Qualified Wasteland Traverser

"What the fuck!"

Using the wooden stick to push away the zombie remains blocking the crack, Bick, who had just seen the light of day, couldn't wait to take a deep breath of the fresh air outside. When he saw the situation around him, he couldn't help but curse loudly.

Ignoring the dark, stinky brains of the zombies that were smeared all over the crack, Bick scrambled back into the crack.

It turned out that in the desert outside the crack, hundreds of zombies were surrounding them.

Their targets were all the rare boulders in the desert.

After the gunshots stopped, the zombies, who had returned to their wandering state, heard Bick's curse and roared at the sky again.

Then, like a surging black wave, they rushed toward the boulders where Bick was hiding.

"SH * T, what's going on? I didn't lure that many zombies from the gas station!" Even though Bik wasn't sensitive to numbers, he could still tell the difference between 20 to 30 zombies and a few hundred.

Just now, he was so engrossed in shooting headshots that he forgot about the difference in the number of zombies.

But now, zombies were pouring in from all directions. How could he not know what was wrong.

Thinking back to what he had seen when he had just left, and how the zombies had gone crazy from cursing, Bick guessed that these zombies must have very good hearing.

"Maybe, they were attracted to the sound of my gun?" Bick shrugged indifferently. "Guessing is not the way. No one gave me a 'survival guide for the post-apocalyptic world' or anything like that. Let's try it!"

He did as he planned to. Bick opened the plastic cover of the empty  Mdonald's coke cup and put seven or eight spent shells into it.

He shook the coke cup with his hand, and the cup rang like a sand hammer.

He raised the cup high and shook it twice. Sure enough, the zombies collectively raised their heads and looked at the coke cup.

Although Bick doubted that their gray eyeballs still had vision, he didn't stop the zombies from "looking" at the coke cup.

He rolled his eyes and thought of a good way to escape. He did a few chest-expanding exercises.

Then, he threw the coke cup high into the crack, and Bick immediately kept quiet.

Sure enough, there were a few zombies, just like the dog Bobby from Uncle Bob's house picked up the ball, crazily chasing after the coke cup that kept making noises.

The space outside the crack of the rock suddenly became much more empty. Bic carefully poked his head out and found that there were still many zombies wandering around the giant rock. They did not chase after the coke Ccp together.

"Damn it, they are much more difficult to deal with than Bobby!"Cautiously withdrawing back into the giant rock, Bic moved his lips and mouthed.

Bobby, that silly dog, was often teased by Bick. He would pretend to throw the baseball while keeping it in his hands.

Every time, Bobby would be tricked miserably. He never learned his lesson.

However, these zombies were obviously not as gullible as Bobby. Only a few of them went after the coke cup, and the rest were still guarding around the giant rock.

For a moment, Bick didn't dare to act rashly.

After all, if he was playing with Bobby and was knocked down, he would at most get a mouthful of saliva on his face. If he was knocked down by these zombies, he knew that they wouldn't be satisfied with just a lick.

'it seems that these zombies have extremely good hearing and are very sensitive to sound. They must have been attracted by the sound of my gun. I wonder how many zombies are in this area.'

Bick leaned against the crack in the stone, his brain constantly spinning.

At the same time, this also explained why the search team, which had tricked him into being bait, used him to lure the zombies away.

Instead of using the weapons in his hands to kill all the zombies.

After Bick successfully lured the zombies away, the search team didn't come to save him. Instead, they ran away without firing a single shot.

They were probably afraid that the gunshots would attract the zombies nearby.

Although they understood that the search team had no choice, Bick would never forgive them.

Those who advised others to be magnanimous only did so because they weren't the ones who were harmed.

If he did not suddenly obtain the system, even if he was not eaten by the zombies and turned into the same living dead wandering in the desert, he would still die miserably in this crevice due to hunger and thirst.

"Fortunately, there are still nine Mcdonald's meals left. I don't have to die alone in this crevice due to hunger and thirst." Bick took out another glass of coke and happily drank a big mouthful.

"GRRR! GRRR!" Bick let out a long burp full of cold air. He didn't care that the sound would irritate the zombies near the giant rock.

As long as it wasn't the distant sound of gunshots that attracted the zombies further away, the nearby zombies were already crowded here. How much worse could it be?

"Speaking of which, I have to thank the system for providing a lever-type rifle. The airtightness is poor, so the gunshots will be muffled. Even without a silencer, the gunshots aren't very loud."

Bic raised his long gun and looked at it. regretfully, he put it into the system space and sighed, "I'll let you rest for now!"

Even if the hundreds of zombies outside was all that the gunshots could attract in this range, Bick could not continue to use guns to deal with all the remaining zombies.

That was because there were only a hundred bullets in total. One shot had to take down at least three to five zombies. Only then could he kill all the zombies outside.

Bick still didn't know what he would give the next time he signed in. It was better to leave some bullets for emergencies in the apocalypse.

Taking out the gleaming Gurkha Machete from the system space, Bick roared at the zombies that were roaring at him outside the crack, "A real man should dare to fight face to face with a machete!"

He raised the machete and hacked at the nearest zombie.

The zombie's skull, which had rotted for countless years, could not withstand the design of the Machete, which was specifically made for chopping.

Like cutting butter with a dinner knife, the machete cut open the zombie's exposed neck bone and sternum smoothly.

Bick, who used too much strength, staggered two steps forward.

He hurriedly steadied himself. Bick did not want to rush out of the crack and into the zombie crowd.

Shocked, he raised his machete and praised, "Good machete, as expected of the famous Gurkha mercenary, using two centuries' worth of weapons."

To be able to be specially approved by the British Army and equip the Gurkha mercenary's machete alone, it indeed had its own unique points.

"The system's product, it must be of high quality!" After lamenting, he started to work, swinging his machete and slashing one zombie after another.

Although chopping at the Zombie's head was more exciting than using a gun to shoot it, Bick's heart calmed down.

He wasn't as hot-blooded as when he used a gun to shoot the Zombie's head.

He was becoming more and more like a real wasteland traveler, and not a newbie who had come from a peaceful era.

A qualified wasteland traverser dared to face the worst situation.

He would not give up his life so easily, and he would always be able to put up a desperate fight to survive.