《Make Way for Me-The Belle zombie King》


 1.Zombie Billy Jean

    ¡°Damn it all to hell!¡±


    Billy Jean had been greeting politely like this for 138 days straight, and it¡¯d been 138 days since she¡¯d turned into a zombie too.


    After the apocalypse hit, she didn¡¯t unlock any super cool powers.


    With her drop-dead gorgeous looks, she was like a defenseless little bunny, with danger lurking around every corner.


    She was sick and tired of living that way.


    Besides, she didn¡¯t have a care in the world or any family left.


    Instead of hiding and shaking like a leaf every day, scared out of her wits of getting hurt by other survivors or getting chomped on by zombies, she figured it¡¯d be easier to just become a walking, brainless corpse.


    No thoughts, no consciousness, no pain.


    So, that¡¯s exactly what she did.


    She picked out the handsomest zombie and shoved her delicate arm right into its mouth.


    And sure enough, after getting bitten, she joined the zombie troops.


    Her limbs all stiff, she shuffled along, groaning like something out of a horror flick.


    Her eyes were all cloudy, like they were smeared with a gross film.


    Her body was ice-cold, and her ashen-green face looked like death warmed over.


    She was rotting away and straight-up terrifying.


    But Billy Jean, who used to be the belle of East University, was actually okay with it.


    This way, she could blend right in with the zombie horde.


    Everything was going peachy until she realized she still had her freaking consciousness!


    Wasn¡¯t she supposed to be a mindless, shambling mess?


    What the heck!


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    Billy Jean puked right on the spot, grossed out by her own self.


    Looking at her decaying skin, she couldn¡¯t handle it, so she decided to call it quits.


    She was dead set on ending it all.


    But guess what?


    She couldn¡¯t even die.


    She took a leap off a tall building, brains splattering everywhere.


    But in a flash, she was up and about again.


    Cue the waterworks!


    The first thing she did when she got up was barf.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    Enduring the nausea, she scooped up her brains and stuffed them back into her cracked-open head, then sewed it up with a needle she found.


    Well¡­ it was still gross, but better than before.


    During a shootout, a bullet whizzed through her head.


    All the other zombies dropped like flies when their heads got hit, but not her.


    She was still kicking.


    Even when her head got chopped off, her eyes were still rolling around.


    With no other choice, her body had to pick up the head and sew it back on.


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    And just like that, Billy Jean had to accept the fact that she was basically immortal.


    What a fuck!


    At that moment, Billy Jean was sprawled out on the road, catching some rays.


    Thinking back on everything, she couldn¡¯t help but curse under her breath again.


    ¡°Crack!¡±


    The sound of her leg bone snapping echoed.


    Since zombies don¡¯t feel pain, she didn¡¯t even flinch.


    But she still shot a dirty look at the zombie that stepped on her.


    ¡°Roar¡­ "Hey, you blind? Didn¡¯t see there¡¯s a person..nah.. corpse here?"


    The zombie stared back with its empty eye sockets, blood dripping down.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Trying to fake an accident and extort money? Fuck off!¡±


    Billy Jean was fuming and confused.


    How dare it accuse her of faking an accident?


    She¡¯d been a saint her whole life, wouldn¡¯t even squash a bug.


    Would she fake an accident? Ridiculous!


    Damn it all to hell!


    An ant crawled into her festering flesh.


    Billy Jean smacked it hard, killing the ant but also knocking off a chunk of her rotting skin, exposing the white bone.


    She was heartbroken.


    After all, every bit of her decaying flesh was precious.


    She didn¡¯t want to end up as just a skeleton while still being ¡°alive.¡±


    With her joints creaking, she carefully picked up the rotten piece, laid it over the bone, and sewed it up.


    After months of sewing herself back together, she¡¯d gotten pretty good at it.


    Thanks to her handiwork, she wasn¡¯t missing any limbs like some of the other zombies.


    At least she was all in one piece.


    Billy Jean looked at her rotting arm.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    This was the 1086th time she''d managed to gross herself out and puke.


    She was getting used to it.


    Just then, all the zombies on the street went nuts.


    Billy Jean¡¯s cloudy eyes flashed red too.


    The smell of humans.


    It made the zombies drool like crazy.


    They all charged off towards the source, flailing their arms.


    Billy Jean, hobbling on her broken leg because of some stupid zombie instinct, was slower than a snail.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Save me a sip, guys. Thanks a ton!¡±


    Billy Jean roared at the zombies around her as they zoomed past her.


    At first, she''d tried her best to resist feeding.


    But it was way worse than kicking a serious drug habit.


    Her whole being trembled in sheer agony.


    And if she didn''t feed for a while, she''d turn into a raging maniac and go after humans like a bloodthirsty beast.


    Her human side just couldn''t stand the thought of becoming a monster that attacked people on sight.


    So, to keep from going berserk, she forced herself to start feeding.


    She remembered her first time.


    She barfed non-stop for three days and nights.


    She''d only taken a tiny sip of blood, and even though it tasted sickeningly sweet, she just couldn''t stomach it in her heart.


    But she had no choice.


    She was a zombie, and that was that.


    So, she was stuck in this never-ending loop of eating, puking, and then eating again.


    Finally, she came up with a trick.


    She poured the blood into a tall, elegant wine glass and tricked herself into thinking it was a fine red wine.


    Only then could she sort of tolerate it.


    Her food source?


    Freshly dead bodies.


    By slicing their wrists, she could get a cup of warm, thick blood.


    Billy Jean finally hobbled to the place, moving at a snail''s pace.


    What she saw was a gruesome sight.


    Bodies were strewn everywhere.


    There must''ve been a hell of a fight.


    The stench of blood filled the air, making her nostrils flare.


    Many zombies were already feasting.


    Some were chowing down on guts that burst open with a sickening squish, others were gobbling up fresh brains.


    "Crunch¡­ crunch¡­"


    The creepy sound of bones and flesh being torn apart echoed all around.


    Billy Jean was super picky.


    Too fat? Too greasy.


    Too ugly? It killed her appetite.


    Too old? Her teeth couldn''t handle it.


    Too young? She just couldn''t bring herself to bite.


    She searched high and low but found nothing to her liking.


    Then, a gentle breeze blew by.


    Billy Jean''s eyes flashed red.


    A rich, pure scent of blood wafted over.


    It smelled divine.


    She''d never smelled anything so mouthwatering.


    It was like a siren''s call, and she couldn''t help but follow it.


    Finally, in a secluded corner, she found the body.


    The tall figure was slumped against the wall, his head tilted back.


    His face was deathly pale, but he was incredibly handsome, like a god come down to earth.


    One leg was bent, and an arm casually rested on it.


    Blood oozed from the wound on his chest, staining half of his body a deep red.


    So fragrant.


    Billy Jean couldn''t stop growling in excitement.


    She''d made up her mind.


    This was the one.


    But there was something familiar about him.


    Billy Jean tilted her head, squinting at the handsome corpse.


    Her sluggish brain tried to figure out who he was.


    Ever since she became a zombie, her movements were slow, and her thoughts were even slower.


    After thinking for ages, she still drew a blank.


    Oh well.


    He was dead. Time to eat.


    Billy Jean rummaged through her LV bag and pulled out her "eating utensils"¡ªa tall wine glass.


    ¡°Ding..¡±


    She flicked the rim of the glass with her fingertip, and a clear, crisp sound rang out.


    Billy Jean tilted her head back slightly, lost in the beautiful sound.


    If anyone saw her like this, they''d probably die laughing.


    A zombie making such a strange expression.


    Billy Jean crouched down stiffly and placed the tall wine glass on the ground.


    With her rigid hand, she made the sign of the cross on her chest.


    "Amen."


    Her pre-meal ritual was done.


    She reached out her rotting hand towards the hand with perfect, defined knuckles resting on the bent knee.


    She grasped the big hand.


    Her body was ice-cold, and the hand felt so warm in comparison.


    For some reason, a sense of familiarity tugged at her heart.


    Just then, a pair of bottomless, icy black eyes snapped open, glinting with a sharp light.


    Billy Jean froze, her heart pounding in her chest.


    She finally realized who he was.

 2.Awkward Reuniting

    Michael Joke, her ex!


    Remembering the break-up scene?


    Total cringe-fest!


    Billy Jean was about to yank her hand back when¡ªbam!


    She got kicked five yards away.


    ¡°Asking for it!¡±


    Michael Joke growled, all icy.


    He stood tall, oozing badass vibes.


    Out came a crisp handkerchief, and he wiped the hand that zombie cooties had just touched.


    His coal-black eyes, colder than a polar bear¡¯s toenails, zeroed in on the female zombie.


    If he hadn¡¯t been fighting off a mob and running on fumes, this little ghoul would¡¯ve never gotten close.


    Even powerless, squashing her would be a piece of cake.


    A killer look flashed across Michael Joke¡¯s face as he stalked toward the zombie.


    Billy Jean couldn¡¯t feel pain, but she knew that kick had busted a few ribs and caved in her chest.


    ¡°Son of a gun! So brutal. Is this the same guy who used to whine ¡¯Baby, gimme¡¯in bed?¡±


    Michael Joke froze.


    He heard a familiar voice, spun around¡ªnobody in sight.


    Was he losing it again?


    Billy Jean dragged herself up.


    Being a gal with pride, this was mega-awkward.


    She wanted to bolt, but her body had a mind of its own and lunged at Michael Joke.


    That fresh meat of his was like a siren song, triggering her inner zombie beast.


    First time since zombification that she¡¯d craved human flesh this bad.


    ¡°Roar¡­¡±


    She let out a spine-tingling howl.


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    Seeing the zombie pounce, Michael Joke smirked, all icy.


    He whipped out a dagger, aimed for the head.


    Just as the blade was about to strike, the wind blew the zombie¡¯s hair aside, revealing a grayish, decaying face.


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes bugged out.


    Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, courtesy of the zombie.


    Michael Joke snapped back to reality.


    He clamped Billy Jean¡¯s jaw to stop her from chomping and flipped her over.


    Billy Jean bared her fangs, growling like a rabid dog.


    She thrashed around, trying to break free, but his grip was like a vise.


    Some rotten flesh even sloughed off.


    She quit struggling, mortified, but the growls kept coming.


    Michael Joke¡¯s face was dead serious, eyes torn.


    Then he reached out, hand shaking like a leaf.


    He brushed back her hair.


    When he saw her face, his hand clenched.


    His eyes?


    Pure chaos¡ªhate, resentment, sadness, regret, love¡­


    Remembering her betrayal, his gaze hardened.


    He staggered upright.


    Well, this worked.


    Saved him the trouble.


    Let her rot in this apocalypse.


    "Eh! Why¡¯s he leaving? Couldn¡¯t he spare me a sip of blood or a bite of flesh? Didn¡¯t know he was such a cheapskate!"


    Michael Joke stopped in his tracks, glanced back.


    Billy Jean was a festering mess, cloudy eyes, roaring up a storm.


    ¡°?¡±


    "Why¡¯s he staring? I know I¡¯m a hottie, but no need to ogle. I might blush..."


    Michael Joke was dead sure he¡¯d heard Billy Jean¡¯s voice, not a hallucination.


    But seeing her only roar, he frowned, puzzled.


    "Damn it! Why can¡¯t I stop lunging at him? What voodoo has he worked on me?"


    Michael Joke saw Billy Jean about to pounce again.


    Putting two and two together, he was certain that voice was her inner monologue.


    Wanted to confirm, he said,


    ¡°Stand still, and I might give you a bowl of blood.¡±


    The snarling, clawing zombie hit pause.


    "Freaking really? Is he yanking my chain?"


    Michael Joke had his answer.


    Billy Jean was a zombie with a human mind.


    Looking at the once-gorgeous girl now a hideous zombie, he scoffed,


    ¡°Billy Jean, this the glamorous life you picked after ditching me?¡±


    Back then, he treated her like royalty.


    Wanted to give her the moon.


    But what did she do?


    Betrayed him!


    On their second anniversary, he¡¯d reserved the fanciest joint, set up a candlelit dinner.


    Sat there till closing, food ice-cold, and she was a no-show.


    Phone?


    Dead as a doornail.


    He told himself she must be tied up.


    Got home, and boom¡ªshe was there with some other dude.


    He saw red, beat the guy to a pulp.


    Wrecked the place and walked out, never looking back.


    Now, he glared at her, teeth gritted,


    ¡°After stabbing me in the back, any regrets?¡±


    Billy Jean stared into Michael Joke¡¯s eyes, deep as the ocean, full of stuff that freaked her out.


    "What¡¯s his deal? Is he hinting at a do-over?"


    Michael Joke eyed Billy Jean up and down, snorted.


    ¡°Billy Jean, you¡¯ve got guts thinking that now.¡±


    He turned on his heel and left.


    Billy Jean watched him go, dumbfounded.


    "Didn¡¯t he promise blood? Damn! Knew I couldn¡¯t trust him. Same old, said ¡°last time¡±in bed and lied through his teeth. Forget it."


    One second she thought that, the next she was hobbling after him, leg busted.


    She was numb.


    What a mess!


    Her body was on autopilot.


    Michael Joke marched ahead, Billy Jean chased, snarling and clawing.


    Watching his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and killer legs, she drooled.


    Especially that juicy butt.


    Touched it before, never tasted.


    Wouldn¡¯t be too crazy to take a bite now.


    After all, they were once an item.

 3.He Must Be Fucking Crazy

    Michael Joke knew Billy Jean was hot on his heels, but he couldn¡¯t care less.


    He was wounded, his powers was still weak.


    Darkness was creeping in fast, and he needed to find a safe haven pronto.


    At night, zombies went berserk, and their attack mojo skyrocketed.


    All he wanted was a cozy spot to crash for the night.


    Michael Joke¡¯s ears twitched.


    He heard a ¡°thunk thunk¡­¡± behind him.


    "What the heck! Turn, darn it¡­ This stupid body¡¯s so stiff, I can¡¯t budge an inch¡­Fuck!"


    Michael Joke caught Billy Jean¡¯s inner rant and peeked back.


    He couldn¡¯t help but crack up.


    There was a telephone pole smack in front of Billy Jean, and she kept ramming into it, as stiff as a board.


    Somehow, she looked kind of goofy.


    Suddenly realizing what he was thinking, Michael Joke shook his head, annoyed.


    Michael Joke, have you lost it?


    Thinking this heartless dame was cute?


    She¡¯s rotten to the core and ugly as sin.


    What¡¯s cute about her?


    Michael Joke ditched another glance at Billy Jean and picked up the pace.


    Even if she were human, they¡¯d been ancient history.


    Not offing her was his one and only act of kindness.


    Billy Jean was still glued to the spot, her legs like lead, thumping against the pole.


    "Whack¡­What a fuck! ,whack..."


    With each whack, a curse flew out.


    Her heart was numb.


    If she¡¯d known it¡¯d be like this, she¡¯d have taken the easy way out from the start.


    Now, she was a walking nightmare.


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    Neither here nor there.


    Couldn¡¯t even die if she wanted to.


    A zombie in a suit, lugging a briefcase, looking like a corporate drone, shuffled by.


    Billy Jean hollered,


    ¡°Roar¡­ Hey, buddy, gimme a hand.¡±


    The office-zombie tilted its head, eyeballs cloudy, checking her out.


    Blood dripped from its chin, meat scraps clung to its threads.


    Fresh from a feeding frenzy, obviously.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Wanna buy insurance?"


    Billy Jean spied the name tag.


    An insurance shark from some bank.


    She could¡¯ve cried.


    Even as a zombie, still hustling.


    What a diehard workaholic.


    She had to help pad its stats.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Damn it, yank me out first."


    Whack, whack¡­


    Billy Jean was still banging into the pole, her bones creaking like old floorboards.


    The office-zombie reached out, yanked her free, and Billy Jean¡¯s self-torture fest ended.


    But she couldn¡¯t stop moving.


    That special scent of man-blood in the air had her in a trance.


    Her legs had a mind of their own.


    Darn legs, can¡¯t you act right?


    So desperate for a nibble?


    Billy Jean cursed her rebellious limbs.


    ¡°Roar¡­ You promised to buy insurance."


    The office-zombie chased.


    ¡°Roar¡­ I can¡¯t stop. Tell you what? Tie my legs and I¡¯ll buy ten policies."


    ¡°Ten policies¡± sent the office-zombie into a tizzy.


    It pounced, tore off its tie, and hogtied Billy Jean¡¯s legs.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Okay."


    ¡°Roar¡­ Okay, my foot!"


    Billy Jean was on the verge of tears.


    She started crawling, hands and knees.


    Dang.


    Was a bite worth all this?


    What kind of voodoo had Michael Joke worked on her?


    ¡°Roar¡­ For Pete¡¯s sake, hold me down."


    The office-zombie complied, pinned her down.


    Billy Jean let out a sigh.


    Once Michael Joke¡¯s blood-scent vanished, she¡¯d break free.


    ¡°Billy Jean, you¡¯re quite the character.¡±


    A deep, frosty voice cut through.


    Billy Jean looked up.


    Michael Joke was back, looming nearby, face like thunder, glaring like he wanted to throttle her.


    ¡°Canoodling with a guy on the street, Billy Jean. You¡¯re not picky, are you?¡±


    Billy Jean:??


    The office-zombie sniffed blood, ditched Billy Jean, and charged at Michael Joke, claws out, teeth bared.


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes narrowed to slits.


    He flicked his wrist, and a dagger zipped through the air, nailing the office-zombie in the noggin.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Its head popped like a balloon, and it dropped like a sack of potatoes.


    Billy Jean, who¡¯d just untied the knot and was set to pounce on Michael Joke, saw the zombie¡¯s head explode.


    She saw her own doom mirrored.


    It was what she wanted.


    But Michael Joke let Billy Jean lunge at him and didn¡¯t lift a finger.


    Surrounded by blood-scent, Billy Jean¡¯s eyes flared red.


    She opened her mouth to sink her teeth into Michael Joke¡¯s neck.


    Just as her teeth were about to make contact, a big hand clamped her cheek, shoved a handkerchief in her mouth.


    ¡°Bite again, and I¡¯ll knock your teeth out.¡±


    The voice was ice-cold.


    Billy Jean shuddered.


    Her teeth were her meal tickets.


    Couldn¡¯t afford to lose them.


    She thrashed, arms and legs flailing.


    Michael Joke grabbed her arms, a chunk of rotten flesh came off.


    Michael Joke¡¯s pupils dilated.


    He turned his head and ¡°Ugh¡± puked.


    His stomach was already empty, and now it was just bile.


    Billy Jean leaned back, dodging the puke.


    If Michael Joke had given her blood earlier, none of this mess.


    But it was a silver lining.


    Perfect cure for his germaphobia.


    It wasn¡¯t that gross.


    Just his mind playing tricks.


    Billy Jean glanced at her arm, yanked the handkerchief out, and without looking back.


    ¡°Ugh...¡± She puked on Michael Joke.


    Michael Joke froze, face white, then green.


    He gritted his teeth and roared,


    ¡°Billy Jean, you and I aren¡¯t done.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll wipe it for you. Ugh¡­¡±


    Michael Joke:!!

 4.To Die Is Cheap For You

    ¡°Boom, boom¡­¡±


    Billy Jean was tied to a chair, wriggling like a worm on a hook.


    She kept growling, eyes glued to the bathroom door.


    Michael Joke had been in there for nearly two hours.


    They were holed up in a hotel.


    Billy Jean never saw this coming¡ªMichael Joke dragging her here.


    What was his game?


    Some kinky bondage thing?


    Was it payback for what just went down or their blowout from years ago?


    Come to think of it, didn¡¯t he skedaddle out of this city way back when?


    Why¡¯d he boomerang?


    He was from Sea-city, not Ri-city.


    He¡¯d only come to Ri-city to hit the books.


    That year, he trashed their love nest and bounced, transferred schools and all.


    Since then, she¡¯d been radio silent.


    Three years, give or take.


    Fate sure had a twisted sense of humor.


    They crossed paths again.


    End of the world, no less.


    Why not stay put in Sea-city instead of hoofing it thousands of miles to Ri-city?


    What about his sister, Yasi?


    ¡°Click¡­¡±


    The bathroom door swung open, yanking Billy Jean out of her head trip.


    She looked over and her eyes nearly popped.


    The guy was ripped.


    A towel slung low around his waist, abs like a washboard, chest glistening, every muscle carved to perfection, oozing strength.


    Holy cow!


    His testosterone was practically jumping off the screen.


    ¡°Gulp¡­¡±


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    Billy Jean swallowed hard.


    Damn!


    This new-and-improved Michael Joke was hotter than a jalape?o in July.


    She realized the wide-eyed kid who used to call her ¡°sis¡± had morphed into a full-grown stud.


    Just then, a damp towel came sailing through the air, landing smack on her head, blotting out her view.


    Then came the sound of him getting dressed.


    Not being able to see was driving her nuts.


    "Dang it! If we weren¡¯t from different sides of the undead divide, I¡¯d jump his bones right here."


    "Hey, wait¡­ I forgot any species can get it on with humans. Let me loose¡­"


    Michael Joke¡¯s hand, hovering over his zipper, froze for a sec.


    Something flickered in his eyes, then he gave the zipper a tug.


    ¡­


    Michael Joke was sprawled on the sofa.


    Long legs sheathed in black casuals, a white shirt hanging loose, buttons undone, showing off his chest.


    There was a gash on his chest from a sharp something, the flesh gaping.


    But it wasn¡¯t too bad.


    Billy Jean was squirming in the chair, snarling at Michael Joke like a rabid dog.


    "Michael Joke, you jerk, cut me loose. I¡¯ll show you¡­"


    Michael Joke shot her a lazy glance and brushed her off.


    On his left index finger was a vintage black-gold ring.


    It had an air of old-money mystery.


    He gave the ring a slow twirl and, presto, a soft golden glow lit up.


    Next thing you know, medical supplies for patching up his wound materialized out of thin air on the table.


    Billy Jean¡¯s eyes went wide as saucers.


    Good grief, Michael Joke had a portable pocket dimension.


    Who wouldn¡¯t be green with envy?


    She was dead certain he was a psychic.


    No way he could hang onto that space without the mojo.


    Since the world went kaput, she¡¯d seen it all.


    People killing each other for psychic crystals, brawling over supplies, even throwing their pals to the zombies to save their own skins.


    End of the world, and human nature¡¯s ugliness reared its head, all kinds of freaks crawling out of the woodwork.


    No one could bank on their buddies not stabbing them in the back tomorrow.


    Billy Jean was just sick and tired of living on a knife¡¯s edge.


    That¡¯s why she¡¯d checked out of the human race and into zombiedom.


    At least the undead didn¡¯t play dirty.


    Michael Joke scooped up the medical supplies and started dabbing and bandaging his wound.


