Maccoy's POV
This Monday morning, Gregory and Steve are training me on how to fire a gun at an empty room in the terminal building. Although I never played any action games in my life and thus, I don't know the basics, I was determined to learn and adapt in this disease-ridden state of this world. My fourth personality, Izanagi, is now my official council member.
Gregory demonstrated how to properly hold and shoot a gun, in this case, an MP5 machine gun, which I knew via research only, and he shot a couple of used cans as targets. After that, Steve reloaded the targets with new cans, and Gregory gave the gun to me and said, "Now you try. "
I then received the said gun and responded, "Yes, I'll try. "
I then hold my gun and aimed it towards the can targets, and, pulled the trigger, shooting the cans with mediocre accuracy and some missed shots.
"Okay, you missed a couple of shots there," Steve commented.
"Yeah, I know, " I responded back. "I wasted some bullets."
I then put down the gun.
"You never played any action games in your life?" Gregory asked me.
"Sorry, no actually," I answered back honestly.
"Call of Duty?" Steve asked.
I then shook my head to say no.
"Fortnite?" Gregory asked back.
I then shook my head to say no again.
"How about RPG games?"
"No, not a single game at all," I replied back briefly.
"We understand," Steve responded. "We need to teach you the basics. "
I then nodded in agreement, wanting to survive this zombie outbreak.
Later, Gregory showed me how to replace magazines in my gun using his gun as a demonstration. After he did it, I followed the procedures, only to make some mistakes while reloading. But Gregory and Steve still understood that I am new to this type of stuff, and just showed me where I went wrong. I acted as Izanagi for this, but he also wants a katana, too. But for now, I'll stick to guns first.
Later at 11:22 a.m., we went to the tarmac of the airport to search for wandering zombies so Gregory and Steve would train my alertness and reflexes. Whenever we found one, Gregory would make noises to get its attention, and Steve would say to me, "Now!"
I then immediately aimed my gun and shot those zombies as much as I can.
I felt I am in a video game now, but in real life and without any health bars.
We would continue doing this under the cloudy sky until noon.
Back at the terminal building, while we eat, Gregory complimented my shots and reflexes, adding that I learned so fast.
"Yeah, I used to watch my cousin's gameplays," I responded back while sipping on my second bottle of water, "while observing its movements."
"Oh, that's why," Steve replied back.
"Yeah, something like that," I responded, before putting my water bottle on the table and grabbed another pork bun.
"So, how long you two have been stationed here?" I asked changing the topic.
"About to be 6 months," Steve answered back.
I was surprised on how much time passed ever since I woke up from a coma.
"Wow, 6 months and I stayed here still," I commented.
"Yeah, you don't want to leave, right?" Gregory replied back.
"Yes, until I am skilled enough to survive on my own," I boldly responded.
"I see. Okay then."
Steve then gave me a walkie-talkie saying, "Let's communicate with this."
I then readily accepted it and replied, "Okay."
"It has new batteries, too," Steve added.
"Oh, thanks," I replied, before putting that thing in my bag.
YOU ARE READING
Dying Blood
Science FictionA half-European, half-Asian boy with a mental disability and a mental disorder, a Japanese biracial gamer, and an aspiring student got caught in the middle of a man-made zombie apocalypse. To make matters worse, one of them went missing after surviv...
