Time Travel: I am a Warlord in Doomsday America

As the seconds ticked by, Daryl roughly increased his speed as he rushed up the stairs.

The zombies were crowded in the high-rise corridor. The sound of Daryl's running did not attract their attention for the time being, because they were moving in the narrow corridor and the sound kept echoing.

However, when Daryl had already rushed to the back of the group of zombies in the corridor, some of the zombies at the end turned around and discovered him.

"Roar~!"

“Hoooo!!”

Pale faces turned towards Daryl. There were both men and women among the zombies, but they all had cloudy eyes and dull gazes, like dead people.

Daryl raised his pistol and pulled the trigger rapidly firing at the horde of zombies. Heads were pierced through before his eyes. The limp corpses fell toward Daryl at the bottom of the stairs, but were easily pushed aside by his strong arms and downstairs.

"Roar!!"

The zombies on the upper floors heard the gunshots, and some of the zombies crowded on the top floor began to flow back and walk downstairs.

Daryl swung the dagger, and the violent blade cut the forehead of a fat black zombie, actually lifting half of its skull and flipping it backwards with the scalp attached.

A dagger is a short weapon that is more suitable for stabbing. At this moment, when Daryl wields it with strength far beyond that of an ordinary person, it is not inferior to a sharp machete.

The black zombie's body fell towards Daryl. Daryl grabbed its collar, pulled it into the air and threw it behind him without any feeling of fatigue.

The pink brain slid out of the black man's half-open head and hit Daryl's shoulder. All kinds of slippery objects touched the side of Daryl's face, making him curse "Fuck!" immediately.

Daryl knocked aside a pile of corpses that fell towards him. More zombies were still waiting for him on the stairs. He quickly changed the magazine of his pistol and continued to fire at the zombies while grabbing the handrail on the side of the stairs and climbing to higher floors.

Although there were many zombies crowded in the stairwell, with pairs of pale, sour-smelling arms pulling at Daryl's body, this did not pose much of a hindrance to Daryl's strong body. Instead, Daryl, who was climbing up the railing, used a few donkey kicks, and a group of zombies fell down the stairs like dominoes.

Daryl kept struggling to break free from the pale arms that were grabbing him and crawled along the railing to higher floors. Some zombies rushed to put their faces close to him, and a bloody hole immediately appeared on his face.

Climbing with a knife requires stronger and more flexible finger strength, but this is not a problem for Daryl now. However, in the past, when he encountered similar situations, he would bite the dagger with his mouth.

Daryl put the dagger back into the sheath, but his left hand was still holding the railing to stabilize his body. He pointed the pistol at the zombies that were close to him and shot them wildly in the head.

"Is anyone there!! Fuck!! I need help!!!"

As they got closer to the rooftop, Daryl really heard More's voice. His brother's desperate voice was a little tearful, which made Daryl, who was still climbing among the corpses in the corridor, almost laugh out loud.

"Fuck! Mor! Hold on! I'm here to save you, hahaha!!!"

Daryl laughed and shouted in the corridor. At this time, he was already enjoying the pleasure brought by this dream.

As Daryl gradually climbed to the top floor in the corridor crowded with zombies, he shot and killed several zombies blocking the iron gate.

The iron gate led to the rooftop, and was tied with a string of iron chains behind it. Daryl leaned against the door and pushed away the zombies that kept pressing forward. One by one, the zombies fell down the stairs, stood up with difficulty, and continued to walk towards Daryl.

Daryl took a grenade from the magazine, unplugged the ring and threw it downstairs.

Boom! ! !

There was a huge explosion downstairs. Countless pieces of debris tore the zombies crowded in the corridor into pieces. Blood and organs dyed the walls and steps red.

"Hoo..."

The zombies roared weakly, but their mutilated bodies prevented them from roaring louder.

Daryl took out his pistol and killed the zombies in front of him one by one. He kicked down the bodies of the dead zombies and glanced downstairs.

The mutilated zombies were crawling in the bloody corridor, huddled together like human pigs, giving a sense of déjà vu of a human centipede.

"Uh...Fuck..."

The scene was truly disgusting, and even the battle-hardened Daryl couldn't help but shudder.

"Darryl!? Is that you? Fuck! Are you okay? Wait bro, I'm coming to save you!!"