    All the while, Billy Jean¡¯s gutter thoughts were ringing in his ears.


    Michael Joke gritted his teeth until his temples throbbed.


    His face was darker than a thundercloud.


    He must¡¯ve lost his marbles, tying a zombie up and then sitting there, listening to her plot to chomp on him.


    Just off her.


    Letting her roam free would be a death sentence for humanity.


    Michael Joke stood up, stalking toward Billy Jean, who was tied to the stool and thrashing like a banshee.


    Billy Jean saw him coming, those black eyes flashing danger.


    Her heart skipped a beat.


    Here he comes.


    He was gonna ice her for sure.


    Michael Joke planted himself in front of Billy Jean and whipped out a gun from his space, aiming it at her noggin.


    Even though he despised her down to his bones, his hand was shaking like a leaf.


    All kinds of emotions were churning in his eyes, but his trigger finger balked.


    The tremors in his hand got worse.


    ¡°Bang¡­¡±


    The gun went off by accident.


    Michael Joke watched the bullet streak toward Billy Jean¡¯s head.


    His face drained of color in a flash.


    His body reacted on autopilot.


    He kicked the chair over.


    Billy Jean tumbled, the bullet just grazing her hair.


    ¡°Boom¡±


    The bullet buried itself in the wall.


    Michael Joke was panting like a dog, beads of sweat popping on his forehead.


    Looking at Billy Jean sprawled on the ground, his emotions were a train wreck.


    Why? Why¡¯d he spare her?


    He¡¯d defied his family and trekked thousands of miles back to Ri-city.


    He came to settle the score.


    If she croaked, wouldn¡¯t that bury the hatchet?


    Michael Joke¡¯s hand, clutching the gun, was spasming out of control.


    He couldn¡¯t bring himself to lift the gun and take aim again.


    ¡°Too easy to let you bite the dust.¡±


    He tossed the words over his shoulder and hightailed it out.

 5.Ill Stick With U

    Billy Jean heard the door next door click shut and knew Michael Joke had ducked into the adjacent room.


    Leaving her high and dry¡­


    Well, a rotting corpse high and dry.


    She had no clue what Michael Joke was plotting.


    He didn¡¯t ice her, didn¡¯t cut her loose.


    Her brain was slower than molasses these days, and she couldn¡¯t for the life of her figure out his angle.


    What was he playing at?


    Ah, well.


    She¡¯d just roll with it.


    If he offed her, she might even thank him.


    Billy Jean was still sprawled on the ground, hogtied to the chair.


    With her body stiffer than a board, there was no way she was getting up.


    "Dang it! He didn¡¯t even give me a hand. Just left me, a delicate flower, lying here. That guy was losing his gentlemanly charm by the second. I had a hot date with my zombie gal pals last night to hit the clubs and scope out guys. Heard there were some new hunks on the east side of town. Now, how am I supposed to have any fun like this? That jerk Michael Joke is really cramping my style."


    Billy Jean didn¡¯t know Michael Joke in the next room could still hear her thoughts and was now seeing red.


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    His palm crackled with thunder power, and with one smack, he pulverized a table.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s heart skipped a beat when she heard the ruckus next door.


    Wait a sec, her heart was supposed to be as cold as ice.


    What was there to be spooked about?


    Time to hit the hay.


    Billy Jean shut her eyes and zonked out like a log.


    Well, she was a walking corpse, after all.


    Late at night, the city was like a beast lurking in the shadows.


    Full of peril.


    Not a soul in sight on the streets.


    Broken glass, rubble, and bloodstains were everywhere.


    The zombies were having a field day under the moonlight.


    They were extra feisty at night, tearing up every nook and cranny.


    Plus, Billy Jean hadn¡¯t eaten a thing today.


    She was as ravenous as a wolf.


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    Her cloudy eyes flared red in the dark.


    Red streaks crept up her neck, looking downright spooky.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The ropes binding her snapped like twigs.


    Billy Jean sprang up, nimble as a cat.


    She was a different beast at night compared to daytime.


    At night, she could scale walls and leap rooftops like it was nobody¡¯s business.


    She cranked her neck left and right, cracking it like knuckles, and flashed a wicked grin.


    In the next room, Michael Joke jolted awake on the big bed and tumbled out.


    He flung open the door and saw Billy Jean¡¯s room door yawning wide open.


    His heart did a somersault.


    He stepped in and all he saw were the busted ropes and the toppled chair.


    Billy Jean was not fully recovered yet.


    Michael Joke clenched his fists.


    Anger flared in his eyes.


    She had the nerve to sneak out and party.


    Billy Jean, you¡¯ve got some gall.


    Just then, a shadow dropped from above Michael Joke¡¯s head, and he was tackled.


    The next second, his wrist was sliced by a sharp blade.


    Something cold pressed against it, and warm blood whooshed down her throat.


    It all happened in a blink.


    Michael Joke didn¡¯t have time to react.


    No, he never expected Billy Jean to ambush him, and be so darn agile, nothing like her daytime self.


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes darkened.


    Thunder power swirled in his palm, and he swung at Billy Jean¡¯s shoulder.


    A slippery something brushed his wrist.


    Michael Joke¡¯s fist tightened like a vise, as if he¡¯d been zapped, and his swing halted.


    Struggle flashed in his eyes.


    Then he shut them, lowered his hand, and let Billy Jean suck his blood.


    His body was hot, hers ice-cold.


    In the dark, they were tangled up.


    All you could hear was the ¡°gurgle, gurgle¡± of swallowing.


    Tasty, umm... so tasty.


    Billy Jean¡¯s inner restlessness ebbed away, and she made a mental vow.


    "I¡¯m sticking with Michael Joke for good. Anyone tries to poach my food source, I¡¯ll take them down."


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes snapped open, a glimmer in them.


    He pinched Billy Jean¡¯s chin and stared into her faintly red-glowing eyes in the dark, growling,


    ¡°What did you just say? Say it again.¡±


    Billy Jean shook her head, impatient.


    ¡°Let me go, I¡¯m feeding.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t spill it, I won¡¯t let you chow down.¡±


    Billy Jean looked at Michael Joke like he¡¯d lost his marbles.


    "Say what? Anyone tries to poach my food source, I¡¯ll take them down?"


    ¡°No, the other one.¡±


    Billy Jean was confused.


    "I¡¯m sticking with Michael Jokefor good?"


    Michael Joke nodded.


    ¡°Yes, stay close.¡±


    Billy Jean:??


    After that exchange, even with her slow wits, Billy Jean twigged that Michael Joke could hear her thoughts.


    Michael Joke seemed in a chipper mood and offered his wrist to Billy Jean.


    ¡°Drink up, don¡¯t waste it.¡±


    Billy Jean didn¡¯t have time to mull over his odd behavior.


    Her cold lips clamped on and started ¡°gurgle, gurgle¡± guzzling.


    Her restlessness melted away, and a power surge streamed into her body, mending her flesh.


    Her sunken chest was filling out, her broken leg bones knitting together, and fresh skin budding on the rotten bits.


    Truth was, zombies evolved by scarfing down flesh and blood.


    Billy Jean was so far gone mainly because she was picky and wouldn¡¯t touch fresh meat.


    She only sipped a bit of blood when desperate.


    Her finicky eating habits made her look more tattered than other zombies.


    If not for her immortality, she¡¯d probably be the first zombie to starve to death.


    Michael Joke¡¯s hand stroked Billy Jean¡¯s hair, soft as seaweed.


    Back in the day, he loved waking up before her.


    He¡¯d just caress her hair and wait for her to stir, because when she did, she¡¯d plant a sweet kiss and greet him with a smile that could light up his day.


    But just when he thought they¡¯d live happily ever after, reality sucker-punched him.


    Billy Jean still had some self-control.


    She knew she couldn¡¯t drain her food source in one go.


    Once she¡¯d slaked her hunger, she stopped sucking.


    She clasped Michael Joke¡¯s hand and licked his wrist wound with the tip of her tongue, as reverent as a worshipper at an altar.


    Michael Joke¡¯s fingertips quivered.


    He dropped his gaze to hide his feelings.


    Miraculously, the wound Billy Jean licked healed lickety-split.


    In a flash, it was gone, not a scar in sight.


    It was like it had never happened.


    Michael Joke rubbed his smooth wrist, a look of mild shock on his face.


    Billy Jean¡¯s spit had healing mojo.


    Then¡­


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes slid to her rotten arm.


    Billy Jean could read his mind and glared at him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me hurl on you.¡±


    ¡°Cough, cough¡­¡±


    Michael Joke cleared his throat and looked away.


    Billy Jean glanced at her rotten arm.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    The blood she¡¯d just drunk was threatening to come up.


    Billy Jean clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard.


    Michael Joke:!

 6.Social Hierarchy Showdown

    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­¡±


    All of a sudden, a freaky noise came from the hallway.


    Next up was the sound of something slithering and crawling.


    It was heading straight for Billy Jean and Michael Joke.


    Billy Jean caught a whiff of it and her heart skipped a beat.


    It was a mutant.


    Must¡¯ve been lured by the scent of Michael Joke¡¯s blood from before.


    ¡°Roar¡­¡±


    Billy Jean let out a warning growl, marking her territory, praying it¡¯d back off.


    But fat chance.


    That thing was stronger.


    Normally, Billy Jean wouldn¡¯t scrap with a mutant over grub.


    She¡¯d just skedaddle and hunt for something else.


    But for some odd reason tonight, she wasn¡¯t budging.


    Maybe ¡¯cause she¡¯d finally found a meal that tickled her taste buds and wasn¡¯t about to let it go without a fight.


    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­¡±


    The mutant¡¯s creepy-crawly sounds were getting louder.


    It belched out a kind of top-dog intimidation, trying to make Billy Jean hand over the food like a good little zombie.


    The regular zombies milling around the hotel sensed this pecking order and scrammed one after another.


    In a flash, every nook and cranny of the hotel was zombie-free.


    Under that social hierarchy pressure, Billy Jean couldn¡¯t help but shudder.


    It was like they said:


    Higher-ups could squash you like a bug.


    But who was Billy Jean?


    She had a hundred pounds of sass, ninety pounds of rebel spirit.


    Nobody could boss her around.


    So what if it was a big shot?


    She had an immortal body, for Pete¡¯s sake.


    Who was she scared of?


    Billy Jean swiveled to look at Michael Joke and saw his face was all serious.


    He seemed to know they were in for a rough ride too.


    "Stay put in the room. No matter what you hear later, don¡¯t you dare come out."


    After Billy Jean said that, she moseyed towards the door.


    But Michael Joke¡¯s warm hand yanked her back.


    ¡°You stay. I¡¯ll handle this.¡±


    No sooner had he spoken than the door caved in.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    There at the door was a four-legged critter, with fingernails sharp as switchblades and a body like a wiggly blob of goo.


    Gross.


    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­ Starving, so starving."


    Its glowing green eyes locked onto Michael Joke, and a stream of stinky drool oozed from its maw.


    Its tongue flicked in and out like a snake¡¯s.


    ¡°Roar¡­ This is my food. I¡¯ll rustle up something else for you."


    Billy Jean tried to cut a deal.


    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­ You, a nobody zombie, got some nerve."


    The mutant¡¯s green eyes flared up.


    Its hind leg muscles tensed, and it pounced at Billy Jean.


    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­ I¡¯ll take care of you first."


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes narrowed to slits and he stepped in front of Billy Jean.


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    A thunder whip materialized in his palm, a web of tiny lightning bolts crackling and snapping.


    The air around it warped, showing its raw power.


    Billy Jean¡¯s cloudy peepers twitched.


    She didn¡¯t see that coming.


    Michael Joke was a badass thunder-attribute psychic.


    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes were ice-cold as he cracked the whip.


    ¡°Whoo¡­¡±


    The mutant got walloped by the thunder whip and screeched, flying backward.


    It was already dead as a doornail, and pain was a foreign concept.


    But that whip?


    It hit like a bolt of soul-piercing agony.


    Billy Jean watched the mutant get sent packing, writhing in pain.


    Should she be relieved Michael Joke didn¡¯t do that to her?


    The mutant staggered to its feet, shook its woozy head,


    ¡°Whoo-hoo¡­¡±


    Its voice dripped with rage.


    Its fingernails shot out, doubling in length, and it swiped.


    A couple of see-through blades sliced through the air at Michael Joke.


    Michael Joke spun around and looped an arm around Billy Jean¡¯s waist, dodging like a pro.


    The blades whizzed by and shattered the floor-to-ceiling window.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Glass rained down.


    Before Michael Joke could blink, the mutant was on him.


    ¡°Whoo¡­¡±


    The mutant¡¯s razor-sharp nails jabbed at Michael Joke¡¯s neck.


    Michael Joke leaned away, but his neck still got nicked, three thin lines of blood welling up.


    The mutant caught a whiff of the blood and went berserk, its tongue reaching for Michael Joke¡¯s neck.


    Next thing you know, a flash of cold steel, and the mutant¡¯s head went flying, blood spurting everywhere.


    The mutant¡¯s body hit the deck, revealing Billy Jean behind it, machete in hand.


    Billy Jean curled her rigid lips into a spine-tingling grin.


    Underestimating her?


    Big mistake.


    Billy Jean teasingly stuck out her tongue and lapped up the blood on her face, taking a tiny sip.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    The mutant was hideous on the outside, and its blood?


    Even worse.


    No wonder Michael Joke¡¯s blood was the cat¡¯s meow.


    Billy Jean eyed Michael Joke and saw the blood on his neck.


    A glimmer of red flashed in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a scratch. No biggie.¡±


    Michael Joke fished out a clean hanky and was about to dab the wound.


    Halfway there, Billy Jean snatched his hand.


    The next second, something cold pressed against his neck.


    Michael Joke¡¯s body tensed up.


    He stood stock-still.


    Something stirred in his dark eyes.


    Billy Jean tiptoed and carefully sucked the blood beads oozing from the wound, then licked the surrounding blood with her tongue.


    Her tongue glided over his slender neck, and it was... something else.


    Michael Joke¡¯s fist clenched tighter and tighter, and his eyes darkened.


    The spot she licked felt hot and trembled.


    Memories came flooding back.


    Once upon a time, they were this close.


    His big hand inched towards Billy Jean¡¯s tiny waist, about to reel her in, but she pushed him away.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    The fire in Michael Joke¡¯s eyes died down.


    He realized what he¡¯d been thinking and frowned.


    He was nuts.


    She could get under his skin with just a little flirting.


    Hadn¡¯t he learned his lesson three years ago?


    ¡°I¡¯m hitting the sack.¡±


    Michael Joke hightailed it out of the room like his pants were on fire.


    Billy Jean didn¡¯t stop him.


    The sweet, delicious blood, the artery under her tongue, it was all too tempting.


    Lord only knew how much self-control she¡¯d mustered to keep from biting him.


    Billy Jean tamped down her craving for Michael Joke¡¯s blood and turned to the mutant¡¯s head.


    Oh!


    Social hierarchy, huh?


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Billy Jean cleaved the mutant¡¯s head in two with one swing of the machete.


    A see-through crystal the size of a thumbnail tumbled out.


    Billy Jean scooped it up, wiped it on her clothes, and popped it in her mouth, crunching away.


    Tasted like nothing.


    But her brain tingled, like something was sprouting.


    Billy Jean stretched and peeked at the moon hanging high outside.


    Must be around two in the morning.


    Still time to meet her gal pals.


    They were all night owls, after all.


    The long night would be a snooze-fest without some fun.


    Billy Jean cocked an ear next door.


    Silence.


    So she slipped out.


    All the zombies had cleared out of the hotel.


    All you could hear was Billy Jean¡¯s footsteps.


    The corridor lights flickered like crazy.


    Spooky as hell.


    If this was before, Billy Jean might¡¯ve been a scaredy-cat.


    But now?


    She was a walking corpse.


    If anyone should be scared, it was the other guys shivering in their boots at the sight of her.


    Billy Jean strolled out of the hotel.


    She had no clue she had a little shadow tagging along.


    Night was zombie paradise.


    There were zombies leaping and howling on car roofs.


    zombies squatting in the middle of the road, chowing down on hunks of meat.


    zombies smashing shop windows with bricks.


    And a whole bunch just wandering around, shaking their heads like they were lost.


    Billy Jean weaved through them like a pro.


    She bumped into some familiar faces.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Finda, didn¡¯t I tell you not to strut around in those goofy flowered undies? You never listen!"


    ¡°Roar¡­ You don¡¯t get it. This is haute couture."


    Finda flipped his luscious locks.


    Whoops. His whole scalp went flying, leaving just a bloody skull.


    ¡°Roar¡­ I¡¯ll be damned!!"


    Finda tore off after his scalp.


    Billy Jean shook her head in disbelief and glanced at the hefty, jiggling female zombie.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Mrs. Hin, out hunting for your hubby again? Mr. Hoki should be on Bar Street. I saw him last week. Give it a shot there."


    ¡°Roar¡­ Thanks, sweetie Billy."


    Mrs. Hin waddled by, leaving a trail of rancid grease.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    Billy Jean covered her nose in disgust and picked up the pace.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Billy Jean wasn¡¯t watching where she was going and kicked a skateboard.


    A half-zombie that¡¯d been riding it tumbled off.


    ¡°Roar¡­ It¡¯s you again, Billy Jean."


    The half-zombie bellowed.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Damn it! Bosly, what the heck happened to you?"


    ¡°Roar¡­ You got some nerve asking. Didn¡¯t you forget you slammed the door in my face last time?"


    Billy Jean¡¯s slow brain finally clicked.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Sorry, it slipped my mind. I¡¯ll scoop you up."


    ¡°Roar¡­ Say you¡¯re sorry¡­ What! Scoop¡­ up? Then be gentle."


    The tough Bosly turned all bashful and batted his eyelashes at Billy Jean.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Bosly, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be as gentle as a lamb."


    Billy Jean tugged at her stiff lips, trying to smile sweetly.


    But her face was like stone.


    No matter how she tried, it was that creepy, bone-chilling grin.


    Seeing Billy Jean being so nice, Bosly got even shyer, his head full of fantasies.


    Does she like me?


    She must like me.


    She must¡¯ve done that last time to get my attention.


    The next second, he was in free-fall.


    Bosly, tumbling down the sewer, looked up and saw Billy Jean waving from the manhole cover, getting smaller and smaller.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Aah!! Billy Jean, you ain¡¯t seen the last of me."


    Billy Jean slapped the manhole cover back on and dusted off her hands.


    She hopped on Bosly¡¯s skateboard and skated away like a champ.


    She was an angel, the nicest of the nice.

 7.The zombie Worlds Fashion

    Billy Jean could zip around way faster on that skateboard than on her two feet.


    In a jiffy, she showed up at the meet-up spot.


    Her gal pals were still hanging around, waiting for her.


    That¡¯s one perk of being a zombie.


    Their noggins work slow.


    If they were humans, they¡¯d have split ages ago.


    I mean, who¡¯d wait that long for a latecomer?


    ¡°Roar¡­ Sorry, ladies, I¡¯m running behind."


    Billy Jean scooped up the skateboard and tucked it under her arm.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Billy Jean, didn¡¯t I tell you to doll up? You look like a frump!"


    A female zombie piped up.


    She had on a slinky purple lace cami dress, a mustard-yellow scarf wrapped around her neck, pink Peppa Pig PJs on her bottom half, and fuzzy cotton slippers on her feet.


    ¡°Roar¡­ That¡¯s right, Billy Jean. Dressed like that, how¡¯re you gonna snag a guy later?"


    Another female zombie in a bright red double raincoat chimed in.


    She even flipped the back of the raincoat with a flourish, like she was some kind of runway model.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Why don¡¯t you go spruce up, Billy Jean? We¡¯ll wait here."


    A third female zombie, sporting a military overcoat up top, ripped fishnet stockings down low, and giant men¡¯s pointy-toe leather shoes, added her two cents.


    Billy Jean¡¯s fashion sense took a serious beating.


    She glanced down at her outfit.


    A full set of sleek Chanel casual sportswear, Gucci white kicks on her feet, and an LV champagne bag slung crossways.


    She tilted her dull noggin.


    Was she really that out of touch?


    Seemed like next time she had to keep up with the zombie world¡¯s latest crazes so she wouldn¡¯t be a laughingstock.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Forget it for today. Next time, I¡¯ll be as trendy as you gals."


    The three female zombies nodded, looking relieved.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Let¡¯s roll then."


    Billy Jean tagged along with her girl gang to a bar.


    It was her first time there.


    To her shock, the joint still had juice.


    The second she walked in, the music was ear-splitting, and the disco lights were blinding.


    The bar looked like it was still open for business.


    If it weren¡¯t for all the zombies milling around, she¡¯d have sworn she¡¯d time-traveled back to pre-apocalypse days.


    zombies don¡¯t see so hot, but their ears work overtime.


    The tiniest peep, and the surrounding zombies come running.


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    So in this bar, zombies were packed in like sardines.


    The ones grooving to the music were all bobbing their heads and flailing their arms.


    It really did look like a wild club scene.


    Kinda cool, in a freaky way.


    Billy Jean tailed her girlfriends, squeezing through the zombie mob, and landed in front of a few male zombies.


    These must be the hunky zombie dudes from the east side of town her girl gang had gabbed about.


    Sure enough, the zombie world¡¯s style was mind-blowing.


    One was rocking a grandpa shirt with a flowery Northeastern-style padded jacket and had a swanky snakeskin bag slung over his shoulder.


    There was also a beefcake who looked normal from the waist up, in a suit and tie, but from the waist down?


    Miniskirt and red stilettos.


    The other few had their own wacky looks, turning heads for all the wrong reasons¡­


    Well, in a super-strange way.


    The male zombies gave Billy Jean the once-over, and their sneers were impossible to miss.


    Billy Jean: ¡­


    ¡°Roar¡­ Where¡¯d you guys dig up this frumpy chick?"


    The miniskirted hunk snorted.


    ¡°Roar¡­ My sis skipped lunch and rushed over without primping. Don¡¯t sweat it."


    Sister Raincoat jumped in.


    ¡°Roar¡­ So she¡¯s hungry! I got grub. Let me dig it out."


    Brother Snakeskin Bag plunged his head into his bag and started rummaging.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Here you go. Smells like heaven. I¡¯m almost drooling myself."


    The smell of meat lured in the surrounding zombies, and they were slobbering and growling up a storm.


    ¡°Roar¡­ So good, so good".¡±


    ¡°Roar¡­ I¡¯m starving for it. Smells amazing".¡±


    ¡°Roar¡­ Gimme some too".¡±


    Only Billy Jean saw the maggot-infested dog¡¯s head shoved in her face and ¡°Ugh¡± gagged.


    Damn it! After all her caution, she didn¡¯t expect to lose it here.


