C12 Handgun and Coal Furnace

12. Pistols and coal stoves

The biking party is the most powerful group in this area. They are made up of a group of security guards from the original community, and because most of them are veterans, their military attainments are much better than the average person. Plus, they don't have any family ties, so they are already a relatively close team, so their combat power is much higher than the small group formed by ordinary people. The moment the Zombie erupted, the people who were originally standing in front of the entrance and saluting to the residents turned around and became the community's actual protectors and controller. In San Mao's words, "We have become local tyrants!"

There were terrifying rumors about them, that they ate humans! It was said that they had reared the original residents of the community like animals and slaughtered them every day. But I always thought it was a rumor spread by others, and I even thought it was a rumor spread by them, just to make others afraid of them.

The motorcycle party is called the motorcycle party, of course, because they have motorcycles. It was not easy to find motorcycles in this city, because, many years ago, nearly all of the large and medium-sized cities in our country had a ban on motorcycles, and in the heart of the city there were still bikes that could be kept, with the exception of the police, some of the fans of underground motorcycles.

Because of the several city defense battles, the roads of Qianchao City were riddled with holes from the artillery fire, and there were also a large number of abandoned cars in the escaping tides of the city that were tightly packed with practically all of the roads. Under such road conditions, it was simply impossible for cars to move a single step forward.

The motorcyclists had gotten four or five motorcycles out of nowhere, and some weapons from the soldiers who had fled the last defense. Then, relying on their formidable force, they began to collect protection fees from all the small groups in our area. As our team has San Mao, who was once a police officer, and the Dr Lee, they are more polite to us, only collecting small amount of supplies every seven days.

"They're coming out!" I let out a soft cry, and we all shrunk our heads. Although the biker gang was kind to us, based on the principle of not revealing our wealth to the public, it was impossible for them to see all the firewood in the car.

The door first opened a crack, and San Mao's head popped out of the crack to look around. Then, the door opened to the outside, and San Mao and the other two people walked out.

I saw San Mao continuously conversing and laughing with the two of them, as though he was trying to kiss up to them, and then he toasted a cigarette to them, all the way until they started the motorcycle and sped off. For the motorcycle party, of course, they were not afraid that lights and sounds would attract the attention of others. They had already made people burn incense by not provoking others.

"Pui!" I hope you all fall into the corpse well as soon as possible! " When the sound of the motorcycle completely disappeared, we walked out from behind the rocks. Lin Hao spat towards the direction the motorcycle disappeared in, and said hatefully.

I walked to the metal door and pressed three long and three short signals to the door. San Mao's face appeared from the observation window, he looked at me, then at the other people behind me. Then, he opened the door and let us in.

"Look!" "What is this!?" After the door closes, I handed over the Type 92 handgun in my hand to San Mao as if I was offering a treasure.

San Mao is my childhood friend, I have known him since he was wearing his pants. He was a military fanatic when he was young, obsessed with all kinds of weapons and equipment." Weapons Knowledge "," Aviation Knowledge "," Tank, Armoured Vehicles "and many other weapons and equipment. From kindergarten onwards, he swore to be a soldier or a police officer. After that, when he grew up, he also did what he wanted to do and entered the police academy, becoming a real police officer. However, when he became a police officer in the most basic police station, he would encounter small things like a husband getting drunk and beating his wife, a legal wife and a mistress. "A hobby is a hobby, don't be delusional about turning a hobby into a profession, all the police stories are lies!" He was always so impressed after we finished our drinks.

However, after the explosion of the Zombie, San Mao still became our gun expert. With his years of knowledge on firearms, and his pitiful but at least prior experience, among us ordinary people who haven't even seen real people before, he is definitely one of the best, our original Type 95 assault rifle was also brought over by him.

San Mao's eyes lit up. He received the handgun, and quickly took the magazine off, and then pulled the trigger again, pulling out the remaining bullet in the gun. Then he took out the flashlight, closed one eye and shone it into the barrel of the gun. Then he pulled up the gun and fired.

"The barrel of the gun is rusted. Is this thing submerged in water?" San Mao frowned, he then placed the gun under his nose and sniffed, then immediately his face became twisted, "Why the f * ck is it so smelly? Was it stolen from the Zombie? "

"It's in the water, but it's just corpse water." I looked at him with a schadenfreude smile.

"Too disgusting …" San Mao threw the gun back to me, "Wipe well tomorrow, it's still good to use the gun oil to scare people."

In fact, none of us has even fired a single shot of the 95-type assault rifle that has made our small group gain a higher status in the neighborhood, or even made the motorcyclists fear it! Although under San Mao's guidance, we learned how to pull on the guns and tie them, adjust the speed of the machine, aim at the target and so on, but for one thing, bullets are precious — In our entire team, together, there are only three magazines, ninety rounds of rifle bullets locked in San Mao's luggage. This is a secret that no one in our team, other than Lv and I, knows about, so if it wasn't for the fact that we are on the verge of death, it would be extremely easy for us to draw the Zombie here.

Of course, the most important thing was that against Zombie, a spear would not be as useful as a goat-horn hammer. Before the Zombie crisis broke out, I had followed San Mao to the shooting-range several times to shoot. At a distance of a hundred meters, with the school gun in place, and experienced soldiers training the shooting parameters properly, I could only barely hit the human-shaped target while lying down and meditating. And this was under the condition of calm, without any pressure, where the target was fixed and unmoving. Imagine that when a bunch of disgusting and horrifying Zombie howls and pounces on you, you're still delusional enough to hit them, and only in the head? To someone who had never come into contact with firearms before, this was simply a fantasy story.

It was even more difficult for a professional soldier to hit a head-sized object ten meters away with a firepower pistol that had a lot of recoil. However, for a new corpse that had not lost speed, a distance of ten meters was only a matter of two seconds. If one did not hit the gun, it was very difficult to get a second shot.

Of course, to our kind, firearms are always an extremely powerful existence, and guns are also an important guarantee for the survival of our team. It allows all humans who covet us to weigh their own abilities before acting rashly.

"Instant noodles again?" As I entered, I smelled the rich aroma of instant noodles and seasoning packets, and I saw that a group of people was already sitting around the three-core honeycomb coal stove, another of our treasures. In the days when natural gas was still not widespread, this kind of honeycomb coal stove was an essential part of every city resident's home, and more than thirty people probably had the experience of walking through smoky corridors.

As far as humans were concerned, everyone's status and position in society were determined by external factors. Three months ago, what determined our status were the houses we lived in, the cars we drove, the clothes we wore, and the bags we carried … In this era, our position is determined by guns, food, muscles, and honeycomb-like coal furnaces.

Now, of course, it's not honeycomb coal that's burning in the stove. Twenty years ago, it was hard to find the black, cylindrical kerosene that almost every household had stored up in great quantities, but fortunately, this kind of stove is not picky. It can burn firewood, waste paper and grass, even diesel fuel, and I sometimes think that if I go back to ancient times, I might be able to make a fortune selling this kind of kerosene stove.

"The last box." The Dr Lee squeezed to the side and squeezed out a seat for me to sit down. The food in a big iron pot on the stove was boiling non-stop. Aside from the ground instant noodles, there were also some grains of rice, unknown varieties of beans, some dried vegetables and so on.

When it was my turn, I handed over a LOCKLOCK glass bowl in my hand. Aunt Chen scooped a spoonful of mash into it, then added half a spoonful, a field prize, and when I looked down, I saw that the thick mash had barely covered the bottom of my bowl, my first meal in more than a dozen hours.