Traveling through time, I'm making pancakes in Warhammer

Kalimdor, Middle Nest.

"Hey! Stop daydreaming and follow closely!"

On the street shrouded in green exhaust gas, Dylan, wearing a full set of chemical protective clothing, reminded his companion Bruno to follow him.

But the young, taciturn boy didn't respond to his senior's words. Dylan saw that he had his back to him. Bruno's entire upper body was engulfed in exhaust fumes, leaving him with only a blurry silhouette in the distance. The exposed half of Dylan's body was still covered in his grayish-white, rubber hazmat suit. From the silhouette, Dylan's head was lowered, and it was unclear whether he was dozing off or simply drifting off into his usual, inexplicable trance.

"Hey! Now is not the time to be lazy. Hurry up and finish today's work." Dylan continued to remind Bruno. Bruno was almost ten years younger than Dylan. Before the plague started, Dylan had been taking care of this kid intentionally or unintentionally, so most of the time he would choose to pretend not to see the kid's slacking off.

But I don’t know what happened to the kid today. Dylan called him twice in a row, but he didn’t say a word.

Suddenly, a bad premonition began to spread in Dylan's heart. He tiptoed closer to Bruno and whispered his name again: "Bruno?"

Bruno didn't respond.

After walking nearly ten steps, Bruno, shrouded in the thick fog, still made no further movement or response. Dylan swallowed hard, his inner uneasiness growing stronger.

So he involuntarily took out a pistol from his pocket. Walking in this strange plague fog, anything bad could happen. Dylan knew that he had to make the right choice at the critical moment, even if this choice was one he didn't want to make anyway.

After pulling out his pistol, Dylan slowly approached the dazed Bruno, only this time he didn't whisper his name. Finally, he reached behind the young man, reached out and pressed Bruno's shoulder, then suddenly exerted force and pulled him towards himself.

Then Dylan's eyes widened in surprise.

Because he saw that the boy's protective mask was actually open, and the lock and glass of his protective mask were not damaged at all, it could only be that he opened it himself.

What surprised Dylan even more was that this boy who was directly exposed to the plague exhaust gas did not show any signs of infection.

But Dylan soon discovered the secret of Bruno's non-infection: the debris left at the corner of his mouth.

Those are the crumbs of the pancake.

This kid is actually eating secretly?!

After realizing this, Dylan no longer cared about friendship or holding back. He simply raised his foot and kicked the kid who made the mistake to the ground.

"Look at what you've done!!" Dylan asked Bruno loudly through his breathing mask. "Do you think you deserve their trust?"

Dylan and Bruno are members of the same patrol.

The patrol team is a reconnaissance team temporarily organized after the establishment of an isolation point during an epidemic.

Within ten hours of the full outbreak of the plague, the nature of the zombies that spread the plague had been thoroughly studied. The toughness and strength of these undead monsters were terrifying, and because they were completely corrupted, conventional bullets shot into their bodies were like shooting into mud, making it difficult to cause effective damage.

But their shortcomings are equally obvious, that is, the brains of these completely infected people have completely lost their intelligence, and although they can pounce on fresh flesh and blood at a speed fast enough to tear their own bodies apart, most of the time, these infected people are slow and numb.

So the people who set up the isolation points took advantage of their characteristics. They blocked the intersections around the isolation points with all kinds of debris and sprinkled a white disinfectant powder made by technical priests on these roadblocks. Under the dual physical and chemical barriers, the zombies would often bypass this area and wander elsewhere.

The patrol teams are responsible for maintaining these roadblocks. They are usually divided into groups of two, and each group is responsible for roadblocks in a few designated areas. They patrol three times a day. Their task is to restore roadblocks that are occasionally broken up by infected people and replenish the constantly evaporating disinfectant powder.

In order to ensure that the patrolmen are not infected, each of them carries half a pancake with them at all times, and they are required to check on each other's status every half minute. Once signs of infection are found, another healthy person can immediately use a pancake to rescue the other person.

Dylan and Bruno are two members of a patrol team. Now, Dylan, one of the members, discovered that his companion was stealing the precious pancakes that might save his life at a critical moment for no reason.

So how could he not be angry?

"If you did this once or twice, it would be fine, but this is the third time. Do you really value your mouth more than your life?" Dylan scolded Bruno angrily. "Besides, you're not just endangering your own life, you're endangering the lives of others. Do you have any idea how many lives you've saved by stealing those pancakes?"

Unexpectedly, in the face of Dylan's questioning, Bruno not only did not feel ashamed, but instead got angry at him.

“I didn’t ask you to save me!” Bruno yelled at Dylan, but halfway through his yelling, he turned to sobbing, “Why did you wake me up… Why did you wake me up…”

Dylan didn't know how to answer because, from what he knew, Bruno's behavior was not an isolated case.

Many infected people who have been cured do feel fortunate and happy at the moment of being cured, but it doesn’t take long before they find that although their bodies have been cured, their lives are still as bad as before or even darker, and their joy of regaining a new life will soon be diluted.

Without exception, these people will become silent, depressed, and gradually distance themselves from others.

He even heard some sensational rumors that some healthy people would even voluntarily allow themselves to be infected with the plague just to join the unconscious happy party of the walking dead.

During this period, the dazed smiles of those severely infected people kept lingering in Dylan's mind. He didn't understand why people who were infected with fatal terminal diseases and became zombies who could neither live nor die would smile like this, as if they were not dead, but were falling into a deep sleep with a slight drunkenness.

Dylan instinctively felt that this was wrong, but he could not figure out what was wrong.

In fact, he himself didn't know, either he couldn't think of it, or he didn't dare to think of it.