Rick's Happy Gun

"Nice, Gavin. A Colt Python—the famous Rick's Happy Gun. The old boss used to brag about it to us all the time."

Seeing the Colt Python holstered behind Gavin's waist, Madison excitedly pursed his lips.

"What did he say back then? He said his Colt was custom-made, styled like Elvis Presley's, and incredibly rare."

"What a shame. You didn't use that gun to send the boss straight to hell. Otherwise, he'd probably still be bragging when he met Satan, huh?"

As his words fell, Madison raised his foot and nudged the boss's head.

The bloody hole in the boss's head sprayed a red-and-white mixture with Old Mac's movement.

Noticing Madison's actions, Gavin knowingly narrowed his eyes.

He knew Madison had some bad blood with the boss.

Two years earlier, at the 2011 Super Bowl final.

After Black Eyed Peas performed at halftime, Madison took a painkilling injection, went back onto the field, and helped win the championship.

After the game, although he wasn't carried off the field, his injured knee still landed him in post-season trade turmoil.

At the time, the Dallas Cowboys had already won three straight championships, and the Cowboys owner started getting ideas.

There were too many championship players, and the team's salary pressure was too great. The owner wanted to cut costs.

After all, they already had a three-peat dynasty. Who would have thought they could win four or even five in a row?

In short, during that year's turmoil, the team manager kept only twenty-two veteran players and Gavin, the core player, then went to the universities and signed a bunch of kids who idolized Gavin.

Madison had luckily remained with the team too, but what happened during that time was another story.

That was when Madison's grudge with the boss began.

While Madison rummaged through the boss, Gavin surveyed the study and quickly spotted an exquisitely engraved S686 displayed on the bookshelf.

Gavin stepped closer, took down the gun, slid the latch sideways, and broke open the barrels for a look.

There were no shells in this gun.

Gavin checked the bore. No rifling—it was a smoothbore version commonly used in clay shooting, though it was also a collector's piece.

He reached in and touched the barrel. A thin layer of gun oil had been spread perfectly evenly.

Gavin snapped the gun shut, flipped down the safety behind the front sight and the break-release latch, then squeezed the trigger a few times.

The gun had been maintained perfectly. The boss was a gun lover.

Madison was right. The boss would definitely have preferred being shot to death. Not getting the chance to put a bullet in him really did feel like letting him down.

With that thought, Gavin tossed the S686 to Madison.

Madison caught it, checked it over with practiced ease, slung it over his back, and said gloomily,

"Where are the shells, man? Am I supposed to stick my fingers in the barrels?"

"Where would I get shells? Carry it for now. Twelve-gauge shotgun shells are common. We'll find some sooner or later."

As he spoke, Gavin picked through the boss's bookshelf, pulled out several books with soft covers and suitable thickness, and tossed them to Madison.

"Go see if you can find any tape. If there isn't any, strip the ropes off those two and take them with us."

Gavin wanted the tape so he could wrap the books around his forearms and calves.

At least it would add a layer of protection.

As for the ropes, those were useful things. Once again, they had the boss's generosity to thank.

At that, Madison nodded and got to work, hauling the boss's chair upright in one motion.

After removing the rope from the boss, he walked behind the gagged woman by the hoist opening and couldn't resist giving her ass a slap.

"Gavin."

Looking at the little vibrating toy that had fallen out behind the woman, he said,

"They're both tied up like this. So how were they supposed to untie each other?"

"Are you an idiot?"

Gavin cursed without even turning his head.

"Do you think either one of them could tie the other up like that, then go back to their own spot and tie themselves up too?"

"Obviously, someone tied them up and left them here. As for when that person planned to untie them, that depends on how long the boss usually liked to enjoy himself."

After speaking, Gavin left the study and went to the boss's bedroom, searching around the nightstand.

Sure enough, there was something in it. The boss had actually kept a fully loaded, elaborately engraved cavalry-model Colt M1873 inside.

After taking the gun, Gavin glanced back toward the study, then casually hung the revolver from his own waist.

He kept searching. The nightstand also contained two bundles of cash, two car keys, and a pile of useless photos and documents.