    The zombies:??


    ¡°Roar¡­ Sorry, my tummy¡¯s been acting up. You guys enjoy it."


    Billy Jean tilted her head and swatted Brother Snakeskin Bag¡¯s hand away, getting that nastiness as far from her as possible.


    ¡°Roar¡­¡±


    The girl gang and the handsome guy gang pounced.


    They quickly divvied up the maggoty dog¡¯s head.


    Still not satisfied, they even lapped up Billy Jean¡¯s puke on the floor.


    Billy Jean saw that and ¡°Ugh¡± again.


    Crap, she regretted coming.


    Wouldn¡¯t it be nice to be snoozing away at the hotel?


    Why¡¯d she come here to torture herself?


    Just then, the bar music cut out.


    Instead, a human voice boomed from the second floor.


    What a powerful whiff of meat!


    The first-floor zombies went nuts, growling non-stop and waving their arms at the second floor.


    Billy Jean was a zombie, and deep down, she had that itch for flesh.


    A growl rumbled in her throat.


    At the same time, she was casing the joint.


    She saw the stairs from the first floor to the second floor were barricaded with a solid iron gate, and the second-floor railing had been beefed up with extra iron bars.


    Clearly, someone had prepped the place to keep the first-floor zombies at bay.


    Her hunch that someone was pulling the strings was spot-on.


    There was definitely a puppet master.


    But what was the endgame? Playing music and herding all the nearby zombies here?


    Just as Billy Jean was puzzling it out, someone stepped onto the second floor.


    A scar-faced dude, trailed by a couple of lackeys.


    Billy Jean did a double-take when she saw Scarface in the lead.


    She didn¡¯t expect him to still be kicking.


    Well, it¡¯s a small world after all.


    Her gaze dropped to Scarface¡¯s crotch.


    Then she looked away with a smirk.


    She was dying to see what he was plotting, gathering all these zombies.


    Scarface, standing on the second floor, eyeballed the zombies below, who were going ape waving their arms and growling.


    He looked at them like they were cattle.


    ¡°Bring the ladies over.¡±


    At his command, the lackeys hauled over a group of bruised and terrified women.


    The women saw the zombie horde below and turned white as sheets, shaking like leaves.


    One of them bolted forward, dropped to her knees, and clutched Scarface¡¯s thigh, begging,


    ¡°Sir, please let me go. I¡¯ll do anything. I¡¯ll serve you faithfully.¡±


    Seeing Scarface wasn¡¯t budging, the woman gritted her teeth and actually started undoing his belt in public.


    When it came to survival, dignity went out the window.


    Scarface didn¡¯t stop her.


    But as time ticked by, his face twisted into a nasty grimace, his features contorting, and a glimmer of madness flashed in his eyes.


    The woman gasped.


    He was impotent.


    No wonder he¡¯d snatched these women but never laid a finger on them.


    He always used toys to torment them.


    His methods were sick.


    Now she knew the truth and was so scared she started kowtowing like crazy, begging,


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything. Please let me go. Please.¡±


    ¡°All women should die.¡±


    Scarface snarled like a rabid dog.


    He snatched up the woman and hurled her over the railing.


    Below were the starving zombies.


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    The woman¡¯s blood-curdling scream split the air.


    She was ripped to shreds by countless zombies in a heartbeat.


    The scene was gorier than a horror movie.


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    The other women screamed in terror.


    Some puked their guts out, and some keeled over in a dead faint.


    The scene was total chaos.


    ¡°Hahaha¡­¡±


    Scarface cackled like a maniac.


    Watching the women get torn apart and devoured by the zombies gave him a sick thrill.


    His eyes lit up with a crazy glimmer.


    ¡°Throw the rest of the women down.¡±

 8.When Foes Cross Paths

    The women¡¯s minds went blank in a split second.


    They all crumpled to the ground, a huge wave of fear crashing over them.


    All they could do was beg for mercy.


    Downstairs, the zombies were growling non-stop.


    They were super restless, lured by the scent of flesh, mouths gaping wide, arms flailing, waiting for another feeding frenzy.


    In the thick of the zombie mob, Billy Jean wiped the blood that had just splattered on her face.


    Her eyes, with a faint red glimmer, stared icily at Scarface.


    What a lowlife.


    After losing his mojo, he¡¯d gone even more off the rails, torturing and killing women to satisfy his sick cravings.


    When the apocalypse hit, all kinds of bases popped up, and survivors grouped together to fight the zombies.


    Billy Jean had teamed up with Scarface and some others.


    He¡¯d muscled his way to the top, calling himself the captain, running roughshod over everyone.


    He even had his eye on her.


    One night, he barged into her room.


    The teammates just looked the other way, giving him the green light for his beastly act.


    One even came to shut the door, covering for him like it was no big deal.


    Human nature at its ugliest.


    So she played along, faking surrender and being all sweet.


    When she had him eating out of her hand, she grabbed the wine bottle on the table and smashed it right over his head.


    After knocking him out cold, Billy Jean didn¡¯t let up.


    She kept whacking his head with the bottle until he hit the deck, blood pooling all around.


    Only then did she stop, gasping for air.


    When she left, she accidentally stepped on his crotch and, oops, ground down hard.


    With a team that rotten, she couldn¡¯t stick around.


    Before splitting, she left them a little ¡°surprise¡±.


    Watching the place go up in flames, listening to the screams from inside, she sashayed away.


    She just didn¡¯t expect Scarface to still be kicking.


    It¡¯s like they say: only the good die young.


    ¡°Why are you just standing there? Chuck ¡¯em all down!¡±


    Scarface bellowed.


    The henchmen hustled to grab the women.


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    ¡°Ah¡­ Help!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to, let me go.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me, don¡¯t touch me¡­¡±


    The women fought like crazy.


    They wailed and begged, praying these goons would let them off the hook.


    But they were up against a bunch of animals.


    Mercy?


    Not in their vocabulary.


    The women were tossed down one by one, ripped to shreds by the ravenous zombies below.


    It was a living nightmare.


    The zombies¡¯ party, the women¡¯s screams, and Scarface¡¯s demented laughter made the night even wilder.


    All of a sudden, Scarface¡¯s laughter died.


    His eyes, blazing red with rage, locked onto the woman standing out from the zombie horde.


    It was her.


    Hatred boiled up in Scarface¡¯s eyes.


    If it weren¡¯t for this witch, he wouldn¡¯t be shooting blanks.


    There wasn¡¯t a day he didn¡¯t dream of tearing her limb from limb.


    No wonder he¡¯d scoured every survivor camp in Ri-city and came up empty-handed.


    Hahaha!


    She wouldn¡¯t bow to him.


    He thought she had some superpowers.


    Turns out, she was just a zombie.


    Just a dame.


    Instead of being his plaything, she had to be a troublemaker.


    She deserved to be a zombie.


    A twisted smile spread across Scarface¡¯s face.


    Suddenly, Scarface shivered.


    He saw Billy Jean flash a bone-chilling grin at him.


    It sent a shiver down his spine.


    Only then did he notice how out of place Billy Jean was among the zombies.


    All the other zombies were growling and chomping on body parts, but she was just standing there, still as a statue, her cloudy eyes boring into him.


    She¡¯d been watching him.


    Did she remember him?


    Scarface¡¯s face turned ashen.


    This thought was nuts.


    She was a zombie.


    How could she have a clue?


    A malicious glint flickered in Scarface¡¯s eyes.


    Conscious or not, zombie or not, she was toast.


    ¡°You lot, go nab that zombie.¡±


    The henchmen looked where Scarface was pointing.


    They spotted the oddball zombie right away.


    Their eyes bugged out.


    It was the first time they¡¯d seen such a freaky zombie.


    If it weren¡¯t for her ashen complexion and milky eyes, they¡¯d have sworn the calm figure was human.


    ¡°Grab her, pronto!¡±


    Scarface barked impatiently.


    Billy Jean¡¯s stare was giving him the heebie-jeebies.


    The henchmen huddled up to hash it out.


    Going downstairs to snatch Billy Jean?


    No way.


    It was a sea of zombies down there.


    That¡¯d be suicide.


    ¡°I got it!¡±


    One of the henchmen slapped his thigh.


    He fished out a rope from who-knows-where, tied a noose, gave it a few whirls, and flung it at Billy Jean.


    Missed.


    The henchmen didn¡¯t quit, kept chucking. But again and again, they couldn¡¯t lasso her.


    ¡°Damn it, you go play ring toss like this, you¡¯ll go broke before you snag anything.¡±


    One of them griped.


    ¡°One more try. I don¡¯t believe it.¡±


    The henchmen cranked his arm and let it fly.


    The next second, he whooped.


    ¡°I got her, I got her!¡±


    The complainer frowned and mumbled,


    ¡°Did I just see that zombie sidestep before getting roped? Must be seeing things.¡±


    Billy Jean looked at the rope around her, a glimmer of bloodlust in her eyes.


    ¡°Reel her up, quick!¡±


    Scarface was practically jumping for joy.


    This time, he was set on carving her up and scattering her ashes.


    Only then could he bury the hatchet in his heart.


    The henchmen all heaved and hauled Billy Jean up with the rope.


    Scarface eyed Billy Jean, looking like a walking corpse, and sneered.


    ¡°Fetch me a sharp knife. I¡¯m gonna slice this bitch up, piece by piece.¡±


    No sooner had he said that than Billy Jean cracked a strange smile.


    Before Scarface could blink, the rope snapped, and she lunged at him.


    Scarface¡¯s face drained of color.


    He snatched a henchman and used him as a human shield.


    The henchman didn¡¯t have time to react and got bitten on the neck by Billy Jean.


    Blood spurted like a geyser.


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    The screams ricocheted around the bar.


    Scarface watched Billy Jean turn into a wild thing and backed away, trembling.


    The other henchmen saw their buddy get bitten and froze, legs turning to jelly.


    ¡°Help¡­ me, help¡­ help me.¡±


    The henchman reached out, desperate for help, but no one budged.


    Billy Jean¡¯s eyes glowed crimson.


    She slurped twice and then spat it out in disgust.


    It tasted like crap compared to Michael Joke¡¯s.


    So she¡¯d share it with the zombies downstairs.


    Let these guys taste the horror of being ripped apart.


    Billy Jean chucked the dying henchman down.


    The henchman¡¯s eyes popped wide.


    His pupils were filled with terror, and a piercing scream tore out.


    Then, countless sharp claws ripped through his clothes and flesh.


    ¡°Rip¡­¡±


    The sound of fabric shredding was deafening.


    Along with the clothes, the skin and muscle were torn.


    Billy Jean¡¯s eyes, cold as ice, zeroed in on Scarface, as if to say, ¡°You¡¯re next.¡±


    Scarface¡¯s hair stood on end and he screeched,


    ¡°Quick, you lot, off her head!¡±

 9.Let the Feasting Begin

    The henchmen¡ä eyes were bugging out with terror, feet glued to the floor.


    Even the dumbest of them could tell this zombie wasn¡¯t your run-of-the-mill undead.


    Nobody wanted to be the guinea pig, fearing they¡¯d end up like their chomped-on buddy.


    Too bad for them, Billy Jean wasn¡¯t in a forgiving mood.


    She pounced like a bolt of lightning, charging at the group.


    ¡°Ah...¡±


    The henchmen freaked out, scattering like roaches.


    Scarfman¡¯s face went white as a sheet, watching his crew turn into a bunch of scaredy-cats.


    He gnashed his teeth in rage.


    ¡°Fight back, you wimps!


    One lousy zombie¡¯s got you all shaking in your boots?


    What a bunch of losers!¡±


    The henchmen traded nervous glances, gritted their teeth, and braced for a last-ditch stand.


    But the second they turned, the first two guys got snatched up by a pair of razor-sharp claws around their necks.


    Staring into those dead, murky eyes, they shivered like leaves.


    ¡°Ah ah...¡±


    The others backed away, yelping like puppies.


    ¡°Let... me go, let... go,¡±


    The trapped guys thrashed around, but those dainty-looking arms holding them were as firm as steel, even if chunks of rotting flesh peeled off.


    Billy Jean peeked at the falling-off flesh on her arm, a wince flashing in her eyes.


    ¡°Roar... Damn it",¡±


    With a grunt, Billy Jean chucked the two henchmen downstairs.


    ¡°AAAH...¡±


    Their shrieks cut through the air.


    Next thing you know, the screams died, replaced by the gnashing and gobbling sounds.


    Billy Jean fought like a whirling dervish, a blur of motion.


    No matter how The henchmen wriggled free, she¡¯d snatch them up and hurl them down, one by one.


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    The first floor was now a bloodbath, a crimson pool spreading, limbs and body bits strewn everywhere.


    Billy Jean hoisted up the last henchman, ready to send him flying too.


    The henchman¡¯s face drained of color, begging for his life non-stop.


    ¡°Save me, I don¡¯t want to die, somebody help me.¡±


    Just then, a dull thud sounded from behind Billy Jean¡¯s head.


    It was Scarfman, grinning like a devil as he jammed a dagger into her skull.


    ¡°Haha... Billy Jean, croak already,¡±


    He cackled like a madman, shoving the whole blade in.


    The dagger skewered Billy Jean¡¯s skull clean through.


    The henchman in her grip thought he was home free, that he¡¯d dodged the zombie buffet.


    But nope, the next second, he was airborne, sailing downstairs courtesy of Billy Jean.


    The henchman¡¯s eyes popped wide, horror-stricken.


    Why was this happening?


    She¡¯d been stabbed in the head!


    Why wasn¡¯t she dead?


    He couldn¡¯t wrap his head around it.


    So not fair.


    ¡°Ah... Even in death, I won¡¯t let you go,¡± he wailed in despair.


    In a blink, he was swallowed up by the zombie horde, his pitiful screams fading into the chaos.


    Soon, it was dead quiet, save for the zombies¡¯ chomping.


    Scarfman was now a statue of fear, sweat dripping down his temple.


    Because right in front of him, Billy Jean had cranked her head around a full 180, her murky eyes boring into him.


    She reached up, yanked the dagger out, and cold blood sprayed his way.


    Scarfman shuddered, holding his breath.


    Billy Jean¡¯s stare was like a cobra¡¯s, ready to strike and choke the life out of him.


    The unknown was the scariest thing.


    Unable to take the heat, Scarfman spun on his heel and bolted.


    Billy Jean¡¯s lips curled into a devilish grin.


    Too late.


    A sharp pain stabbed the back of Scarfman¡¯s head, and he crumpled, out cold.


    When Scarfman came to, he found himself tied to a chair.


    In front of him was a table, and Billy Jean was fussing over something on it.


    A glint of silver caught his eye, and he saw it clear as day ¡ª a knife and fork.


    Then he watched Billy Jean set the dinner plate just so, arrange the cutlery neatly, and pull a tall wine glass from her bag.


    She polished it with a white cloth until it sparkled.


    She held it up to the light, admiring the prism effect before she was satisfied and set it down.


    Then she draped the white cloth around her neck, moving with a spooky elegance.


    If this was a fancy Western joint, Scarfman might¡¯ve whistled in appreciation.


    But now?


    It was just plain creepy, his hair standing on end.


    Billy Jean seemed ready to dig in, but her plate was empty.


    Where was the grub?


    That¡¯s when he saw Billy Jean pick up the knife and fork, her murky eyes locked on him.


    Scarfman¡¯s breath hitched, his pupils dilating like saucers.


    She wouldn¡¯t be...


    Billy Jean looked at Scarfman¡¯s horrified face with a sort of ¡°gentle¡± smirk.


    ¡°Roar... I¡¯m about to start,¡± she hissed.


    Scarfman thrashed around like a fish out of water.


    He got Billy Jean¡¯s drift, and now he was looking at her like she was a monster from hell.


    His dilated pupils screamed pure terror.


    Billy Jean stood up, knife in one hand, fork in the other, and stalked toward Scarfman.


    Scarfman screamed bloody murder,


    ¡°Don¡¯t come near me, stay away...¡±


    ¡°AAAAAAH...¡±


    But he was a sitting duck, completely at her mercy.


    Scarfman was in agony, sweating bullets, his face ashen.


    Seeing Billy Jean closing in again, he howled in despair,


    ¡°Get away from me, don¡¯t you dare come closer, get away, aaaaah...¡±


    Another yelp of pain escaped him.


    The zombies downstairs roared like beasts.


    Hearing her ¡°buddies¡± demands, Billy Jean¡¯s gaze shifted to Scarfman, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.


    Seeing Billy Jean advancing again, knife and fork at the ready, Scarfman screeched in torment,


    ¡°Kill me, please just kill me.¡±


    Billy Jean smiled at Scarfman with a ¡°kind¡± look, but her skin was so taut it was spine-tingling.


    "Roar...


    Don¡¯t sweat it, you¡¯ll die, but first, you gotta fill my pals¡¯ bellies,¡± she said.

 10.Onslaught of Flesh-Eating Crows

    Michael Joke hacked his way through a sea of zombies and finally reached the bar entrance.


    He caught the heart-wrenching, ear-piercing screams from inside, and the growls of a whole bunch of zombies were ringing in his ears.


    Even standing at the door, he could catch a whiff of the overpowering stench of blood.


    Charging in blindly? Bad idea.


    Michael Joke scoped out the building and nimbly scaled up to the second-floor balcony.


    He did his best to stay out of sight, ducking behind the curtain and peering in.


    What he saw next made his eyes pop.


    Billy Jean was actually tossing scraps to the zombies.


    The tied-up guy¡¯s legs had been picked clean, nothing but bare white bones left.


    Judging by the crazy zigzag of knife marks on those bones, he¡¯d been sliced and diced alive a thousand times over.


    Every now and then, Billy Jean would pause, pick up a glass from the table, pour a drink, and knock it back like she was sipping top-shelf vino.


    The first floor was a writhing mass of zombies, like a zombie slaughterhouse.


    Blood was splattered all over the walls, and there was a crimson lake on the floor.


    Guess his worrying was for nothing.


    These were her kind, and she was having a ball!


    Michael Joke spun around to split.


    But the second he did, a flesh-eating crow the size of an eagle swooped in, aiming for his eyes.


    Quick as a flash, he clamped his vise-like grip around the crow¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Caw, caw¡­¡±


    The crow flapped and thrashed like crazy.


    Michael Joke zapped it with a bolt of lightning from his palm, and just like that, the crow was toast, a charred, smoking mess.


    The smell of burnt feathers filled the air.


    At that exact moment, darkness swallowed the sky.


    He glanced up, and his face fell.


    A massive swarm of flesh-eating crows was dive-bombing the bar from above.


    Must be the bloodbath inside that had lured them in.


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    They had to scram, pronto, or it was gonna get ugly.


    Michael Joke hopped onto the balcony railing, ready to make a leap and bail.


    But he looked back, frowned, and then took the plunge.


    ¡°I must¡¯ve owed her big-time in a past life.¡±


    He grumbled and marched into the bar.


    Billy Jean did a double-take when she saw Michael Joke pop up.


    ¡°Why the heck are you here?¡±


    Billy Jean eyed the zombies downstairs, who¡¯d gone berserk at Michael Joke¡¯s arrival, and she was actually kind of ticked off.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you snug in bed and out here? Don¡¯t you know zombies go wild at night?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t thrilled about sharing her food supply with other zombies.


    Michael Joke wheeled around, shut the balcony glass door, and hustled over to Billy Jean.


    ¡°Come with me, let¡¯s haul butt.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal? You¡¯re acting nuts.¡±


    ¡°The flesh-eating crows are zeroing in on this bar. No time to waste. Let¡¯s vamoose.¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s face paled a bit at the mention of the crows.


    Flesh-eating crows?


    They¡¯d eat anything that moved¡ªor didn¡¯t.


    Dead bodies, humans, zombies, you name it.


    Word on the street was, wherever those crows swooped in, nothing but bones were left.


    Their beaks were like razors, could strip a body down to the skeleton in no time.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. Hurry it up.¡±


    Billy Jean was on edge.


    Her beat-up body couldn¡¯t take much more chaos.


    Michael Joke¡¯s face was all business.


    ¡°Too late.¡±


    The next second, every window in the bar exploded, and thousands of crows flooded in.


    ¡°Caw, caw¡­¡±


    The cawing was deafening.


    ¡°Back off.¡±


    Michael Joke shielded Billy Jean and backed away, step by step.


    Scarfman, tied to the chair and barely clinging to life, watched the crows swarm him, eyes bugging out.


    He didn¡¯t have the juice to scream anymore.


    His eyes suddenly went blood-red and were plucked out by the crows.


    ¡°Mm, mm¡­¡±


    He let out a gut-wrenching moan.


    Countless crows swarmed him, pecking away at his flesh.


    It was agony, pure agony.


    As his chest was ripped open and his still-beating heart gobbled up, Scarfman finally bit the dust after a world of pain.


    In a flash, the crows took off, and Scarfman was nothing but a skeleton, every scrap of flesh gone.


    The zombies downstairs were getting mobbed too.


    They fought back on autopilot, slashing at the crows with their razor-sharp nails.


    But there were just too many crows.


    Sooner or later, they¡¯d get pecked.


    Once a zombie went down, a horde of crows would descend and turn it into a skeleton in seconds.


    Flesh and blood flew everywhere.


    The floor was littered with more and more bones, and the mangled crow corpses were piling up.


    The bar was a living hell.


    By this time, Michael Joke and Billy Jean had retreated into a second-floor private room.


    The thick door was holding the crows at bay, for now.


    ¡°Boom¡­ Boom¡­¡±


    The crows kept slamming into the door, making a racket.


    It wouldn¡¯t hold for long.


    Listening to the growls of her zombie pals outside and the non-stop cawing, Billy Jean gulped.


    ¡°What the heck do we do now?¡±


    Michael Joke scanned the room.


    It was sealed up tight, not a single window in sight.


    That meant there had to be a ventilation duct.


    He craned his neck, eyeballing the ceiling, and bingo, there it was.


    The door was on the verge of caving in.


    They had to move, and fast.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go up first. Then reach for my hand, and I¡¯ll haul you up.¡±


    Billy Jean nodded.


    Michael Joke was tall and spry, so climbing up was a piece of cake.


    He perched on the duct opening and reached down.


    ¡°Grab my hand.¡±


    Something cold clamped onto his warm hand, and Michael Joke¡¯s fingertips twitched.


    He looked down and yanked hard.


    But halfway up, Billy Jean let out a shriek.


    ¡°Let go, let go right now.¡±


    Michael Joke thought she was throwing a fit and said patiently,


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there. Hang in a bit longer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all over.¡±


    Billy Jean felt a ¡°pop¡± in her joint, and then she was in freefall.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Billy Jean hit the ground hard.


    Good thing she couldn¡¯t feel pain.


    Michael Joke stared at the rotten severed arm in his hand and froze.


