Ambushed

In this world, walkers are the main theme.

When the two walked to the middle of the traffic jam, one after the other, Mori suddenly stopped and signaled Kirk to squat down.

Then, Kirk hid under an SUV.

Through the wheels, he vaguely saw a pair of feet shuffling forward.

Yes, it was the sound of feet dragging on the ground, "shasha," as they moved. The owner of the feet seemed to have congenital polio and bow legs. Their legs could only mechanically execute the owner's intention to move forward, but could not bend flexibly.

"Walker!" Kirk's heart tightened. He was no stranger to this thing from American TV shows. This was the first time he had seen one in reality, and he couldn't help but feel a trace of fear.

He had finished watching The Walking Dead in one go, and he had a general understanding of the plot. The United States and even the whole world had been infected by an unknown biochemical virus, and more than half of the world's population had died. Worse still, many of the dead had gotten back up. The protagonist, Rick, was a police officer from a suburban county near Atlanta. He was injured while apprehending a suspect and woke up in the hospital to find himself in a living hell. He escaped, fought his way through, and after much hardship, found his wife, son, and a group of companions. They continued to flee, seeking a safe haven. People died constantly, and new people joined constantly. Everyone was struggling to survive. It was a very difficult and complex story, full of twists and turns, and captivating.

As for the big white man next to Kirk, he had always appeared in the show as a troublemaker. He had been a soldier and fought in wars, but he was a racist and a selfish person. In the first season, he was discriminated against by the black man T-Dog and locked on the rooftop by the protagonist, surrounded by walkers, and on the verge of death. Mori was also a ruthless person, cruel to others, and even crueler to himself. To survive, he sawed off his own right hand and gritted his teeth to escape.

Kirk had always felt that he couldn't get along with people like him. He disliked him in the TV show, and now he both hated and feared him. However, when he thought about it carefully, the Arena had arranged for Mori to save him, and the subsequent plot would naturally follow Mori. Fortunately, although Mori had a bad temper, his personal combat ability was quite strong, otherwise, he wouldn't have lived this long. He needed to find an opportunity to learn more moves from Mori, otherwise, without the ability to protect himself, he would die quickly.

Kirk was lost in thought when he suddenly saw the walker's rotten, black feet begin to shuffle towards him, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He looked around but couldn't find Mori.

"Hey, idiot, under the car," a deep voice sounded.

Kirk focused his eyes and saw that Mori had already crawled under the chassis of the SUV, glaring at him with an angry expression. He believed that if he wasn't afraid of alarming the walkers, he would have already started cursing.

Kirk felt ashamed and quickly crawled in.

Mori grabbed his collar. "Kid, let's be clear. If you get distracted again next time, the walkers here can have a taste of new Asian cuisine, banana pie, it's yellow, isn't it? And I, if I wasn't afraid of your fresh blood attracting more of those things, wouldn't have reminded you, understand?"

Kirk didn't have time to refute these racist remarks and quickly nodded to indicate he understood.

The owner of the feet walked back and forth by the SUV, and soon, more rotten, swollen feet came from a distance.

Low moans sounded in their ears as a large group of walkers passed by like an army.

For some reason, Kirk thought of the "death march" of the Native Americans being driven away by the guns of white colonists, walking and dying as they went.

Only the sound of shoe soles rubbing against the ground, like a swarm of deadly locusts passing through, leaving no life behind.

Mori's expression was as usual, only a bit grim. He spat out a glob of phlegm, took off the bayonet scabbard on his right hand, and began to observe his surroundings carefully.

Kirk noticed Mori's gaze, which was constantly scanning the roof of another large bus, clearly calculating an escape route if they were discovered.

This was the difference between a rookie and a veteran. He, like a "literary youth," was lamenting the helplessness of life, while Mori was calmly thinking about how to survive.

No, this wouldn't do. He had to learn something.

Mori clearly noticed that Kirk was also looking around. He grinned and lowered his voice, "Kid, what are you looking at?"

"The escape route, the roof, where to jump from and to."

"You'd die a thousand times and be eaten down to your bones."

"Then what are you looking at?"

"Looking at crows, kid, crows!"

"What's so good about crows?"

"Crows only eat dead bodies. Walkers don't even attract crows. Where there are walkers, these smart birds aren't around, so..."

"Where crows are circling, there won't be too many zombies! We should escape in that direction!" Kirk suddenly realized.

"Well, besides that, there's the last issue of Playboy on the back window of that big bus. I wonder what the girl with the big butt on the cover would look like as a walker."

