"Quick, fire! Don't let these things get close! Unless you want them to eat you bit by bit and turn you into one of them!"
A blond youth gripped his submachine gun and kept spraying the zombies' heads in front of him. However... while some zombies had fallen, even more were closing in, especially the helmeted zombie butcher.
"Damn it, I'm out of ammo!"
The young man standing atop the transport truck held his empty AK and cursed irritably.
"Then use your knife! Do you have any grenades left...?"
"The grenades were used up ages ago! But there's still a barrel of gasoline."
The youth smashed his empty AK down onto the head of a zombie below and looked at the spare barrel of gasoline beside him.
"Don't use the gasoline yet. We'll set ourselves on fire."
"It's over. We're going to die here!"
A bald man with a slight beer belly held his M1911A1 and realized he did not have much ammunition left either!
In this bioweapon apocalypse, ammunition was consumed at an absurd rate. Every time they went out to transport supplies, they burned through a huge amount of bullets.
"Then we'll die together with these freaks! Dako, get ready to pour the gasoline..."
Looking at the zombies surrounding them, a trace of despair flashed in the blond youth's eyes. Who could have expected... that just as they were about to reach the base, the transport truck's engine would suddenly break down?
And then they had run into so many zombies.
"W-Wait, boss, I think someone's coming!"
The youth on the roof suddenly pointed ahead.
The blond youth looked over and saw that it was true... an extremely imposing modified armored vehicle was charging straight toward them.
"Hey, guys! Looks like you could use a little help."
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