Cassandra was no longer flustered, even after hearing the commotion. She brushed back her hair, used a combat knife to chop off the head of the other half-eaten corpse, then crouched low and slipped out of the changing room. She crossed the clean area and peered into the hallway.
The hallway was packed wall to wall with zombies—doctors, nurses, patients, and the men she had brought with her.
These Living Dead were not simply The Walking Dead. Pressed against the crack in the door, Cassandra noticed that they were talking to each other as they walked, asking where the gunshots had come from, where there were living people, and even discussing which pieces of meat they wanted to eat once they found someone.
She quietly closed the door, found an IV stand to wedge it shut, and slowly backed away.
When she returned to the operating room and saw Tony's bewildered expression, she sighed and reached over to unlock his handcuffs.
"You're letting me go? I still won't thank you, so give up on that. Stockholm Syndrome doesn't kick in that fast. What you did was rape, understand?"
Tony sat up and got dressed. His suit, worth tens of thousands of US Dollars, had been crumpled into something resembling a rag. He picked it up, inspected it, and shook his head at the waste.
"Enough nonsense. We're trapped by zombies, and all my men are dead." Cassandra kicked his shin without any friendliness, urging him to get dressed faster. "We're in the same boat now. If I can't survive, neither can you."
"Oh? A new game? Since when did you start liking such idiotic lies?"
Tony pulled on his pants and shirt, picked up his phone, and quickly checked for a signal. Naturally, there was none.
"You want me to