I sell Coke in the doomsday

Deserted streets, a broken sunset, and a few blood-stained bones.

Some magpies landed and tried to eat the remaining flesh on the bones. I waved my shotgun to drive away those damn magpies, and put the remaining bones of Wang Quan into my backpack.

Just like that, I had calmed down, carrying Wang Quan's body, and returned to my nest amid the roars of the zombies.

Rest in peace, fallen leaves return to their roots.

This seems to be an obsession rooted deep in our hearts. I once thought it was a bad habit, but now, I have built a tomb for Wang Quan in the square of the community.

It was a small mound of yellow earth. Deep in the soil lay the bones of Wang Quan. There was no coffin, no tombstone, and even the body was incomplete.

I searched for a long time before I found a wooden board of suitable size. When I wanted to write Wang Quan's name on it, I realized that I didn't even have a pen to write with.

Civilization has collapsed. Even if we still remember those words, we no longer have the tools to write them. Feeling hopeless, I placed the board in front of the grave and set it on fire.

In my memory, people in my hometown have a strange worship of fire. They believe that fire can bring destruction, but also bring new life and drive away evil spirits.

The flames slowly burned along the thin wooden board, and thick white smoke rose and drifted towards the sky.

I sat in front of Wang Quan's grave, looking at the thick white smoke, and suddenly I had the urge to smoke. I sighed, took out a book, tore off the pages one by one, put them on the wooden board, and watched the pages being quickly engulfed by flames.

This book is "Lolita", and Wang Quan said it is his favorite book.

There may be gods in this world, but there are definitely no ghosts. Once a person dies, everything is gone.

Everything I do now is meaningless to the deceased Wang Quan, it is just to comfort myself.

Commemorating the dead through unnecessary yet elaborate rituals is a means that we humans have always used to comfort ourselves.

Whether it is tomb sweeping or celebrating the anniversary of a person's death, these are things that we, who are still alive, do for ourselves.

As the pages burned, I felt like I should say something.

I don't know whether Wang Quan has any beliefs or is a believer of any religion, so I could only tear off a page of the book and read to him his favorite novel, "Lolita".

"You can laugh at me, threaten me with expulsion from the court, but I will still shout out my truth."

"Until I suffocated and strangled me half to death."

It's meaningless, but it's the only thing I can do.

After the piece of wood was completely burned, I slowly stood up and looked at the small mound of earth again and again, wanting to say something but stopping myself.

I seemed to have a lot more to say, but when those fancy words that were stuck in my chest flowed to my dry lips, only two thin words were left.

"Good night."

"my friend."

That night, I went to bed very early, without even having dinner. I just threw myself on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Immortality is a very convenient thing. I don't need to eat to survive, but I need food to maintain my sanity, and I hate the feeling of being hungry.

No matter how the world changes, I can survive because of that damn wish.

But after dawn, everything may begin to change. I think I should also start to burn like a torch until it turns into ashes.

……

The next day, as soon as the sun came out, I got up early, took out the potato that I regarded as a treasure, cut it in half with a kitchen knife, and divided it into four even pieces.

I took the four potatoes and went to the land I had turned over, gently pressed them into the loose soil, and then covered them with more soil.

The most basic preparations for farming have been completed. The next step is to apply fertilizer, weed, and wait for the potato sprouts to emerge from the soil.

This will be a somewhat long process, and during this process, I should do what I should do.

I comforted Tongtong at home and went down to the basement where supplies were stored alone.

There was no electricity in the basement, and I had filled it up so full that the lighting was poor and it was very crowded. I searched for a long time and finally found what I wanted.

It was an 80-centimeter-long axe. The axe blade was probably forged from carbon steel and the handle was made of wood. It looked very sturdy and should be able to smash a person's head with one axe blade.

I simply tied the handle of the axe with a rope, hung it behind me, and put my hunting rifle on my back.

After making all the preparations, I jogged forward with my axe and shotgun on my back, all the way towards the depths of the city.