The series of noises coming from the corridor made Moore on the rooftop very anxious. He was not sure whether he had heard his brother's voice before.

After the explosion, Moore realized that he couldn't gamble on the probability. If it was really Daryl who was shouting in the corridor before, then his brother was also likely in danger.

On the rooftop, More was lying on the ground handcuffed to a thick water pipe. He had already reached for a nearby iron saw, ready to saw off the handcuffs and go to the corridor to help Daryl.

"Crack! Crack! Crack!"

The handcuffs made a metallic clanging sound between the rusty saw teeth. Moore looked at the sturdy handcuffs in horror and found that the rusty iron saw had been worn out, which meant that he could not use the iron saw to saw open the handcuffs and escape.

“Fuck!! Fuck!!! Ah!!!”

Mor roared angrily. Now he only had one choice left, which was to use the rusty iron saw... to saw off his wrist.

Without any hesitation, More pressed the iron saw against his wrist. The sharp, rusty teeth poked into his skin, and the veins on More's forehead popped out. Just as he was about to use force, the iron door on the rooftop made a loud banging sound!

boom! boom!

The heavy iron door fell down, and Daryl, covered in blood, walked into the rooftop. He looked at More who was lying on the ground. The latter's face was red, and he was pressing the iron saw on his wrist with a determined look.

"Moir, you bastard..."

Ignoring More's suspicious look, Daryl, fully armed, walked up to More and tore the handcuffs off with just a strong pull of his hands.

Daryl pulled More up from the ground. At this time, the corpses in the corridor were no longer a concern. He was about to tell a joke to make fun of More, but a lot of unfamiliar images flooded into his mind.

Daryl was stunned for a moment, and then he saw the exclamation mark above the rooftop disappear.

"So that's how it is. A world without Zhang... is bullshit!!!" Daryl cursed to himself, with anger on his face.

He saw the future after Moore's hand was broken, and he absolutely could not accept this future!

More, who had just escaped, looked at Daryl with a puzzled look. In fact, he felt creepy from the first time he saw Daryl.

His younger brother is a little bastard who appears to be indifferent but is actually a scoundrel. Daryl in front of him also looks cold, but Moore can feel that the other party is indifferent from the bottom of his heart, and only shows a trace of tenderness when he sees him.

"You... Daryl, why is your hair so long? And what about your clothes? Where did you get them?" Moore swallowed and asked with some stuttering.

Daryl held onto Maul's arm, realizing he didn't have much time left: "Maul! Listen to me! I'm not the Daryl I am now!"

Mor's pupils suddenly shrank.

"There is no Zhang in this world! You have to live well! Control your temper! You need a team!"

Daryl took off the hunting crossbow from his back and handed all his equipment except his combat uniform to Moore.

More was confused and puzzled. He had no idea what Daryl was talking about, but the man in front of him looked exactly like his brother, and the expression of concern on his face was genuine.

"Fuck! I have to go, Mor! If there's no one we can rely on, let's find Rick and the others! I worked with them for a while! They're good people!

Although I am not as capable as Zhang! But at least you and I can live longer! Don't die too early, Mor! You selfish and arrogant bastard!"

Daryl's vision was blurring, the picture of this world disappearing.

After knowing Maul's future, Daryl felt heartbroken, but he could only save Maul this time, and it would depend on Maul himself to change in the future.

Moore was full of doubts and wanted to ask something. Just as he was about to open his mouth, a gust of wind blew in front of his eyes, causing him to blink a few times.

"Darryl..."

After opening his eyes, Moore found that there was no one in front of him. He looked around but did not dare to shout Daryl's name loudly.

"Did I become hallucinating because I was thirsty for too long?"

Moore looked down at the bulletproof vest and military hunting crossbow in his hands. These things were heavy on his palms, and he realized that everything that had happened before was real.

"What is this? Back to the Future?! Huh?!" Moore shouted towards the sky, as if he understood something.

"Back to the Future" is a classic science fiction movie in which two protagonists travel back and forth between the future and the past...

After escaping, Moore returned to the quarry camp with the equipment left by Daryl.

Night had fallen, and More saw the short-haired Ril crying silently by the campfire.

Mor grinned and placed the military crossbow given to him by his grown-up Falir next to his brother.

"Why are you crying? I'm back."

"Fuck! Mor, you're an idiot!"