Don't be nervous, rookie

Meanwhile, in the convoy.

As the son of a council member, Henry had been lucky enough to get assigned to Gavin's armored vehicle. He sat beside Gavin and the others with his gun in his arms, listening to them discuss the differences between northern and southern zombies.

Abraham held up a mirror and tidied his graying hair as he said to Gavin with a chuckle.

"Boss, before you got here, I did a little research on the zombies around here."

"I found that the zombies here are fatter than the ones back home, and slower, too. I'd say they take at least a second longer to run a hundred meters."

"I just don't know whether it's their build or the weather. Are they generally fatter, or is the weather getting cold enough to start restricting their movements?"

Having said that, Abraham carefully adjusted his sideburns to give his hairstyle a slightly sharper look, then gingerly put on his cowboy hat.

Watching Abraham, Jonathan snorted and said quietly.

"Abraham, could you fucking quit fussing with your hair?"

"We're going to war, not going on a date. There aren't any sexy old ladies around to appreciate all that grooming. Who are you dressing up for?"

"Heh..."

Abraham shook his head at Jonathan's teasing and replied with a smile.

"Myself, kid. When you finally understand that pleasing yourself is what a man ought to do most, that's when you'll really be an adult, instead of forever tying your appearance to fucking women."

With that, Abraham looked at Gavin, waiting for his reply.

Gavin spoke quietly while using the map to work out and confirm their route.

"The zombies here are fatter?"

"That makes sense. Once you get past Atlanta, the central plains pretty much disappear, and the folks living here generally lose the