My physical strength is okay, but killing people is a physical job. I'm not sure how many people I can chop down with the axe. Physical injuries can heal quickly, but my physical strength recovers quite slowly.

So, starting today, I will improve my physical fitness.

"call……"

I ran on the dilapidated streets, sweating profusely and gasping for breath, but the initial weakness and soreness in my legs gradually disappeared.

I stopped at a relatively well-preserved neighborhood. It seemed that this place had not been thoroughly searched. As long as I was willing to wait, I would meet someone from the Shield Organization here one day.

With this thought in mind, I hid in a dilapidated house, holding the axe in both hands, raising it up and swinging it down heavily, practicing the chopping movement.

I kept a fighting book, but I hardly ever opened it. Today was the first time I took out that book.

I lit a stick with a lighter, then extinguished it, and used the ashes from the stick to draw a human-shaped pattern on the wall.

From now on, this pattern will become my practice object.

I followed the instructions in the book, clenched my fists, and punched the hard wall again and again, while moving my feet and pretending to be surrounded by enemies and dodging.

This looks silly, really silly.

When my fist hit the wall, pain came with it. I forced myself to ignore the pain and punched the wall again and again until my fist was stained with blood.

This time, it was not a stupid move, nor was it an incompetent venting of anger, but an attempt that had been planned long ago.

I have always been doubting one thing, regarding the mechanism of immortality, when my body is continuously damaged in a short period of time, will the repaired muscles, after multiple injuries, try to grow flesh and blood again, making the flesh and blood stronger and preventing it from being damaged again.

After all, when the end of the world comes, I will be just a skinny patient who has just recovered.

After being kept as a corporate slave by the Corpse God Cult for a while, I was able to break free from the ropes that bound me and escape from that hell.

I had my suspicions about this a long time ago, but I just never had the motivation to do it.

Moreover, even if my guess is true, the speed of physical strengthening will definitely not be very fast. After all, I have been tortured by the Corpse Cult for such a long time and have only just recovered to the level of an ordinary person.

I don't expect any exaggerated enhancements, I just hope that when I pick up the axe, I can chop down a few more scumbags.

Chapter 20 Missed

Bang!Bang!Bang!

My fists hit the wall, making dull sounds. Like a fool, I moved my body and punched the figure on the wall hard.

Eyes, nose, throat, chin, temples, and under the ears.

I was sweating profusely as I simulated the scene of fighting the enemy, punching the simulated vital parts one punch after another. The figure I drew on the wall had been blurred by the blood, and most of the ashes were mixed with my blood and stained on my fists.

Some people say that compared to loving someone, it is easier to hate someone for a longer period of time.

We may not be able to love someone for a long time, but we can hate someone forever. When we mention him, our faces will be ferocious and we will never compromise.

With this strong hatred, I practiced swinging the axe and hitting people's vital points with my fists, tirelessly.

I stayed in that house for almost a day, and saw humans coming to loot supplies several times, but they were not from the Shield Organization.

Revenge, this is obviously a job that requires patience.

At dusk, I was finally sure that I would not encounter anyone from the Shield Organization today, so I packed up everything and jogged back home again.

When I pushed open the door, the room was dark and deserted. Tongtong was sitting alone on the sofa, looking the same as when I left her in the morning.

Looking at Tongtong's thin and lonely figure, I suddenly felt a little guilty, but I had no choice and it was impossible for me to take Tongtong on an adventure.

I started the diesel generator, added diesel into it, and after making sure it had power, I turned on the lights in the house.

Under the cold white light, Tongtong, who was sitting on the sofa, finally saw my figure clearly. Her eyes lit up instantly, and she ran towards me quickly like a child.

Just when I thought she was about to stand next to me, she pounced directly into my arms. Her strength was so exaggerated that she knocked me to the ground.

I was stunned for a moment, feeling a little overwhelmed. I thought Tongtong was imitating the actions on TV again, but it was such a simple action that could easily make my heart confused.

I understand that Tongtong doesn't understand the meaning of these actions, she is just imitating them.

Although my mind understood, my heart was beating wildly, and at the same time I felt a little guilty.

