I Don't Fuck Zombies

"Gavin."

As he gathered fruit, Madison called out.

"How about some grapes?"

"Not good. Pack fruits that are easy to carry, then stuff the bag with the cotton I tore out of the throw pillows so it won't jostle around when we run."

Gavin reminded him, and Madison nodded. As he packed oranges, he tossed a grape to Gavin.

"Have some, buddy. We can't stay in this estate. Even if we get out, who knows how long it'll be before we get to eat fruit again."

"Isn't that how Pitt's movies go? I've watched The Walking Dead, too. It's miserable. I fucking feel sorry for our future!"

With that, Madison plucked off two grapes and tossed them into his mouth.

As he worked hard to chew through the grape skins, Gavin stood by the door, rolling his grape between his fingers as he said thoughtfully,

"I wonder if any of Leonard's blood sprayed onto the grapes."

"Shit!"

Madison swallowed his grapes with a stiff expression, then hurriedly spat out the skins.

"Are you trying to scare me to death, buddy?"

"What are you afraid of? Old Mac and Gigi had just worked on a big project with me before they mutated... Wait, fuck, did I not shower?"

It had been fine until he brought it up. The moment he did, Gavin immediately felt sick.

So Gavin cursed under his breath and made the sign of a prayer.

"God is watching over us."

"Madison, let's do everything we can and everything we should. Leave the rest to fate."

"That's a new one. You're right, Gavin."

By the time Madison answered, he had nearly finished packing the fruit. He stuffed the backpack full of cotton, then picked up his combat knife.

When he reached the door, perhaps because he had learned from experience, he did something completely out of character. He gestured for Gavin to open the door, then pointed at himself to indicate that he would go first.

Gavin nodded as he opened the door. Madison immediately stepped out and cautiously headed toward the Cowboys owner's room.

The owner's room was some distance away. The two made their way down the corridor to the central atrium.

A luxurious chandelier hung from the third-floor ceiling all the way down above the first-floor hall.

The lights were exceptionally brilliant, but rather than bringing warmth, they made Madison shudder.

No longer being concealed and protected by darkness felt awful.

Gavin moved close to the atrium railing and glanced down at the hall below.

The situation was not good. Spilled alcohol was everywhere, yet there was barely any smell of blood.

Was the absence of a bloody smell a bad thing?

Of course it was!

It meant the initial mutation rate among the zombies had been terrifyingly high!

So high that hardly anyone had even gotten the chance to flee.

Judging from the frequency of resistance from the living people in the estate, at least ninety percent of them had likely mutated simultaneously.

With the zombie virus spread to this extent, did it still need zombie bites to spread further?

Was there even room for it to spread further?

"Wait..."

Gavin, who had been staring at the hall, suddenly raised a hand and grabbed the hem of Madison's shirt.

Madison froze instantly, crouching there without daring to move.

Gavin patted his leg, signaling him to look toward the food delivery passage in a corner of the first-floor hall.

Near it, two serving carts had toppled messily at the doorway, their angle pinning a zombie's left leg firmly in place.

After following Gavin's gesture and spotting the zombie, Madison braced both hands against the carpet and crouched closer to Gavin. He whispered nervously,

"He doesn't seem to be able to see us."

After saying that, Madison looked at the zombie again, then added with delight,

"And he can't hear us talking."

"Maybe the alarms outside caught his attention," Gavin replied.

Most of the car alarms near the parking lot in the yard had stopped after blaring for about a minute, but a few were still going.

Gavin suspected those cars had been hit by the helicopter, or at least that their alarm systems had malfunctioned.

Madison nodded to show he understood, then continued forward in small steps. One after the other, they soon arrived at the owner's door.

The owner's estate villa had three floors. The second floor was for entertainment, with most rooms fitted with exercise equipment and entertainment facilities.

The third floor was the living area, and the bedrooms, including the owner's, were all on the third floor.

After arriving at the owner's door, Madison pressed close to it and listened for two seconds before shaking his head.

"I can't hear anything."

He whispered as he gripped the doorknob and cautiously turned it open.

Click...

It went smoothly. The Mavericks owner clearly had no habit of locking his door during parties.

