apocalypse
3.adventure team
On the street, a plethora of discarded debris cluttered the surroundings. Wesley's figure grazed an abandoned car, abruptly colliding with another vehicle nearby. The immense force triggered an immediate eruption between the two cars, a deafening cacophony that momentarily startled all the ravenous zombies consumed by their fervent hunger for sustenance. Unperturbed, Wesley continued, causing several utility poles to crash onto the street, crackling with electric arcs.
In this moment, within his blood-red gaze, Wesley had fixed his sight on a particular figure. Amidst his rapid advance, Wesley distinctly heard the panicked, disoriented footsteps of this figure. He even felt as though he could discern the girl's intense heartbeat!
At this juncture, the scant thread of rationality remaining in Wesley compelled him to marvel at how acute a post-outbreak zombie's hearing could be! Paired with his mutated agility and insensitivity to pain, this creature was nothing short of a formidable predator surpassing humanity, a humanoid butcher!
Almost in an instant, Wesley closed the distance to within two hundred meters of the figure within his crimson sights.Indeed, it was an exceedingly slender woman, appearing excessively delicate and frail, seemingly a consequence of malnutrition. Her beautiful, wide eyes gazed in alarm at the sudden appearance of Wesley, filled with panic and confusion. Wesley was satisfied with the woman's response, further solidifying his resolve to make her his primary target.
Undoubtedly, her slender and fragile form would be easier to kill than the muscular men nearby. Her frantic, bewildered eyes indicated her lack of experience in dealing with such sudden attacks.
As he continued his rapid approach, Wesley's rational thought meticulously analyzed that this amalgamation of zombie-like fearlessness and human precision and cruelty would undoubtedly enable him to surpass those behind him, driven solely by instinctual bloodlust, in savoring the taste of fresh flesh.
However, just as he closed within a hundred meters of the woman, an immense sense of danger suddenly surged through Wesley's body, a cold akin to needles that involuntarily slowed his speed. Though he couldn't decipher this intuition, his body swiftly communicated a powerful warning to his brain!
In an instant, his blood-red eyes brightened once more, fissures even appearing within his sight. Yet within these rifts, Wesley discovered a further enhancement of his night vision amidst the darkness. Frowning, as he glanced at the woman, the icy sense of danger heightened by a level!
While the woman's figure did seem slender and fragile, Wesley now clearly saw that her slimness was not due to malnutrition. The lustrous glow of her fair and tender skin indicated her naturally endowed physique. Particularly, the impressive snow-capped peaks on her chest easily ridiculed any conjecture of malnutrition!
She wore a short leather jacket, its neckline plunged low while the hem exposed her trim waist, devoid of any excess fat. There seemed to be nothing beneath the leather jacket. Below, she wore a pair of jeans that snugly hugged her shapely buttocks and slender legs, akin to a second layer of skin.
Her beautiful blond hair was carefully tied under a beret, accompanied by a dainty, sparkling silver necklace adorning her fair, slender neck. Although the panic-stricken expression marred her otherwise impressive countenance, the apathy and a victorious smirk hidden within her expression gradually revealed that she was no lamb waiting to be slaughtered!
She was far from a disheveled scavenger but seemed more like an elite squad waiting for an opportunity!
"Boss! These brainless dead have fallen for it!" She spoke lightly, her face instantly icing over, murderous intent gleaming in her eyes.
Then, Wesley witnessed, when there remained a distance of thirty meters between him and her, the woman showed no trace of panic. Instead, she swiftly drew a Walther P38 pistol from behind her waist. The solid, cold muzzle of the gun immediately aimed at Wesley's forehead, the minute barrel subtly wavering, eager to release scorching bullets!
"You, walking dead only fit to eat crap, belong in hell!" responded an exceptionally tall, immensely muscular black man. Observing these zombies completely oblivious to fear and death, he even holstered his Remington M870 shotgun and pulled out a military-grade M9 bayonet.