    Billy Jean saw she was now a one-armed bandit and stomped her foot in frustration.


    ¡°You owe me an arm.¡±


    Who knew Michael Joke would turn his head and hurl.


    Billy Jean:!!


    Damn it, have some class!

 11.The Wellness-Conscious Zombie

    ¡°Bang...¡±


    Another ear-splitting crash reverberated through the room.


    The tiles beside the door shattered and rained down.


    Billy Jean shuddered, her voice quivering as she hollered,


    ¡°Michael Joke, quit barfing and hoist me up, pronto!¡±


    Michael Joke''s face was as white as a sheet from all the puking, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead.


    He gritted his teeth and grumbled,


    ¡°Billy Jean, I must''ve owed you big-time in a past life.¡±


    He was dying to chuck the rotting arm he was clutching, but in the end, he bit the bullet and used a rope to lash Billy Jean''s arm to her back.


    No easy feat for a germaphobe extraordinaire.


    With a graceful leap, he dropped down from the ventilation duct, his long legs absorbing the impact like a pro.


    ¡°I''ll boost you up first,¡± Michael Joke said.


    ¡°Chop-chop,¡± Billy Jean urged.


    Michael Joke crouched slightly, his strong hands encircling Billy Jean''s slender waist to heave her up.


    Suddenly, he paused and asked,


    ¡°Is your waist gonna hold? Not gonna snap in half, is it?¡±


    He didn''t want to see her guts spill out like a busted pi?ata.


    ¡°Back in the day, you never seemed to care when we were getting cozy,¡±


    Billy Jean griped.


    Michael Joke''s expression froze for a split second before he mumbled,


    ¡°You used to be all soft and delicate. Now you''re brittle and falling apart. It''s like night and day.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡±


    Michael Joke replied, his chiseled arm muscles bulging as he hoisted Billy Jean skyward.


    Billy Jean grappled with climbing into the duct, one-armed and all.


    Just then,


    ¡°Bang...¡±


    The door caved in, and a tidal wave of flesh-eating crows poured in.


    Billy Jean yelped anxiously,


    ¡°Michael Joke, hustle up and get in here!¡±


    She wasn''t about to let those pesky birds scarf down her hard-earned grub.


    Michael Joke whipped his hand, sending a sizzling bolt of lightning that bowled over the lead crows.


    He bought them a breather and scurried into the duct.


    The cover slammed shut, smooshing a few crows and sending the rest ricocheting off the metal.


    Michael Joke yanked out a dagger and jammed it into the lid to keep the crows at bay until they skedaddled.


    ¡°Crawl along the duct,¡±


    Michael Joke said to Billy Jean.


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    Billy Jean nodded and wriggled forward, Michael Joke hot on her heels.


    The duct was as quiet as a tomb, save for the echoes of their scuffling.


    After a short spell, Billy Jean hit the brakes.


    ¡°What gives?¡± Michael Joke asked.


    Billy Jean eyed the rotting flesh on her arm, which was nearly gone, and a pang of sadness hit her.


    ¡°I''m done crawling. My arm''s almost toast,¡± she said.


    Michael Joke''s face clouded over.


    ¡°Who cares about that rotten arm? Chuck it.¡±


    ¡°I won''t. Without it, I''ll look like a monster,¡±


    Billy Jean dug in her heels.


    Michael Joke took a few deep breaths, knowing she was gonna drive him up the wall.


    ¡°Are you climbing or what?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Billy Jean shot back.


    ¡°Fine, if you won''t budge, stay put and let the crows have you,¡±


    Michael Joke said, scooting past her and leaving her in the dust.


    He crawled a bit further and muttered under his breath,


    ¡°This dame''s a lost cause.¡±


    Billy Jean was sprawled out, comfy as could be, when she heard a gravelly voice.


    ¡°Get up here,¡±


    Michael Joke said, storming back, his face so dark it looked like he could spit nails.


    Billy Jean''s lips curled into a sly grin as she nimbly hopped onto his broad back.


    ¡°No more of this,¡±


    Michael Joke said sternly, trudging forward with a resigned sigh.


    Billy Jean went limp as a noodle, her cold cheek pressed against his warm neck, inhaling that crisp, familiar scent.


    It was just like old times, those countless, steamy nights.


    ¡°Michael Joke, why''d you mosey back to Ri-city?¡±


    Billy Jean asked him in her head.


    Michael Joke paused for a beat, then kept on trucking, not saying a word.


    ¡°Is it ''cause you realized you couldn''t shake me, no matter how many years passed, so you came back for me?¡±


    Billy Jean needled.


    Michael Joke snorted,


    ¡°Billy Jean, after all these years, you haven''t grown up a bit, but your hide sure has thickened.¡±


    Billy Jean let out a couple of ¡°hehe¡± chuckles, unfazed.


    ¡°Knock it off. It''s giving me the heebie-jeebies,¡± Michael Joke said.


    Billy Jean''s smile froze.


    Michael Joke was getting downright ornery.


    ¡°I can hear you,¡± he added offhandedly.


    Billy Jean snapped her eyes shut and played dead on his back.


    Michael Joke huffed in exasperation and carried the princess through the duct.


    A few minutes later, they slipped out of the bar, quiet as mice.


    As for who came out on top between the crows and the zombies in the bar, they''d never know.


    Back at the hotel, Michael Joke untied Billy Jean''s severed arm, torn between dumping it and just letting it be.


    ¡°This... maybe... just forget it. I''ll rustle up the best prosthetic for you tomorrow. Way better than that stinky hand,¡± he suggested.


    "You can have a fake one. I''m not having it."


    Billy Jean snatched her arm back and cradled it like a baby.


    "It''s been with me for over twenty years. I''ll never ditch it."


    Yue...


    Billy Jean gagged and surreptitiously wiped her hand, which had touched the rotting flesh, on her clothes.


    Michael Joke: !


    His disgust was written all over his face.


    Was this her idea of loyalty?


    Watching Billy Jean whip out a needle and thread and start roughly sewing her arm back on, Michael Joke was left speechless.


    ¡°What the heck are you doing?¡± he asked.


    "Can''t you see? Are you blind?"


    ¡°Sewing it up won''t cut it. The nerves are shot. It''ll just be a dead weight,¡± he said.


    "So what? I''ve done it before. When my head got lopped off, I picked it up and sewed it back on, and now it''s good as new."


    Billy Jean did a 360-degree head spin, which was both freaky and spine-chilling.


    Michael Joke shuddered at Billy Jean''s macabre move.


    A scaredy-cat would''ve passed out cold.


    "Cool, right?"


    Billy Jean''s lips curled into a devilish smile.


    Michael Joke couldn''t stomach it and said,


    ¡°I''m gonna hit the showers.¡±


    "Didn''t you just shower tonight?"


    "I''m filthy."


    Michael Joke replied curtly before ducking into the bathroom.


    "Germaphobe."


    Billy Jean muttered to herself.


    When Michael Joke emerged from the bathroom an hour later, Billy Jean had just finished sewing her arm back on.


    It hung there, limp as a wet rag.


    Billy Jean fished a thermos out of her bag, popped the lid, and the smell of blood wafted out.


    ¡°What''s that?¡±


    Michael Joke asked, wrinkling his nose.


    "Blood."


    Billy Jean didn''t bat an eye.


    After all, he knew she was a zombie.


    Michael Joke didn''t press the issue, but his brow stayed furrowed.


    He watched as Billy Jean pulled out a red bag and dumped some red dates, wolfberry, and Codonopsis pilosula into the thermos.


    ¡°What are you doing now?¡± he asked.


    "Taking care of myself! Don''t you know about wellness?"


    Michael Joke:...


    He thought this had to be the funniest thing he''d ever heard¡ªa rotting zombie preaching wellness.


    Billy Jean shook the thermos, then pried it open and chugged it down,


    ¡°glug glug¡±.


    Then, she ¡°whoosh, whoosh...¡± spat out the goodies from her mouth.


    Red dates, wolfberry, and Codonopsis pilosula flew out one by one.


    Michael Joke stared at Billy Jean''s shenanigans, his face a mask of disgust.


    ¡°What the heck are you doing?¡±


    "zombies don''t eat this stuff."


    ¡°But you said it was for wellness,¡± he said.


    "Yes! Wellness, that''s right!"


    ¡°So you just threw these in to give the wolfberry, red dates, and codonopsis a bath?¡±


    "Bath? No, no! It''s for wellness!"


    Billy Jean tilted her head, puzzled.


    Michael Joke pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing.


    It was his mistake to try to have a sane conversation with a zombie.


    At that moment, Michael Joke saw the wound on Billy Jean''s newly sewn arm start to heal.


    In a few blinks, the arm that had been as limp as a dishrag was lifting up.

 12.Astonishing Evolution Speed

    ¡°How the heck is this possible?¡±


    Michael Joke was freaking out.


    Seeing him gawking at her severed arm like he¡¯d seen a ghost, Billy Jean puffed up with pride, swung her arm in a full 360, showing off like it was a trophy.


    ¡°See? Awesome, right? Told ya it¡¯d still work after a little fix.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s this even happening?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a clue, do you? Us zombies level up by chowing down on flesh and blood. Pretty wild, huh? High-level stuff, right?¡±


    Michael Joke¡¯s dark eyes went even darker.


    He knew zombies evolved by feasting on flesh and blood, but he¡¯d never seen one progress this fast.


    Just one pot of blood and her arm was back in action.


    This evolution speed was off the charts.


    But then, there was no way she should still look so rotten.


    Billy Jean seemed to read his mind and piped up,


    ¡°It¡¯s ¡¯cause I don¡¯t eat meat.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you used to love meat?¡±


    Michael Joke looked at her like she was nuts.


    Billy Jean grumbled under her breath,


    ¡°That was chicken, duck, and fish back then. Not the same as now.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense.¡±


    Michael Joke nodded, then got all serious.


    ¡°But you¡¯re a zombie now. Gotta adapt to the local scene, get used to the zombie diet.¡±


    Hearing that, Billy Jean was¡­ well, the zombie was gobsmacked.


    I mean, what was he spouting?


    Was that something a human would say?


    ¡°I¡¯m doing this for your own good. Being picky about grub ain¡¯t a good habit.¡±


    Michael Joke sounded like a nagging old dad.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Being picky sucks. I¡¯ve decided to turn over a new leaf. Starting with you.¡±


    With that, Billy Jean lunged at Michael Joke, baring her teeth and claws.


    Michael Joke calmly reached out, clamped a hand on her head, and held her back.


    At 5''3", Billy Jean looked tiny next to the 6''2" Michael Joke.


    Her arms and legs were short.


    She thrashed around but couldn¡¯t lay a finger on him.


    ¡°Roar, roar¡­¡±


    ¡°I said don¡¯t be picky. Didn¡¯t mean you should munch on me!¡±


    Billy Jean:??


    ¡°Also, quit jumping on me all the time. You don¡¯t even know how gross you are now.¡±


    Michael Joke eyed her up and down with disgust.


    Covered in blood and muck, Michael Joke had been putting up with her for ages.


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    Billy Jean glanced down at herself.


    From a zombie¡¯s perspective, where was she dirty?


    Truth was, she often got the cold shoulder from some zombies ¡¯cause she was too clean and didn¡¯t fit in.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dirty. I don¡¯t wash.¡±


    Michael Joke¡¯s temples throbbed.


    He was so mad his head was splitting.


    ¡°Smell yourself. You reek.¡±


    ¡°Where do I stink? You¡¯re talking crazy.¡±


    Billy Jean grabbed the collar of her shirt and sniffed.


    Then she whipped her head around and dry-heaved, looking pained.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    Michael Joke figured she¡¯d finally skedaddle and take a bath.


    But clearly, he¡¯d overestimated zombie Billy Jean¡¯s standards.


    Billy Jean dug into her bag, pulled out a bottle of Dior perfume, and spritzed it a few times in the air.


    Then she twirled around in the sweet-smelling mist, letting it soak into her.


    ¡°Click¡­¡±


    Billy Jean capped the perfume bottle and fluttered her hand like a fancy lady, fanning herself.


    Sniffing the lovely scent, she grinned with satisfaction.


    ¡°Okay, now I smell divine.¡±


    Michael Joke was dumbstruck.


    ¡°Going to bed smelling like a rose.¡±


    Billy Jean spun around to leave.


    But he snagged her by the back collar and hauled her away.


    ¡°Hey! Michael Joke, you jerk. What are you doing? Let go of me. If you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll call the cops.¡±


    Billy Jean cursed up a storm in her head.


    The germaphobe Michael Joke had hit his limit.


    He dragged her straight to the bathroom and tossed her into the tub.


    ¡°Glug, glug¡­¡±


    Billy Jean was caught off guard and gulped down a bellyful of water.


    She stood up, sopping wet and looking like a drowned rat.


    The water dripping off her was red, tinting the surrounding water pinkish.


    Michael Joke¡¯s mouth twitched.


    ¡°Is this what you call clean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the clothes bleeding.¡±


    Billy Jean, decked out in all black, was trying to scramble out of the tub on her stubby legs.


    Seeing she was still being pigheaded, Michael Joke lost it and got physical.


    He shoved her head underwater and started scrubbing like a madman.


    ¡°Billy Jean, you¡¯re a zombie, not a slob. Got it?¡±


    Michael Joke was strong.


    Billy Jean couldn¡¯t break free.


    Caught in his grip, she could only wail non-stop.


    The water in the tub splashed everywhere, soaking Michael Joke.


    ¡°Are you gonna strip or do I have to do it for you?¡±


    Hearing that, Billy Jean shuddered.


    Nervously, she crossed her arms over her chest.


    ¡°Get out. I¡¯ll wash myself.¡±


    ¡°Why the shyness? It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t seen it before.¡±


    Michael Joke said it like it was no biggie.


    If Billy Jean weren¡¯t a zombie and could blush, her face would be on fire right now.


    ¡°Get out. Don¡¯t make me bite you.¡±


    Billy Jean glared daggers at Michael Joke.


    For some reason, Michael Joke cracked up.


    His low, rumbling laughter spilled from his thin lips, sounding almost happy.


    Billy Jean was floored.


    Seeing his smile was like a flashback to their good old days a few years ago.


    His smile was blinding.


    Back then, he could charm the pants off any girl.


    Once upon a time, she thought they¡¯d be together forever.


    But turns out he was a love rat.


    Billy Jean went fierce again.


    ¡°What¡¯re you laughing at? Get out.¡±


    Michael Joke was used to her mood swings and didn¡¯t bat an eye.


    He ruffled her hair with his big hand.


    ¡°After all these years, you still got that firecracker temper.¡±


    Billy Jean was about to snap back, but he¡¯d already strolled out of the bathroom.


    She was so mad her teeth could¡¯ve cracked.


    This punk always toyed with her like she was a chew toy.


    When she found a second long-term food source, she¡¯d chomp him first to get him out of her hair.


    Half an hour later.


    Billy Jean, who¡¯d been strong-armed into a bath, strutted out of the bathroom in a white hotel robe.


    By now, the sky was starting to lighten at the edges.


    It was almost dawn.


    Billy Jean could feel her joints getting stiffer and stiffer, cracking like popcorn.


    She walked like an old-timer on his last legs, nothing like her spry self at night.


    ¡°Over here.¡±


    Michael Joke was propped up against the headboard, waving her over.


    Billy Jean didn¡¯t want to go, but her feet had a mind of their own.


    The craving for flesh was pulling her in.


    In her daytime state, aside from having thoughts, she was basically a walking corpse.


    She was desperate for flesh.


    Even though her body was shuffling toward him, her mind was screaming ¡°no way¡±.


    ¡°Michael , are you a beast? I¡¯m a zombie now and you still got the guts to mess with me. Mixing species never ends well.¡±


    ¡°Sit.¡±


    Billy Jean was about to pounce on him in the bed, but his one word stopped her cold.


    ¡°Sit?¡±


    Billy Jean saw him pointing at the chair beside the bed and plopped down, hesitantly.


    ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡±


    Michael Joke just smiled at her, not saying squat.


    A minute later.


    ¡°Ah! Michael , you scumbag. Let me go. Why¡¯d you tie me up? Cut me loose, now!¡±


    Billy Jean was trussed up like a turkey by Michael Joke.


    She thrashed and hollered.


    Michael Joke clapped his hands, looking pleased as punch, then flopped down on the bed to sleep.


    If he didn¡¯t tie her up, he¡¯d be a nervous wreck, worrying she¡¯d suck his blood and gnaw on his bones.


    He didn¡¯t trust this ungrateful dame one bit.


    ¡°Hey! Michael , wake up! You tied me up and zonked out. Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re being a total jerk?¡±


    Michael Joke heard Billy Jean¡¯s ranting in his head, and the corners of his mouth curled up a bit.


    Soon, he drifted off to sleep, with her cussing up a storm in the background.


    Billy Jean heard his steady breathing and knew he was out cold.


    She ground her teeth, seething with rage.

 13.The Feathered Pal

    The sun was high in the sky, casting a bright glare through the window.


    Billy Jean, who''d been tied up for hours on end, was glaring daggers at Michael Joke, snoozing away in bed.


    Was he planning on hibernating?


    What, was he part bear or something?


    Just then, a pigeon flapped onto the balcony, cooing softly,


    ¡°Goo-goo...¡±


    Its feathers were patchy and ratty, like it''d been through a war-zone.


    The flesh looked rotten, and its eyes were all milky, like it was lost in a fog ¡ª a dead ringer for a virus-infected pigeon.


    It perched on the balcony railing, basking in the sun and trying to fluff up its scraggly feathers.


    Billy Jean''s murky eyes lit up like a light-bulb.


    ¡°Roar... Hey, Feathered Friend, do me a solid and untie these ropes?"


    The Zompige ruffled its feathers, looking downright offended.


    ¡°Coo-coo... Who you callin'' Feathered Friend?"


    ¡° Roar ... Feathered Ma''am? Feathered Grandma?"


    The more Billy Jean tried, the more riled up the pigeon got, strutting back and forth on the railing, feathers flying.


    Billy Jean, seeing she was getting nowhere, had a light-bulb moment.


    ¡°Roar... Oh, I got it. Gorgeous Feathered Lady, that oughta do the trick, right?"


    Now, this pigeon was far from gorgeous, but a little flattery never hurt.


    These days, even a pigeon had an ego the size of a blimp.


    The Zompige finally snapped,


    ¡°Coo-coo... I''m female, you dolt!"


    Billy Jean: Uh...


    Awkward silence.


    ¡° Roar ... My bad, Feathered.sis. Forgive me."


    ¡°Coo-coo...Cut the crap. What do you want?"


    ¡°Roar... You''re all business, Feathered.sis. I just need a tiny favor. Peck these ropes off me, will ya? Thanks."


    The Zompige gave Billy Jean, still trussed up like a turkey, the once-over.


    ¡°Coo-coo... I don''t work for free. What''s in it for me?"


    ¡° Roar ... I''ll owe you one. Big-time."


    The pigeon cocked its head, thought for a sec, then nodded.


    ¡°Coo-coo... Deal."


    The Zompige fluttered into the room and got to work with its sharp beak, pecking away at the ropes until Billy Jean was free.


    Billy Jean stood up, joints popping like firecrackers from sitting so long.


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    She shot a glance at Michael Joke, still sawing logs, and a devilish grin spread across her face.


    The Zompige, spotting the hunk in bed, asked,


    ¡°Coo-coo... Did he tie you up? Is he your man?"


    ¡°Roar... No, he''s breakfast."


    ¡°Coo-coo... He''s a zombie and didn''t off you. Must have a soft spot for you. And you''re gonna chow down on him? That''s just cruel!¡±


    The pigeon clucked in dismay, feeling sorry for the handsome guy.


    Billy Jean swatted the pigeon off her shoulder like a pesky fly.


    ¡°Roar... Scram. You don''t know squat. You''re just a horny bird."


    Horny bird? The pigeon thought.


    Just a minute ago, she was all ¡°Feathered.sis¡± this and ¡°Feathered.sis¡± that.


    It flapped its wings, circled the room, and landed back on Billy Jean''s shoulder, just in time to see her pull a wicked steak knife from her bag, blade glinting.


    ¡°Coo-coo... Wow, you''d really sink your teeth into that handsome mug. You''re a cold-hearted vixen.¡±


    The pigeon chirped.


    ¡°Roar... Food''s gotta fill the belly.¡±


    Billy Jean Roared back, eyes glowing blood-red as she inched toward Michael Joke, knife in hand.


    His hands were a work of art ¡ª elegant, clean, and chiseled, with delicate wrists and faint blue veins peeking through the skin.


    Billy Jean''s mouth watered, lips twitching with a hankering for that sweet, fresh blood.


    Back in the day, she''d always use a knife to draw blood, pour it in a glass, and sip away.


    Never once did she touch anyone directly.


    But last night, for some wacky reason, she''d gone bonkers and slurped straight from him, licking and savoring like it was the best thing since sliced bread.


    In fact, she couldn''t get enough.


    Suddenly, a big paw of a hand clamped down on Billy Jean''s knife-wielding hand.


    She snapped back to reality, locking eyes with a pair of deep, dark pools.


    ¡°Billy , you''re still up to no good even tied up.¡±


    Michael Joke''s voice was gravelly from sleep.


    Caught red-handed, Billy Jean decided to go all in and lunged at Michael Joke.


    "I''m starving. Need breakfast."


    In a flash, Billy Jean found herself wrapped up like a mummy in the blanket by Michael Joke.


    She thrashed around on the bed like a giant, wriggling worm, but couldn''t break free.


    Michael Joke couldn''t help but chuckle.


    She looked kind of cute, all squirmy like that.


    He gave her exposed noggin a gentle pat.


    ¡°Hang tight. I''ll take you out to chow down after I freshen up.¡±


    "I don''t want to go out, I want you. Now, I''m so hungry,need to feed."


    Billy Jean writhed inside the blanket.


    Ignoring Billy Jean''s tantrum, Michael Joke swung his legs out of bed.


    His dark eyes swept the room and zeroed in on the Zompige, perched on the chandelier like a statue, watching the whole shebang.


    The pigeon shuddered under his icy glare, losing a few more feathers, like it was shedding in a snowstorm.


    It flapped its wings, desperate to make a break for the balcony.


    At that moment, a thin electric wire coiled around its claws, yanking it back.


    ¡°Coo-coo...¡±


    The pigeon fought like a wildcat, feeling its claws sizzle and more feathers go flying, like there was an invisible hair-removal laser in the air.


    Seeing Michael Joke''s palm crackle with a mini lightning bolt, Billy Jean jumped into action.


    "Michael , stop. Don''t kill it."


    ¡°Billy , just because I let you live doesn''t mean I''ll spare every other zombie.¡±


    "It''s my friend. Please, just this once. Let it go."


