Dodge Ram TRX

Gavin was only 193 centimeters tall. Even though he was fairly built, clothing was easy enough to deal with.

But Madison was different.

Madison was 207 centimeters tall, and his feet were about the same size as Durant's. With feet like that, there was no way he could buy shoes without going to a specialty store.

Now that the apocalypse had arrived, was Gavin supposed to hope to find NBA-player-sized shoes in some random small-town secondhand clothing store?

What a joke.

Hearing Gavin's reasoning, Madison clearly realized the trouble he was in and hurriedly nodded.

"You're right. Damn it, my shoes won't be easy to find."

"Clothes being a few sizes too small isn't a big deal. At worst, I'll wear them like compression gear. As long as I can squeeze my arms and legs into them, it works."

"But shoes... one bag isn't enough, Gavin. We still need room for food. Aren't we going to the kitche—"

Madison suddenly cut himself off.

Not far away, Gavin's brow instantly furrowed as well.

Because the car alarms outside had completely stopped!

And once the alarms vanished, the room gradually grew stifling as the two fell silent.

Listening to Madison's heavy breathing, Gavin took a deep breath and lowered his voice.

"Old Mac, we're not going to the kitchen. I told you, I don't like taking risks."

As he spoke, Gavin recalled the zombie wedged into the corner of the serving hatch on the first floor.

He explained.

"When we were in the corridor earlier, we saw a zombie at the serving hatch connected to the dining room."

"As for whether there are more zombies in the kitchen, and how many there might be if there are, we know nothing."

"Wait, Gavin. What if there's only that one zombie near the kitchen? Are we really not going?"

Madison asked reluctantly. Amid his nerves, he had suddenly started to feel hungry.

Ever since Gavin had crossed over, his physical abilities had been exceptional. Both his strength and speed were close to the world's best, and even without intense training, he remained in excellent condition.

Even without professional weightlifting or sprint training, his bench press and hundred-meter time had both been close to world records.

That was what made him special, and it was probably the only benefit he had gained from crossing over.

But Madison did not have that advantage. To maintain his competitive condition, Madison's usual training volume and eating habits were downright outrageous.

At last night's party, Old Mac had drunk his fill. As for food?

Did eating two models count?

So even though morning had not yet arrived, Madison's stomach was already close to chanting slogans.

And hunger was not something one could dwell on. The more he thought about it, the hungrier he got. Madison could not help imagining the steaks that might be in the kitchen!

Hearing Madison, Gavin fell silent for a moment before shaking his head again.

"No. Even if there's only one zombie, I don't want to go to the kitchen."

"The hall is too open, and that food cart pinning the zombie is too likely to make noise. Since it'll be hard for us to avoid him, I don't think we can take him out silently."

"Can you throw knives? Even if you can, have you ever killed someone with multiple precise, silent headshots using throwing knives?"

"As for food..."

Gavin patted Madison's arm.

"As long as we get out of the estate, food won't be a problem. At least not for the next six months or year."

"Even if we avoid cities and towns and stay away from crowded places, there are plenty of convenience stores at gas stations along the road."

"There are only two of us. One convenience store could feed us for a long time. Food and water are necessities, but they shouldn't be our first priority, buddy."

With that, Gavin left Madison behind and continued searching the owner's room on his own.

Watching Gavin pick up half a box of cigars, Madison thought for a moment and nodded.

"I get it. I'll listen to you. You always make sense, just like you did on the team."

"You handle the bedroom. I'll search the study again. Your revolver still needs two holsters."

"If that old bastard collected revolvers, he must have holsters. I'll find them. You need them."

With that, Madison left the bedroom without asking anything about the second gun.

Gavin, meanwhile, gripped the cigar box and continued searching, eventually finding two car keys near the wardrobe.

A Rolls-Royce and a Corvette. Not bad.

Gavin pocketed the keys. They might come in handy.

After continuing his search along the wardrobe, Gavin was somewhat disappointed that he had not found any hidden doors.

