Old Traditions

Facing Gavin's question, Madison took a deep breath, pursed his lips, and swallowed hard.

"Risking my life?"

After convincing himself he was fully prepared, the six-foot-nine giant said with a ferocious expression.

"I've done plenty of that, my Quarterback. Do you remember that game two years ago when I played after a cortisone shot?"

"The moment I stepped onto that field, I never expected to walk off it!"

"Even though I was only fighting with one leg and one knee back then, but..."

"I'm your offensive guard, the best tight end in the major league!"

"My legs are my life! I've already risked my life before!"

Having said this, Madison gripped the military knife in his hand tightly.

As for Gavin...

He lowered his head with a smirk, glancing at Madison's slightly trembling calves.

You talk a big game, but your feet aren't moving—why aren't you moving?

I thought with that heroic look of yours, you'd be fighting to lead the way, buddy!

Seeing that Madison was all talk and no action, Gavin slowly pulled the bedroom door open.

After cracking it just a sliver, he listened to the sounds in the hallway.

The corridor was quiet; aside from the car alarms blaring outside the villa, there was no other sound.

The helicopter crash and explosion would naturally trigger the car alarms.

Besides, the vehicles present tonight were all luxury cars, and the alarm sound quality was excellent.

Gavin listened for three or four seconds before pulling the door wide open.

He immediately stepped out, intending to leave the bedroom.

It didn't matter who led the way, at least not to Gavin.

Because he ran faster than Old Mac, after all.

Seeing Gavin just walk off, Madison's thick lips trembled violently.

Slap!

He grabbed Gavin's shoulder, his lips quivering as they opened and closed.

Gavin turned back, and seeing that Old Mac seemed to want to say something, he stepped back into the room to wait a moment.

Meeting Gavin's encouraging gaze, Old Mac took a deep breath, his eyes heavy as he emphasized to Gavin—and perhaps more so to himself.

"I will protect you, Quarterback, I swear I will!"

"Same to you, buddy. I'm not the kind of Quarterback who abandons his tight end."

Gavin gave Old Mac's shoulder an encouraging pat.

"Follow me, and watch the path."

"I'm with you."

As Old Mac nodded in response, his calves finally stopped shaking.

Gavin, carrying his blade, stepped onto the hallway carpet and headed toward the left side of the corridor.

Madison's room was very close to Gavin's, separated by only one other room.

The carpet muffled their footsteps well, and they reached Old Mac's door with ease.

Seeing the familiar furnishings of his room, Old Mac let out a sigh of relief; those few steps had been harder than he imagined, but once out of the bedroom, things had become simpler again.

Gavin poked his head into the room, confirmed there were no zombies, and walked straight in.

Old Mac followed behind Gavin and gently closed the door.

Click...

The moment the bolt slid home, he let out a breath of relief.

"Damn it, that walk was harder than my leg day training."

Madison sighed, then handed the phone back to Gavin, adding a reminder.

"I'm going to find my own phone. By the way, I put yours on silent for you."

"Thanks, good job. I actually forgot to mute it."

Gavin nodded, tucked the phone into his pocket, and walked straight toward the fireplace.

In modern society, although cold weapons had long since faded from the battlefield, the quality of steel and forging techniques had improved year after year.

For art-piece swords like the expensive ones hanging in this villa, the steel quality was absolutely fine—the blades even had patterns on them.

As long as they were sharpened a little, the quality would be rock solid; they had to be taken as backups.

While Gavin was busy taking down the military knife, Madison also reached the bedside.

He nervously rambled to Gavin while picking up his phone to dial his lover's number.

"Leonard takes his Sony console everywhere. After we sent those long-legged bimbos home last night, the two of them were playing 2K."

"It was a bit noisy, but thank God they were, or I probably would've slept through the whole thing."

"It was nearly three in the morning, for fuck's sake. I was dead tired and didn't want to yell at them, and then I saw them curled up together. Kendrick even had his head buried in Leonard's stomach."

"Fuck, it scared the hell out of me. I thought they were gay, and then it was just a bloody mess. Leonard only let out two sounds before he stopped moving."

"Believe me, I'll never forget that image. That damn James was traveling on the TV, and one layup later, he'd spilled Leonard's guts out."