    ¡°A measly Zompige,if I want it dead, it''s dead.¡±


    Michael Joke''s voice was like ice, but he hesitated, all because of her plea:


    ¡°It''s my friend.¡±


    In the end, he stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it rattled.


    Billy Jean and the pigeon both jumped.


    "What are you waiting for? Get out of here before he kills you."


    Though the pigeon didn''t get the whole story, it knew she''d saved its bacon.


    ¡°Coo-coo... You owed me one, and now you saved my life,we''re square,but you''re loyal, and I''ll call you a friend."


    The pigeon flew off into the wild blue yonder.


    Billy Jean: A bird friend?


    After getting his morning routine out of the way.


    Michael Joke unwrapped Billy Jean from the blanket cocoon.


    Seeing Billy Jean gearing up to pounce again, he whipped out an electric whip and cracked it.


    Billy Jean froze like a deer in headlights, body rigid with fear.


    The whip zipped past her, smashing into the bedside table and reducing it to splinters.


    ¡°Do you want to end up like that table?¡± he asked.


    Billy Jean shook her head like a bobble-head, click-click.


    Even if she wouldn''t die from getting smashed, sewing herself back together was a pain in the neck.


    She didn''t want that.


    ¡°If you don''t want that, then play nice, okay?¡±


    Billy Jean nodded meekly, click-click.


    Michael Joke, seeing her wobbly head movements, worried it might roll off, so he didn''t push his luck.


    He fished out a set of sportswear from his spatial ring and handed it to Billy Jean, who was still rocking the bathrobe.


    ¡°I don''t have any duds for the ladies,you can wear mine for now,we''ll hit the stores for some dresses later.¡±


    Billy Jean took the clothes and shuffled toward the bathroom.


    Michael Jote watched her slow, shuffling gait and a twinkle of amusement lit up his eyes.


    He quickly frowned again, ticked off with himself for getting all gooey-eyed over her.

 14.The Head Took a Tumble

    Billy Jean had just stepped out of the bathroom, all changed and ready to roll.


    But those darn pants were playing tricks on her ¨C the leg was so long it practically tripped her up.


    Next thing you know, she was flat on the floor.


    And wouldn''t you believe it, her head, which was never the steadiest to begin with, went flying off like a wobbly bowling ball and came to a stop right at Michael Joke''s feet.


    Michael Joke''s eyes just about popped out of his head.


    His pupils were doing the jitterbug as he stared down at that noggin by his shoes.


    The head... it had gone AWOL from her shoulders.


    Then things got even weirder.


    Billy Jean''s headless body decided it wasn''t done yet and started getting up, blood spurting out like a busted fire hydrant from where her head used to be.


    It was like one of those headless chickens running around in a panic, only this time it was a full-on headless zombie on the loose.


    ¡°Where the heck is my head?¡±


    Even though the sun was still up, that didn''t stop the spook factor from going through the roof.


    This kind of scene would''ve sent most people running for the hills, screaming their lungs out.


    But Michael Joke?


    He was cooler than a cucumber.


    Well, mostly.


    He let out a couple of gasps that could''ve been mistaken for a hiccup, but other than that, he was holding it together.


    His whole body was as stiff as a board, though.


    It took him forever to slowly bend down, his hand inching towards that head like it might bite im.


    If you looked real close, you could see his fingers twitching.


    This whole thing was messing with his head big time.


    Michael Joke picked up Billy Jean''s head.


    Her eyes were a bit cloudy, like she''d just woken up from a long nap.


    But the second she saw him, that numb look turned into a full-on pout.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­ Michael , this is all your fault for dressing me in these goofy clothes, I don''t care,you gotta fix this.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Michael Joke asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Sew my head back on and then give me some blood to slurp up. Then we''re square.¡±


    Billy Jean was already thinking ahead, like she had it all planned out.


    ¡°That''s it?¡±


    ¡°Or what? You think you owe me more ''cause you feel bad?¡±


    Billy Jean was feeling pretty smug.


    Michael Joke let out a sigh and flicked Billy Jean''s forehead.


    ¡°Silly goose.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The headless body reached up to rub its forehead, but of course, there was nothing there. It was like a bad comedy sketch.


    Michael Joke''s sewing skills were nothing like Billy Jean''s half-baked attempts with a couple of embroidery needles.


    He looked like a pro surgeon from a TV show, all masked up and gloved, threading that needle like it was second nature.


    The way he stitched her up was smooth as butter, leaving a teeny-tiny scar.


    Not like Billy Jean''s handiwork that looked like a squiggly worm.


    Billy Jean touched the scar on her neck and grinned.


    After she got a few gulps of blood later, it''d be like it never happened.


    She eyeballed Michael Joke''s wrist, her mouth practically watering.


    Michael Joke saw what she was up to and slowly peeled off his gloves, tugging his sleeves down to cover up.


    Billy Jean wasn''t having it.


    ¡°Hey, what gives? You promised me blood. You backing out now?¡±


    ¡°I said blood. Didn''t say it had to be mine, did I?¡±


    Billy Jean''s eyes went wide.


    ¡°You sly fox.¡±


    Michael Joke just shrugged it off like it was no biggie.


    Billy Jean knew she was beat and wished she''d been clearer.


    ¡°Fine, you''re all puffed up like a blow-fish. Let''s go,you promised me a feast.¡±


    Michael Joke ruffled her hair, and she swatted his hand away like a pesky fly.


    ¡°Humph¡­¡±


    She turned her head, giving him the cold shoulder.


    Michael Joke chuckled.


    ¡°I promise the grub''ll be better than anything you''ve tasted.¡±


    That got Billy Jean''s attention,she whipped her head back around.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Michael Joke nodded.


    ¡°Okay, I''ll give you one more shot,but if you''re yanking my chain, I''ll chomp you up.¡±


    Billy Jean bared her teeth and wiggled her fingers like claws.


    It was supposed to be scary, but she just looked like a kitten trying to be tough.


    Michael Joke couldn''t help but smile.


    ¡°Shall we, Miss Jean?¡±


    ¡°Lead the way, buster.¡±


    Billy Jean waved her hand like she was the queen of the castle.


    If you didn''t notice her body moving like a rusty robot.


    Outside the hotel, Michael Joke pulled a military-grade vehicle out of his space ring like it was no big deal.


    This thing was like a tank on wheels, with bulletproof glass and a shell so tough it could probably stop a meteor.


    Michael Joke swung open the door and hollered at Billy Jean, who was shuffling along behind him like a grandma on a Sunday stroll,


    ¡°Hop in, chop-chop.¡±


    As he spoke, five super-thin wires shot out from his fingertips like they were on a mission.


    In a flash, they zipped through the heads of five zombies who thought he''d make a good lunch.


    It was brutal, like something out of an action movie.


    Billy Jean''s jaw dropped.


    She picked up the pace, but the more she panicked, the stiffer her legs got.


    She ended up looking like a crazy wind-up toy, lurching towards Michael Joke.


    And wouldn''t you know it, a whole gang of zombies, seven or eight of them, popped up out of nowhere and joined the party, all going after Michael Joke.


    Billy Jean was right in the middle of it, getting pushed and shoved like a rag-doll.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Ouch, lady, watch where you''re stepping. Who poked me in the gut? Dang it, your nails are like razors!"


    ¡°Roar¡­ Quit shoving. Calm down, y''all. Listen up,that guy''s bad news,you don''t wanna mess with him. Save yourselves!"


    Billy Jean tried to reason with them, but they weren''t having it.


    ¡°Roar¡­ You''re just trying to hog the food, aren''t you?"


    A toothless old lady zombie snarled.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Yeah, you think you can keep it all to yourself? We''ll see about that."


    A fat zombie in a chef''s uniform chimed in.


    The whole mob, with Billy Jean stuck in the middle, kept charging at Michael Joke.


    They were like a bunch of hungry hyenas, roaring and snapping at the air.


    Michael Joke saw Billy Jean was about to get squashed like a bug.


    His eyes went dark and cold.


    He reached out again, and those five wires sprang back to life.


    Suddenly, Billy Jean felt like she was in a freeze-frame.


    The zombies around her stopped dead in their tracks.


    If she squinted, she could see that each one had a wire sticking out of its head like a demented unicorn horn.


    ¡°Boom¡­ Boom¡­¡±


    They dropped like flies.


    In the end, it was just Billy Jean left standing there, looking around like she''d just witnessed a miracle.


    Damn! Holy cow!


    Michael Joke is a freaking superhero.


    Just then, Billy Jean felt something wrap around her waist.


    One of those wires had snaked around her and yanked her out of the zombie pile-up.


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    Something warm and firm held her tight.


    ¡°Okay, knock it off with the screaming.¡±


    A deep voice cut through the chaos.


    Billy Jean clamped her mouth shut, her eyes as big as saucers.


    Michael Joke saw more zombies coming and didn''t waste a second.


    He tossed Billy Jean into the passenger seat like she was a sack of potatoes and hopped into the driver''s seat.


    He stomped on the gas, and the zombies in front of them scattered like bowling pins.


    Billy Jean in the passenger seat swallowed hard.


    Goodbye, suckers.


    Thirty minutes later, Michael Joke screeched to a halt in front of a massive shopping mall.


    It was like a zombie magnet ¨C they came swarming from all directions, pounding on the car and leaving bloody smears all over the glass.


    ¡°You said you''d take me out for a big meal. You don''t expect me to chow down on them, do you?¡±


    Billy Jean pointed at the zombies outside, looking like she might puke.


    ¡°No, your dinner''s waiting inside the mall.¡±


    Michael Joke looked at the mall, a cold smirk on his face.


    His eyes glinted with something that sent a shiver down Billy Jean''s spine.

 15.Not the Tiniest Bit Tasty

    In the supermarket warehouse of that shopping mall.


    Right now, the place had been ransacked clean.


    All that was left was an empty warehouse with its door shut tight.


    Inside, it was as dark as a cave, and you could just barely make out some faint whispers.


    ¡°Hey, Bro.bin. Why haven''t those dozen or so guys we sent out yesterday shown up yet?


    That kid''s all by his lonesome.


    There''s no way it should take them this long to handle him.¡±


    This Bro.bin fella had a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking like he''d just rolled out of bed and not someone you''d want to mess with.


    ¡°Those under Bro.3th are getting more useless by the day. It''s just to grab a space ring. How''d they get held up for so long? If my foot wasn''t busted, I''d have gone myself.¡±


    Bro.bin glanced down at his bandaged foot.


    If it wasn''t for the fact that he''d hurt his leg fighting some mutant and couldn''t go chasing after people, with his super-strength power, dealing with a snot-nosed brat would''ve been a piece of cake.


    They''d had their eyes on the goodies in this warehouse for a while.


    They were just a hair too late yesterday, and some kid who came out of nowhere snatched up everything.


    Didn''t leave them a crumb.


    And who''d have thought a kid who didn''t even look old enough to shave would have a space ring?


    You know how rare and valuable a storage space like that is.


    Having one means you can hoard all kinds of supplies like a squirrel with nuts.


    Since he''d stumbled onto such a sweet deal, he wasn''t about to let it slide.


    He sent over half his crew to cut the kid off, dead set on getting that space ring.


    He''d figured it''d be a walk in the park.


    After all, the other side was just one person.


    But would you believe it?


    The guys he sent still hadn''t come back.


    ¡°Bro.bin, you think he might be a superpower too? Bro.3th and the others could be in deep trouble.¡±


    A blondie piped up.


    ¡°Bro.3th brought some tough cookies. Even if that punk''s a superpower, there''s no way he could take out Bro.3th and a dozen of them all at once.¡±


    A buzz-cut with jet-black hair chimed in.


    Another four or five of the gang nodded along, thinking the buzz-cut had a point.


    ¡°What do you say, Bro.bin?¡±


    The blondie asked.


    ¡°Little Black''s right. Even I wouldn''t bet on taking down a dozen of them all at the same time. Let alone that pretty boy.¡±


    Bro.bin said.


    ¡°Bro.3th and the others must be tied up with something. Let''s wait a bit longer.¡±


    Just as Bro.bin finished yapping, there was a knock on the warehouse door.


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    Everyone perked up.


    ¡°It''s gotta be Bro.3th and the gang coming back!¡±


    Bro.bin was grinning from ear to ear.


    ¡°Go open the door. Let''s give our heroes a proper welcome.¡±


    Little Black and the blondie sprinted to the door.


    The thick warehouse door creaked open slowly.


    Two figures, one tall and one short, popped into view.


    Before Little Black and the blondie could even blink, some super-thin wires zipped through their heads and dropped them like flies.


    ¡°Boom¡­ Boom¡­¡±


    The two bodies hit the floor one after the other.


    Bro.bin''s face went white as a sheet.


    It was that darn powerful thunder-attribute superpower!


    No wonder Bro.3th and the crew never made it back.


    This time, he''d really stepped in it.


    Billy Jean tiptoed around the two corpses, then puckered up her lips and shot Michael Joke a dirty look.


    ¡°I don''t want these. One''s got yellow hair, the other''s all dark. They don''t make me want to chow down one bit.¡±


    Michael Joke rubbed his temples, exasperated.


    No wonder she was still so puny, despite her crazy flesh-evolving mojo.


    Guess there was a reason for it.


    With her being so picky, it was a wonder she hadn''t starved to death already.


    ¡°Michael Joke, did you hear me? I don''t want them. I''ve got zero appetite.¡±


    Michael Joke let out a sigh and motioned for her to peek inside.


    ¡°There''s a few more in there. Don''t sweat it.¡±


    Billy Jean squinted into the gloom.


    Her eyesight was lousy to begin with, and with the dim light, she could only make out a couple of shapes.


    ¡°If these still don''t cut it, you better let me suck your blood without a fuss.¡±


    ¡°Okay, wait by the door. I''ll go in and sort this out.¡±


    With that, Michael Joke strolled into the warehouse.


    Billy Jean stood by the door like a good little girl.


    After all, her main gig was eating.


    ¡­


    ¡°Bro.bin, that guy''s coming. What do we do now?¡±


    The younger gang member''s voice quivered like a leaf.


    That guy had taken out two of their buddies with one move.


    It''d be a lie to say they weren''t scared stiff.


    Bro.bin''s palms were sweating bullets too.


    Against a thunder-attribute superpower, he didn''t stand a snowball''s chance in hell.


    He was thinking about whether he could bluff his way out later.


    ¡°Little brother¡­¡±


    But before he could even get a word out, the other side didn''t give him the time of day and came at him straight.


    Those super-thin wires were already shooting for his head.


    Luckily, he was a superpower too, and his reflexes were sharp.


    He dove to the side in a flash.


    His four or five younger pals weren''t so lucky.


    The wires skewered their heads like kebabs, and they were goners.


    In the blink of an eye, it was just Bro.bin left.


    All his crew was wiped out.


    At that moment, he wished he''d never crossed this Grim Reaper.


    Those sharp, dark eyes locked onto him, and Bro.bin didn''t dare to breathe.


    ¡°Little brother, let''s talk. I''m a strength-based superpower. If you let me go, I''ll swear loyalty to you for life.¡±


    ¡°Not interested.¡±


    As the cold voice echoed, a small bolt of lightning zapped down at Bro.bin.


    Bro.bin twisted to the side, but he was a tad too slow.


    The lightning caught his shoulder.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    A blinding flash lit up the place.


    Bro.bin crumpled to his knees, coughing up a mouthful of blood.


    There was a gaping wound on his shoulder, so deep you could see the bone.


    Blood was gushing out like a fountain.


    In a few seconds, half his body was soaked red, and the smell of blood filled the air.


    At that moment, Billy Jean, who''d been twiddling her thumbs by the warehouse door, had a glimmer of bloodthirsty red flash in her eyes.


    It wasn''t as intense as Michael Joke''s, but it was way better than your average Joe''s.


    Billy Jean made up her mind. He''d do.


    Bro.bin was writhing in pain on his knees, sweating like a pig.


    He couldn''t believe that as a superpower himself, he couldn''t even last one round against this guy.


    ¡°Roar¡­¡±


    He thought he was hearing things when he heard a zombie moan.


    After all, with a superpower around, how could a zombie still be kicking?


    Then he saw a pair of feet shuffling towards him in a really odd way.


    He looked up and bam!


    Met a pair of cloudy eyes.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    He scooted back so fast his butt hit the ground.


    It was a zombie, all right.


    And this zombie was tagging along with the thunder-attribute superpower.


    He''d seen her from afar earlier and thought she was just some regular girl.


    Who''d have thought she was a zombie?


    ¡°Aren''t you hungry?¡±


    Unlike the icy voice from before, Michael Joke''s voice now had a touch of softness and fondness.


    Bro.bin''s face turned green.


    This guy was actually going to feed him to the zombie!


    After all, he was a superpower too.


    He really felt like he''d been slapped in the face.


    Since that was the case, he wasn''t going to take it lying down.


    ¡°I''ll fight you to the death!¡±


    He sprang up and lunged at Michael Joke, swinging a fist that could knock out a horse.


    It looked like an ordinary punch, but the air whooshed and rippled around it, showing just how much oomph it had.


    Michael Joke stayed cool as a cucumber.


    A long lightning whip materialized in his palm, and he cracked it like a cowboy.


    ¡°Ah¡±


    A scream ripped through the quiet warehouse.


    Bro.bin went flying and landed a few yards away, spitting up blood.


    He had brute strength, but against the most powerful superpower, he was toast.


    A pair of long legs came into his line of sight.


    He looked up and saw a face as cold as ice.


    He watched in horror as the super-thin wire pierced his head, and he keeled over, eyes full of rage and disbelief.


    Billy Jean saw the coast was clear and scrambled for her eating tools.


    Oh no!


    She''d forgotten to bring them.

 16.You Owe Me My Chompers

    Michael Joke caught sight of the misery smeared all over Billy Jean''s face and asked,


    ¡°What''s eating you?¡±


    "I forgot my munching gear."


    Michael Joke:??


    "Ugh... my wine glass, cutlery, thermos, red dates, wolf-berries, and codonopsis!"


    Michael Joke squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing.


    ¡°Alright, quit your bellyaching. They''re just cheap knickknacks. If they''re gone, they''re gone.¡±


    "How am I supposed to chow down without them?"


    ¡°Aren''t you zombies supposed to just dig in with your bare hands?¡±


    Billy Jean shot him a look that could curdle milk.


    "I''m a refined zombie. Do you even get refinement?"


    Michael Joke:...


    He''d never been at such a loss for words in his life.


    The smell of blood was like a siren song to Billy Jean, and the hunger for flesh made the wild side in her rear its ugly head.


    She was scared she''d go off the rails if she didn''t fill her belly soon.


    "Forget it, I''ll just make do with this grub today." She caved.


    She crouched down next to the corpse and reached out her pale, icy hand to grab the still-warm mitt of the dead guy.


    Michael Joke''s brow wrinkled a bit as he watched, a glimmer of annoyance flashing in his eyes.


    Billy Jean dipped her head and took a whiff of the corpse''s wrist.


    The blood smell hit her nose.


    Hmm, it should be tolerable.


    She had no clue the guy beside her was turning green with envy.


    A faint red glimmer sparked in Billy Jean''s eyes as she leaned in to sink her teeth into the wrist.


    ¡°Ding...¡±


    Suddenly, an iron rod shot out, and Billy Jean''s teeth clamped down on it instead.


    Billy Jean''s gaze slowly slid sideways, and there was Michael Joke, the troublemaker.


    Her eyes blazed with fury.


    Michael Joke''s eyes darted around as he tried to explain,


    ¡°I don''t know if it''s washed or not. It''s better to sip from a cup.¡±


    He didn''t know what had gotten into him, but the thought of Billy Jean''s cold lips on his wrist the night before, her tongue gliding over his skin and sending shivers down his spine, made him all prickly and possessive.


    The idea of her doing the same to someone else made him see red.


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    ¡°Chugging it down like this might make you sick. How about we use a cup?¡±


    Michael Joke said softly.


    Billy Jean spat the iron rod out of her mouth, turned her head, and hacked up a mouthful of blood-tinged spit.


    Seven or eight pearly whites lay there in the bloody mess.


    Billy Jean:!!


    Michael Joke:!!


    "Michael Joke, you owe me my teeth!" Billy Jean howled in rage.


    Billy Jean hunkered down on the ground, cradling her teeth in her hands, heartbroken and miserable.


    "Boohoo... my teeth. How am I going to munch now? It''s all Michael Joke''s fault. I''m never talking to him again!"


    Just then, an even stronger whiff of blood filled the air, and a flash of red streaked across Billy Jean''s cloudy eyes.


    So delicious.


    A bleeding, tempting wrist was thrust in front of Billy Jean, and a deep voice said,


    ¡°Drink up. Your teeth will grow back.¡±


    Billy Jean didn''t have time to wonder why he was willing to let her suck his blood this time.


    Her pale hand snatched up his bigger one, her ashen lips parted slightly, and she dove in.


    The sweet, rich blood flooded her mouth in an instant.


    She was like a parched desert wanderer who''d stumbled upon an oasis, gulping it down like there was no tomorrow.


    The blood slid down her throat, juicing up every part of her body.


    Her busted teeth started to regrow, popping up like baby carrots in spring.


    The stitches on her neck also started to heal, and in a few short moments, they were as smooth as silk, not a scar in sight.


    Billy Jean''s usually dull face even got a touch of pink in it, looking almost rosy.


    Blood she couldn''t swallow fast enough dribbled down the corners of her lips, giving her an otherworldly allure.


    Michael Joke''s face went a bit pale from losing blood, but he didn''t rush her.


    He gently stroked her hair, waiting patiently for her to finish.


    He knew he shouldn''t spoil her rotten, but when she said she''d give him the cold shoulder, he got all impulsive and slit his wrist.


    He also knew he should stop her, but seeing her contented expression, he just couldn''t bring himself to shoo her away.


    Thank goodness Billy Jean came to her senses in time.


    Otherwise, Michael Joke was afraid she''d drain him dry.


    Her tongue lapped over his wound, and in a flash, it healed up, not a trace left.


    Billy Jean could clearly feel that sipping Michael Joke''s blood was a whole different ballgame from slurping anyone else''s.


    It was something she''d never experienced with other folks'' blood.


    Michael Joke''s blood pumped energy into her limbs like a power-up, making her feel reborn and raring to go.


    Her stiff limbs felt looser than ever, her oozing wounds were shrinking, and even her ashen, lifeless complexion seemed a bit perkier.


    All these changes were as plain as day.


    She didn''t know that while she was guzzling his blood, she was also soaking up Michael Joke''s special powers.


    This was why she couldn''t feel a lick of energy from regular people''s blood¡ªthey didn''t have any superpowers.


    Michael Joke had cottoned on to this phenomenon the night before, which was why he brought her to this power-wielding superhuman today.