Kirk was completely speechless. Mori's imagination was too powerful, and his taste was too heavy. He even fantasized about walkers.

The two waited for the horde of walkers to pass.

Watching the horde of walkers pass, Kirk's mood gradually relaxed. In another three to five minutes, these smelly guys would be gone.

But, there's always a "but."

A man suddenly rushed out from a car not far away, shouting, "Bastards, get away!" and the like.

"Damn it!" Mori fiercely stabbed his right hand's sharp point into the dirt.

Kirk also became nervous. Clearly, a variable had appeared. He didn't know if it was the space's deliberate arrangement.

As expected, the man stumbled and ran towards them. The walkers swarmed behind him.

Suddenly, a normal corpse lying by the car suddenly moved. As the man ran past it, it suddenly opened its mouth wide and bit the man's calf.

The man screamed loudly, desperately kicking his leg, trying to shake off the zombie's bite.

Even Kirk, the ultimate rookie, knew the man was finished.

The man fell to the ground, kicking up dust. He screamed in agony, making his final struggle.

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. The man had fallen at least twenty meters away from them. The walkers were busy eating the man, so they could slip away. Although Kirk soon felt ashamed of his thoughts.

After all, he was a human, his own kind, while those things pouncing on him could only be described as "them." They were no longer human.

But now he was just an ordinary person and couldn't help, so he could only watch him be killed by the walkers.

However, this man actually exploded with power at the moment of life and death!

He stomped and crushed the head of the zombie biting his calf, gritted his teeth, and got up, continuing to run towards them!

The walkers naturally followed.

The man had sharp eyes, managing to lock gazes with Kirk, who was hiding beneath the car and observing coldly.

Kirk's heart tightened. The man was already doomed after being bitten, or rather, doomed to exist in another form of life. Now, his choice was...

The man froze for a moment, then shouted, "Help! Help!"

"Damn it!" Kirk roared. This man, already destined to die, was trying to drag him and the other person down with him before he went. What a wicked conscience!

The walkers had seen Kirk and the others thanks to the man. There was no point in hiding here anymore.

Kirk scrambled out from under the car as fast as he could and then sprinted towards the place where he had seen the crows gathering earlier.

Then, he heard a gunshot. He looked back to see Moli expressionlessly lowering a Viper pistol, also running towards him. Behind Moli, the man limped along, clutching his gunshot wound. He was quickly caught up by the swarming walkers, tackled, and torn apart. The man's throat was ripped open, and he could no longer let out a piteous scream, only a faint, blood-choked "heh heh" from his throat. Perhaps he was calling for help, perhaps he was laughing, finally having two more companions for his journey to the underworld.

None of that mattered now. What mattered was that the walkers had discovered them.

Moli's gunshot had given the walkers a delicious new meal, diverting a large portion of their attention. However, there were still many walkers who couldn't squeeze through, and they wobbled towards the two of them!

Kirk ran as fast as he could, chasing after Moli. Based on his years of watching zombie dramas and playing games, the general truth was that once you were surrounded by walkers, even if you had god-like powers, wielded the Heaven Sword and Dragon Slaying Saber, and carried a rocket launcher on your shoulder, you would still struggle to escape death. He didn't want to die here.

However, Kirk's most tragic flaw was that he was a shut-in, strong in theory but lacking in physical training.

Even though the walkers were slow, Kirk wasn't much faster. After the 50% comprehensive reinforcement from the trial grounds, Kirk's agility reached its historical peak of a whopping 4 points! (Kirk yelled: "I trained for a month of long-distance running, damn it!") The walkers seemed to have an agility of 3-4 points. This was truly a kite-flying competition between evenly matched opponents. (Kirk yelled: "Being kited by zombies is the eternal shame of my life!")

By this calculation, Kirk should have had a higher chance of winning this race.

But, as everyone on Earth knew, racing against walkers was absolutely an endurance marathon. Walkers had no stamina bar; they could keep running until their joints wore out and they could no longer move. Kirk was a shut-in who rarely exercised. Coupled with his nervousness, he was already out of breath after running for a while. In theory, within the space, a contractor's body had been digitized and could maintain a constant speed for a long time without getting tired. But Kirk, this utter rookie, couldn't adapt to this body yet, leading to premature exhaustion.

Moli, running ahead, turned around. Kirk's heart tightened. He genuinely worried that this fierce man would repeat the trick he played on the other man earlier, shoot him, and leave him behind to cover the walkers while he escaped.

Moli grinned and raised the Viper, the metal muzzle pointed at the panting Kirk.

