WebNovels

Chapter 12 - French Fries

"What comes next?"

In response to Madison's question, Gavin turned off the music, rolled down the car window, and produced a cigarette.

"Next, let us enjoy a cigarette and listen to the surroundings to see if any zombies are drawn to our voices."

Once he finished speaking, Gavin lit the cigarette and took a deep puff.

The first inhale is always a bit sharp, but Gavin finds it just right. It feels exhilarating to be alive!

Zombie apocalypse...

Damn, I traveled to this world to enjoy a tranquil life in the wicked America, didn't I?

On one hand, he had amassed considerable wealth by acting as a prophet, and on the other, he had achieved greatness as a top athlete, relying on his physique.

When I grow older and retire, I will seek out a political party that aligns with my beliefs, join their ranks, and perhaps even run for governor of Texas, or maybe even aspire to the presidency.

As for zombies, they had never been a part of Gavin's life plan over the past twenty-five years.

Like zombies?

Then he could seek out some zombie-themed games to play. Wouldn't that be far more enjoyable than facing a true apocalypse?

Gavin exhaled a cloud of smoke, letting it escape the car and drift away into the somber night sky.

In the passenger seat, Madison grinned with admiration as she observed Gavin lost in his enjoyment of tobacco.

"You're a damn superman. You can smoke and still perform like that in the game. You must have iron lungs."

"If I dared to hold a cigarette like you do, my physical trainer would knock my ears off."

"Smoke less, Boss. After all, you won't have as many cigarettes in the future."

"Unless you take me and grow some damn tobacco, but I'd prefer to cultivate pasture and raise cattle so I can milk some naan and fry up some hearty steaks!"

As the words left his lips, Madison idly fiddled with the safety of the spray gun.

Gavin shot her a glance, raised his hand, and tapped the gear lever to remind her.

"If you're bored, don't fidget with your gun's safety. Go play on your phone!"

"I'm just concerned about my phone dying, man!"

"It's fine. This is Texas. Every farm must have its own small generator, including mine."

"Okay then. I just wanted to see if my family called back. Are you certain your house has a stable power supply? Do generators run on gasoline or diesel? I've never used one!"

Madison finally asked, pulling out her phone and browsing for videos online.

Nearly half an hour had elapsed since Gigi mutated. During this time, new footage had finally appeared on the Internet.

Madison glanced at it, her eyes widening as she held the phone up to Gavin.

"Damn, look at this!"

She spoke incoherently to him.

Seeing her excitement, Gavin hung his cigarette out the window and peered at her phone screen.

On the display was a video showcasing the New York Stock Exchange in flames.

However, the only useful aspect was the visuals, as the audio was filled with the panicked screams of the woman being filmed.

"911! 911! Aaaaaaaaah!"

The woman in the video repeatedly shouted "Nai Wanwan" in a piercing voice.

What 911?

Do you wish to call the authorities?

Of course not, but a plane had crashed into the New York Stock Exchange.

Gavin surmised that not only the plane depicted in the video, but also the trains still running on the tracks would collide and derail one after another.

The zombie crisis had erupted on a vast scale. It wasn't merely a single zombie on a plane that spread the infection; there were hundreds hunting down the few remaining survivors!

Moreover, this chaos occurred at three in the morning when everyone was half-asleep...

Considering this, Gavin pushed the phone back to Madison, then parked the car about two meters from the convenience store entrance.

He raised his hand and tossed the cigarette butt out of the window, then walked over and crushed it underfoot.

Next, he retrieved the saber from the back seat of the pickup truck, the weapon he had used to slay zombies.

In the passenger seat, Madison glanced at Gavin and spoke.

"Do we still need knives? Aren't guns more effective than knives?"

"Ha."

Upon hearing Madison's words, Gavin smiled, brandishing the saber and swinging it a couple of times.

"Is that a gun? It's a zombie summoner. Considering the gun's penetrating power, I fear one shot will attract all the zombies within a kilometer radius."

