Chapter 127: Gunfight
O'Donnell's mind was clear. The people outside weren't easy to deal with. A head-on confrontation would most likely result in his own death, and with all the people outside dead, his forces had already been reduced by a portion.
Relying on the people before him to fight would undoubtedly be delivering food.
Better to take the hospital's portable items and leave together as a group.
This way the safety factor would be much higher—maybe those people would let them go when they saw how many were in his group.
Of course, within this was O'Donnell's personal ambition.
More subordinates meant greater power. He also coveted the taste of authority.
Only if his subordinates had people, perhaps in the future he could rebuild a camp and continue abducting people everywhere.
Thinking of the taste of women, a trace of wickedness flashed through O'Donnell's eyes as he licked his lips.
Seeing that O'Donnell also supported leaving the hospital, smiles appeared on everyone's faces in the office. Voices immediately rang out.
"Boss, we'll definitely follow you."
Immediately, a police officer in uniform who looked like a hoodlum raised his bottle, stood up to show loyalty, reeking heavily of alcohol.
Several companions around him hurried to stand. "That's right, following the boss means living the good life."
"I have nothing to say—I support the boss!"
"..."
Several voices rang out. Gradually, everyone in the office stood up, without exception expressing their intention to continue following O'Donnell.
O'Donnell's mouth corners lifted. His heart was extraordinarily ecstatic. He pretended to be calm as he pressed down with both hands, smiling. "Everyone's loyalty—I see it all. After we leave the hospital."
"We won't have to be restrained by that old bitch Dawn anymore. We'll do whatever the fuck we want!"
O'Donnell raised both fists overhead, shouting madly, "We'll do whatever the fuck we want!"
"Woo-hoo—"
People in the office all threw punches, repeatedly shouting this arrogant phrase. The air vibrated with frenzied energy.
Having stabilized his troops' morale, O'Donnell immediately led people charging toward the warehouse.
The warehouse was currently guarded by Dawn's people. After all, as the nominal number one, quite a few officers still stood on Dawn's side.
Two heavily armed officers stood before the warehouse door. One was a veteran cop. His eyes narrowed—years of police-criminal combat experience told him something wasn't right.
But the veteran still stepped forward two steps, turning sideways to extend his hand blocking O'Donnell, his right hand on his holster.
"O'Donnell, what business do you have here?"
The veteran's rich life experience allowed him to see at a glance what O'Donnell wanted to do.
O'Donnell hadn't been blocked by anyone in camp for a long time. Even Dawn wouldn't stop him. He looked down at the veteran's arm blocking him, then raised his head to look at the veteran.
"Old bastard, you tired of living?"
The veteran's beard and hair were all white. He suddenly pushed O'Donnell. "Get back, O'Donnell. This isn't a place for you to run wild!"
O'Donnell staggered back two steps. His face instantly turned cold. Losing face in front of his subordinates—he immediately drew his handgun and shouted, "Kill them!"
His subordinates behind naturally wouldn't drop the ball. They quickly drew guns and fired.
One side had only two people, the other a full dozen or more.
Bullets tore through the air, rapidly striking flesh. Blood splattered, and wood planking also shot out fragments.
A light bulb on the ceiling was hit by someone, shattering. The entire space darkened. The gunfire also stopped.
O'Donnell lowered the arm shielding his face and focused his gaze.
The veteran who'd just scorned him was riddled with dozens of bullet wounds, his entire body full of bullet holes. Blood gurgled out. His face had also taken many hits—unrecognizable.
Only his eyes still stared wide, as if still glaring furiously at O'Donnell.
O'Donnell walked forward with a sinister grin, kicking the fallen veteran again and again while saying coldly as he kicked, "Act tough with me, huh? You dare act tough with me? Ah!"
"Dead now, right, old bastard? Ha ha ha!"
The face spattered with a few traces of blood laughed especially ferociously.
O'Donnell reloaded his emptied handgun with a fresh magazine, chambered a round, and continued shooting at the veteran's corpse, roaring, "Die, die, die!!!"
Continuous shots to the head even completely pulverized a portion of the head's flesh. Slippery brain matter oozed out.
O'Donnell stepped in the veteran's blood, waving his large hand. "Boys, go, get in there and loot it clean!"
"Woo-hoo!"
"Loot the goods, loot the goods—"
Hearing O'Donnell's orders, a crowd of subordinates let out excited cheers, whistled, and charged into the warehouse red-faced.
Most items in the warehouse were food and medicine—the hospital's most precious things.
Precious also meant scarce. The not-large warehouse couldn't even be filled, and with constant consumption, it never counted as abundant.
O'Donnell hadn't expected so few items, but still called out, "Empty everything out for me. Hurry up—we're leaving immediately."
"Yes! Boss!"
They responded in unison, then his subordinates red-eyed hurried to move things.
However, what excited them more was that while moving items, they could openly take things and stuff them in their own pockets.
Everyone did this, breathing heavily while fumbling about chaotically moving things.
Watching this pained O'Donnell's heart. These were all his things—subordinates stealing was stealing from his own pocket.
But subordinates were following him in rebellion—he had to give some benefits.
Gorman with his slicked-back hair sucked on his lollipop, eyes shining with wicked light as he walked to O'Donnell's side, quietly asking, "Boss, should we also kidnap Dr. Steven?"
"Without a doctor, only medicine, then..."
Gorman didn't continue the rest, just kept looking at subordinates moving things.
"Right!" O'Donnell reacted, found several strong subordinates to follow behind him and Gorman, and rushed at lightning speed toward Dr. Steven's office.
The warehouse gunfight—the sound spread quickly. The entire hospital descended into chaos.
The side controlling power launched an attack, while the other side was cowering with head retracted. That's right—ostrich tactics.
Dawn hid in her own office, trembling as she prayed for O'Donnell to hurry up, take things, and leave. She had absolutely no intention of avenging the two veteran officers or protecting the warehouse items.
And the oppressed lower classes, seizing the opportunity, hurried to flee outside.
Fortunately no one was guarding. They successfully went downstairs, but before they could escape through the wire fence, a pile of walkers below blocked their path.
These walkers were former lower-class people—their use value insufficient or grown tired of them, killed and thrown down the elevator shaft.
Dr. Steven hid in his own office, the door tightly locked, huddled under his desk, trembling as he held his head, praying like chanting an incantation.
O'Donnell excitedly ran toward Dr. Steven's office. Seeing those lower-class personnel from afar, they quickly crouched down or lay on the ground, afraid of being seen.
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