Chapter 37 Teaching Her to Shoot

Why did this happen?

He was certain he had been cautious enough; he had even rolled up his sleeves in advance. Aside from the dull thud of the knife piercing the skull, he hadn't made a single sound. Yet, somehow, the zombie in the convenience store had still detected him. Why?

Could it be that zombies are more sensitive to sudden, dull impacts than humans, while being less sensitive to ambient noises like wind, insects, or breathing?

Unfortunately, there was no time to ponder the cause. The moment Gavin and the zombie locked eyes, the creature inside sprang into action, sprinting in a straight line toward him and crashing directly into the glass storefront.

Gavin immediately bolted toward the convenience store entrance, keeping a sharp eye on the zombie’s positioning. A single glance confirmed there were no obstacles between them. As long as he prevented the creature from slamming into the glass and shattering it, he could safely finish it off.

His instincts took over. He shifted his sprint angle, running parallel to the glass storefront to delay the moment the zombie would collide with the glass.

He was about thirteen meters from the store entrance. The zombie was just over four meters from the door and less than two meters from the glass. He had to force the creature to change its pursuit angle immediately, compelling it to adjust its footing and buy him the split second he needed to reach the door first.

As Gavin ran parallel to the windows, the zombie adjusted its path accordingly. Originally, the creature had intended to charge straight at him, which would have resulted in a collision with the glass in just over a second. But by running parallel to the storefront, Gavin forced the zombie to shift its line of sight and trajectory much more aggressively.

The zombie’s neck twisted over thirty degrees to track him, and it was forced to change direction less than a meter from the glass.

*Skree!*

The zombie’s shoes screeched against the floor. Once a zombie began a pursuit, it clearly gave its all. That brief moment of friction and the pivot bought Gavin a second of time. He pulled ahead by over eight meters, reaching the door with only two steps to go. He lunged, grabbed both doors, and yanked them shut with all his might.

*Clatter...*

There was no time to lock the doors properly before the zombie reached the entrance. Seeing the creature’s trajectory and the clear space in front of the door, Gavin delivered a fierce kick to the zombie’s stomach, preventing it from crashing into the glass door frame.

The zombie was sent flying, skidding three meters across the floor before it began to hiss and struggle to stand. Before the doors could spring back open, Gavin dove inside, gripped his knife with both hands, and knelt on top of the creature, tight-lipped, stabbing it repeatedly in the face.

After six strikes, he finally let out a breath, pulled the blade from the bridge of the zombie's nose, and wiped it clean on the corpse’s clothes.

Once the blade was clean, Gavin stood up, grabbed some wet wipes from a shelf, and checked his reflection in a nearby mirror. Sure enough, he had been too close; splashes of blood had inevitably landed on his face.

In the mirror, the man with the dark-gold pompadour and rugged Texan features looked somewhat like Arthur Morgan from that famous outlaw game. The difference was that he was more handsome, and his face and neck lacked the sun-scorched "redneck" complexion common to traditional cowboys.

"Rednecks" only existed on the high plains of the west. Texas had diverse geography; the eastern half was a coastal plain, while the western half was part of the Edwards Plateau. Only those who lived long-term on the western plateau became the classic American rednecks. People in the eastern triangle—Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio—were kept soft and fair by the humid air of the coast.

After identifying the blood on his face, Gavin used the wipes to clean it off, bit by bit. That wasn't enough; he followed up with a paper towel soaked in alcohol, scrubbing it more than once. Finally, he went to the sink in the back of the store and washed his face thoroughly.

Drying off with a fresh towel, Gavin pushed open the door and waved toward their vehicle.

Out on the road, Eugene had been anxiously gripping his binoculars. He had sensed something wrong the moment Gavin started his sprint, but he couldn't see the interior of the store and had been forced to endure the suspense of Gavin’s disappearance. Seeing him reappear, Eugene let out a long breath and drove the vehicle toward him.

As the car pulled up and the others stepped out, Gavin pointed to the corpse on the floor and said, "Eugene, William, move this one to the side of the road. Madison, tell Doris and Winnie to get out of the car."

"What?" Madison asked, his mouth agape in surprise. He wasn't the type to question Gavin, but he felt he had to offer a word of advice here. He instinctively checked the RV to make sure the women hadn't heard, then whispered, "Boss, is that really necessary? At most, we’re just gathering some supplies. It’s the same whether they come out or not. I can find whatever they need for them."

"I used to buy similar stuff for my wife; I know what women use. Don't worry about it!" Madison nudged Gavin’s arm, waiting for his response.

Gavin grinned. "Is that so? You know? Ha! How come I never knew you were such a 'simp'?"

Gavin patted Madison on the shoulder and explained, "Don't be so presumptuous with your 'care.' I don't think Winnie needs your help; she’s likely tougher than any of you. Besides, the environment here is safe. The nearest zombies are wandering through the town over a hundred meters away. Even if we make some noise, we have at least ten seconds to react."

"This is the perfect environment to gain experience and build psychological resilience. Look, we can see the zombies and feel the pressure, but we have a safe buffer. The risk isn't unbearable. Is there any better training ground? Or are you certain we’ll all live to be a hundred in this apocalypse and keep them protected behind us forever?"

"Dammit, nobody lived forever before the world ended. How did you, a gym rat, suddenly rewire your brain and turn into Lex Luthor, plotting human evolution now that the apocalypse is here?"

Gavin tapped Madison’s arm and pointed toward the store. "Forget it. I’ll go get them. You go grab some electrical adapters and some fuel additives. I have plenty of luxury cars at home; the additives might come in handy."

Gavin waved for everyone to get to work and headed toward the RV.

Watching him walk away, the men exchanged glances, and Eugene couldn't help but grin. "Look at this damn big shot. That attitude—every other word is an order!"

"If I didn't see him charging at the front just like the political commissars back in the old country, I’d rip the zombie’s balls off and shove them down his throat." Eugene walked toward the zombie by the gas pump, passing Madison and giving him a pat on the butt. "As for you, tsk, you’re just cut out to listen to your boss. Look how right he is."

"In the apocalypse, even the ladies have to become warriors! Never mind just picking up scraps now; once we settle down, I’m going to teach that kid how to shoot!"

"You might not know this, but female snipers have always had a market internationally. I may not be a top-tier sniper myself, but as an observer and secondary shooter, I’ve got a confirmed kill record of 1,600 meters. Teaching a little kid is more than enough. Haha!"

With a light chuckle, Eugene hauled the body away while William silently moved the corpse inside the store.

Meanwhile, Gavin reached the door of the RV and smiled at Winnie, who was blinking her large eyes. "Get out, kid. Time to go shopping."