The main street of Mong Pawk.
As Dominik and Simon walked out of The Syndicate's compound, they saw a few villagers standing on the muddy street where the firefight had taken place.
These people were either fiercely kicking the dead militiamen or rummaging through their pockets for valuables.
Seeing this, Dominik shivered slightly and whispered, "Hey... Simon, these guys aren't going to pick up guns and aim them at us, are they?"
"Haha," Simon merely chuckled under his breath. "Don't worry. While you were 'busy' firing blindly, I disabled the weapons on the bodies I checked. Removed firing pins, bent barrels. They're useless now."
"Phew..." Dominik finally breathed a sigh of relief.
At this point, more and more villagers flooded the streets, venting years of suppressed anger on the corpses of their oppressors. Some even rushed towards The Syndicate's warehouse, attempting to snatch bags of rice and canned food to take home.
However, these "frenzied" residents were sensible enough not to disturb Dominik and Simon. The gleaming assault rifles on their backs and the cold, professional demeanor of the masked soldier were deterrent enough.
Moreover, the villagers knew better than to mess with foreign mercenaries who had just wiped out the local warlord.
Seeing this scene, Dominik couldn't help but exclaim, "The Syndicate doesn't seem to be very popular here. They're not much better than the Junta."
"Warlords and Governments are two sides of the same coin in the Golden Triangle," Simon said nonchalantly, scanning the rooftops. "The Syndicate claimed to be 'liberators' protecting the people from the central government, but they just enslaved them for opium production instead. It would be strange if they had any popular support."
Although the townspeople didn't disturb them, both men still carried their heavy duffel bags and held their rifles at the low ready, maintaining vigilance.
A few minutes later, the two arrived at the rear gate where Simon had rescued Dominik earlier. Parked under a corrugated iron shed were several vehicles.
There was the canvas-covered truck Dominik had been imprisoned in.
Next to it were two pickup trucks—Toyota Hiluxes. Of course. In this part of the world, the Hilux was the chariot of the gods. These were older models, battered and mud-stained, but lifted high on off-road suspension, offering a great sense of security.
In this situation, they naturally chose the Hilux. It could handle the brutal jungle tracks, and its bed could hold their gear.
More importantly, a Hilux could smash through a small zombie horde without stalling.
Simon pulled out a ring of keys he had scavenged from the compound office and tried them one by one.
When he tried the third one, the headlights of a dark grey Hilux finally flashed twice.
Chirp chirp.
After unlocking the doors, the two jogged to the rear of the pickup, threw their two heavy duffel bags into the back seat of the cab, and slammed the doors shut.
At this moment, Simon, who had opened the passenger door, stopped. He seemed to have thought of a very serious problem. He looked at Dominik over the hood.
"Hey. Do you have a license?"
Dominik, who had just opened the driver's door, froze. He laughed awkwardly. "Heh heh... Um... I don't have an International Driving Permit..."
"..."
Simon stared at him in silence.
Outside the perimeter wall, there were a large number of zombies drawn by the earlier gunfire. Someone needed to stand in the truck bed or hang out the window to provide covering fire, clearing the way. That person had to be Simon.
But the problem was that Dominik couldn't drive well, and he certainly couldn't shoot accurately enough to cover them.
"Um..." Dominik looked at the exasperated Simon and said guiltily, "Although I don't have the permit on me... I can drive. Yes! I can drive."
Dominik didn't know if his counterpart in this world had a license. But in his past life in Europe? He had failed his driving test three times before finally passing, and he had rarely driven since.
However!
He had played a lot of racing simulators. That counted, right?
"Oh?" Simon looked at Dominik with deep suspicion, asking with lingering fear, "Is that so?"
"Heh heh..." At this point, Dominik let out a mischievous, nervous laugh and said, "Absolutely. Just like riding a bike. A very large, heavy bike."
The Jungle Road, Route 4.
The scene was chaotic. The narrow dirt road cut through the dense rainforest like a scar. To the right was a steep drop-off into the river valley; to the left, a wall of green vegetation.
Ahead, countless figures stumbled out of the treeline onto the road.
These weren't just a few stragglers. It was a horde. A sea of rotting flesh blocking the only exit.
However, just then, a pair of high beams cut through the mist, the light piercing the darkness.
Vroom! Woo~!!! The roar of a diesel engine pushed to its limit.
Bang! Bang bang bang! Bang! The rhythmic, thumping fire of a SCAR-L.
Aow! Aow... Grrr... The guttural moans of the infected.
All sorts of sounds created a symphony of violence.
The view zoomed in, revealing the grey Hilux bouncing violently over the ruts.
At this very moment, Dominik was white-knuckling the steering wheel, his eyes wide with terror and focus.
Simon, meanwhile, was standing in the truck bed, bracing himself against the roll bar. He was firing controlled bursts with his SCAR-L, dropping any zombies that got too close to the tires.
As the pickup sped along, a large pothole—a crater left by a monsoon washout—appeared in the middle of the road. However, due to the zombies obstructing his view, Dominik didn't see the hole at all.
Wham!
The Hilux hit the pothole at speed. The entire vehicle launched into the air for a split second before slamming down. Simon, standing in the back, was almost thrown over the side by the impact.
Once the suspension stabilized, Simon grabbed the roll bar and roared at Dominik through the rear window, "Hey! Are you trying to kill me, you brat! Watch the road!"
However, Dominik didn't reply. Instead, he pointed his left hand frantically towards the road ahead and shouted, "Simon! Shut up and shoot! Big group at 12 o'clock!"
Simon wasted no more words. He pulled out a 40mm grenade and loaded it into the M203 launcher under his SCAR-L. He then leaned over the cab roof, aiming forward.
Thump.
A hollow sound as the grenade was launched. It arced through the air towards the densest cluster of zombies blocking the road.
BOOM!
An explosion of fire and mud detonated in the center of the horde. The shockwave turned a dozen zombies into mist and sent limbs flying into the jungle.
Seeing the gap, Dominik stomped on the accelerator. The diesel engine screamed as he drove the Hilux directly through the smoke and remains.
Crunch. Snap.
He could hear the sickening sound of bones cracking under the heavy off-road tires.
However, Dominik didn't feel disgusted by this. Instead, a surge of adrenaline hit him. He burst out laughing, a manic sound.
"Eeh ha~ This is insane! Hahahahaha! Eat dirt, you rotting bastards!"
The path ahead was finally clear. The horde thinned out into solitary, wandering figures that posed no threat to the speeding truck.
Simon held his gun and scanned the surroundings, confirming the immediate danger had passed. He sat down on a wheel well in the truck bed, ejected the spent grenade casing, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Phew... Was that pothole intentional? Huh? Retaliation for making you bait earlier? You vengeful little shit!"
"Huh?" Dominik shouted back, unable to hear Simon over the wind and the engine. He was still immersed in the overwhelming sensory overload of driving for his life through a zombie-infested jungle.
"Sigh..." Simon shook his head helplessly, patted his rifle, and muttered to himself, "Alright. Just pretend I didn't say anything. The kid's got guts, I'll give him that."