"As for the knife, the noise it produces is unlikely to alert zombies even from a hundred meters away."

"Furthermore, if more than ten zombies charge at us, what good will a few guns do?"

With that, Gavin switched the saber to his left hand and skillfully drew the Colt Python from his waist with his right.

He ejected the cylinder to inspect it, then reinserted it and let it revolve. Gavin listened to the delightful metallic sound of the revolver's cylinder as he continued speaking.

"You've played shooting games before, haven't you, Madison?"

"Of course, I've played Call of Duty."

"Actually, I was going to ask about CS, but that's not important. Anyway, when you play Call of Duty, is every enemy you kill a headshot?"

"Well, not exactly. Aiming for a headshot can be a challenge."

Listening to Madison's response, Gavin pressed on.

"Right, aiming for a headshot can be tricky. Do you think it's easier to aim in the game or in real life?"

"Definitely in the game. I'm not a novice who's never handled a gun. Aiming a real weapon is much harder than aiming with a mouse."

"Hitting a moving target with a real gun requires not just your sight, but also experience and that elusive instinct for shooting!"

"That's correct."

Gavin concluded.

"Imagine you're targeting a dozen enemies sprinting toward you in a game, and you can't land a headshot on all of them."

"How can you accurately blow off the heads of at least a dozen zombies charging at you at a hundred meters in real life?"

"If you fail in a game, you might lose points or face, but in real life, you just lose your life, man."

"Moreover, the number of zombies is often more than ten or twenty, just like the manor we encountered earlier."

"Unless we have sufficient explosives set up in advance, or we unleash an Inferno on that location."

"Otherwise, with just the two of us, we'd likely perish ten times over before we could kill them with our lives."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin performed a magnificent spin with the pistol, then returned the Colt Python to its holster.

He patted the holster lightly and said, "Alright, don't be terrified just because I'm boasting. You'll have plenty of opportunities to sharpen your marksmanship in the future."

"For now, let's head into the store and gather some supplies. Hopefully, they have burgers. I relish the sound of the microwave dinging."

With that, Gavin strode toward the convenience store.

Under the dim light, he and Madison chatted for a full six minutes without any zombies approaching, which only confirmed that there were not many of them in this area.

Even if there were any, they were likely trapped in a room where they could not escape, or too distant to hear sounds less than that of normal conversation.

In this situation, the time to be cautious while exploring is when pushing open each door, rather than wasting time fretting in a relatively safe environment.

Seeing Gavin walk away quickly, Madison hurried to catch up and said, "That better be some chips, Gavin."

"No problem. Just fill the gas drums at the station and separate the gasoline and diesel into two buckets on either side of the truck bed."

"Also grab extra water and canned goods, along with cigarettes, tape, toiletries, and hopefully some nails."

"If there are any emergency medicines, don't overlook them. Damn, there are too many things worth taking."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin pushed open the glass door of the convenience store and approached the shelves that had been knocked askew.

The tilted shelf stood between the counter and the shattered glass wall. Two black shoe prints marred the ground nearby, evidence of a tremendous force. This was the sole imprint in the entire store.

Clearly, this gas station convenience store had only one night employee.

Once he turned into a zombie, he had been drawn by the sound of a passing car and leaped from behind the counter. After landing, he sprinted toward the noise until he was halted by the glass wall.

Unaware of how to open the door, he simply shattered the glass barrier, leaving a trail of blood that spread into the distance and vanished without a trace.

Having discerned the path of the zombie clerk, Gavin approached the counter, his gaze falling on the French fry cones, the hamburger cabinet, and the Coke machine.

Though he had never performed such tasks before, it was surprisingly simple for him to retrieve a hamburger from the cabinet, take a bite, pour a glass of cold Coke, and add ice from the freezer.

Soon, Gavin picked up the warm burger and stuffed it into his mouth.

Thanks to the leader of Laoyou Men's Health, I am honored to have your company on my writing journey.

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