Doomsday America

Chapter 12 Hourly Fries (Bonus chapter for the Alliance Leader's Urology Department, please go upstairs for the second floor!)
"Next?"

When Madison questioned him, Gavin turned off the music, rolled down the car window, and then took out a cigarette.

"Let's have a smoke first, listen to the sounds around here, and see if any zombies have been attracted by our noise."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The first puff of smoke is always a bit pungent, but Gavin felt it was just right; it felt great to be alive!

Zombie apocalypse...

Bullshit! Did I transmigrate to this world to enjoy a life of luxury in the evil United States?

On the one hand, he amassed a fortune through his prophecy, and on the other hand, he became a top athlete due to his physical prowess.

When I get old and retire, I'll find a political party I'm comfortable with, join it, run for governor of Texas, and maybe even try my best for the presidency.

As for zombies, they have never appeared in Gavin's life plans in the past twenty-five years.

Do you like zombies?

Why doesn't he go find some zombie games to play? Wouldn't that be much more fun than a real apocalypse?

Gavin exhaled a puff of smoke, letting it and his breath leave the car and drift away into the gloomy night sky.

In the passenger seat, Madison grinned admiringly at Gavin, who was engrossed in smoking.

"You're a fucking superman. You can smoke while still putting up those results in a competition. Your lungs must be made of iron."

"If I dared to smoke like you, my strength and conditioning coach would beat me until my ears were hoarse."

"Smoke less, boss. After all, there won't be as many cigarettes for you to smoke as much as before in the future."

"Unless you take me to grow fucking tobacco, I'd rather grow some pasture to raise cattle, so I can milk cows and fry big steaks!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Madison, bored, started flipping the safety switch on the shotgun.

Gavin glanced at him, then patted the gearshift as a reminder.

"Don't play with the gun's safety when you're bored, go play on your phone!"

"I was just worried my phone would run out of battery, buddy!"

“It’s okay. This is Texas. Every farm has its own small generator, and so does my family.”

"Okay then. I wanted to check if my family had answered my call. Are you sure you have a stable power supply at home? I've never used a generator before, do they use gasoline or diesel?"

Madison asked one last question, then casually took out his phone and started searching for videos online.

Nearly half an hour has passed since Gigi mutated, and in that half hour, some new things have finally appeared online.

Madison glanced at it once, then widened her eyes and held the phone up to Gavin.

"Fuck, look at this!"

He spoke incoherently to Gavin.

Seeing this, Gavin held his cigarette out the window and glanced at his phone screen.

The phone displayed a video showing the New York Stock Exchange Center exploding.

However, only the visuals were useful, because the audio in the video was filled with the woman's frantic screams.

911! 911! Aaaaaaah!

The woman in the video kept shouting "Naiwanwan" in an extremely shrill voice.

What 911?

Should we call the police?
Of course not, a plane crashed and hit the New York Stock Exchange.

Not only the planes in the video, Gavin estimates that the trains still running on the tracks will also collide with each other and derail one by one.

The zombie outbreak has spread too far; it's not just about one zombie on a plane spreading from one to another.

Instead, there are hundreds of zombies on a plane, hunting down the few remaining normal people!

Besides, it happened at 3 a.m., when everyone was tired...

With that thought in mind, Gavin pushed the phone back to Madison and then backed the car about two meters from the convenience store entrance.

He simply raised his hand and threw the cigarette butt out of the car window, then got out and stomped it out.

He then went to the back seat of the pickup truck and picked up the military knife that had been used to kill zombies.

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

"Do we still use knives? Aren't guns much better than knives?"

"hehe."

Hearing Madison's words, Gavin smiled and brandished his dagger a couple of times. "Is that a gun? That's a zombie summoner. Judging by the penetrating power of the gunshot, one shot would probably attract zombies within a kilometer radius."

"As for the knife, the noise it makes is probably not even enough to attract a zombie a hundred meters away."

"Besides, if more than ten zombies are charging at us, what good are a few guns?"

At this point, Gavin tossed his saber into his left hand and skillfully drew his Colt Python from his waist with his right.

Gavin glanced at the ejected magazine, then retracted it and made it spin. Listening to the beautiful metallic sound of the revolver's magazine spinning, he continued.

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

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

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

"Uh, no, aiming for a headshot is a bit difficult."

Gavin continued speaking to Madison after hearing his reply.

"Yeah, aiming for headshots is a bit difficult. So do you think it's easier to aim in a game or in real life?"

"Of course it's in the game. I'm not some poor soul who's never handled a gun before. Aiming with a real gun is much harder than aiming with a mouse."

"Shooting a moving target with a real gun requires more than just eyesight; it also requires experience and intuition—the mysterious instinct of shooting!"

"now it's right."

Gavin made the final statement.

"Imagine you're aiming at a dozen enemies running at top speed in a game, and you still can't get headshots every time."

"Then what makes you think you can accurately blow the heads off at least a dozen or twenty zombies running towards you at a hundred-meter speed in real life?"

"Losing in a game might mean losing points or losing face, but losing in real life means losing your life, buddy."

"Moreover, the number of zombies often exceeds a dozen or twenty, just like in the manor just now."

"Unless we have a significant amount of explosives and have pre-positioned them, or simply fire a Hellfire at that spot."

"Otherwise, with just the two of us, we probably wouldn't be able to kill them even if we died ten times over."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin twirled his pistol with flair, then shoved the Colt Python back into its holster.

He patted the holster and said.

"Alright, don't get scared just because I'm bragging a bit. You'll have plenty of opportunities to practice your marksmanship in the future."

"As for now, come inside with me to move some things. Hopefully, this store will offer burgers; I like the sound of the microwave dinging."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin strode towards the convenience store.

Under the eerie light, he and Madison talked for a full six minutes without a single zombie getting close, which could only mean that there weren't many zombies in this area.

Even if they exist, they're probably locked in rooms they can't break out of, or too far away to hear anything more than a normal conversation.

In this situation, one should be cautious when exploring, pushing open each door rather than wasting time scaring oneself in a relatively safe environment.

Seeing Gavin leave so decisively, Madison quickly followed and said.

"Then we absolutely have to get some fries, Gavin."

"No problem. While you're at it, fill all the portable gas cans at the gas station and separate the gasoline and diesel, placing them on either side of the pickup truck bed."

"We also need to bring more water and canned goods, as well as cigarettes, tape and toiletries, and it would be best if we could find some nails."

"If there are any emergency medicines, we can't let them go either. Damn, there's too much worth taking."

As soon as he finished speaking, Gavin pushed open the glass door of the convenience store and went to the side of the bent shelf.

The crooked shelf stood between the counter and the broken glass wall, and two black shoe prints left by a great force could be seen on the nearby floor. This was the only shoe print in the entire store.

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

After he turned into a zombie, he was attracted by a passing car and jumped off the counter. After landing, he sprinted and ran after the sound until he was stopped by a glass wall.

Unable to open the door, he smashed the glass curtain wall, leaving behind a large amount of blood and letting the bloodstains spread far away until they disappeared.

After determining the zombie clerk's route, Gavin went to the counter, his eyes landing on the fries cone, the burger display case, and the soda machine.

Although he had never done similar work before, the process of taking a hamburger out of the cabinet, rinsing it, getting a cold Coke, and then adding ice to the freezer was still quite simple.

Gavin quickly picked up the hot hamburger and stuffed it into his mouth.

　Thank you to the leader of Laoyou Men's Hospital. It's an honor to have you accompany me on my writing journey.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)