Chapter 1011 - 437: The Last Supper_2
Day 178 at noon, everyone was exhausted. Shana decisively ordered: "Lin Wu to the front door, Snow Egg to the back door, Little Knife to make bullets, everyone else eat and sleep."
Snow Egg worried: "Can we hold out?"
Shana said: "We have to take shifts, otherwise, we’ll be worn to death."
Three people on break used broth to blanch noodles, feeding those on duty. Lin Wu turned his head to slurp noodles, his gun accurately taking down each target, then snatching a moment to down a bowl of noodle soup, instantly revitalized.
After being fed, the rest group quickly ate and then laid down with earplugs, falling into deep sleep rapidly.
One shot, two shots, three shots, the pistol jammed. Lin Wu let go of it and pulled out a new pistol from his waist to take down two zombies. Then he placed the pistol on the sandbags and began pressing bullets into the magazine from the basket.
Snow Egg was using a rifle, and he was under a lot of pressure with not much rest; Little Knife was essentially serving Snow Egg. They even chatted while working, reminiscing about the happy times at North Town, talking about the glory of the Sawmill, and the Commercial Street Base that helped everyone through the bitter cold.
Lin Wu couldn’t hear their chat, not only because he was at the other end of the carriage but also because he was wearing earplugs. In Lin Wu’s world, there were only zombies, pistols, and bullets. When the basket of bullets was depleted, he tore open a cardboard box, tore, and tore again, to fill the whole basket. Killing zombies, he pressed bullets whenever he got a chance, like a machine that had lost its ability to think, tireless and executing each task with precision.
Unaware of how long he had killed, bullet casings piled up around him. A hand patted Lin Wu’s shoulder—it was Shana, who said: "Go rest."
It was only then that Lin Wu checked the time—8 o’clock in the evening. The relieving personnel had finished dinner and had the noodles ready. Lin Wu sat down to eat and watched the zombies at the back door: "How’s it going?"