"No way, I just entered the space and the only NPC I met is betraying me? I'm going to be eaten alive by walkers? Is there such an unlucky protagonist?" Kirk thought to himself.

"Bang!" A deafening gunshot.

Kirk squeezed his eyes shut. A walker that had lunged at him suddenly stopped, its head exploding like a watermelon. Black brain fragments, brown gore mixed with pale brain matter splattered all over Kirk's face. Kirk gagged and threw up.

But fortunately, he knew he was on the brink of life and death. Gritting his teeth, he continued to run frantically.

Moli continued to shoot, seven shots, seven headshots, very accurate.

Then, he also continued to run.

However, the loud gunshots had alerted all the walkers. They converged from all directions, and the two of them were completely surrounded.

Kirk despairingly watched as the only gap ahead was gradually filled by scattered walkers. Although there weren't many, if he got entangled or bitten, he wouldn't be able to escape.

"Stop, catch!" Moli tossed the Viper over. Kirk instinctively responded but clumsily failed to catch the gun, quickly picking it up from the ground.

"You idiot! I'm going to try and hotwire this car. Our survival tonight depends on whether we sleep in sleeping bags or in the bellies of these things! You cover me, shoot, understand?" Moli yelled. He opened the door of a red Maserati sports car, ducked inside, lifted the floor mat, and began pulling out two wires to start his car theft business.

"How do I disengage the safety?" Kirk was utterly ashamed. A 21st-century youth, and he didn't even know this.

"It's already off, you ass! Don't aim at me! Aim at the walkers! Aim lower, this gun has heavy recoil, the muzzle rises. Shoot!"

This was Kirk's first time firing a gun. The Viper was a large semi-automatic pistol, very heavy. He gripped it tightly with both hands, racking his brain to recall the shooting techniques from "Modern Warfare 6," then aimed at the nearest walker's head and gritted his teeth as he fired his first bullet!

The walkers seemed stunned by the loud gunshot and stopped.

Then, nothing happened. The bullet shattered a car window, and the anti-theft system began to emit a piercing alarm.

"Well done!" Moli laughed. "Without a doubt, you're going to get us all killed."

"Shut up!" With the Viper in hand, Kirk felt more confident. The recoil from the previous shot had nearly broken his wrist. So, he stopped aiming and fired a shot at the closest walker.

This time, his tiger's mouth split open, blood flowed out, and his wrist was red and swollen, making him wince in pain. He didn't even confirm the result.

However, he clearly heard the space's cold voice:

"Contractor No. 4444 has killed 1 normal walker. Due to the weapon being borrowed from an NPC, the reward has been adjusted. Reward: 1 Survival Point. First kill will trigger a space broadcast notification. For specific combat details in the future, please check your combat log."

"Title 'Walker Hunter' unlocked. Current progress: 1/100. For title details, please inquire within the space. You can get answers by silently asking your question during a query."

Kirk ignored the pain and pointed the gun at another walker, then fired.

He already knew how powerful and well-rounded his attributes were, so he no longer pinned his hopes on the pathetic headshot rate. Showing off would only lead to death. With a powerful gun like the Viper, hitting the target was paramount. A normal walker would turn into scum with a single hit.

Therefore, he aimed at the walker's body, but this time, by chance, he hit the walker's large head directly, followed by the watermelon-like explosion and brain matter splattering everywhere.

Kirk forgot the pain and, following the same method, fired again.

This time, another side window of the car met its doom. However, Kirk believed that neither the car owner nor the insurance company would care about this, and no one would come to claim damages from him.

58 seconds later, Kirk had emptied all 30 rounds from the pistol. His hands were covered in blood and numb, but he had also killed 17 walkers and obtained 17 Survival Points. There also seemed to be a white key that automatically fell into his imprint space.

But more and more walkers were surrounding them, a dense black mass layered three or four deep. Kirk, who had no training, could achieve a hit rate of over 50% not because he had a protagonist template, played too many games, or had exceptional shooting talent, but because the walkers were too numerous and too close. As long as he didn't aim too high, even a pig could hit them with its eyes closed.

"I can't do this anymore, is it ready yet?" Kirk yelled.

At that moment, the car's engine roared to life. Kirk reacted quickly. Without waiting for instructions, he scooted his butt and quickly got into the car. Then, the Maserati's powerful engine roared, pushing the sports car to accelerate rapidly. Within seconds, it reached 100 kilometers per hour, like a bowling ball crashing into a pile of bottles, sending walkers flying in all directions and breaking out of the encirclement, speeding away into the distance.