Suddenly lunging forward, he charged toward a zombie head-on, then swiftly turned like a whirlwind. With a swift movement of the combat knife, a swoosh was heard, a "thud" as the blade pierced the zombie's brain, a twist, a withdrawal, and he was gone!
In the blink of an eye, dispatching a post-outbreak zombie within a breath—a display of strength that left Wesley dumbfounded! However, the woman before him seemed nonchalant regarding the black man's cold, ruthless actions. Staring at Wesley, who stood dazed before her, her agile wrist effortlessly supported the pistol in her hand, aiming at Wesley's forehead.
She smirked slightly, casting a seductive smile at Wesley, "Sweetie, remember, you'll be the 379th zombie to die by my hand. My name is Nia!"
A sharp "bang" echoed. At that moment, Wesley's mind went blank, a sharp pang at his forehead. The icy attack and the desire to survive awakened within an instant. In the nick of time, the only action he could manage was to raise his arms to shield his forehead!
Snapping echoed through the soon-to-be chaotic battlefield, and despite the impending tumult, Wesley still distinctly heard the painful snap of his right arm breaking. Without any subsequent sensation, the force of the bullet sent him crashing backward. It wasn't until then that he noticed the small bullet hole seared through his right wrist, the high-temperature bullet hissing within his bones. Oddly, despite such excruciating damage, Wesley found himself devoid of even a fraction of pain.
It seemed being a zombie wasn't devoid of all advantages...
Following that, a pair of enticing legs entered Wesley's line of sight. They were straight, captivating legs, so elongated they left one's mouth parched. The dark, almost black jeans emphasized their contours to a point of seeming superfluous. The simple style of the black leather boots bordered on plain, yet the sleek, sturdy lines seemed in harmony with the battlefield.
Raising his head, Wesley's gaze naturally followed these long legs upward, past the knees, along the curvaceous thighs, then over the sharply tapering waistline and the bosom tightly clad in a short leather jacket, until he laid eyes on a face that could be described as delicate. However, at this moment, that face seemed filled with perplexity.
"You seem familiar?..." Nia looked down into Wesley's eyes, and through his already slightly cracked pupils, he seemed to glimpse an indescribable flow of crimson within her eyes, brimming with vitality, hinting at intelligence and contemplation.
These eyes caused his tender, white finger on the trigger to involuntarily pause. After all, within her experience of killing 378 zombies, no zombie had understood how to protect their fatal weak spot. But just as she was about to say the next sentence, a gust of malevolence flashed past her, immediately knocking her to the ground!
Wesley hastily rolled over, witnessing a zombie that looked like a withered old man, barely wrapped in a dirty cloth and almost completely bare. Its emaciated body was covered in rotting wounds, with a balding head sporting only a few strands of pale, wispy hair.
Yet, it showed no signs of weakness. It forcefully pinned Nia to the ground, its salivating mouth reeking of ferocious desire. Nia desperately held onto its neck, desperately preventing it from biting her. But the old zombie's chest made a gurgling sound, much like an old-fashioned bellows working vigorously, inching closer to its meal!
The Walther pistol fell to Wesley's feet. At this moment, he couldn't quite fathom his thoughts amidst the struggle. One voice seemed to goad in his mind, "Eat her!" While simultaneously, another voice cried out, "You're still human!!"
A splitting headache suddenly struck. In this place erupting with chaos at every turn, this momentary hesitation might bring irreversible consequences. Scattered gunshots had already rung out, and Wesley knew that standing still could very well make him the next target of a bullet.
So, without having made a decision, his reaction was to snatch up the fallen Walther pistol!
Be it in the desolate realm of zombies or in the pursuit of saving humanity, this gun would always offer him significant aid!
The key was, who would the muzzle of this gun be aimed at?
Meanwhile, Nia, witnessing the zombie Wesley picking up the gun and using his trembling left hand to aim at her on the ground, his perplexed and agonized actions clearly indicating his understanding of how to use this weapon, could only express an incredulous shock on her lovely face, followed by a cry of astonishment, "Heavens! What kind of zombie are you?!"
