Chapter 17 The Third Way.
Shu Maomao nodded, lowered his head to peel off the candy wrapper, and handed the candy over.
Shu Lan pushed his little hand back: "I don't want it, I'll give it all to you. Mommy ate it when she was a child."
She looked at the city, and a vague idea came to her mind.
If she doesn't plunder, can't she just follow the team of superpowers and secretly recycle?
The smell of decay permeated the air above the city. The once prosperous city was now as silent as a huge cemetery.
The silence was broken by the sound of a car driving, followed by the sound of a collision.
A van appeared from the corner and knocked down the zombies that were rushing down the street following the sound.
The zombies nearby were collectively awakened, let out impatient growls, and appeared from the shadows one after another.
"Monkey, can't you just go around the side? Why do you have to knock them over?" the man in the back seat kept complaining, "You're afraid the 'locals' won't know we have visitors."
The one called "Monkey" was the tall, skinny guy in the driver's seat. He chuckled and ran over the figure that hadn't gotten up yet: "A fight is bound to break out sooner or later, so let's take out a few first."
There were five people in the car, all five men, and they all called each other by nicknames. The driver was Monkey, a former appliance repairman with electrical abilities.
The otaku wearing glasses in the passenger seat is nicknamed Patrick, and has the ability to deform his body.
The one complaining in the middle is nicknamed Owl. He used to be a doctor with healing abilities.
The other young man is called Wild Dog, a car mechanic with the ability to control metal.
Sitting in the last row, a man in camouflage uniform, a former firefighter, had no nickname; everyone called him Captain. He handed out walkie-talkies to everyone and said in a deep voice, "I'll repeat, put on your helmet, gloves, and mask, and check your armor. The distance between people and vehicles should not exceed 500 meters to facilitate rescue and evacuation at any time. Prioritize medicine and food. Bring them back first and then check the expiration date. Don't waste time in the building."
Four voices responded in unison: "Understood, Captain."
The van stopped in a narrow alley. The stray dog closest to the door jumped out first, ran past a row of closed shops, and raised his wrist slightly. The metal locks made a crisp sound and loosened automatically one by one.
Patrick and the wild dog entered the supermarket, and Owl opened the door of the drugstore next door and went in neatly.
Their captain, a man named He Sheng, was wearing camouflage uniform and was the last one to appear, carrying a water hose. He took a few steps with his long legs and reached the fire hydrant on the street.
The zombies quickly surrounded He Sheng, and when they got close to him, they were hit by electric current that appeared out of nowhere, and fell down with twitching hands and feet.
He Sheng straightened up, the water pipe in his hand gradually swelled up, and a strong stream of water rushed out, sweeping across the row of zombies closest to him, pushing them back two steps.
The man threw the hose at the zombies and took a step back: "Release."
The monkey squatted down, put his hands in the rapidly spreading water under the sidewalk steps, concentrated his mind, and released the strongest electricity.
The zombies standing in the water were electrocuted, twitching and falling down one by one. Only a few escaped and sneaked into the store.
He Sheng took out two half-meter-long chopping knives from the car and threw one to Monkey. His figure disappeared on the spot and appeared in front of the door of a pharmacy five meters away. A corpse head with black skin, empty eyes and a foul smell fell from under his knife.
In the supermarket, Wild Dog and Patrick were not worried at all that zombies would come in from behind. The tacit understanding they had gained from many times of cooperation made them realize that ordinary zombies were no match for Captain and Monkey.
They walked past the empty shelves and shook their heads regretfully at the various meat products left after the supermarket was cleared out.
What a pity, it's poisonous.
It's normal that there are no stocks on the shelves outside. When the virus first broke out, there were rumors for a while that the city would be closed for treatment. Many people stockpiled supplies at home and bought out everything they could.
But the virus spread too quickly, and the items in large supermarket warehouses like this one did not have time to be sold or transferred, so their focus in finding supplies was the warehouses.
Wild Dog turned into the safe passage, went up to the second floor and saw the warehouse door. The lock on it was just a decoration to him and he could easily unscrew it and throw it away.
He didn't open it immediately because there was movement behind the door.
The two men looked at each other and simultaneously drew out the long swords from behind their backs.
The military basically monopolizes the use of hot weapons. The best tool for ordinary people to deal with zombies is a knife. It should be sharpened so that the zombie's neck can be cut off a second before it scratches them.
It can only be the neck. Cutting other places will not stop the zombies who cannot feel pain from continuing to attack humans.
The zombies inside smelled the scent of flesh and blood outside and kept making banging and scratching noises in the warehouse.
Patrick said warily, "There should be more than one."
Wild Dog picked up the intercom: "Captain, Captain, there are a lot of locals in the warehouse."
What the locals mean is that the zombies stop during the day because they are afraid of the light and wait in dim places for the night.
The man's low, slightly hoarse voice sounded, bringing a great sense of security: "Here I come."
Patrick laughed: "Our captain's voice is so charming. He said he wanted to quit smoking, but I disagree. Men who smoke are so attractive."
Wild Dog leaned against the wall leisurely, took out a cigarette from his arms, took off his helmet, pulled up his visor, lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth: "Envy? I'll teach you?"
Patrick said: "Lin Zexu should have burned you with him."
Wild Dog snorted and glanced casually. He saw a figure rushing up from below. He was so frightened that the cigarette butt fell out of his mouth. He put on his helmet and shouted: "Patrick! Zombies, zombies are coming!"
Patrick immediately gripped the knife with both hands. The zombies climbed up the stairs at an extremely fast speed, almost rushing into people's sight at the same time as the stench. The two had almost nowhere to hide in the narrow corridor, and they retreated to the third floor while waving their knives wildly.
"Fuck, there are more and more."
Seven or eight zombies squeezed up from the corridor together, each with a hideous face, growling in desire for flesh and blood.
The wild dog chopped off one hand, and another grabbed it and tore his coat.
Fortunately, he was wearing a sturdy and wear-resistant homemade armor made of Oxford cloth, which blocked the sharp nails of the zombies. Otherwise, if his skin was scratched, he would definitely get infected and would become one of the locals in half an hour.
Patrick was waving a hatchet. He stretched out his hand, and his arm extended like rubber. He grabbed the railing on the third floor and pulled himself up. He hung upside down and waved the long knife. The zombies below were still rushing up even though his arms were cut off.
He held the intercom and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Captain, come quickly! We've broken into the locals' lair! Help!"
His body transformation ability is only useful when he is escaping, not a combat ability. He is also not as powerful as the captain, who can teleport behind zombies and chop off their heads with one knife.
At this moment, a pile of yellow soil fell from the sky, almost half a ton, as if a truck was unloading goods downstairs, pouring all over the zombies swarming in the corridor, and soon filling the zombies up to their waists.
Wild Dog took this opportunity to chop off the hand that was holding his helmet and climbed up using his hands and feet. Patrick stretched out his arm in time, grabbed his belt and lifted him up. If he had been a little slower, Wild Dog might have been buried with the zombies.
The soft, fresh soil should have been scattered everywhere, but instead of rolling downstairs, it kept gathering towards the pile of zombies in the middle.
Finally, all the yellow mud solidified into a huge mound, sealing the zombies rushing upwards tightly inside like a grave.
The two of them were lying on the third floor, looking at the zombies struggling to escape from the pile of dirt, and couldn't help but exclaimed: "Oh my god!"
"Where did the soil come from?"
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