Glenn's face turned pale when he realized Jason was pointing at him.
"Me? No, no, no—I can't do this!" he blurted out, shaking his head in a panic. "I can't handle something this complicated and dangerous!"
The idea of driving a car to lure away zombies was something straight out of a nightmare. He simply didn't have the courage.
"You have to drive," Jason said firmly, locking eyes with Glenn. "As long as you stay ahead of the zombies and don't get surrounded, you'll be completely safe."
"I..."
Glenn hesitated, trapped between fear and responsibility. But then he saw the hopeful, pleading looks from the others. His resistance crumbled. With a deep, reluctant breath, he gave a small nod.
"Alright. Here's the plan," Jason said, his voice calm and focused.
The area around the supermarket was far more dangerous than it looked. The number of zombies was staggering, and this wasn't some predictable TV episode—anything could happen.
"Our car is parked in the nine o'clock direction, about two hundred meters from here," Jason continued. "Glenn's job is to find another car and create enough noise to attract the zombies. Once they're distracted, Rick and Morgan will bring our vehicle around. When the timing's right, we all jump in and get the hell out."
The reason Jason had picked Glenn for the toughest job was simple—training. He knew Glenn's potential. One day, this scared, jittery kid would surpass even Rick in capability. But for that to happen, he needed to be pushed.
They had less than three hours until sunset. If they didn't make it out before dark, they'd be stuck here for another terrifying night.
Glenn stood at the edge of the ladder, his baseball cap pulled low, backpack strapped tight. He looked down at Jason, who stood below, grinning with that same frustrating confidence. Glenn's eyes burned with resentment.
If he had the strength, he'd punch that smug look off Jason's face.
"Are you sure it's okay to send him?" Rick asked, gripping a flare gun. "He's just a regular guy."
Jason shrugged. "Don't worry—he's not as ordinary as he seems. You'll see what he's capable of soon enough. He just needs a little push."
Rick still wasn't convinced, but he let it go. "Alright. I'll fire the flare to draw the horde. That should give him a window."
Meanwhile, from behind them, a pair of cold, bitter eyes watched Jason.
Moore's jaw clenched in fury. He'd been humiliated in front of everyone. Slapped by an outsider. If this had been before, he'd have fought back on the spot. But he knew—Jason was not someone to mess with.
He leaned toward a heavyset Black man beside him and whispered darkly, "See? He's using our people as cannon fodder. That kid's just a pawn in his game."
The man, known as T-dog, frowned but didn't even look at Moore. "You really think everyone's as selfish as you?" he muttered. "If they were only thinking about themselves, they wouldn't even be helping us. If you're gonna stir up trouble, pick a better time."
Everyone here knew what kind of person Moore was. No one trusted him.
A burst of static crackled through the walkie-talkie.
"I'm almost at the bottom," Glenn's voice came through, shaky. "What now? There are… zombies. I see them."