Chen Bufan occupied an excellent shooting position alone, with a powerful M249 light machine gun steadily mounted in front of him. He held a Molotov cocktail tightly in his right hand, and used his left hand to flick a lighter to light it. Then he swung his arm, and the Molotov cocktail flew out like a meteor.
His eyes were fixed on the rapidly moving bottle, his heart full of anticipation.
With a loud "bang", the Molotov cocktail hit a hideous zombie accurately. The bottle shattered instantly and the fuel inside splashed everywhere.
In an instant, the raging fire spread around the unfortunate zombie at an alarming speed, completely devouring it.
"Nice! That's great! Hurry, give me a few more Molotov cocktails." Chen Bufan shouted excitedly.
Shooting guns for a long time had made him feel a little bored, but at this moment, the new and exciting way of playing, throwing Molotov cocktails, made him unable to stop.
Every time you successfully throw the ball, you can see a group of zombies surrounded by fire. That scene is really exciting.
The weather was already extremely hot, and now the burning zombies below were emitting rolling heat waves, making the surrounding air scalding hot, as if being in a steamer. Chen Bufan didn't care at all and continued to immerse himself in this fierce battle with the zombies.
When Molotov cocktails could no longer satisfy him, he put down the empty bottle in his hand without hesitation and picked up a shotgun, commonly known as a spray gun.
He held the shotgun tightly in both hands, aimed at the surging horde of zombies in front of him, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
"Bang, bang, bang", a series of deafening gunshots rang out, and dense bullets poured out like a storm, hitting the zombies' bodies hard.
For a moment, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and broken limbs were scattered everywhere.
These creepy zombies, which are usually terrifying, became vulnerable under Chen Bufan's fierce attack.
But he did not stop there. Instead, he quickly changed his weapon, picked up a high-precision sniper rifle, and began to look for those strange-looking monsters hiding deep in the zombie horde as targets. With the sound of crisp gunshots, the strange-looking monsters fell to the ground one after another.
Every time he defeated a monster, Chen Bufan would smile with satisfaction.
In this way, he kept changing the weapons in his hands, sometimes shooting with a submachine gun, sometimes firing with a pistol, making full use of the performance of various weapons.
In just a short while, the zombie in front of him was in great misfortune and suffered a great deal.
I experienced all eighteen ways of dying.
When the fight became really boring, Chen Bufan gave up his position to someone else, then moved to the side, skillfully lit a cigarette, and took a leisurely puff.
The rich smell of tobacco instantly filled the entire mouth and nasal cavity, then the palate, and finally the chest, abdominal cavity and pelvic cavity, forming an invisible barrier, trying to dispel the lingering foul smell.
The stench was so strong that it almost reached my head.
At this moment, Chen Bufan had a cigarette in his mouth, and his eyes casually glanced at the soldiers who were struggling to shoot zombies.
The densely packed and countless zombies came like a tide. The weapons in the soldiers' hands kept spewing flames, but they could not stop the surging tide of zombies.
His sight gradually drifted away, and he saw that the number of zombies in the distance was astonishingly large, and he could not see the end of the team at all.
At this moment, his eyes suddenly focused, as if he had discovered something unusual, and then he looked carefully.
It turned out that in an office building far away, someone had unfurled a huge banner from the window, and the eye-catching word "SOS" came into view.
The people standing at the windows were desperately waving their hands in their direction, their mouths opening and closing, as if they were shouting something at the top of their lungs.
Due to the distance, I couldn't hear the specific content clearly, but I could clearly see that those people's facial expressions were full of fear and anxiety, and they were obviously desperately calling for help.
Chen Bufan stared with interest at the group of people who looked frightened, anxious and constantly sending out distress signals, but he was just watching coldly.
Want him to help? What a joke!
Putting aside whether they could get through or not, just looking at the countless zombies in front of them and below them made them feel timid. Should they tell the zombies, "Come on, please lend me a way so I can go over there and rescue a few Shabi who are yelling next to the zombies?"
Even if it was possible to reach there, the zombies were kind enough to give him way and let them pass.
He has no such obligation!
It wasn't him who caused the accident, why should he save her?
Besides, since the apocalypse, don’t we know what the characteristics of zombies are? Not being able to make any sound is the most basic common sense, right?
These people are still alive today!
Look at the street downstairs where they are, it's simply a surging sea of zombies rushing straight towards him!
They just need to send out that distress signal to let the army know there are still survivors here.
Once the army has completely cleared out the zombies, they will naturally be rescued.
Why did they choose to shout loudly in such a harsh environment? And they even shouted in groups!
Even though they are surrounded by zombies in the building and the situation is extremely critical, the more urgent it is, the more they should not shout loudly!
Looking at the dense crowd of zombies on the street, it was obvious that some of the zombies had been attracted by their shouting. Look! A small group of zombies had already poured into the building like a tide.
“Ah~ah~ah~ah…ah~ah~ah~ah~ah.”
Looking at the group of zombies that kept rushing into the building, Chen Bufan shook his head helplessly, while making a disgusting sound that made people roll their eyes.
He was not gloating; he was simply being sarcastic out of pure, undisguised sarcasm.
Ignoring the group of people who were still waving, he started throwing Molotov cocktails again. This slightly malicious weapon was very much to his liking.
*
"Stop screaming! Look at the zombies downstairs! Even if the army hears us, they can't get over here. If we attract the zombies in, we're doomed!"
The man who was speaking was about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, with a thick, messy beard that had not been trimmed for a long time. His hair was even more messy and looked greasy. It was obvious that he had cut it casually and there was no hairstyle at all.
At this moment, his face was full of anger, his eyes revealed extreme anxiety and anger, and he was shouting at the crowd standing in front of the window and shouting for help at the top of his lungs.