Desperate Game Cat Hunter

35

The dog suddenly jumped at Rost without any warning, but before his teeth could touch Rost, he was kicked away by Rost.

I could hear it crashing against the wall after a horrific wail, then lifeless, it must have been injured, passed out, or dead.But now I can't even spare the energy to look at it.

The pain in my right hand has taken almost all of my attention away.

Rost walked around the house a few times as usual, and then stopped in front of me. I heard him ask,

"Where's Al?"

He never spoke with much emotion.Even at this time, his tone sounded the same as usual.

He shot again and shot through my leg,

"Uh uh..." I clenched my teeth so that I wouldn't cry out in pain.

Rost asked again calmly, "Where are the Ayres?"

The pain made me gasp with my mouth wide open, and for a moment I seemed to be back when I just entered the team.

"How do I know?!" I gritted my molars and answered his words.

Because of the pain, my sentences had to be phrases jumping out as much as possible, rather than a smooth sentence.But my tone was not friendly.My right hand and thigh were bleeding and in pain.But this still can't suppress my anger.

I don't know why I should be angry.

He didn't need to think about it to know that Yiwei was dead, even if the zombies came to bite him and infect him with the virus, he couldn't get up anymore.

I have no mercy for Yiwei's death.If I have to say it, I am the one who looks forward to his death the most among all of them.

But now I just feel angry.

"You want to ask why," Roster said to me, looking at my face, "that's what your expression says."

I didn't answer.In fact, even if I pick up the conversation now, I probably won't be able to say a complete sentence.

Rost squatted beside me, and I used my right hand to hold down the wound on my leg. Next to the wound was the dagger I hid in my leg.

Rost stared at my face, as if he didn't notice my movements at all, "I didn't advocate raising you from the beginning."

The spasms from the pain made my breathing seem to be throbbing too.I can't hold a knife in my hand at all, I'm sure.Although I would love to give it a try.

"It's no longer suitable to stay here." Rost concluded self-servingly.

"May the Lord accept your soul," he said, picking up his gun as he spoke.

Before he could make a move, I grabbed a handful of dust from the ground and threw it towards his eyes.

Then knocked his gun down hard in that split second.

The dust may have been brought in by the soles of someone who went out. It was originally a large piece of dry mud on the ground with shoe soles printed on it. However, no one has cleaned it for so many days. turned into powder.Rust's eyes were naturally fascinated by such swaying.

Although I couldn't do anything exactly, I still bought a moment of time.

Rost backed away immediately, trying hard to open his eyes while being on guard, but he could barely open a slit, and closed them physiologically—it should be that dust had entered his eyes .

I immediately pulled out the dagger from my calf, trying to seize the gap and pounce on him, cutting his throat with the dagger.

But he caught me just as I got close, and then turned over and pressed me under him, and he firmly grasped my hand holding the dagger.

The hand that was convulsed with pain couldn't hold the dagger for a moment, and I heard the sound of metal collision when the knife fell to the ground.

The moment Rost let go of my hand, he immediately grabbed my neck.

The suffocation immediately made my thinking slow down, and all my thinking was only a thirst for air.

I tried uselessly at first to wrest his hands away from my neck, but that was obviously impossible.

Then my remaining sanity made me stretch out my hand in an instant, hoping to poke him into the eye socket when he was unsuspecting, so that he would have to let go because of the pain.

But I misjudged the direction, the suffocation has made me close to powerlessness, and my eyes are blurred, and I haven't even been able to touch the slightest bit of his eyeballs.

When he was on guard, he straightened his arms at once, keeping his face as far away from me as possible. On the other hand, he kept exerting force with his hands, getting more and more forceful.

I scratched his face with my nails, even though I knew it wouldn't do any harm, I still wanted to do something.

Survival is really an instinct.

I don't know how long it has been.Just when my brain has entered a state of chaos.Suddenly, I vaguely heard a gunshot, and then some warm and fishy viscous liquid poured on my face.

The hand holding my neck instantly became weak.

I immediately crawled out of the shackles of those hands, and then coughed violently.

Kerry was panting, lying on the ground in front of the bed—I think he was seriously injured and crawled over after getting off the bed.He was just visible through the doorway, with a gun in his hand.

It's right opposite me and Rost's position.

He shot Rost in the head with a single shot, spraying blood all over my face.

It took me a long time to relax on the ground, but my throat was still burning.I reached out and tore off the scarf around Rost's neck to wipe the plasma on my face.

My right hand and leg are still hurting.

"I never thought that one day I would kill him." I heard Kerry say this, more or less mocking in his tone.

"I..." I still felt uncomfortable in my neck when I spoke, so I cleared my throat again before continuing, "...I actually thought about being killed by him many times."

Kerry smiled, somewhat bleakly.

"He's always been a survivalist, I almost forgot."

Rost is a survivalist.He was able to live by eating human flesh while believing in his Lord.There is nothing he can't do.

We have no way of knowing why he shot at us, and we can only speculate that the most possible rationale is that this time the long-term food shortage made him aware of the crisis, or it was the wooing after the righteous warriors captured him. In short, He abandoned us for the so-called "righteous" side.Then choose to come back after disappearing for days to wipe us all out.

It makes sense when you think about it, after all, he is a devout Christian.Compared with walking with us, it seems that there is more sense of belonging for him.

Kerry didn't look well either, his face was pale, I could see the cold sweat on his forehead from this far away, he was lying on the ground, his expression looked disappointed,

Kerry: "Where's Al?"

I lost my strength, "You should ask Al yourself about this, not me."

Kerry let out a long breath and said with a smile, "Yes."

Then I saw him take the gun and put it to his temple...

Then, the shot rang out.