2 Headshots Everywhere

"As expected of the president's set meal with the same Mcdonald's. It's really heavy!" Bick burped as he looked at the remaining half of the hamburger and chocolate milkshake in his hand.

It contained two big macs, two mackerel burgers, and a chocolate milkshake. It had more than 2,000 calories. Even if Bick had been hungry for a long time, he could not do anything about it.

His stomach, which had been tortured for a long time by the excessive secretion of stomach acid due to hunger, finally calmed down. The feeling of being stuffed was great.

"If I had known earlier, I wouldn't have drank so much coke. But it was really great!" Bick was still not satisfied. He put the rest of the food into the system, picked up his spear, and started to load the bullets one by one.

The system provided a classic model from before the 1964 revision. The main parts were all made of high-quality steel.

Compared to the 1964 revision, the mass production of handicrafts to earn money was completely different.

This was a weapon that could really kill people. The pioneers who developed the Western Region relied on a Winchester and a Colt revolver to fight for survival space with Beasts and primitive tribes in the yellow sand.

In the harsh environment of the Western Region, Winchester's good applicability and powerful enough power were still the first choice of the Cowboys in the western region even when automatic weapons were prevalent.

Raising the long spear, the crack in the stone was only a few feet deep. It could basically be considered as directly blocking the muzzle of the spear against the foreheads of the zombies.

As a lever-type rifle, its air tightness was much worse than a bolt-action rifle. The sound of the gunshot was not crisp.

It was a dull "tss" sound like the that of a high-pressure boiler releasing steam.

However, the power was definitely impressive.

As a famous gun, it had the title of "The gun that conquers the west", along with the powerful Marlin. A 450-inch bullet was too cruel for zombies.

One had to know that even a white-tailed deer that weighed dozens of kilograms, a two-meter-long North American gray wolf, or even a big brown bear wouldn't be able to withstand such a powerful bullet from a distance of 100 yards.

These ordinary zombies were shot in the head. The three or four zombies that were stuck close to each other and squeezed into the crack in the stone completely disappeared.

The head of the zombie closest to Bick exploded. Its rotten brain matter was like crude oil that had just been extracted. It was pitch-black, sticky, and stinky. It immediately covered both sides of the crack in the stone.

Such a disgusting scene brought back some memories for Bick.

These guys' heads were just like the jack-o-lanterns that he and his friends didn't get enough candy from Mrs. Wesley on Halloween when he was seven years old. Therefore, they started to make trouble and stomped on the jack-o-lanterns.

Indeed, when facing Winchester 1894 and Marin Bullets, the zombie heads were as fragile as pumpkins under the feet of naughty children.

"Hiss... oooo! Ugh!"

The beautiful memories were interrupted by the roars of the remaining zombies.

Although the most active zombies died miserably, it was not enough to make the zombies behind them retreat.

The zombies that had long lost their humanity and rationality now only had fresh flesh and blood in their minds. They had no fear and only had the most instinctive desire to eat.

The zombies that had their heads blown off fell down. The zombies behind them immediately stepped on their bodies and continued to squeeze into the crevices of the rocks.

The hungry look on its face clearly meant that it would not stop until it had eaten all of Bick.

Looking at their ferocious looks, Bick, who had grown up in the southern slums of Los Angeles, had a big heart.

Some sissies might scream in fear. With food and weapons in hand, Bick did not know what fear was.

He curled his lips and replaced Marlin. The 450-inch high-powered bullets were replaced with normal handgun bullets.

"It's a waste to use such high-powered bullets against you guys. After all, there are only ten bullets," Bick muttered as he switched out the magazine.

After wandering alone in the desert for a long time and escaping for his life, Bick wanted to chat with the inhumane Zombies.

Besides, this could also relieve some of the pressure.

When he first transmigrated, he was deceived by the search team. It was because Bick hadn't seen a human for a long time and thought that he was the only survivor in the world. When he suddenly saw a search team that was also a human, he was excited and excited.

Otherwise, growing up in the extremely complicated slums, Bick's vigilance was definitely not low.

"When I get out, your good days will come to an end!" Thinking of the search team, Bick yelled angrily and raised his gun to continue shooting.

Even though using the Gurkha military knife could save ammunition, Bick never even considered using a knife when he ad a gun.

Once again, he filled the magazine with seven handgun bullets, repeatedly pulling the lever and the trigger.

The sound of the handgun bullets was even smaller than before, just like the exhaust of a pressure cooker at home.

Compared to the Marin. 450-inch bullets, the handgun bullets were much less powerful, but they could still make the zombies brains splatter.

It could only be said that the Marin.450-inch combined with the Winchester 1894 was a little too powerful.

"I remember there were only seven or eight zombies in total, why can't I kill them all?" Once again filling the magazine, Bick looked at the zombies that once again blocked the crack in the stone with confusion.

"Maybe the ones behind me who ran slower? "Bick shrugged and continued to kill as if it didn't matter.

The fact that guns could even shoot people in the head made Bick strangely excited.

Although Bick had grown up in the slums before he transmigrated, he wasn't a gang member. He didn't have many opportunities to play with guns.

After all, the charge for the shooting range wasn't very friendly to a kid from the slums.

At most, he could enjoy the thrill of the rain of bullets in a computer game.

However, no matter what kind of 3A move he played, whether it be escaping from Takoff or Calling of Duty: War Zone, it was not as enjoyable as killing zombies with real weapons.

At such a close distance, the pleasure of a headshot made Bick's blood boil.

Therefore, Bick also ignored the change in the number of zombies.

When the gas station lured the zombies away, there were indeed a few zombies whose legs weren't as agile.

These zombies had been attacked by other zombies and mutated because of the second infection.

Therefore, the injuries on their bodies were all strange. There were broken limbs, disembowelment, and all sorts of things.

Bick had seen those zombies whose legs were broken, and even their entire lower body had disappeared. Only their upper bodies were still unwilling to behave.

Soon, zombies with their heads blown off blocked the entire crevice.

Bik shot the last zombie who was still screaming and struggling through the crevice. For a moment, the whole world fell silent.

"The dead should sleep peacefully. It saves us all some trouble," Bick grumbled while poking the zombie bodies outside the crevice with his wooden stick.

Outside the crack, more zombies were waiting for him.