After searching again, Gavin found the boss's safe, but he had no idea how to open one.

Just then, Madison's voice came from the study.

"Gavin, there are bullets here. Not just Magnum rounds—there are .45s too."

"I found two boxes of twelve-gauge shotgun shells too. A full fifty rounds!"

"Really? That's great!"

After responding excitedly, Gavin continued,

"By the way, Old Mac, bring the ammunition over and take a look. There's a safe here."

"A safe?"

Madison sounded startled and hurriedly gathered the ammunition with a series of clinks and clatters.

After stuffing more than twenty loose rounds and three full boxes of pistol ammunition into his pockets, Madison came to the bedroom.

As he loaded his S686, he stopped in front of the safe in surprise.

"Gavin, what do you think the old bastard has in there? His supplements and lube?"

"I can't be bothered guessing. See if you can open it. If you can, we'll find out."

Gavin patted Old Mac on the shoulder. Madison froze, then pointed at his own chest in disbelief.

"Gavin, what exactly do you think I am? Why do you think I know how to pick locks?"

"Didn't you grow up on the streets of Chicago?"

"Do people who grow up on Chicago streets automatically have to know how to pick locks? Especially safe locks?"

Madison muttered as he slung the loaded double-barreled shotgun across his chest, then handed the pistol rounds over to Gavin.

Gavin took the loose ammunition, sorted it by caliber into his two pants pockets, then stuffed the boxed ammunition into the side of Madison's backpack.

"If we can't open it, forget it. Did you find any tape?"

After putting away the ammunition, Gavin asked.

Madison shook his head and replied,

"I put the ropes in my bag, but I couldn't find any tape. Not even the kind for sex stuff. Those old bastards probably preferred using gags to plug mouths."

Gavin nodded.

"A little regrettable, but not a big problem. Too bad we didn't see the guns we played with this afternoon. He probably put them back in the gun room or somewhere like that. No idea which room."

"There are too many zombies in this estate. I don't want to take risks here for too long. Let's search this room a little more. If there's nothing useful, we need to figure out how to leave."

"And then?"

The moment Gavin finished, Madison frowned and asked nervously.

"After we leave, where exactly are we going? Try our luck in the city? Go to other nearby farms and estates? Or follow the highway into the forest and survive in the wilderness?"

Gavin thought for a moment, then said quietly,

"Don't mention the city to me unless Twitter is full of videos tomorrow showing the zombies have been brought under control."

"As for where we go next, I plan to check on my home."

"My family's farm isn't small, but my dad only hired a dozen or so Cowboys. Even with the servants and butler, there aren't thirty people. Even if they all turned into zombies, we'd have a chance to deal with them."

"And my home is only a little over 140 kilometers from Dallas. It's an isolated farm, with no other homes nearby, and Karens Town is thirteen kilometers away."

"Besides being sparsely populated, my home has a water tower, livestock, farmland, and crops planted last season. The farm is also connected to Chambers Reservoir."

"That sounds good."

Madison quickly nodded.

"It sounds just like Maggie's farm. I kind of want to go fishing, Gavin!"

Maggie was a popular character from The Walking Dead. In 2013, The Walking Dead had only just reached its third season and was wildly popular.

Madison continued,

"I never thought having a home near Dallas could have so many advantages. If I'd known, I would've bought a farm nearby too."

"Chicago is too far from Dallas and Fort Worth. If I want to go home... damn it, let's survive tonight first."

"If I survive, I will never let my family become a regret I'm too afraid to mention for the rest of my life."

"No matter how much time passes, I have to go back and see them. Even if all I can do is look from far away!"

With that, Madison raised his head and exhaled heavily, his expression melancholy.

Gavin patted his arm in comfort.

Feeling Gavin's gesture, Madison suddenly remembered something and hurriedly said,

"Oh, right, man. I forgot to wish your parents safety."

"Forget it. Even if my parents survived by some miracle, what they need isn't wishes. It's rescue."

Gavin shook his head and said,

"Don't think so much. Let's handle our own business. At least we have a backpack now. We need to pack some larger clothes, especially shoes. You'll need those."