    Part of the reason for seeking revenge was also to help her evolve.


    He just didn''t expect that, in the end, he''d be the one ponying up his blood.


    Billy Jean cracked her knuckles, standing up with a self-satisfied grin.


    The Michael Joke she''d found so annoying just a moment ago now looked as appealing as apple pie, no matter how she sized him up.


    "Michael , I''m sorry I was such a grouch just now. Don''t take it to heart, okay? We''re tight, after all. Losing my teeth was no biggie. It won''t mess with our friendship."


    ¡°You didn''t say that before I bled for you,¡±


    Michael Joke shot back mercilessly.


    "Huh? What did you say? Wait a minute, I need to powder my nose."


    Billy Jean hotfooted it out of the warehouse like she was being chased by ghosts.


    Michael Joke shook his head and chuckled helplessly at Billy Jean''s flailing, retreating figure.


    Huh, wait a minute.


    Do zombies even need to use the john?


    Of course, zombies don''t need to use the john.


    So Billy Jean''s excuse to scram was really to mooch around the shopping mall.


    She''d sometimes bump into a fellow undead and shoot the breeze.


    Just then, a female zombie lurched toward her with a gaping hole in her gut, her intestines dragging on the ground and painting a bloody trail.


    Billy Jean jumped in to offer a helping hand, all eager-beaver.


    ¡°Roar... "Hey, sister, your guts are spilling out. Need a hand? I''m a whiz at sewing up wounds."


    ¡°Roar... "No, thanks. This look scares the bejesus out of enemies."


    ¡°Roar... "It sure does." Billy Jean nodded.


    ¡°Roar... "But are you sure you''re okay?"


    Billy Jean''s stomach did a flip-flop watching the rats scurrying around inside the female zombie''s stomach, chowing down.


    They were fat as butter.


    ¡°Roar... "I gotta go feed. I''ve been starving lately."


    The female zombie hobbled past Billy Jean with her spooky shuffle, and the rat inside her stomach poked its head out and squeaked at Billy Jean, its fur crawling with maggots.


    Billy Jean got the heebie-jeebies and scooted away pronto.

 17.Dumb Clucks with a Death Wish

    Billy Jean hoofed it up to the clothing floor.


    She was still decked out in Michael Joke''s duds, looking like a kid who''d raided her parents'' closet.


    Even though she was a zombie now, she still gave a hoot about her looks.


    This floor was a total mess, like a tornado had torn through it.


    Clothes and junk were strewn every which way, and dried blood was splattered all over.


    Compared to the supermarket, which had been picked clean, this place was in better shape.


    After all, when the world went to pot, food was the real gold.


    Jewels and fancy outfits had become dead weight.


    Survivors usually made a beeline for the mall''s supermarket to stock up on grub.


    Nobody in their right mind would come to this floor for these cumbersome clothes.


    Fortunately, since Billy Jean was a zombie, she didn''t have a care in the world.


    She could rummage through and try on clothes to her heart''s content until she was happy as a clam.


    Billy Jean started to dig shopping in the apocalypse, ambling from one counter to the next.


    She''d pick up a garment, hold it up against herself.


    When she found something she liked, she''d scoot into the fitting room to give it a whirl.


    If it fit the bill, she''d stuff it in a bag.


    If not, she''d chuck it.


    In about ten minutes, Billy Jean had amassed a big bag of clothes she was nuts about.


    She was feeling on top of the world today.


    It''d been ages since she''d worn a dress.


    This one was a Frenchy, elegant number.


    The long sleeves and floor-length skirt did a bang-up job of covering her rotting bits.


    Even though she wasn''t a towering beauty, she had a killer figure.


    The waist-cinching design hugged her slender waist that you could almost wrap your hand around.


    Just standing there, she had a certain something that caught the eye.


    Back in the day, she''d stood out among a bevy of beauties and snagged the title of East University''s campus belle for four years running.


    She had a pair of bewitching eyes with naturally rosy corners, and her pupils were bright as buttons.


    Her nose was straight and dainty.


    Her red lips were the perfect thickness, with a gorgeous shape.


    When she smiled, her lips curved, showing off a perfect row of pearly whites.


    Her skin was fair, flawless, and glowed with youth.


    The school had even used her photo in recruitment brochures as a selling point.


    Alas!


    Let bygones be bygones.


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    Billy Jean sighed as she checked herself out in the mirror.


    Her cloudy eyes, deathly pale complexion, and dull red lips were a far cry from her former elegance.


    ¡°Boom¡­ Boom¡­¡±


    The sound of bodies hitting the floor one after another rang out.


    The zombies milling around all made a beeline for the stairway.


    Obviously, someone was coming.


    Billy Jean thought it was Michael Joke, but instead, she heard strangers'' voices.


    ¡°Baby, stay behind me. I''ll take care of these gross zombies first. Then you can grab any of these designer duds you want.¡±


    A man''s voice cut through the air.


    ¡°Okay, be careful.¡±


    A delicate voice chimed in.


    Then came the sound of a scuffle.


    Billy Jean had to give this guy props.


    Even in the apocalypse, he still remembered to bring a gal here for a bit of¡­


    Well, romance.


    She just wasn''t sure if he had the chops.


    Out of curiosity, Billy Jean moseyed over to the fight.


    From a distance, she saw a young buck hacking at zombies with an ice sword in one hand and flinging ice blades at the ones lunging from afar with the other.


    No wonder he dared to bring a dame here for these useless things.


    He was an ice-attribute superpower.


    Sure enough, except for mutants, regular zombies were no match for superpowers.


    There weren''t many zombies on this floor, about a dozen or so.


    In a flash, the man had cleared them out.


    Billy Jean didn''t want to get mixed up in it.


    She was about to hightail it and hide when the man spotted her and whipped an ice blade her way.


    She ducked into the shop next to her.


    She had an immortal body, so she didn''t really need to hide, but she didn''t want her newly fixed-up body to get all scarred up again.


    Besides, she was in a good mood today and had finally slipped into a dress she liked.


    She didn''t want to get it splattered with blood.


    Hearing the footsteps outside the shop getting closer, Billy Jean snatched a fisherman''s hat from inside and slapped it on her head.


    The wide brim hid most of her face, leaving only her small chin and lips peeking out.


    Brian barged into the shop, ready to hurl an ice blade at the zombie, but he screeched to a halt.


    There was no zombie, just a woman.


    She was standing with her back to him, holding up clothes in front of the mirror.


    Even though he couldn''t see her face, he could tell she had a dynamite figure.


    Especially that waist that looked like you could wrap your hand around it.


    Brian''s fingers twitched.


    He actually had the urge to go up and sling his arm around her.


    ¡°Brian, are you done?¡±


    Donna stepped into the shop.


    She didn''t expect to see another woman besides Brian.


    Seeing Brian gawking, a look of disgust flashed across her face.


    This Brian was a real horn dog.


    He couldn''t keep it in his pants when he saw a beautiful woman.


    If it wasn''t for the apocalypse and his superpower, she''d never have given him the time of day.


    ¡°Brian, who is she? Where''s the zombie?¡±


    Even though Donna was grossed out inside, she still played it cool on the surface.


    Brian didn''t look at her.


    He kept his eyes glued to Billy Jean''s back and called out,


    ¡°Hello, are you a survivor too? This mall is super dangerous. Are you all alone?¡±


    To avoid raising suspicion, Billy Jean had to turn around.


    She didn''t budge but stood stock-still, pointed at her throat, and shook her head.


    Brian got the message right away.


    ¡°You can''t talk?¡±


    Billy Jean nodded, stifling the zombie growl in her throat, praying they''d scram.


    When Brian heard she couldn''t talk, his dirty mind started working overtime.


    If she couldn''t talk, it meant he could have his fun with her on the sly, and nobody would be the wiser.


    ¡°Baby, go pick your clothes first. This woman looks fishy. I''ll stay here and grill her.¡±


    Brian whispered to Donna.


    Donna saw right through his game.


    After all, he''d pulled this stunt more than once.


    She wasn''t going to stop him.


    In fact, she was kind of glad.


    After Brian got his kicks, she could dodge his advances for a while.


    ¡°Okay, be careful.¡±


    Before leaving, Donna gave Billy Jean a scornful look.


    In the apocalypse, still dressing to the nines.


    She had it coming to her.


    Later, she''d have to clean up the mess.


    What a pain in the neck.


    Billy Jean had been spying from under her hat brim.


    Seeing the look Donna gave her and the lust in Brian''s eyes, she knew what was coming down the pike.


    Hehe!


    There are always fools who don''t value their lives.


    Billy Jean gave the man a flirty wink and then stiffly walked into the fitting room behind her.


    Brian was so hot and bothered he didn''t notice Billy Jean''s stiff legs.


    He only saw her come-hither look.


    ¡°So she''s a floozy.¡±


    He fumbled with his belt and charged into the fitting room like a bull in a china shop.


    But instead of a beauty getting undressed, he got a face full of sharp claws ripping into his throat.


    Blood spurted out, and Billy Jean''s eyes glowed red.


    Brian''s eyes bugged out, and his bloodshot eyes stared at Billy Jean in disbelief.


    He didn''t expect her to be a zombie.


    He, a big-shot superpower, had fallen for an ordinary zombie''s trick.


    He was pissed. Real pissed.


    Billy Jean curled her lips into a wicked grin.


    Drop dead.


    She yanked her claws back, and a geyser of blood gushed from Brian''s throat.


    Red splotches dotted the small fitting room, and more sprayed onto Billy Jean.


    Brian clutched his bleeding neck and crashed to the ground, glaring at Billy Jean with a look that could kill.


    There was a firestorm of hatred in his eyes.

 18.She Found Her Voice

    Billy Jean carefully took apart a ballpoint pen, chucked the ink cartridge and the cap, leaving just the empty tube.


    Voila, a makeshift straw.


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    Brian let out a blood-curdling scream as the wound was jabbed.


    Watching Billy Jean''s handiwork, his eyes nearly popped out of his head in horror.


    With the hollow pen tube between her lips, a steady stream of energy seeped into her body, and changes started kicking in.


    The rotting patches grew fresh flesh, and the wounds shrank bit by bit.


    Her sunken cheeks plumped up again, like a deflated balloon getting filled with air, and the bluish-gray tint faded away gradually.


    But it wasn''t enough.


    She was still hungry for more.


    Billy Jean gripped the blood-soaked pen tube and rammed it into Brian''s heart artery.


    Blood spurted out like a geyser.


    ¡°Mm¡­¡±


    Brian''s pupils dilated to the size of saucers, his face contorted in sheer agony, looking like something out of a nightmare.


    The light in his eyes flickered out, and he was gone.


    ¡­


    Donna hadn''t gone far.


    She was in the shop next door.


    Even though all the zombies had been taken care of, she was still too spooked to wander off.


    She was picking through clothes while keeping an ear out for any noise from next door.


    Apart from a couple of loud thumps at the start, there''d been just faint murmurs after that, and now it was dead silent.


    Probably, the coast was clear.


    Donna curled her lip in a sneer.


    So, he was still a two-pump chump.


    She put down the clothes, ready to go check on him, when all of a sudden her body jolted.


    She stared in disbelief at the person coming her way.


    It was him.


    A tidal wave of shock crashed over her, and Donna dashed forward.


    Michael Joke had been tracking Billy Jean by her scent and was searching high and low for her when out of nowhere a woman sprang up and blocked his path.


    He scrunched up his brow a bit and barked coldly,


    ¡°Move it.¡±


    Donna''s face twitched slightly, and then she blurted out anxiously,


    ¡°Michael , don''t you recognize me? We were college classmates. We even teamed up on a research project back in school. I''m Donna. Ring any bells? Why''d you up and vanish? I heard from the gang that you hightailed it back to Sea-city. I tried reaching out umpteen times, but you never picked up. Later, you changed your number. What in the world happened to you? It''s so great to see you again¡­¡±


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    Michael Joke stared at this chatty woman yapping away.


    Impatience flashed in his eyes.


    He still had to track down that finicky Billy Jean and didn''t have time for her gibberish.


    Ignoring her still-flapping gums, Michael Joke simply sidestepped her.


    He caught a whiff of blood in the air, his dark eyes narrowing, and he picked up his pace in that direction.


    When Donna saw Michael Joke walking away, she clammed up fast.


    Seeing him making a beeline for where Brian was, her complexion changed.


    If Michael Joke caught that sleazebag Brian messing with a woman, he''d surely peg her as an accomplice.


    No way.


    She''d been secretly crushing on this guy for years.


    Now that fate had thrown them together again, she wasn''t about to let this chance slip through her fingers.


    Donna chased after him.


    She reached out to grab Michael Joke but got dodged.


    She didn''t care.


    ¡°Michael , let''s scram. Don''t go over there. There was an ice-attribute superpower just now. I saw him haul a woman into the fitting room. If we barge in and spoil his fun, we''ll be in hot water. Let''s vamoose.¡±


    Donna dropped the superpower''s identity like a bomb, hoping Michael Joke would back off.


    Usually, folks were scared stiff of superpowers.


    After all, they were no match for them.


    But Michael Joke was no ordinary Joe.


    When he heard an ice-attribute superpower had dragged a woman into the fitting room, his dark eyes turned to ice, and his brow clouded over.


    He shoved aside the pesky Donna and hustled in that direction.


    The second he stepped into the shop, a thick, coppery smell of blood hit him.


    His dark eyes swept the place, and his gaze landed on a fitting room.


    Bright red blood was oozing out from under the door.


    Donna caught up and saw the river of blood flowing from under the door.


    Her eyes filled with disgust.


    She didn''t expect that lowlife Brian to go this far this time.


    It was just a mute.


    She didn''t even squeak once.


    What a pitiful way to go.


    Seeing Michael Joke about to barrel over, Donna panicked and snatched at his sleeve, begging,


    ¡°Michael , let''s split. The other side''s an ice-attribute superpower. We can''t take him. I''m freaking out. Let''s get out of here, okay?¡±


    She had to bolt before Brian came out.


    Otherwise, Michael Joke might be in a world of hurt.


    Sure, Brian was a dirt-bag, but his strength was no joke.


    He could wipe out zombies and handle mutants like a pro.


    ¡°Beat it.¡±


    Michael Joke roughly shook off Donna''s hand, so hard she tumbled to the ground.


    He didn''t spare her a second glance and marched forward to shove open the fitting room door.


    Seeing it was too late to stop him, Donna''s mind went into overdrive, scrambling to come up with a plan to deal with that scumbag Brian next.


    The fitting room door creaked open slowly and stopped halfway, like something was jamming it.


    Half the door gap was enough to see the carnage inside.


    Donna locked eyes with Brian''s wide-open, ghastly peepers, and she let out a scream that could wake the dead:


    ¡°Aah¡­¡±


    She thrashed and backed away.


    Brian was toast.


    The ice-attribute superpower Brian had been taken down by a woman.


    Billy Jean was ticked off and looked up with a scowl, shooting a frosty glare at Donna.


    Donna, meeting Billy Jean''s cloudy eyes, immediately widened her own in terror and shrieked,


    ¡°She''s a zombie! That woman''s a zombie!¡±


    Seeing that Michael Joke didn''t bat an eyelid, she scrambled up and tried to yank him back.


    ¡°Michael , it''s a death trap! That woman''s a zombie. Let''s book it!¡±


    Suddenly, her body went rigid.


    Her pupils quivered as she saw Michael Joke squat down in front of the female zombie and reach out to brush a stray hair from the corner of her mouth.


    She heard him murmur to her,


    ¡°Okay, quit glaring. I''ll get rid of her.¡±


    Michael Joke backed out, and the fitting room door closed again, hiding the gory scene within.


    Donna gaped in shock at the horror show in front of her.


    A chill shot up from her toes to the top of her head, making her shiver all over.


    Michael Joke was being all cozy with a female zombie and even giving her a free pass.


    Was he nuts?


    That was a heartless walking corpse!


    Michael Joke''s cold eyes skewered Donna, full of loathing.


    ¡°Still here?¡±


    Donna''s face was as white as a sheet, and her lips quivered.


    It took her forever to find her voice.


    ¡°It''s a zombie. It offed that ice-attribute superpower.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    Michael Joke said nonchalantly, like he couldn''t care less.


    ¡°It''s a monster. It ought to be killed. Otherwise, it''ll turn on us.¡±


    Donna hollered.


    ¡°This kind of freak should bite the dust. It has no place in this world.¡±


    Michael Joke''s dark eyes narrowed to slits.


    He was about to deal with this annoying broad when all of a sudden, from behind, came that familiar yet strange voice, raspy and dry from being mute for ages.


    ¡°Give¡­ you¡­ a chance. Come¡­ kill me.¡±


    Michael Joke''s back went ramrod straight.


    He whipped around.


    Billy Jean had emerged from the fitting room and was standing right behind him.


    He wasn''t sure if he was hearing things.


    How on earth could Billy Jean talk?


    Billy Jean stared daggers at Donna and rasped again:


    ¡°Kill¡­ me.¡±

 19.Lost My Chompers Again

    This time, Michael Joke was dead sure he''d heard Billy Jean talk.


    Her evolution was zooming along faster than he''d ever guessed.


    Just one sip of a superpower''s blood, and boom, she could chat.


    What if she got a double shot, a triple?


    He couldn''t even picture how insanely powerful she might turn out.


    Unlike Michael Joke''s shock, Donna was scared out of her wits.


    A zombie spouting human words?


    That was like something from a horror flick.


    Under that creepy gaze, she couldn''t help but shiver and backpedal.


    "I... give... you... a... chance... but... you... don''t... want... it... then... don''t... blame... me..."


    That raspy, croaky voice was like a death toll, and Donna was instantly drenched in a cold sweat.


    She saw the zombie lunging and, face as white as a sheet, she bolted toward Michael Joke, shrieking,


    "Save me, for the love of God!"


    Halfway there, Donna''s body locked up, and she hacked up a mouthful of blood.


    "Pffft..."


    She stared in horror at the arm stabbing through her chest from behind.


    "Save... me..."


    She reached out to Michael Joke with all her might, blood gushing from her mouth.


    "Boom..."


    She was flung like a rag-doll, leaving a bloody skid mark on the floor.


    Lying there, Donna''s chest was a fountain of blood from the gaping wound, spreading underneath her.


    She gasped and writhed in pain.


    At that moment, her pupils shrank to pinpoints in terror as she got a good look at the face fully showing under the hat brim.


    It was the mug of the only student at East University who''d been the belle of the ball for four years running, the face slapped on the admission brochure.


    Donna suddenly remembered when the four of them were knee-deep in a research project.


    Some out-of-town jock had asked Michael Joke why he''d schlepped all the way to this far-flung school.


    Michael Joke had said he''d been wowed by East University''s flashy brochure.


    The classmates had all cracked up, thinking he was yanking their chain.


    I mean, who picks a school based on a brochure?


    Most folks eyeball majors and profs.


    But now Donna realized Michael Joke hadn''t been joking.


    He''d been smitten by the brochure because of her.


    She''d been doomed from the get-go.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Donna''s lips twisted into a bitter grin before her pupils dilated and she croaked her last.


    Billy Jean shook her hand, grossed out by the blood.


    She could tell just by the smell it was nasty.


    Michael Joke took her hand and wiped the blood off with a hanky.


    "Leave this dirty work to me next time," he said, cool as a cucumber.


    Billy Jean raised an eyebrow, flabbergasted.


    "You... not... angry..."


    Her voice was so stiff and dry, she kept going in her head.


    "Don''t you know her? Aren''t you steamed I offed her?"


    "I don''t know her from Adam,"


    Michael Joke replied, eyes glued to her hand as he kept scrubbing.


    "Oh."


    Billy Jean''s lips curled into a teensy smile.


    Billy Jean checked herself out in the mirror.


    Her look had done a 180.


    The ashen, zombie pallor had vamoosed, revealing pale skin.


    It wasn''t rosy like a regular Joe''s, but at least it didn''t scream "scary" anymore.


    Her face, which used to be as rigid as a statue, could now show some feels, and her sunken cheeks had plumped up.


    Without eyeballing her eyes, nobody would peg her as a zombie.


    Her stiff limbs were looser too.


    Yesterday, she was like a klutz who couldn''t turn a corner without ramming a pole.


    Now, she walked almost like a normal person.


    By nightfall, when zombies were on the prowl, her moves would probably be even slicker.


    Most importantly, she could gab.


    After turning zombie, her chat skills had gone kaput, and all she could do was growl.


    She couldn''t remember the last time she''d opened her mouth to talk.


    The evolution of flesh and blood was downright spooky.


    Why not swing by the warehouse and chow down on the leftovers while they were still warm?


    Billy Jean was a gal of action.


    "Where you off to?" Michael Joke asked.


    "Waste not, want not. Hang tight for a sec. I''m gonna hit the warehouse and finish off the guy from before."


    "No can do," Michael Joke said.


    Billy Jean stopped in her tracks, befuddled.


    "Did you scarf it down?"


    Michael Joke:!!!


    To keep Billy Jean from spouting more gross stuff, Michael Joke fished something out of his spatial ring and chucked it to her.


    Billy Jean caught it.


    It was warm.


    A blood bag.


    "Here! The one from before."


    "You bagged it?"


    "Yeah, I snagged about a dozen. Saves you from eyeing my veins all the time."


    Billy Jean was touched.


    Oh my stars, the "backup" even stocked up for her.


    How could a boss not dig such a thoughtful "backup"?


    "I''ve decided. From now on, I''ll sip Michael Joke''s blood once a day. I can''t let him feel left out by his boss."


    "!....." Michael Joke was gobsmacked.


    Was she even speaking English?


    Michael Joke yanked Brian''s crystal core and plopped it next to the one from the warehouse.


    If zombies powered up on flesh and blood, humans juiced up on these crystal cores, sucking in their energy to get stronger.


    In this cutthroat apocalypse, whether you were human or zombie, if you weren''t tough, you were toast.


    Clearly, Michael Joke was the top dog.


    After plucking Brian''s crystal core, Michael Joke thought for a sec and whipped out a bone-cutting knife from his spatial ring.


    "Michael , whatcha doing with that blade?"


    Billy Jean asked, slurping from the blood bag.


    "Which part you fancy?"


    Michael Joke asked, dead serious.


    Billy Jean glared at him.


    "You think I''ll spray blood all over you?"


    "Not your cup of tea?"


    "Like you? I''d rather chop you into bits, and then maybe I''d consider it."


    "I''m squeaky clean, smell like a rose, and I bet I''d taste great sliced up."


    Billy Jean''s eyes bugged out as she stared at Michael Joke like he was the devil incarnate.


    "Are you for real?"


    "Wouldn''t have asked if I wasn''t,"


    Michael Joke replied, nonchalant as ever.


