The Apocalypse:A Survivor's Sarcastic Guide Chapter 11

"The sky! Look, the sky!"

I looked up. A black drone flew over, circling mid-air several times before landing.

"Hello."

It actually had a walkie-talkie strapped to it.

I hesitated, cautiously asking: "Who's this?"

"We're an emergency armed unit. We saw everything that just happened."

"So?"

"We'd like to invite you to join us."

What a joke. Why would I go out and die when I'm fine at home?

I refused without thinking.

"Alright then!"

The other side sighed, slightly regretful.

I gripped the bamboo skewer again and flicked hard, hitting the zombie's eye directly.

It let out a heart-wrenching cry, then used its hand to gouge out its entire eyeball.

The fresh meat was in the eyeball's center. It ate it without hesitation.

"Ugh~"

Vomiting sounds came from the walkie-talkie. I frowned.

"You sure you're an armed unit?"

The man laughed. "Miss, armed units are human too!"

I twitched my mouth corner, continuing to fire the second skewer—one shot hit the zombie's other eye.

"Miss, that's torture killing!" Another male voice sounded.

I looked at the drone speechlessly, continuing to fire a third skewer. This time it hit the zombie's head.

The scene was absurd enough. The zombie tilted its head back sniffing, finally smelling the scent came from its own head.

Bloody hands dug forcefully into the head. Brain matter flowed out like water from a faucet.

"Ugh~ Ugh~"

This time, vomiting sounds from a bunch of men came through the walkie-talkie.

Me: "..."

All yard zombies were dead. I observed the surroundings, confirming no other zombies nearby before immediately turning to close the window.

Katie pointed at the drone outside. "What about that?"

I clapped my hands. "Goes back where it came from!"

"Now you're coming to the basement with me."

I'd planned it—stay in the basement three to five years before coming out. Even if I died at zombies' hands then, I'd have lived several years longer than others.

But Katie suddenly threw a childish tantrum, refusing to go to the basement.

"I'm not going. It's pitch black down there—what's the point?"

"Go or don't—your choice."

I'd tolerated her long enough. Really didn't want to anymore. I simply left her and went to the basement myself.

There was a diesel generator down here, could run 24 hours at a time. Also many fully charged power banks and LED bulbs that could run 50 hours continuously.

How could it be pitch black?

But I didn't want to explain. After all, I wouldn't be the one dying.

Night was quiet like stagnant water. Max and Lucky lay beside me, snoring.

I curled up in the hanging chair reading, but couldn't focus.

What was Katie doing upstairs?

Given her troublemaking nature, I felt inexplicably anxious and uneasy. That unsettled feeling wouldn't leave.

I put the book down, took out my phone to check surveillance. Almost vomited blood with anger!