Chapter 6

Jake remained utterly calm in the face of Scar-Face's threat.

Survival Rule #1: [Your vehicle is your safe zone. No one may enter without your permission.]

As long as he stayed inside, there was nothing they could do.

Scar-Face sneered. "You think driving off will save you? Your tires won't last. And when they give out, we'll catch up. We can't get into your RV, sure—but we've got plenty of ways to smoke you out."

"Is that so?" Jake's reply was cold. Then, in one fluid motion, he whipped out the hatchet-gun and aimed it at both of them.

"A GUN!"

The two men's pupils contracted sharply at the sight of the weapon in Jake's hands.

Faced with the black muzzle, how could they not fear? That fear was etched into their very genes.

The blond threw his hands up. "Buddy, it's a mis—"

BANG!

He didn't finish. Jake pulled the trigger without hesitation.

At this range, the blond had no time to react. The bullet tore through him, and the impact threw him backward onto the gravel. He twitched twice in the debris, dark blood spreading across the yellowed weeds—and then went still.

Scar-Face stared at his partner lying in a pool of blood, then back at the young man in the RV—calmly recocking the hammer of his hatchet-gun, face completely unreadable. A chill shot up his spine.

He hadn't expected Jake to have a gun.

"Misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!" Scar-Face forced a smile, his feet already shuffling backward. "We didn't know who we were dealing with. We'll leave! My car—it's yours! The woman too! Do whatever you want with her—use her as bait to lure other players! Just please, let me live!"

"Misunderstanding?" Jake's smile was cold and mocking. "Didn't seem like a misunderstanding when you planted those spikes."

"That was the blonde's idea! I—"

BANG!

No hesitation. No wasted words.

In this apocalypse, explanations were worthless. Only the dead couldn't stab you in the back.

The second bullet hit Scar-Face square in the head.

"AAAHHH—!!!"

A piercing scream cut through the wasteland's silence. Scar-Face collapsed like a sack of bricks, his lifeless eyes still wide open.

"Two for two. Not bad." Jake was satisfied. The hatchet-gun had brutal recoil, but the stopping power was equally impressive.

He glanced at the two bodies on the ground, forcing down the unease coiling in his gut. First kill. It sat a little heavy.

But he'd get used to it.

His gaze shifted to the woman behind them. She'd collapsed, frozen in terror, having lost control of herself entirely.

Jake shook out his sore arm, pushed the door open, and walked over, expressionless.

"P-please... don't kill me..." she stammered as he approached.

"What's your name?" Jake's eyes were cold.

Meeting that icy stare, she blurted out the truth without thinking. "L-Lisa Jones."

Lisa Jones? The same woman who'd been begging for help in regional chat last night?

"You put out that distress call to bait players, didn't you?" Jake asked.

"They forced me!" Lisa sobbed, trying to tug her collar down, revealing more skin. Her eyes carried a desperate, pleading edge. "They made me be the lure... I didn't have a choice. If you spare me, I'll do anything."

She crawled forward on her knees, tilting her face up with practiced submission. "I can keep you warm at night. Anything you want, however you want it... In a world like this, having a woman around beats being alone, right?"

Lisa was confident in her body. In peacetime, she'd made a living off this kind of work, pursued by countless admirers. She believed no man could resist free "benefits" like this.

Jake looked down at her, his gaze passing over her tear-streaked face—and landing on the hatchet-gun in his hand.

[Ammo: 1/9]

One bullet left. Not worth wasting on her.

Jake exhaled and looked away. "You'd just burn through my supplies."

He wasn't interested. The look in his eyes wasn't desire—it was contempt.

"I'm useful! I can—"

"Shut up." Jake's voice cut like a blade. Right now, all he wanted was to strip that taxi for parts, fix his tires, and upgrade his RV.

He walked over to the taxi and summoned the system interface.

"System. Scrap this vehicle."

[Detecting...]

[Player owner deceased. Decomposition possible.]

[Scrapping target: Taxi.]

A blue beam enveloped the wreckage.

[Decomposition complete!]

[Materials acquired:]

[1. Rubber Tires x4 units]

[2. Scrap Steel x10 units]

Jake blinked at the materials before him. It really did feel like a game—except this was real. Death was permanent.

He pulled out the Lv.2 upgrade blueprint. The tires and steel dissolved into streams of light, absorbed into the blueprint.

[Name: Vehicle Upgrade Blueprint]

[Requirements:]

[1. Vehicle Lv.1 (Met)]

[2. Steel x50 units (10/50)]

[3. Rubber x10 units (11/10) (Met)]

Jake tucked the blueprint away, ready to leave.

Then Lisa lunged forward, clutching his leg.

"Take me with you..."

She was done for without him. No vehicle. No supplies. No hope.

Jake didn't flinch. "You can put out another call in the chat. Maybe someone will come."

"NO!" she shrieked. "You scrapped my ride! You owe me!"

Jake's eyes narrowed. His hand tightened on the hatchet-gun.

Then—

ROOOAAAR—!

A sharp, piercing howl tore through the distance. Jake's head snapped toward the sound—a blur of gray streaking toward them at terrifying speed.

It was the agility-type zombie.

He'd lured it two kilometers away earlier to get to the helicopter. But the gunshots and fresh blood had drawn it right back.

Jake's adrenaline spiked. He wrenched free from Lisa's grip, spun, and leaped onto the RV's step, slamming the battered door shut behind him.

Lisa was left alone on the empty highway.

"NO!! OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE!!"

She threw herself at the RV, hammering the door with both fists.

But it was too late.

The gray blur was already upon her. No suspense. No last-minute save.

The agility-type zombie struck like a hunting cheetah, taking her down in an instant.

"AAAAHHHH—!!!"

Her scream lasted barely two seconds before it dissolved into wet, guttural sounds.

Jake sat in the cabin, watching the bloody scene unfold, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Fast. Too fast.

If he'd been even half a second slower, he'd be the one on the ground.

Jake took a deep breath and released the handbrake. While the zombie was busy feeding, he floored it.

He had a downed military helicopter to reach.

He had an RV to upgrade.