    Billy Jean: !


    When did Michael Joke turn into a comedian?


    "Since we''re here and you need duds anyway, go hog wild and pick some out,"


    Michael Joke said.


    "I can grab as many as I want?"


    Billy Jean''s eyes lit up like Christmas trees.


    "Yup."


    With Michael Joke''s green light, Billy Jean went on a shopping spree in the clothing section, like a pint-sized tornado tearing through a toy store.


    With Michael Joke''s spatial ring, storage was the least of her worries.


    After packing up the clothes, she happily shimmied out of her blood-splattered dress and slipped into a new one.


    Looking young and fresh, she slapped on a pair of sunglasses to hide her cloudy eyes.


    To a passerby, she looked like a regular gal out shopping, not a zombie.


    She hadn''t pampered herself in ages, what with all the self-neglect and decay.


    Starting today, the beauty Jean was back in business.


    "Boom..."


    One second, Billy Jean was strutting her stuff; the next, she tripped over a scrap of clothing and ate dirt.


    "Phew."


    Billy Jean stared at the two front teeth in her palm.


    "Boohoo... Michael Joke, my teeth are MIA again."


    Billy Jean looked up at Michael Joke, her mouth a gaping hole where her front teeth used to be, and whined.


    Michael Joke tripped over his own feet, quickly grabbing something to steady himself.


    "Boohoo... Michael Joke, chop-chop and slit your wrist. I''ll grow my teeth back after I guzzle."


    "Crash..."


    Something toppled over and chaos reigned.


    Billy Jean:???

 20.The Ride Got Jacked

    In the end, Billy Jean didn''t get a taste of Michael Joke''s blood.


    She slurped down another bag of the red stuff and her teeth grew back.


    All in all, it''d been a heck of a productive day.


    Billy Jean trailed after Michael Joke out of the mall, feeling pretty pleased with herself and ready to hit the road home.


    But lo and behold, the military vehicle they''d parked right outside was MIA.


    ¡°Michael Joke, where''s the car? Didn''t you park it here?¡±


    Billy Jean was gobsmacked.


    ¡°Pretty obvious, isn''t it? It got stolen.¡±


    Michael Joke''s face was as dark as a storm cloud.


    There were a bazillion abandoned cars littering the road, but the thief had zeroed in on his.


    Guess the thief had some taste.


    His car was tricked out, with top-notch performance, safety features, and anti-theft gizmos.


    But somehow, the crook still managed to make off with it.


    So this thief had to be no ordinary Joe.


    Probably a superpower, to boot.


    ¡°Then what''s the plan? How do we track down the thief?¡±


    Just when the two were scratching their heads, a Zompige flapped over and landed on Billy Jean''s shoulder.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Hey there, friend. Long time no see."


    Billy Jean craned her neck and saw it was Zompige, the one who''d cut her loose.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Scram. I''m not in the mood to shoot the breeze with you right now."


    ¡°Coo¡­ Well, lemme take a wild guess. Did someone swipe your car and now you''re in a funk?"


    Billy Jean eyeballed it in shock.


    ¡°Roar¡­ How''d you know that?"


    After a second of slow-motion thinking, she glared at it, fit to be tied.


    ¡°Roar¡­ You stole it, didn''t you? Fess up!"


    The Zompige lifted a wing and bonked itself on the head.


    Unbelievable! What was she thinking?


    This was her first zombie pal.


    No matter how ditzy she was, it had to grin and bear it.


    ¡°Coo¡­ I know which way the car thief skedaddled. I can lead you to the perp."


    Billy Jean''s face lit up like a Christmas tree.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Zompige, you''re a gem. I''m over the moon to have you as a friend."


    Zompige:??


    That''s not what you were hollering a minute ago.


    Billy Jean couldn''t wait to spill the beans to Michael Joke.


    ¡°Michael Joke, great news¡­¡±


    Michael Joke cut her off at the pass.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°I heard. No time to waste. Let the Zompige show us the way.¡±


    Billy Jean was flabbergasted.


    Then she looked at Michael Joke with a pained expression, like she was about to burst into tears.


    ¡°When did it happen?¡±


    Michael Joke was stumped by her question.


    ¡°When did what happen?¡±


    ¡°You turned into a zombie. I''m so sorry. I didn''t even notice. You must be hurting on the inside.¡±


    Billy Jean was drowning in guilt.


    She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve and blew her nose like a foghorn.


    Michael Joke:??


    Zompige:??


    The more Billy Jean thought about it, the sadder she got.


    She threw her arms around Michael Joke and let the waterworks flow.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­ My food stash! I''m so pitiful. I finally found a food stash, and now you''ve gone and joined the undead. It''s a tragedy.¡±


    At first, Michael Joke was a bit touched.


    But when he heard her crazy thought process, he was fit to be tied.


    ¡°Okay, knock it off with the crying. You sound like a pig at the slaughterhouse. I didn''t turn into a zombie.¡±


    Billy Jean snapped her head up from his arms so fast you''d think it was on a spring.


    There wasn''t a single tear on her face.


    ¡°What? You didn''t turn into a zombie? Then how could you understand what Zompige and I were yapping in zombie-speak?¡±


    Michael Joke pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.


    ¡°I don''t understand your so-called zombie language. I took a wild guess from your expressions. You wear your heart on your sleeve.¡±


    Billy Jean shoved Michael Joke away, hot under the collar.


    ¡°You jerk. You made me cry. You hurt my feelings.¡±


    ¡°It''s because you''re bummed that your food stash has become one of your kind and you can''t suck blood anymore, right?¡±


    Michael Joke sneered.


    ¡°You¡­ you¡­ what are you talking about?¡±


    Billy Jean played dumb.


    Michael Joke glared at Billy Jean, his face as red as a beet.


    ¡°Sometimes I really wanna wring your neck.¡±


    Billy Jean batted her innocent eyes.


    She was just a mindless walking corpse.


    She didn''t understand human gab.


    The Zompige flew up front, playing tour guide.


    Michael Joke hopped on a motorcycle with Billy Jean on the back.


    Abandoned, dusty jalopies and zombies milling around like lost sheep were everywhere you looked.


    The whole city was like a ghost town.


    Weeds were popping up through the cracks in the pavement, and moss was taking over the floor tiles.


    Shop signs on either side of the street had toppled over, and broken glass was scattered all over like confetti.


    Everything looked like it''d been through the wringer and left for dead.


    The motorcycle tore through the streets like a bat out of hell, kicking up a dust storm.


    The zombies on the sidewalks only saw a blur zip by and got a mouthful of dirt.


    Billy Jean was perched on the back seat, hugging Michael Joke''s waist, feeling the wind in her hair and the speed in her bones.


    But it was murder on her hairdo.


    Her hair was flying every which way, like she''d stuck her finger in a light socket.


    After about twenty minutes of hauling butt, the motorcycle cruised into a ritzy villa area and finally screeched to a halt in front of one of the mansions.


    Someone must''ve been on zombie patrol around here.


    For now, there wasn''t a single shambler in sight.


    This villa was surrounded by high-voltage fences, like a medieval fortress.


    ¡°Coo¡­ This is it. End of the line."


    Who''d have thought the Zompige would land smack dab on the power grid.


    ¡°Zizz¡­¡±


    A jolt of electricity zapped through it, and the smell of burnt feathers filled the air.


    The Zompige nosedived.


    ¡°Wha¡­t the heck!¡±


    Billy Jean blurted out, her voice as dry as the desert.


    She hopped off the motorcycle like a jackrabbit and scooped up the fallen Zompige.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Zompige, you okay? Hang in there!"


    The Zompige''s feathers were charred black, and smoke was curling out of its beak.


    ¡°Michael Joke, save it. It looks like it''s circling the drain.¡±


    Billy Jean yelled.


    Michael Joke first stashed the motorcycle in his space ring.


    He wasn''t about to make the same mistake twice.


    He strode over, all long legs and swagger, and fished a bag of blood out of his space ring and handed it to Billy Jean.


    The Zompige''s dull eyes perked up a little when it saw the blood and let out a feeble coo:


    ¡°Coo¡­ coo¡­¡±


    Who''d have thought Billy Jean would snatch the blood bag, jam it in her mouth, and start chugging.


    Zompige:??


    Isn''t that for me?


    Michael Joke:!!


    Billy Jean was guzzling the blood, shaking the Zompige like a maraca.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­ Zompige, don''t die! Michael Joke, what are you standing there for? Save Zompige!¡±


    Zompige, who was on death''s door even if she wasn''t:


    I really owe you one.


    Michael Joke: ¡­


    He had no choice but to pull another blood bag from his space ring and hand it to Billy Jean.


    ¡°Here¡­¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    Before Michael Joke could get a word in edgewise, Billy Jean cut him off.


    She spat out the empty blood bag and was about to stuff the new one in her mouth.


    Michael Joke shot out a hand and stopped her dead in her tracks.


    ¡°This is for the Zompige.¡±


    The Zompige looked at Michael Joke like he was Santa Claus.


    There were still good guys in the world.


    With the blood bag just inches from her lips but out of reach, Billy Jean immediately puckered up and gave Michael Joke the puppy-dog eyes.


    ¡°Sniff¡­ I''m starving. I could eat a horse.¡±


    The Zompige was praying Michael Joke would yank the blood bag away from Billy Jean and hand it to it.


    But the next second, it saw Michael Jope pull his hand back.


    ¡°Drink slowly. Is one bag enough?¡±


    Zompige:!!


    It really hated people with no backbone.

 21.The Lady in the Cheongsam

    In the end, Billy Jean guzzled down five bags of blood, and the Zompige got one.


    A pretty fair split, if you ask me.


    The Zompige had never tasted anything so scrumptious before.


    After slurping it up, it was raring to go.


    It made up its mind to hitch its wagon to its friend''s star, follow her around, and live the high life.


    Like they say, even fools get lucky sometimes.


    Judging by its friend''s smarts, there were still plenty of good things in store.


    ¡°Coo¡­ You two hang tight. I''ll scoot in and scope out the scene."


    The Zompige was all fired up.


    Keeping in mind that if it got banged up, there''d still be blood to chug, it wasn''t too worried.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Then go. But be sneaky. I''ll even ring the doorbell for you."


    Michael Joke jumped in quick.


    ¡°Hold up a sec¡­¡±


    The Zompige froze.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Wait a¡­"


    ¡°Ding-dong, ding-dong¡­¡±


    The second the doorbell rang, the girl and the bird were rooted to the spot.


    What happened to playing it cool?


    Before long, there was some rustling inside.


    Sounded like someone was making their way over.


    Michael Joke straightened Billy Jean''s sunglasses and yanked her behind him.


    ¡°Zip it. Stay put and let me handle this. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    Billy Jean nodded like a bobble-head.


    Michael Joke shot a look at the Zompige.


    It got the message and flapped off.


    Michael Joke tuned his ears into the footsteps inside.


    There were a bunch of them.


    Not knowing what kind of firepower they were packing, he wasn''t about to go guns blazing if he could help it.


    The door swung open.


    Before Michael Joke could get a word out, ¡°whoosh,¡± a dozen guns were pointed right at them.


    Michael Joke:!!


    Billy Jean had never been in such a hairy situation.


    She was so spooked she threw her hands up like she was surrendering.


    ¡°Michael , put your hands up! You wanna get shot?¡±


    Only then did Michael Joke slowly raise his mitts.


    ¡°Step inside. And don''t try anything funny.¡±


    The big, burly bruiser up front barked.


    Michael Joke glanced back at Billy Jean.


    Billy Jean nodded.


    Then, with their hands in the air, they shuffled into the villa like two meek lambs, guns trained on them.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The door slammed shut.


    The Zompige, perched on a telephone pole, had a front-row seat to the whole fiasco and was pacing like a caged tiger.


    ¡°Coo¡­ We''re toast. We''re done for¡­"


    It didn''t know what those things in their hands were, but it knew one thing: if you took a bullet to the head, you were a goner.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    It''d seen plenty of zombies and humans bite the dust that way.


    ¡°Coo¡­ No way. I gotta round up some backup to save my friend. She''s my first zombie pal. I can''t let her go out like this."


    The Zompige spread its wings and took off.


    Michael Joke and Billy Jean strolled through the villa courtyard and spotted their military vehicle parked there.


    Guess the Zompige hadn''t led them astray.


    But they were in the dark about why these guys had made such a ruckus and hauled them in without so much as a ¡°by your leave.¡±


    One thing was for sure, it wasn''t to offer them tea and crumpets.


    ¡°Have a cuppa, you two.¡±


    Two steaming mugs of tea were plunked down in front of Michael Joke and Billy Jean.


    Michael Joke:!!


    Billy Jean:!!


    ¡°Our young lady will be here in a jiffy. Sit tight and wait a spell.¡±


    The tough, burly bruiser stepped aside and clammed up.


    Michael Joke gave the villa interior the once-over.


    It was decked out like a palace.


    There were at least ten guards posted everywhere, so security was tighter than a drum.


    But here''s the kicker: not a single woman in sight.


    Even the servants scurrying about, the ones fetching tea and water, were all men.


    Could it be the young lady had a thing against the fairer sex?


    Just then, the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed down the staircase.


    ¡°Click¡­ click¡­¡±


    Then every man in the room dipped their heads in the direction of the middle of the stairs and said, in hushed, respectful tones,


    ¡°Young lady.¡±


    It was like a scene straight out of a gangster movie, when the underlings pay their respects to the big boss''s dame.


    Pretty slick.


    Michael Joke and Billy Jean craned their necks and saw a stunner, about twenty-seven or -eight, with a figure that could stop traffic.


    She was rocking a dark green embroidered cheongsam, and every move she made was pure elegance personified.


    Facing this bombshell, Michael Joke''s eyes didn''t so much as twitch.


    He might as well have been looking at a block of wood.


    Billy Jean, on the other hand, couldn''t take her eyes off the woman''s face.


    There was a glimmer of doubt in her eyes.


    The cheongsam-clad lady sashayed down the stairs and made a beeline for the sofa.


    Then she perched herself across from Michael Joke and Billy Jean, as graceful as a swan.


    With a demure smile on her face, she didn''t seem the least bit threatening.


    In fact, she was downright charming.


    Billy Jean wrinkled her nose ever so slightly.


    When the woman sat down, she caught a whiff of something familiar.


    But when she sniffed again, it was gone.


    She kept her eyes glued to the woman''s pretty face, convinced something was off.


    ¡°It''s like she''s wearing a mask or something.¡±


    Billy Jean mumbled under her breath.


    Michael Joke, sitting beside her, narrowed his eyes.


    At that moment, the cheongsam lady''s dulcet tones filled the air:


    ¡°I saw you two ringing the bell and thought I''d invite you in. My boys can be a bit overzealous. Hope you''ll forgive the rough welcome.¡±


    When she spoke, Billy Jean''s suspicions grew.


    It was like her face was a mask.


    The skin didn''t move, but the muscles underneath did.


    ¡°It''s we who should apologize for barging in. You''re very kind to overlook it. Thank you, Miss.¡±


    Michael Joke said, smooth as silk.


    He was like a blue-blooded aristocrat, all charm and grace.


    Paired with his drop-dead gorgeous face, he was impossible to ignore.


    The cheongsam lady beamed.


    ¡°Guests are always welcome. No need to apologize. I''m Kelly, the lady of the manor. Welcome.¡±


    ¡°Hello, I''m Michael Joke, and this is Billy Jean.¡±


    ¡°Then who are you¡­¡±


    Kelly gave them the once-over.


    Michael Joke was about to speak when Billy Jean butted in.


    ¡°Sis¡­ ter.¡± She croaked.


    Michael Joke''s face darkened a shade, but he kept mum.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Kelly smiled and said,


    ¡°I thought you two were an item.¡±


    ¡°Miss Joke, is the light too harsh? Shall I have someone dim it?¡±


    Kelly asked, all concern.


    She was eyeballing the sunglasses on Billy Jean''s face, and something flickered in her eyes.


    ¡°Miss Kelly, my sister''s blind. She''s self-conscious about it, so she wears the shades.¡± Michael Joke said.


    Billy Jean kept a smile plastered on her face, but inside she was fuming:


    ¡°Michael , you jerk. You couldn''t come up with a better lie? I''m a knockout. Who''d buy that?¡±


    ¡°I don''t believe it. Unless you take them off and let me see.¡±


    A young stud walked in from outside the villa and said, loud and clear.


    Billy Jean adjusted her sunglasses and played it cool, but inside she was seething:


    ¡°Michael , see? I told you. I''m a babe. No one''s gonna believe it. Now look what you''ve gotten us into.¡±


    The young buck who walked in was about twenty-five.


    One of his arms was a shiny metal prosthetic.


    He was easy on the eyes, but there were dark circles under his eyes, a dead giveaway that he''d been burning the candle at both ends.


    He plopped down next to Kelly and draped his arm around her waist, all lovey-dovey.


    ¡°Kelly, did you see the ride in the yard? Top-notch defense, performance, and safety. I snagged it just for you. You''ll be cruising in style and safety.¡±


    ¡°You''re so sweet.¡±Kelly nodded, beaming.


    ¡°That poor schmuck who owned it must''ve been gobsmacked when he saw it was gone. I swiped a ride with primo anti-theft tech like it was nothing. Haha¡­¡±


    The young man threw his head back and laughed.


    He had no clue the ¡°poor schmuck¡± was sitting right across from him.


    Michael Joke''s face was as red as a beet.


    Hehe! Very funny.


    No wonder he''d made off with his car so easily.


    So he was a metal-attribute superpower.


    Sensing Michael Joke''s glare, the young man sneered at Kelly:


    ¡°Where''d you dig up these losers? They''re rude as hell. Strutting around in shades like they own the place. I bet they''re con artists.¡±


    When he spoke, his gaze swept over Michael Joke and Billy Jean.


    Especially when he saw Michael Joke''s movie-star looks, his face soured.


    ¡°Albert, be nice to our guests. Apologize.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I''ll eat crow.¡±


    Albert eyeballed Michael Joke and Billy Jean.


    ¡°I''m sorr¡­¡±


    Before he could finish, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his metal arm shot out at Billy Jean''s sunglasses.


    Michael Joke''s face turned to ice.


    He moved like lightning and blocked the metal arm.


    Billy Jean watched the metal arm inches from her face and didn''t bat an eyelid, like she really was blind.


    ¡°This guy''s got a strange way of saying sorry.¡±


    Michael Joke sneered and dropped the nice-guy act.


    Lightning crackled in his palm and zapped into the metal arm.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    Albert yelped in pain and yanked his arm back.


    Sparks danced across the metal arm.


    ¡°A thunder-attribute superpower.¡±


    He gasped.

 22.Can’t Take Care of Herself

    When Kelly heard ¡°thunder-attribute superpower,¡± a glimmer sparked in her eyes.


    She then hauled off and slapped Albert right across the face,


    ¡°Slap¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been too soft on you. You¡¯re running wild. Get out.¡±


    Albert clutched his cheek, looking like a kicked puppy, like he couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d smacked him.


    ¡°Kelly¡­¡±


    ¡°Out!¡±


    Kelly barked, a flash of green light in her eyes.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Green light filled Albert¡¯s eyes, and all his feelings fizzled out.


    He went numb and shuffled away, head down.


    Michael Joke watched in silence, something churning in his eyes.


    ¡°Sorry. My guys can be a bit thick-headed. Miss Joke, you okay?¡±


    Kelly smiled sweetly, a whole different ballgame from a second ago.


    Billy Jean shook her head.


    To throw Kelly off the scent, she whipped off her sunglasses, showing a pair of all-white eyes.


    She could spin her head 360, so these peepers were no biggie.


    If she didn¡¯t need blood, she could even pop them out and pop them back in like a pro.


    Kelly¡¯s hand clenched tight.


    She wasn¡¯t spooked by Billy Jean¡¯s eyes.


    Instead, she was locked onto Billy Jean¡¯s drop-dead gorgeous face, now in full view, her eyes filled with zeal.


    She¡¯d found it, the face she¡¯d been dreaming of.


    A creepy grin curled Kelly¡¯s lips, making her look like a villain straight out of a horror flick.


    ¡°Damn! Why does this dame look even scarier than me, a zombie?¡±


    Billy Jean rubbed the goosebumps on her arms.


    Michael Joke eyed Kelly, his dark eyes gleaming.


    ¡°We¡¯ve overstayed our welcome. Had the tea. We¡¯ll shove off now.¡±


    Michael Joke was set on tugging Billy Jean out of there.


    Facing an unknown threat, he wasn¡¯t about to put her in the line of fire.


    Kelly stood up.


    By now, she was back to her elegant, gentle self.


    ¡°Hold up. Dinner¡¯s ready. It¡¯s nothing fancy. Have a bite before you go.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°No, thanks.¡±


    Michael Joke was dead set on leaving with Billy Jean.


    ¡°Click¡­¡±


    A dozen guns were trained on them again.


    Michael Joke, Billy Jean: ¡­


    The big bruiser hollered,


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear the lady?¡±


    ¡°Panther, don¡¯t be rude to our guests.¡±


    Kelly faked a scolding, but she didn¡¯t tell the guy to stand down.


    Michael Joke and Billy Jean could see right through it.


    Seemed like once they were in the lion¡¯s den, they weren¡¯t getting out unless they wiped the whole crew out.


    Well, they¡¯d play along and see what these yahoos were up to.


    ¡°Since Miss is so bent on us staying for dinner and it¡¯d be rude to say no, we¡¯ll take you up on it, Miss.¡±


    Hearing that, Kelly sashayed over and looped her arm through Billy Jean¡¯s like they were best buds, all smiles.


    ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure. Been ages since we had any ladies around. I¡¯m over the moon to see you, Miss Joke.¡±


    The second Kelly got close, Billy Jean scrunched up her nose.


    This time, she caught that familiar stench again.


    That smell only came from zombies that had been chowing down on flesh and blood for ages.


    But Billy Jean could tell Kelly wasn¡¯t a zombie.


    So there was only one explanation. She¡­


    ¡°Miss, dinner¡¯s served. You can dig in.¡±


    The servant said, polite as can be.


    ¡°Okay, scram.¡±


    Kelly, still latched onto Billy Jean¡¯s arm, led the way to the dining room and said, real patient-like,


    ¡°Later, you gotta try the rare steak. It¡¯s melt-in-your-mouth tender and juicy. One bite and you¡¯ll be hooked.¡±


    When they hit the dining room, Billy Jean saw the picture-perfect, blood-dripping steaks on the table.


    A wave of nausea hit her like a ton of bricks.


    No matter how nice the plate looked or how neatly the steak was sliced, that smell was a dead giveaway.


    Michael Joke caught her grimace and shot her a questioning look.


    Billy Jean mouthed something.


    Michael Joke got it and his face clouded over.


