"Gavin."
Madison shouted as she picked up the fruit.
"How about some grapes?"
"They're not very good. Just pack some fruit that's easy to carry, and then fill the bag with the cotton I tore from the pillow. Don't run around and shake it."
Gavin reminded him, and Madison nodded, tossing a grape to Gavin while packing the oranges.
"Eat something, man. We can't stay in this manor any longer. Even if we run away, who knows how long it will be before we can have another bite of fruit?"
"Isn't that how Brad Pitt's movies go? I've also seen The Walking Dead, and it's so tragic. I feel so sad for our future!"
With that, Madison simply plucked two grapes and tossed them into his mouth.
While he struggled to suck the grape skins, Gavin, standing by the door, twisted the grapes thoughtfully and said, "I don't know if Leonard's blood sprayed on the grapes."
"Shit!"
Madison swallowed the grapes with a grimace, hurriedly spitting out the grape skins in astonishment. "You want to scare me to death, man?"
"What are you afraid of, Old Mac? Before Jiji mutated, we were working on a big project together... Wait, did I forget to shower?"
It would have been better if he hadn't mentioned it, but the moment he did, Gavin felt a wave of nausea wash over him.
He cursed and made a gesture of prayer. "The Old God is watching us."
"Madison, let's do what we can and should do, and leave the rest to fate."
"That's quite fresh. You're right, Gavin."
By the time Madison replied, the fruit was nearly packed. He stuffed his backpack with cotton and then picked up his saber.
Upon reaching the door, he seemed to have gained some confidence. This time, he acted against his usual behavior and gestured to Gavin to open the door, indicating that he would lead the way.
Gavin nodded as he opened the door, and Madison stepped out, cautiously making his way toward the owner's room.
The boss's room was a bit distant, so the two of them walked along the corridor leading to the central hallway.
A luxurious chandelier hung from the ceiling of the third floor, casting light down to the lobby on the first floor.
The lights were exceptionally bright but sent a chill through Madison instead of warmth.
It felt dreadful to no longer be shielded and protected by the darkness.
Gavin leaned over the handrail of the corridor, glancing down at the hall.
The situation was dire, with spilled wine everywhere, but there was no bloody smell.
Is it a bad thing that there's no blood?
Of course!
This means that the initial mutation rate of zombies was alarmingly high!
So few had a chance to escape.
Judging by the frequency of rebellion among the living in the manor, it was likely that at least 90% of the people underwent a collective mutation at the same time.
Does a zombie virus that has spread to this extent still need to rely on the zombies' teeth to spread further?
Is there room for further development?
"Wait…"
Gavin, who had been staring at the hall, suddenly raised his hand and grabbed Madison's clothing.
Madison paused, squatting there and daring not to move.
Gavin patted his leg and gestured for him to look at the food delivery passage in the corner of the lobby on the first floor.
Nearby, two food trucks lay toppled at the entrance, just at the right angle to trap a zombie's left leg.
After Madison spotted the zombie following Gavin's instructions, he squatted down, hands on the carpet, and whispered nervously, "He doesn't seem to see us."
After saying this, Madison looked back at the zombie and added with a relieved expression, "He can't hear us yet."
"Maybe he was attracted by the alarm outside," Gavin responded.
Most of the sirens near the yard parking lot had stopped after a full minute, but a few cars continued to wail.
Gavin suspected that these vehicles might have been struck by a helicopter, or at the very least, something was wrong with their alarm systems.
Madison nodded in understanding and continued forward in small steps. The two of them, one in front and one behind, soon reached the door of the boss's office.
The boss's manor villa had three floors. The second floor served as an entertainment area, and most rooms were equipped with fitness and entertainment equipment.
The third floor was the resting area, where all bedrooms, including the boss's, were located.
Upon reaching the boss's door, Madison leaned close to it, listening attentively for two seconds before shaking his head. "I can't hear anything."
He whispered, gripping the door handle and tentatively opening it.
Click...
