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My fist crashed into the back of the head of the zombie in front of me. Its skull caved in and the ones behind it collapsed to the ground like bowling pins.
After seeing their fellow zombies go down, the remaining zombies directed their gazes at me. However, all of them seemed to hesitate after noticing my blue eyes, which were shimmering brightly.
This wasn’t a problem. If they didn’t come to me, I just had to make the first move and go to them.
I punched the zombies in the face nonstop. I kept up my chain attacks, and soon the zombies that were on the railroad tracks were knocked off their feet. I crushed, trampled, broke, and smashed the zombies, and helped them end their lives.
The survivors looked at the zombies and then at me with puzzled faces. After I had easily taken care of the zombies, the survivors let out shouts and sighs of relief. But then one of the survivors who met my eyes screamed in fright.
“Zom… zombie! That guy is a zombie too!”
The survivor’s cry rekindled the anxiety in the survivors, and some of the survivors started pointing their revolvers at me. However, it seemed like they couldn’t pull the triggers.
Fear, horror, hesitation.
I could tell what they were feeling just by reading their faces. They were probably thinking something along these lines:
- What if it comes after me if I act out?
Instead of making a move toward...
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