A boss with no secrets was no good boss.

Madison, however, followed through on his word. He said he would find holsters, and he really did find holsters for both revolvers, beneath a low cabinet beside the study's bookcase.

A lush potted plant sat on top of the cabinet, and Madison had not noticed it while untying the rope.

Besides that, while Gavin was strapping on the holsters, Old Mac found half a carton of Kent cigarettes and seven or eight expensive watches. The boss had some interesting taste.

After thoroughly searching the room, the two finally regrouped at the door. Madison's bag now held quite a few things, and more than half of the cotton stuffing had been cleared out.

Gavin showed Madison the car keys and said, "We can't see the parking lot from the owner's room either. Let's go back to your room, pack up the clothes and shoes, and then figure something out."

As for the other rooms, Gavin stuck to his original decision. He did not want to take risks in this unusual estate, where the zombie count was close to three hundred.

Madison nodded, and the two immediately opened the door and left.

Without the car alarms to cover them this time, they stepped even more carefully and finally reached their destination.

After entering Madison's room again, Gavin took the rope, spread the blanket out on the bed, and wrapped all the oversized clothes and shoes from the wardrobe inside it.

After tying the bundle into the shape of a large backpack, he took the military knife off his back and handed it to Old Mac, then slung the bundle over his shoulders.

Old Mac tied the military knife to the backpack. The two gathered by the window and crouched down to observe the parking lot.

The angle was still poor. They could only see a few scattered cars, and they could not see the road leading from the parking lot to the estate gate.

That was normal enough. What kind of estate would fill the view outside its bedroom's floor-to-ceiling windows with cars and helicopters?

Seeing that, Gavin stepped away from the window, casually picked up a liquor bottle from the coffee table, and said to Madison, "Grab a bottle too, Old Mac. If we want a clear view of the parking lot, we'll have to try our luck at the side of the villa."

"No problem."

From then on, after leaving Madison's room, they were both armed with a military knife in one hand and a liquor bottle in the other.

This time, they headed down the right side of the corridor, all the way to the door at the end that led to the exterior staircase.

Through the window in the door at the end of the corridor, the entire parking lot, including the full helicopter crash site, was finally laid out before them.

The owner's room faced the front of the estate, while Gavin and Madison's rooms faced the backyard behind it.

The estate's parking lot and helipad had been laid out in a T-shape along the side of the estate, connecting the garden area to the villa's side staircase.

Standing at the end of the corridor now, Gavin could clearly see that the crashed helicopter had landed in the left corner of the T-shaped parking lot.

When it had fallen, it had also crushed and set eight or nine cars ablaze.

At the same time, the burning helicopter wreckage and cars were surrounded by a massive horde of zombies.

Although the car alarms were no longer drawing them in, the zombies gathered around the explosion site had not left. Instead, they paced endlessly around the center as if on patrol.

Whenever a wandering zombie bumped into a car blocking its way, it would inexplicably become frenzied for a moment, either breaking into a run or continuing to slam into the vehicle.

The noise they made also caused the entire zombie horde to stir from time to time.

Gavin and Madison observed from the corridor for just over three minutes, yet the zombie horde erupted five times. Their running speed whenever they became agitated made both men suck in a cold breath.

"They're damn fast..."

After contributing to global warming, Madison muttered irritably.

Gavin quickly pressed a hand to Madison's shoulder and whispered, "It looks like zombies become frenzied easily when they're blocked by obstacles, and that can trigger a disturbance among the whole group."

"So when we lure them away, we should try to lead them into open areas. We need to avoid them stopping and causing some unexplained commotion that brings us unnecessary trouble."

"You decide. I can't think that much. I just want my Tyrannosaurus back!"

Madison nodded in response, then raised a hand and pointed at a blue Dodge Ram TRX near the center of the parking lot.

The truck was not particularly expensive, but Madison had upgraded its engine. That gave the Ram TRX, already capable of launching forward like a rocket, horsepower close to—or even beyond—the limits of a Dodge Mammoth.