Apocalypse Cockroach

At 7: 30 a.m. on January 20, 2013, the cell phone alarm will wake up Zhang Xiaoqiang, wake up, then go to the living room to take stock of the rest of the supplies. Five days ago, half of the cabbage exchanged for small lives remained, rice was 45kg, and the cigarette disappeared yesterday. The day without the cigarette made him a senior smoker uncomfortable.

“Touch" came through the burglar door.

Beginning five days ago, the corpses outside the door broke the iron gate without relenting, and the desire and greed for flesh kept them outside his door like loyal dogs for a moment.

The smell of corpses in the house is too strong. Fortunately, Zhang Xiaoqiang is used to it. Sometimes the subconscious thought that only this smell was normal, and the old ones were slowly moving away from him, leaving only the instinct of survival.

Walk into the kitchen to open the induction cooker, pour yesterday's leftover meat rice into the frying pan and boil it in water with the chopped cabbage, divide it into two portions after the pan is raised, eat one in the morning and one in the evening.

After breakfast, Zhang Xiaoqiang walked to the computer room window as usual to look at the zombies downstairs, looking at the end of the road, looking at the dark, heavy and dull sky, that obscure cloud with a few shady smells, suppressed his mind, made him breathe and feel sleepy.

Hopefully, a convoy suddenly appeared at the end of the highway, standing in a camouflage compartment with a platoon of PLA fighters, sweeping the world of despair with a steel gun in his hand, driving those rotten zombies to hell and sending him back to his old days.

Fantasy is fantasy after all, the zombies are still wandering around, while Zhang Xiaoqiang still has to worry about food. Returning to the living room to hold his head in preparation for today's physical training, the man slowly becomes weak after a long time. If he wants to survive, he must desperately improve his physical fitness. Now even a little improvement is good.

“47” “48”.... “50”

“Huh” Zhang Xiaoqiang exhaled a long breath and held his hands on the ground. He was too tired and had not exercised like this in a long time. Thinking that the zombie outside the door was still outside, there was not enough food in the house, Zhang Xiaoqiang breathed deeply and held his head again.

Put an eight-pound hammer in the corner of the wall and pick up the towel and wipe the sweat beads all over your face. 2,000 frog jumps, swinging an eight-pound hammer 500 times made him tired, the breakfast was almost digested, his stomach started to wake up again.

Sitting on the sofa, a small strong plate counts how to solve the six corpses outside the door. He left the shield outside the door without defensive equipment. He can't spell the corpse. The anti-theft iron door can't be opened outward. The door can't be stuck in the house, the gap can be solved one by one. After a few days of eating dry meal, it's impossible to have the strength of a pair of six.

I couldn't think of a way to do it. Zhang Xiaoqiang held his head and fingers and scratched his scalp vigorously. All kinds of methods were high or no idea. I saw the yellow fruit tree cigarette box on the coffee table and I used to grab it and shook it before I thought of it yesterday. I looked at the cigarette butt in the ashtray and found a blank piece of paper to remove the cigarette butt and carefully stack the rest of the cigarette wire on the blank piece of paper and roll it into a strip.

Looking for a lighter to light up, took a sip and leaned on the sofa to see the phone at home, thinking that I haven't paid the phone bill for a few months? Three or four months? The pretty MM in the telecom business hall must have turned into a zombie too. There are over $80 worth of phones in the cell phone that contribute to the telecom for nothing, don't you think you've lost a fortune? His mind was filled with marginal thoughts. Zhang Xiaoqiang's eyes passed through the telephone line unconsciously.

“Wait."

The telephone line? Zhang Xiaoqiang re-pointed his gaze at the telephone line. He flashed a light in his heart, but could not catch it.

He stared at the telephone line, his brain spinning quickly. What's the function of a telephone line other than making a phone call? Drying clothes, sun quilts, tying, thinking about his head, “is when the rope” he stood up and walked back and forth, looking for a rope to tie to the door handle of the anti-theft door, then fix the other side, then open the door without fear of the door being squeezed open by the zombie, open a door seam to solve the zombie outside the door one by one.

If you think about it, Zhang Xiaoqiang arrived in the storage room with a fine hemp rope tied to the railing on one side of the window, leaving a distance of 10 cm on the door handle. The weapon could not be hammered, and the space was too small to be opened. Zhang Xiaoqiang found a galvanized pipe of about 1.5 meters, which he felt was too weak to handle the necropolis.

Keep looking for his dad's toolbox. It's amazing! Fortunately, his father could do anything. In the '60s, he dug water canals in the countryside. In the' 70s, he was the director of a motor factory. Although only a dozen people were still collegiate, he was also an official. In the '80s, opening a restaurant was also the first 10,000 yuan household in a small town!

Too bad his dad likes to play, fish, hunt, and have no business. Otherwise, he could be a small model. His father's fishing rods and shotguns were made by himself. For some time, China harshly seized the gun. His father had the nerve to throw the handmade front door gun into the Yangtze River. Although his father left, those tools remained.

“Found”.

Turn out a triangular file, the file has a foot to put for a little longer, the triangular file is not very rusty, tool steel in the seventies absolutely guaranteed quality.

Use a knife to slice the wooden handle of the file into the water pipe. Try not to be safe, nail the connection between the pipe and the wood with iron nails, and you won't be afraid to lose the chain at a critical time.

Everything is ready. Zhang Xiaoqiang stood behind the door and checked his equipment. The army coat has been washed. It is unfortunate to get dirty again today. The tap water has stopped, and we don't expect to drink it and expect it to wash laundry!

Hold a homemade iron gun with your left hand and open the door with your right hand.

“Touch"...

Zhang Xiaoqiang closed the door again, it was too stinky, the smell of rotten corpses he had killed the other day made him unable to open his eyes.

Without a mask at home, Zhang Xiaoqiang found a wool scarf to cover his nose and sprinkle some flower dew water on the scarf.

Open the door again, a dark claw grabbed him in the face, and the owner of the claw was trying hard to squeeze in through the door. This time he was ready not to be frightened, carefully weighed the skin on the zombie, zombie claws tightened inward, bone festival all revealed like eagle claws towards him, sharp nails with dry fingers to retract. The zombie desperately tried to shove his head into the door and sew it. The skin on his face resembled that of a claw. His orbit was deep and his protruding cheekbones rubbed back and forth on the iron door. He seemed to want to rip his head into it.

Zhang Xiaoqiang held an iron gun in his hands, and the top triangle of the triangle file stabbed the corpse's eyes. Holding the pipe tightly in his hands, he pushed his milk canal to the outside. For the first time, he could not grasp the force with an iron gun. All he knew was that he stabbed outward, his head was dizzy, and his body burst out with blood hidden in the bone. He got excited and felt like all the zombies were just like that, he could kill them all himself.

Two more claws grabbed him from the door seam, and two claws swayed in front of him to clear him up. He pulled out the iron bullet head, and the orbit of the zombie turned into a deep black cave, slowly flowing out the blood of black and sticky silk. The zombie first fell on the nearby zombie with a slowly distorted floor, his head facing his pupilless eyes white, a black cave flowing with black and black bloodstains. The contrast between the two extremes made Zhang Xiaoqiang's head chill.

“Five more," he said to himself, no longer going to see the dead zombie.

I haven't used a long gun, and I don't know how to handle it. He grinded the remaining five dead bodies with his shallow, shabby gunshot, when the last one fell to the ground.

“Bang” sound.

Zhang Xiaoqiang could no longer hold the iron gun and let it fall to the ground.