Among the newbies, none of the men had chosen protective clothing. Although the areas where their flesh was rotting varied, each of them was affected. The man with the baseball cap was the worst, with rotting flesh about the size of two palms around his thigh.
"How much for the potion? I'll buy it." The cap-wearing man gripped his AK74 rifle, ready to use force if necessary. He didn't want to die here.
His girlfriend, dressed in jeans, retreated a step, repulsed by the stench of rotting flesh, distancing herself from him.
"Stinky bitch, you despise me now, don't you?" The cap-wearing man quickly strode over, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, forcing her to look up. Then he slapped her around ten times, back and forth. The provocative woman cried out but didn't dare to fight back. Her cheeks swelled up like apples.