"I didn't even have time to put on clothes. I ran so fast I slammed into the doorframe."

"They were faster than when they chase me during team practice. I pissed myself... you should just forget about that part, man..."

At this point, Madison collapsed onto the bed in despair, burying his face in the quilt.

Not far away by the fireplace, Gavin held three military knives and gave Madison a silent look.

"Sigh..."

After a heavy sigh, he walked to the sofa, grabbed a cushion, and casually wiped the blood and gore off the front of the TV.

Then, he picked up a backpack that was only lightly stained with blood.

He emptied the contents: two controllers, some HDMI cables, two bottles of lubricant, a PSP, and a pile of condoms.

After dumping that junk out, Gavin tossed the bag onto the sofa, tore open another cushion with his knife, used the fabric strips to lash two of the blades together, and slung them over his back.

Once he adjusted the knives so they wouldn't hinder his movement, Gavin walked over to Madison and sat on the bed.

Feeling Gavin approach, Madison lifted his head, wiped away his desperate tears, and spoke.

"My lover's phone won't go through, and the landline is dead too. I have so many kids, how can not a single one... not one of them answer? Fuck, boo-hoo..."

After sobbing quietly for a moment, Madison held up his phone with a trembling hand.

"This is my mom's number. My mom isn't answering either. No one is picking up..."

As his voice trailed off, Madison gripped the phone, his brow twitching as he listened to the busy signal.

Seeing Madison completely falling apart, Gavin sighed and tried to persuade him.

"Don't overthink it. Maybe they're just busy, like we were. We weren't exactly answering phones earlier either."

"Besides, you've only called your wife and your mom. You haven't called your dad yet, maybe..."

"My deadbeat old man ran off twenty years ago! Shit, we've been teammates for four years, I thought you'd know about my family!"

Even in his agony, Madison reacted instinctively with a curse at the mention of his father.

Hearing this, Gavin glanced at Madison's black skin and couldn't help but nod.

"My mistake. I should've guessed. It's an old tradition."

After saying that, Gavin patted Madison on the shoulder.

"Alright, buddy. At least you tried calling home. I haven't even dared to try yet."

"Let's make sure we survive first, then worry about our families."

"Even if you did get through, what then? Over the phone, even if I watched them get torn apart by zombies, what could I do? Cheer them on?"

Gavin felt a wave of frustration as he said this.

He had lived in this world for twenty-five years. Although his parents were Texas white trash, they were actually good to him—everything was perfect, except for the fact that they never gave him a sister.

But now?

He could only hope they died peacefully.

If he wished for them to keep living in this world, could that even be considered a blessing?

Living in an apocalypse filled with zombies?

By the bedside, Madison slowly stood up and cursed.

"This damn party, I shouldn't have come at all. But you're right, I have to survive!"

"Wait for me, I'm going to get my car keys. By the way, where are your keys?"

Madison asked while rummaging through the headboard for a moment, eventually fishing the keys out of his discarded formal wear.

Beside him, Gavin spread his hands.

"Car keys? Probably with my assistant, or my agent? I'm not really sure."

"Tsk tsk, classic Gavin. The God of Football, bringing four assistants to a party."

"What about your Aston Martin? Can't find it? Guess we're stuck with my pickup, huh?"

Madison tried to find humor in his misery, cracking a wry joke with a tear-streaked face before walking over to Gavin.

"Don't worry, my pickup is modified. It's worth at least three hundred thousand bucks, it won't be beneath your status."

"You know how it is, I have too many kids, I can never save any money. Good thing I bought this truck, it's coming in handy now—it can haul a lot of stuff."

"So, what do we do now? I'm following your lead on this one. Are we heading to the boss's place to look for guns?"

"I just hope we didn't use up all his ammo when we were at the range."

Madison's grief had arrived swiftly, and it seemed he had cast it aside just as quickly.

Hearing his question, Gavin nodded and said, "Yeah, we're going to the boss's room. It's not far from here, and he shouldn't have it locked."

As he finished speaking, Gavin stood up with the empty bag and tossed it over to Madison.

Madison took the backpack and scanned the room, but finding nothing worth taking, he simply tossed a few apples inside.