It opened smoothly; the Mavericks owner evidently had no habit of locking the door during parties.
"We're lucky."
Madison smiled as he pushed the door open, but his expression instantly turned sour.
"Hiss… Roar…"
As the door swung open, a low roar immediately reached the ears of both individuals. The sound insulation of this door was remarkable!
Nervous, Madison gripped the saber tightly and stared at Gavin, seeking his direction.
Gavin nodded to the side, signaling Madison to step aside so he could handle it.
After hesitating for a moment, Madison made way for Gavin, who leaned against the crack of the door and listened intently.
The roar was not loud, even sounding weak and old. Could it be the boss himself?
He hadn't broken through the glass and fallen downstairs to rush toward the helicopter like the other zombies?
It was true that bosses were not sociable.
As he made his judgment, Gavin cautiously held the knife with both hands and slowly pushed the door open with his shoulder.
Peering inside, he could not see the boss. The roar emanated from the left side of the porch.
Gavin walked along the entrance corridor to the corner, looked inside, and instinctively chuckled.
In the study about thirteen or fourteen meters away, the boss sat in a strangely shaped chair, bound tightly, like a dumpling.
"Sharp."
Gavin sighed and patted Madison on the shoulder, motioning for him to take a look.
Madison glanced and licked his lips in admiration. "Rope art requires some skill."
"You're just a poor soul; close the door."
Gavin pointed at the door and strode toward the study.
The carpet beneath his feet was thick, and the room's sound insulation was confirmed. Running a few steps was no issue. He just wanted to finish off the boss quickly.
But as soon as he entered the study, he found himself stopping short.
Right opposite the boss, in a corner not visible from the outside, there was a woman hanging with a gag in her mouth.
In the blink of an eye, Gavin confirmed that the female zombie could make no sound, so he bypassed her and stabbed the boss's eye socket with his knife.
As the boss fell to the ground along with the chair, Gavin stepped on the back of the chair and poked the boss's eyes with the knife.
When he was sure that his boss was no longer moving, Madison followed him into the study.
He, too, was startled by the woman with the gag.
"Daimu!"
Madison exclaimed, turning to look at his motionless boss and asked, "Is this resolved? Is it really like in The Walking Dead?"
"Yeah, just hit him in the head, and he'll go down like a zombie."
"But don't forget, they run much faster than in TV shows, just like in the movies."
While responding, Gavin wiped the blood from his boss's tights, then pointed at the gagged woman with his saber and said, "This one's yours."
"It belongs to me? Nonsense! What impression do you have of me? I don't work with zombies!"
"Even if I, Madison, suffocate to death or jump out of this window, there's no way I'm going to stick my lower body into this thing!"
Madison was filled with righteous indignation and wanted to pick up a knife to fight Gavin to the death.
He did like blonde white girls, but he was not that philanthropic. At the very least, he only liked humans. How could zombies be called humans?
On the other side, listening to Madison's words, Gavin opened his mouth in shock and cursed, "Fuck you! How did you associate this thing with the lower body? I asked you to kill her!"
"Kill it... Damn it, yes, kill it. I understand what you're talking about."
Madison's eyes darted around for a moment before she quickly turned and struck at the gagged woman's head with a knife.
One strike...
Two strikes...
Soon, the imaginings of the hoisting woman took flight.
After dispatching the woman, Madison wiped the blood from the knife onto her clothing and spoke without looking back.
"I know what you mean. Let me try killing a zombie, right?"
"But you underestimate me, Gavin. I was born on the streets of Chicago. While I was surviving out there, you were still milking cowpeas on your farm."
"Curse you, Mac, your boasting is more of a headache than anything I've ever had to endure."
Gavin shot back as he approached the desk.
On the desk lay a six-inch black-carved Colt Python revolver, adorned with an exceptionally intricate pattern.
Gavin's eyes gleamed, and he quickly picked up the weapon, deftly opening the magazine.
After confirming that the cylinder was full of bullets, he closed it and secured the revolver at his waist.