Chapter 31
Escape! I have to escape!
Inside the market gate, countless zombies turned around and surged towards the gate, crashing against it like a tide.
Zla—
The tires locked up, billowing blue smoke, and the black car body was covered in black blood, emitting a foul stench.
Moore got out of the car, wearing a blood-stained robe. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the white coat was soaked with black blood, and even had a lot of flesh and blood stuck to it.
Between breaths, his breath hit the mask, sometimes blurry and sometimes clear.
Moore clutched his arm, his eyes twitching, and strode forward.
The two towering doors swayed back and forth as the walkers pounded on them. Even if Moore didn't let them out, the walkers would soon break out on their own.
Moore took out his pistol and aimed it at the iron lock between the doors.
This is Hugh and Wayne; they locked the iron lock while the walkers were feeding.
With a bang.
The chains slid to the ground with a crisp sound, and drops of blood rolled down the ground as well. Compared to black blood, this blood was a brighter color.
The door was pushed open and slammed heavily against the walls on both sides with a loud bang.
Countless zombies, their heads twisted, sniffed and their murky eyes darted around. Even though he couldn't see the focus of their eyes, Moore felt that the zombies' gazes were on him.
Moore held his breath, trying to minimize his presence.
Fortunately, the zombie simply sniffed around and then left the market.
"call--"
The zombies around him stopped moving, and Moore breathed a sigh of relief.
"hiss--"
The stinging and burning sensation in his arm began to spread, and Moore's arm began to tremble uncontrollably.
Fresh blood began to flow out, filling the air with a sweet, fishy smell.
Almost at the same time, the zombie that was about to walk past Moore stopped and turned its head strangely, as if it were sizing up Moore.
Moore licked his lips, raised his other hand slightly, and subtly aimed the gun at a few stopped zombies.
The next moment, a crossbow bolt pierced through the horde of corpses, embedding itself firmly in the forehead of one of the zombies, which then fell to the ground with a thud.
Moore turned his head and saw Daryl dressed in the same clothes, wearing a khaki mask, casually pushing aside a few zombies next to him.
Perhaps it was because Daryl's disguise was flawless that the walkers just stared at him without any desire to attack.
Daryl walked over to Mor and slapped the walker staring at Mor's body across the face, then stepped forward and kicked him again.
With a mix of pushing and shoving, Moore maintained a certain distance from the other walkers. Daryl grabbed Moore and said coldly, "Come on, get in the car!"
Moor didn't argue and obediently followed Daryl.
Daryl stood between Mor and the walkers, and whenever a walker tried to get closer, Daryl would push it aside or open the way.
Daryl opened the car door, roughly shoved Moore inside, and slammed the door shut.
Before Moore could speak, Daryl glared at him angrily: "Why did you open the door yourself? Weren't you injured?"
"Why don't you say so?"
Seeing Daryl's angry glare, Moore could only give an awkward smile, trying to bluff his way out.
Under Daryl's gaze, Moore's smile faded, and he patted the center console: "I'm the older brother, do you think I'd let you go on such a risk?"
The atmosphere in the car froze. Neither of them spoke, and they awkwardly looked out their respective windows.
There were a few zombies on one side of Moore, staring blankly into the car, unable to tell whether Moore was food or one of their own kind.
Moore snapped, "What the hell are you doing here?"
He rolled down the car window while cursing, plunged the dagger in, and killed several zombies in succession.
After killing a few, a few more were brought in.
Mohr sighed in exasperation.
"damn it!"
Outside the market, in the square!
Before Martinez and his group could rush into the market entrance, they saw a steady stream of zombies pouring out of the market.
Martinez's expression changed drastically. He quickly stopped in his tracks, took out a grenade launcher, and fired a shot at the horde of zombies.
bang——
Perhaps it was too close, the shockwave blew away many zombies, and also affected Martinez and several of his men.
Martinez spun away and rolled to the ground.
A powerful will to survive allowed Martinez to stagger to his feet, his mind still reeling, but he still shouted, "Shoot! Shoot them all!"
"Don't hold back your bullets, kill all these biters!"
(The biter: In Woodbury, the governor's specific term for a walking corpse)
Martinez gave the order, and his men displayed astonishing fighting prowess.
The bullets tore through the smoke, pierced the horde of zombies, spraying blood as they shattered the zombies' heads.
Some zombies that had been hit by too many bullets shattered into pieces instantly, and even those that were still alive lost their ability to move.
With his ammunition rapidly depleted, Martinez switched to a submachine gun and unleashed a barrage of fire at the horde of zombies.
Martinez's men were clearly well-trained in military affairs, and many maintained a certain formation to ensure crossfire and kill as many zombies as possible.
At the same time, they moved forward and retreated with measured steps. When they ran out of ammunition, they notified their comrades and returned to the vehicle to get more ammunition. Their comrades immediately took over the man's position.
It has strong firepower and a good hit rate.
The zombies couldn't even get off the steps outside the market; soon after leaving the market gate, they were torn apart by a barrage of bullets.
Fortunately, the number of zombies was still considerable, and Martinez managed to hold out for more than ten minutes.
In contrast, Martinez's ammunition seemed insufficient.
The control zone created by the bullets continued to retreat as the number of zombies piled up.
Martinez and his team were forced to retreat in stages until they reached a few vehicles that were not completely totaled.
Martinez was sweating profusely. He had no vehicle to retreat, no sufficient firepower, and a large number of walkers ahead.
Therefore, the only option is to find a direction and retreat quickly.
Martinez looked up and glanced at the streets that connected to the square.
First, the street near the market entrance is not feasible; being too close to the walkers and retreating rashly will only attract their attention and make them more vulnerable to being attacked.
There were only two or three streets here, and Martinez was hesitating.
A loud shout brought Martinez back to reality.
"The biter! The biter!"
"Another wave has surged in!!!"
One of his men, caught off guard, found himself surrounded by a large group of zombies who grabbed him.
In an instant, it was torn to pieces, and the zombies scrambled to devour the flesh, their faces stained with blood as they chewed.
Martinez's pupils trembled; he seemed to see his own death unfold before him, fear gripped his entire body, and his spine went cold.
Run! I have to run away!
This was the first thought that popped into Martinez's mind!
He had just seen it; the zombies were emerging from a nearby street, and he couldn't see the end of the horde at all.
Screams continued, and several skilled fighters instantly lost their lives.