"We're lucky."

Madison smiled and pushed open the door, only for his expression to change instantly.

"Hiss... Roar..."

The low growls reached their ears the instant the door opened. The soundproofing on this door was too good!

Though nervous, Madison tightly gripped his combat knife and stared wide-eyed at Gavin, seeking his instructions.

Gavin jerked his chin to the side, signaling Madison to move aside. He would handle it.

After hesitating for a moment, Madison made room for Gavin, while Gavin pressed himself to the door crack and listened for a while.

The growling was not loud. It even sounded weak and old. Could it be the owner himself?

He had not smashed through the glass and fallen downstairs to run toward the helicopter like the other zombies?

Figures the boss would refuse to follow the crowd.

As he assessed the situation, Gavin cautiously gripped his knife with both hands and slowly pushed the door open with his shoulder.

He poked his head in for a look but saw no sign of the owner. The growling came from the left side of the entry hall.

Gavin followed the hallway inside to the corner, peeked around it, then instinctively laughed.

In the study roughly thirteen or fourteen meters away, the owner sat in the middle of the room on a bizarrely shaped chair. He was tied up like a dumpling, bound together with the chair.

"Impressive."

Gavin remarked, patting Madison on the shoulder and having him take a look too.

Madison took one glance and licked his lips in admiration.

"Someone knows their rope work."

"Quit running your mouth, asshole. Close the door."

Gavin pointed at the room door, then strode rapidly toward the study.

The carpet beneath his feet was thick, and the room's soundproofing had already been proven. Running a few steps was no big deal. He just wanted to send the owner on his way as quickly as possible.

But the moment he rushed into the study, he could not help stopping short.

Directly across from the owner, in a corner that could not be seen from outside.

There was actually a gagged woman hanging there.

Gavin immediately determined that the female zombie could not make any sound, so he ignored her and drove his knife into the owner's eye socket.

After knocking the owner and chair to the floor together, he stepped on the chair back and violently twisted the knife inside the owner's eye socket.

Once Gavin was sure the owner had stopped moving, Madison entered the study as well.

Then he, too, was startled by the hanging, gagged woman.

"Dame!"

Madison cried out. He turned to look at the motionless owner and asked,

"That's it? Just like The Walking Dead?"

"Yeah, aim for the head. They die the same way as in The Walking Dead."

"But don't forget, they run much faster than they do on TV. More like in the movies."

As Gavin answered, he wiped the blood off on the owner's bodysuit. Then he pointed his combat knife at the hanging, gagged woman and said,

"She's yours."

"She's mine? Dogshit! What kind of impression do you have of me? I don't fuck zombies!"

"Even if I, Madison, died from holding it in, even if I jumped out that window, I would never stick my lower half into that thing!"

Madison was so indignant that he looked ready to grab his knife and fight Gavin to the death.

He did like blonde white girls, but he was not that indiscriminate. At the very least, he only liked humans. Could zombies still be called human?

Across from him, Gavin listened to Madison's words, opened his mouth in stunned disbelief, and cursed,

"Motherfucker, how did you connect that thing to your lower half? I meant for you to kill her!"

"Kill her... Damn it, right, kill her. I knew what you meant."

Madison's eyes darted around wildly for a while, then he quickly turned around and chopped the hanging, gagged woman in the head.

One strike...

Two strikes...

Before long, the hanging woman's skull had been split open.

After dealing with the woman, Madison wiped the blood off his knife with her clothes and said without looking back,

"I knew what you meant. You wanted me to try killing a zombie too, right?"

"But you underestimated me, Gavin. I'm a kid born on the streets of Chicago. When I was running the streets, you were still on your family farm milking cows."

"Fuck you, Old Mac. Listening to you brag gives me a headache."

As Gavin shot back, he walked over to the desk.

A six-inch Black Eagle Colt Python revolver, exquisitely engraved, lay openly on the desk.

Gavin's eyes lit up. He quickly picked up the gun and skillfully swung out the cylinder.

After confirming that the cylinder was fully loaded, Gavin snapped it back into place and tucked the revolver into his waistband.