It was me. I used my own blood to change Tongtong. She no longer looked like a zombie, so she could only stay by my side.

She is no longer a simple zombie, nor a human being. She is Tongtong, and that's all.

But now I left her alone in this room, sitting on the sofa until I appeared in her sight.

My heart became even more confused. I gently stroked Tongtong's long hair and whispered without caring whether she could understand me or not.

"I'm sorry, Tongtong."

"Just hold on a little longer, just hold on a little longer."

"Otherwise... my heart won't be able to calm down at all."

Tongtong couldn't possibly understand my apology, and it was completely unnecessary for me to say this, but for some reason, I just wanted to apologize.

I was not in my right mind and did not notice that Tongtong, who was resting her little head in my arms, moved her lips slightly, as if she wanted to make some sound.

I felt like I heard some sound, like the sound of human talking, but then I began to laugh bitterly at myself.

Am I hallucinating? It seems my brain is going completely crazy.

Afterwards, Tongtong and I got up from the floor. I didn’t know how to make it up to Tongtong. I didn’t even know if she had the concept of loneliness.

I was afraid that I was just being sentimental, so I could only turn on the TV as usual, but this time I changed the DVD and replaced the idol drama with a family ethics drama.

To be honest, I don’t dare let Tongtong watch those idol dramas that are all about love. If she imitates the heroines in idol dramas again, my heart might not be able to bear it.

Even though I reminded myself that Tongtong was a zombie, not a human, her overly intimate actions still made me feel a little overwhelmed.

If I continue like this, I'm afraid I'll become a... necrophiliac?

I didn't dare to think about it any further. Even though Tongtong had become a part of my life, I didn't want to cross that threshold just like that.

In the kitchen, I took out the remaining rabbit meat, then chopped it hard with a kitchen knife and cut it into strips.

I plan to dry the rabbit meat into jerky so that I can carry it with me and use it to replenish my energy after the fight with the people from the Shield Organization.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

The sound of the kitchen knife chopping on the cutting board echoed throughout the kitchen, making it difficult for me to hear the sound of the TV in the living room.

In the living room, Tongtong stared at the people on TV, who were either chatting or arguing, with a focused expression.

The TV was playing a family ethics drama that I had specially changed. There were not so many intimate scenes between the male and female protagonists, but rather trivial family daily life.

At this moment, the plot on TV has reached a critical moment, the plot of the reconciliation between the two main characters. When the door opens, the two look at each other and smile, as if they don't know what to say.

After a moment's silence, the character responsible for apologizing smiled gently and said.

"sorry."

"Good morning."

Tongtong stared at the TV in a daze, her little lips moving slightly. Her tongue was a little stiff and could not follow her command smoothly. She moved her lips awkwardly, seriously and clumsily, and spit out three notes with great effort.

"Good morning."

Like a child who has just learned to speak, he pronounced these three words unclearly, awkwardly, with a little stuttering and a lisp.

If, there hadn't been that damn rabbit meat, if I hadn't gone to chop that damn rabbit meat, then I would have heard all this.

Although I may be wise after the event, I swear that if I had heard Tongtong's voice at that time, I would have rushed out, picked her up excitedly, and ran around the house like a fool.

Even...maybe you might forget about revenge temporarily.

However, I didn’t hear it. This should have been the most important moment in my life, but unfortunately, I missed it this time.

Fortunately, I didn’t miss the next one.

Amid the sound of chopping meat in the kitchen, Tongtong cutely stuck out her tongue. She seemed to be dissatisfied with her pronunciation and wanted to look at her tongue.

Then, Tongtong retracted her tongue, bit her teeth lightly, and made a sound again with some unwillingness to admit defeat.

"Good morning."

"Good morning...once again."

Tongtong kept practicing pronunciation over and over again, but there was no progress. She was not discouraged and practiced over and over again.

However, during practice, she would also sneak a peek into the kitchen, and for some strange reason she seemed afraid of being heard by me.

She was very shy... to be heard by me with such a jerky voice.