

Gavin sighed when he heard that.

Joanna was the doctor in the town on Gavin’s farm. The farm had a sparse population, so one or two doctors were enough, and the town hospital had fewer than ten beds.

The situation was obvious enough. Old Bert had narrowly escaped becoming a zombie.

His cabin by the lake was seven or eight kilometers from the farm town. Even the nearest fishermen’s cabins were at least one and a half kilometers away. There was no way any zombies would have run that far just to attack old Bert.

But judging from his current condition, old Bert might meet his Maker even without a zombie attack.

As for Joanna…

Gavin took a deep breath and spoke into the phone, one word at a time.

“I’m sorry, Albert, but Joanna is probably already dead.”

“And my parents as well. I don’t want to admit it, but they’re dead too. There’s practically no chance of a miracle.”

“In any case, there’s no one who can come and save you right now. You have to hold on by yourself for a while longer—at least until I can get back.”

“I’ve already passed Ennis and I’m on the road to Corsicana, but I can’t promise how long it will take me to reach you!”

“What the hell—cough… shit… are you drunk?”

Old Bert’s coughing grew suddenly more violent, while Gavin continued in a heavy voice.

“Listen carefully, Albert. You have to hold on by yourself for a little longer!”

“I’ll come find you. Until I reach you, whatever happens, do not leave your room—”

Beep. Beep.

Before Gavin could finish, Albert hung up.

Holding the phone, Gavin remained silent for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket and taking out a cigarette.

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Eugene tossed Gavin a lighter. While Gavin lit his cigarette, Eugene asked hesitantly,

“That was someone from your family’s farm?”

“He’s the farm’s professional blacksmith and part-time veterinarian.”

After answering, Gavin fell silent for a moment before adding,

“He really did hold me when I was little.”

With that, Gavin lowered the window and exhaled smoke into the night.

Eugene nodded and gave a bitter smile.

“All right. I honestly don’t know how to comfort you, and I have no idea whether this is good news or bad news.”

“But the fact that he didn’t turn straight into a zombie means his luck might be strong enough to overcome a high fever.”

“So there’s no need to worry. Once we reach your farm, everything will be fine. Ha-ha!”

Eugene forced out a laugh and tossed his cigarette butt out the window.

Gavin merely shook his head without comment and said nothing more.

The two of them drove nearly another two kilometers in silence. By then, they had traveled almost five kilometers, and the road had turned out to be unexpectedly long.

But their journey ended there.

After Gavin rounded another bend, the end of the road finally came into view.

He pulled over and raised his binoculars toward the pasture three hundred meters away. Nearly twenty recreational vehicles of various kinds were gathered there, fourteen of them travel trailers.

“Is that an RV campground?” Eugene asked, standing beside Gavin. “Then why isn’t there a sign?”

“It’s a private RV party, not a campground. I can see the buses that brought in the models. They’re pretty standard.”

As he answered Eugene, Gavin continued looking beyond the RV gathering. A hundred and forty meters behind it stood a small, castle-like estate. It was extremely secluded, and every window was covered by curtains.

Eugene curled his lip and sneered.

“With everything so tightly covered, you can tell it’s the sort of place rich degenerates use for their games. They even came all the way out here to hide. What do you think—are there any underage kids among the people those buses brought in?”

As he finished speaking, Eugene instinctively touched his shotgun.

Gavin lowered the binoculars and slowly walked toward the Tyrannosaurus.

As he climbed into the vehicle, he said,

“I’ll mark this place on the map. It could serve as a makeshift campsite. I estimate there are fewer than a hundred people inside the estate. If we use sound as bait, we may be able to lure them away.”

Eugene nodded along and smiled.

“This really is a decent spot. With a few traps along the road, we could stop any bastards with bad intentions.”

“Of course, it has its drawbacks. There’s only one road leading out. If someone blocks it, then unless there’s an aircraft inside, they can forget about driving away.”