    Things were probably way more tangled than he thought.


    ¡°Come on, sit. Don¡¯t be shy.¡±


    Kelly urged them to park it.


    Michael Joke quickly masked his feelings and said, calm as a cucumber,


    ¡°Miss Kelly, sorry. Forgot to mention we¡¯re vegetarians.¡±


    Billy Jean was a pro at keeping a poker face.


    With her shades on, it was even tougher to read her.


    Kelly didn¡¯t push it. Understandingly, she said,


    ¡°That¡¯s a bummer. Since you don¡¯t do meat, I¡¯ll have someone whip up some noodles.¡±


    She was so understanding, so sweet, with that pretty face.


    Anyone else would be falling all over her.


    But to Billy Jean and Michael Joke, all they saw was how deep she was burying the truth and how scary she was.


    ¡°Miss Kelly, don¡¯t go to any trouble. We¡¯re beat. Could you set us up with a room to crash in?¡±


    Michael Joke knew full well they weren¡¯t getting out of there.


    So it was better to hunker down and make the enemy let their guard down.


    Kelly seemed pleased and nodded, beaming.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    She then turned to the crew below and said,


    ¡°Panther, show our guests to the guest room.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss.¡±


    Panther dipped his head.


    ¡°Follow me.¡±


    Michael Joke and Billy Jean tailed Panther up to the second floor and stopped at a door.


    ¡°This one¡¯s for you.¡±


    Panther pointed at Michael Joke and then said to Billy Jean,


    ¡°Yours is over there. Come with me.¡±


    Michael Joke snagged Billy Jean.


    ¡°We¡¯ll share. My sister¡¯s blind and can¡¯t fend for herself. I gotta be there to look after her.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    Before Panther could finish, Michael Joke yanked Billy Jean into the room and slammed the door.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    Panther: ¡­


    Inside the room.


    ¡°You said who can¡¯t take care of themselves? You¡¯re the one who can¡¯t take care of yourself, you jerk.¡±


    Billy Jean ditched her poker face and went full-on ferocious, grabbing Michael Joke¡¯s neck and shaking him like a rag-doll.


    Michael Joke held up his hands, letting her blow off steam.


    ¡°Okay, Billy Jean. I never knew you were so touchy. It was just an excuse. Is it really worth getting all riled up?¡±


    ¡°You said I was blind. I bit my tongue. Now you say I can¡¯t take care of myself. Don¡¯t I have any pride?¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s fuse was lit.


    ¡°Okay, firecracker. Instead of stewing over your pride, you¡¯d better focus on our mess.¡±


    Michael Joke reached out and tousled her hair.


    Billy Jean swatted his hand away and said, nonchalantly,


    ¡°If anyone should sweat it, it¡¯s you. It¡¯s not my problem. I¡¯m already six feet under.¡±


    ¡°If I die, your food supply dries up. You really don¡¯t care?¡±


    Michael Joke said offhandedly.


    Billy Jean froze.


    Losing her food source was unthinkable.


    She rolled up her sleeves, baring her teeth and claws, ready to bust out.


    ¡°Screw it! Never mind what they¡¯re plotting. I¡¯m gonna wipe them out and make them wish they¡¯d never been born.¡±

 23.From Dove Pal to Rat Buddy

    Michael Joke was stuck between a chuckle and a groan.


    He wasn''t sure if he should be tickled that Billy Jean seemed to give a hoot about him or miffed that she mainly saw him as walking, talking grub.


    With a lazy stretch, he snagged the back of her collar.


    Billy Jean, who was just about to wrap her fingers around the doorknob, was yanked back in a flash.


    "Why you stoppin'' me? I gotta go out there and chow down on them."


    "If you barge out like that, you wanna end up lookin'' like Swiss cheese?"


    At the mention of being "turned into Swiss cheese,"


    Billy Jean''s fire fizzled out like a wet match.


    "So what''s the plan?"


    Just then, a big, beady-eyed rat with a face that could curdle milk, feeling its turf had been trespassed,


    suddenly shot out of a hole in the corner and made a beeline for Michael Joke''s foot.


    Michael Joke smooshed the zombie rat under his shoe without breaking a sweat.


    "Squeak..."


    The zombie rat let out a screech that could wake the dead.


    "Not stayin'' in your hole, comin'' out to stir up trouble,"


    Michael Joke grumbled, about to grind the rat into dust.


    "Wait." Billy Jean stopped him.


    "I wanna grill it for some info."


    Michael Joke couldn''t for the life of him figure out what she could possibly want from a rat, but he played along and eased up.


    Billy Jean crouched down, eyeballed the rat pinned under the shoe, and tried to make nice.


    "Roar...Rat buddy, I got some questions. You spill the beans, we''ll let you skedaddle. Deal?"


    "Squeak...What you wanna know?"


    The zombie rat, dumb as a post, took its fellow critter at face value.


    Since the rat was game, Billy Jean rolled with it.


    She nudged Michael Joke''s foot,


    "Michael , let my rat pal go. Now."


    Michael Joke looked at Billy Jean like she''d lost her marbles¡ªrat pal?


    First, there was a pigeon pal, and now a rat buddy.


    What kind of wacky social club did she have?


    Once freed, the rat hightailed it from Michael Joke and dove back into its hole.


    "Look at you, scarin'' my rat pal half to death."


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    Billy Jean scolded.


    Michael Joke looked like a kicked puppy: Me? Scary?


    Billy Jean sidled up to the hole and called down,


    "Roar..."


    "Rat pal, come on out. Don''t be a scaredy-cat. I got your back."


    The rat poked its head out, cautious as a cat burglar.


    "Squeak...What you wanna know?"


    " Roar ...What''s the skinny here? Cough up everything you know."


    "Squeak..."


    "¡­¡­"


    Billy Jean was stumped.


    "Roar...You''re talkin'' gibberish. I can''t make heads or tails of it. Can you spit it out straight?"


    "Squeak..."


    Oh my stars!


    Billy Jean slapped her forehead, her head throbbing, still no wiser.


    The rat, peeved that Billy Jean couldn''t understand its rat-talk, chomped down on her shoelace and tugged, trying to lead the way.


    "Michael , rat pal says it''ll take us to the goods. What do you think?"


    Billy Jean asked Michael Joke.


    Michael Joke''s brow furrowed.


    "We can''t go waltzing out there. We''re sittin'' ducks. They''ll spot us the second we leave the room."


    The rat seemed to get it and scurried under the bed, beckoning to Billy Jean:


    "Squeak...Over here."


    Billy Jean peeked under the bed and saw a gaping hole.


    The rim was scored with claw marks and smeared with old, dried blood.


    " Roar ...You dig this?"


    "Squeak...Nope, it was here when I moved in. Maybe some other rats were the landscapers."


    " Roar ...So where''s it lead?"


    "Squeak...Anywhere you wanna go in this villa."


    The rat had done its homework.


    Billy Jean''s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.


    " Roar ...Well, butter my biscuits. This is like a gift from the heavens."


    She waved Michael Joke over.


    "Come on, there''s a secret passage here."


    "Billy , hold your horses..."


    Michael Joke didn''t have time to rein her in.


    Billy Jean had already wriggled into the hole after the rat.


    He eyeballed the big hole under the bed.


    It was wide enough for a person to shimmy through¡ªno way a rat dug this.


    As for what it really was, his gut told him it wasn''t all sunshine and roses, and whatever it was might still be lurking in there.


    Michael Joke''s dark eyes narrowed to slits.


    Since Billy Jean had already taken the plunge, he had no choice but to follow, even if he smelled trouble.


    Cold and stinky as a sewer.


    That was the smell of the tunnel.


    Even as a zombie, Billy Jean thought it was colder than a witch''s tit, and the stink nearly made her hurl.


    Hearing the scuffle behind her, she knew Michael Joke was on her heels.


    If she was having a tough time, she could only imagine how much worse it was for Michael Joke, with his germaphobe ways.


    "Michael , you holdin'' up okay?"


    Michael Joke''s voice came from behind, tight with exasperation.


    "Billy , ever since I crossed paths with you, it''s been one headache after another."


    Hearing the usually cool-as-a-cucumber Michael Joke let loose with a curse, Billy Jean could tell he was fit to be tied.


    She felt a twinge of pity for a second before picking up the pace.


    The tunnel seemed to go on forever.


    Luckily, it wasn''t long before a glimmer of light peeked through.


    "Michael , hang tight, I see light up ahead."


    Not only was there light, but there were also crashes and bangs coming from above¡ªsounded like someone was having a tantrum and trashing the place.


    Billy Jean moved like a shadow, inching to the edge of the hole.


    Light streamed in as she peeked out.


    Like the hole they''d entered through, this one was under a bed too.


    Clearly, they''d wormed their way from one room to another.


    There was someone in the room.


    Through the crack under the bed, they could see a pair of feet pacing like a caged tiger.


    The floor was littered with broken junk¡ªit was obvious the person was seeing red.


    By this time, Michael Joke had caught up, and the two of them, like prairie dogs on high alert, cautiously poked their heads out.


    Suddenly, a voice filled with rage filled the room¡ªit was the same voice as the golden-element ability holder from before.


    "So what if he''s a lightning-element hotshot? So what if he''s drop-dead gorgeous? Think he can steal Kelly away? I won''t stand for it."


    "Kelly loves me. She''s mine. Nobody''s takin'' her away."


    "But Kelly slapped me. She slapped me for that guy. Ahhh..."


    With a bellow that could shake the rafters, a table went flying.


    "Boom..."


    Billy Jean snorted like a bull.


    This was a lovesick fool gone off the deep end.


    Love could turn people into real nut-jobs.


    "I won''t let him go. I''ll off him. Anybody who gets in my way is toast."


    The sinister voice echoed like a death knell.


    A glimmer of bloodlust flashed in Billy Jean''s eyes.


    If he was gunning for her "food stash," she''d take him out first.


    "Michael , I''m gonna go put him out of his misery."


    Michael Joke yanked her back, pulling her into the hole.


    "A golden-element whiz kid. With your skills, you''ll just get your butt kicked and blow our cover,"


    Michael Joke Roared.


    "Then you go do it."


    Billy Jean''s tone was as casual as if she was asking him to swat a fly.


    Just smack and it''s done.

 24.Eyeing Her Ex

    Michael Joke didn''t know whether to laugh or cry because of Billy Jean.


    Seeing her goofy, spaced-out look, he just couldn''t bring himself to chew her out.


    ¡°There''s no rush to off him. Right now, the name of the game is to suss out the secrets around here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the secrets. I almost forgot.¡±


    Billy Jean whacked herself on the head.


    ¡°Michael, you''re not too shabby. You''re as sharp as me now.¡±


    Michael Joke: ¡­


    ¡°Chirp¡­ Come on, keep up."


    The zombie rat called from up front.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke grudgingly wriggled through the passage again.


    This time it took a bit longer till they saw the light.


    This time the tunnel led not under a bed but under a sofa.


    Right in front of them were a pair of high-heeled feet.


    The owner of those feet was perched on the sofa.


    Through the gap in the sofa, Billy Jean and Michael Joke could see it was the same sofa where they''d been invited for tea when they first rolled up.


    That is, the villa''s living room.


    The feet had to belong to Kelly because aside from her, they hadn''t clapped eyes on any other women in this joint.


    ¡°Today''s grub was good. Was it the same chef as a few days ago?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss.¡±


    It was Panther''s voice.


    ¡°Damn! This dame seems so twisted. If there''s no room for her in the zombie world, I''ll be the first to raise hell.¡±


    Billy Jean griped.


    Michael Joke: ¡­


    ¡°Miss, there''s one thing I don''t get. Why keep those two around? Why not just make a move?¡±


    Panther''s voice rang out.


    ¡°It''s not every day you stumble across a face you''ve been dreaming of. Naturally, I gotta keep her chipper to preserve that knockout face. I won''t let panic or fear mar it one bit.¡±


    Kelly sounded like she was in a real good mood and let out a chuckle.


    Kelly''s words left Billy Jean scratching her head, but for some reason, a shiver ran down her spine.


    For a zombie like her to get the heebie-jeebies, well, this woman had her full attention.


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    Michael Joke, standing beside her, looked deep in thought, who knew what was on his mind.


    ¡°Miss, that thunder-attribute whiz seems a bit of a handful. Will he be tough to rein in?¡±


    ¡°Don''t sweat it. He can''t wriggle out of my grasp. He''ll fall for me, hook, line, and sinker. In the end, he''ll be like the metal-attribute stud, head over heels. It''s been ages since I''ve seen such a looker. I can''t wait to sample him. He''s packing some serious superpower punch. I just wonder if he''s got the goods in the sack too. I hope he doesn''t let me down.¡±


    Billy Jean was grossed out by the woman''s raunchy talk, especially since the guy she was lusting after was right there with her.


    This feeling made her want to puke, like she''d swallowed a bucket of bugs.


    Michael Joke was not someone a pervy, ugly broad like her could lay a finger on.


    ¡°Michael, hang tight. I''ll rip this repulsive dame to shreds for you later.¡±


    Billy Jean snarled.


    Hearing Billy Jean''s words, Michael Joke''s gloomy mug brightened right up.


    The disgust in his gut vanished, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Michael Joke''s voice was so low it was like a sexy growl in Billy Jean''s ear.


    Billy Jean''s ears tingled, and she involuntarily turned her head.


    Michael Joke was something else.


    Even without seeing his face, just that voice could make a girl go weak in the knees.


    ¡°Tap¡­¡±


    Suddenly, a pebble on the tunnel edge shifted and made a noise.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke''s backs went rigid.


    ¡°What was that racket down there?¡±


    Kelly''s shrill voice cut through the air, and she scooted away from the sofa.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke saw a pair of leather shoes approaching.


    The guy dropped to his knees, put his hands on the floor, and started to lean down.


    The next second, they were about to be outed.


    At this nail-biting moment, the zombie rat made a dash for it.


    ¡°Chirp¡­¡±


    Panther jumped like he''d been stung and whipped out his gun.


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang¡­¡±


    The scrawny zombie rat was quick on its feet, dodging the bullets, and finally dove into a mouse hole in the corner.


    ¡°These blasted rats. One of these days, I''ll fumigate this joint and wipe them all out.¡±


    Kelly cussed and then clacked away on her heels.


    Panther followed suit and didn''t bother checking under the sofa.


    Billy Jean let out a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Thank goodness for Ratty. Otherwise, we''d have been toast.¡±


    Michael Joke tugged Billy Jean and slipped back into the tunnel.


    ¡°We gotta hustle. The longer we lollygag, the bigger the chance we get caught.¡±


    ¡°Mm...¡±


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke kept crawling through the never-ending passage.


    They had no clue where it led next.


    ¡°Click, click¡­ click, click¡­¡±


    Strangely enough, they could always hear the click-clack of high heels overhead.


    It seemed Kelly was strutting above while they were scuttling below, on the same path.


    When the high-heel racket stopped, a light also popped up in front of them.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke poked their heads out and saw a dressing mirror.


    Kelly was checking herself out in the mirror, making faces and griping.


    ¡°Damn that rat. It gave me a wrinkle.¡±


    Suddenly, she started peeling off her clothes.


    Billy Jean slapped her hand over Michael Joke''s eyes right away.


    ¡°Kiddo, you gotta protect your peepers out here. Don''t go gawking at things you shouldn''t. You''ll get an eye booger.¡±


    Michael Joke let Billy Jean''s cold little hand cover his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.


    As Kelly stripped down and stood naked in front of the mirror, her skin was smooth as silk and as fair as snow, and her curves were to die for.


    The next second, Billy Jean''s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and her mouth fell open.


    She stared at Kelly in shock.


    She saw Kelly reach behind her back, and with a quick slice, her skin split.


    Before you could blink, an entire piece of skin came off clean.


    Kelly, who''d been a bombshell a second ago, was now a shriveled-up, saggy old biddy.


    Her pretty face was history, replaced by a wrinkled, haggard mug.


    Among old ladies, she wouldn''t turn heads.


    Put it this way, if she hit the square dance floor, no old coot would give her a second glance.


    Yet it was this old bat who was hankering after the handsome Michael Joke.


    Thinking of this, Billy Jean felt even sicker than if she''d eaten a truckload of manure.


    That twenty-something metal-attribute stud was actually head over heels for such an old hag.


    And seeing the dark circles and puffiness under his eyes, it was clear he''d been burning the candle at both ends.


    This old dame had some voodoo charm that could make a young buck lose his marbles and go hog wild.


    Billy Jean was seeing things she''d never dreamed of.

 25.What an Eye-Opener

    ¡°Knock, knock¡­¡±


    Just then, a knock came at the door.


    Kelly went to answer it.


    The second the door swung open, she was smothered in a bear hug.


    ¡°Kelly, I love you.¡±


    Albert planted a big, sloppy kiss on Kelly, pinned her against the door, and they started going at it like two hormonal teenagers.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke, who¡¯d popped their heads out of the hole like curious prairie dogs, were gobsmacked, their eyes as wide as saucers.


    ¡°Am I better than the others? Can anyone else make you feel like I do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, you¡¯re the greatest. Give it to me.¡±


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke, having just witnessed something straight out of a bad soap opera, quickly ducked back into the hole.


    They looked at each other and puked their guts out at the same time¡­


    ¡°They¡¯re a match made in hell. They deserve each other.¡±


    Billy Jean wiped her mouth and spat.


    ¡°A handsome stud and a beautiful dame, a picture-perfect couple.¡±


    Michael Joke¡¯s face was as white as a sheet from all the puking.


    After a moment of stunned silence, they both turned their heads and hurled some more.


    Lucky for them, the lovebirds upstairs were so wrapped up in each other they didn¡¯t notice the ruckus down below.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­ Michael Joke, I wanna gouge my eyes out.¡±


    Billy Jean was freaking out.


    ¡°My eyes are on fire. I need an eye doc, stat.¡±


    Michael Joke slapped his hands over his eyes, the veins on his forehead throbbing like crazy.


    As the moaning and groaning upstairs hit a fever pitch, Billy Jean and Michael Joke hightailed it out of there.


    They probably wanted to scrub that eye-burning scene from their memories forever.


    As they delved deeper into the tunnel, Billy Jean felt a chill that could freeze the balls off a brass monkey, and the stench was enough to knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.


    Her gut told her there was something wicked this way comes.


    Just then, Billy Jean screeched to a halt, staring ahead in horror.


    Something that looked like a human, only skinned alive, was dangling upside down from the tunnel ceiling.


    Its bright red muscles were on full display, like a scene from a slasher flick.


    It seemed to be snoozing, not moving a muscle.


    Strangely, Billy Jean couldn¡¯t sense any zombie or mutant vibes from it.


    In other words, it wasn¡¯t one of the undead or a freak of nature.


    What the heck was this thing?


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Did it dig this tunnel?


    Michael Joke scrunched up his face as he eyeballed the monstrosity up ahead and mumbled two words,


    ¡°Ghost Corpse.¡±


    ¡°What? What¡¯s a ghost corpse?¡±


    Billy Jean was as confused as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.


    She¡¯d heard of zombies and regular corpses, but a ghost corpse?


    That was a new one.


    ¡°Before this poor schmuck croaked, they suffered like a dog. After death, they had so much pent-up rage they came back as a corpse. Ghost corpses are craftier than zombies and quicker on their feet.¡±


    ¡°You mean it¡¯s smarter than us zombies? That¡¯s a load of bull. We zombies are the top dogs.¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s priorities were always a little off-kilter.


    Out of nowhere, she was defending her undead brethren.


    Michael Joke: ¡­


    ¡°What now? Should we press on or turn tail and run?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you zombies were tougher? Go on up and show it who¡¯s boss!¡±


    Michael Joke said, like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll show you what we zombies are made of.¡±


    Billy Jean rolled up her sleeves and charged ahead like a bull in a china shop.


    One minute later.


    Michael Joke watched in disbelief as Billy Jean, who¡¯d been all bravado a second ago, was now slithering past the ghost corpse like a scaredy-cat, trying her damnedest not to wake it.


    She didn¡¯t so much as rustle a hair on the thing hanging upside down.


    ??


    Was this her idea of being tough?


    Well, if being a yellow-bellied coward counted as tough, then she was tougher than nails.


    ¡°Michael, come on. It¡¯s out like a light. We¡¯re good.¡±


    Billy Jean beckoned.


    Michael Joke¡¯s face went as rigid as a board.


    There was no way in hell he was crawling under that thing.


    No siree.


    One minute later.


    ¡°Michael , come on. You¡¯re almost there. Hang in there.¡±


    Michael Joke held his breath, lay on his back, and stared up at the ghost corpse.


    He inched forward on his elbows.


    He was bigger than Billy Jean, and he came dangerously close to brushing against the ghost corpse.


    Just then, the all-white eyes of the ghost corpse snapped open, and it locked eyes with Michael Joke in a stare-down that could curdle milk.


    Michael Joke¡¯s scalp prickled like he¡¯d walked through a spiderweb.


    Deciding to take the bull by the horns, he kicked upward with all his might and sent the unsuspecting ghost corpse flying.


    The ghost corpse landed a few feet away.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­¡±


    It let out a wail that was half sob, half cackle, sending shivers down everyone¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Give me back my skin. Give me back my skin¡­¡±


    The pitiful plea sounded like it was coming from the depths of hell in the narrow tunnel.


    Billy Jean was flabbergasted that the thing could talk.


    ¡°Give me back my skin.¡±


    The pitiful voice suddenly turned shrill as a banshee.


    The ghost corpse shot toward Michael Joke like a bullet, moving so fast it was like a phantom.


    Michael Joke whipped out his lightning whip and lashed at the ghost corpse.


    But the ghost corpse was faster than a greased lightning and could run up walls and across ceilings like it was nothing.


    The lightning whip couldn''t even graze it.


    Plus, the narrow tunnel had Michael Joke feeling like a fish in a barrel.


    He couldn¡¯t move an inch without bumping into something.


    Unlike the ghost corpse, this place was its home turf.


    It was as agile as a mountain goat.


    In the blink of an eye, the ghost corpse was on top of Michael Joke.


    ¡°Give me back my skin.¡±


    The sharp fingernails of the ghost corpse slashed at Michael Joke¡¯s skin.


    It looked like it wanted to flay him alive.


    At this moment, a small, pale hand grabbed the skinless hand of the ghost corpse.


    ¡°Hey¡­ sis, calm down. You¡­ are¡­ a corpse, and I¡¯m a corpse too. We¡¯re¡­ kind of¡­ family. Let¡¯s talk¡­ nicely.¡±


    Billy Jean said in a voice that was as raspy as sandpaper.


    The ghost corpse seemed to understand Billy Jean¡¯s words and went back to looking pitiful.


    ¡°Give me back my skin. Give me back my skin.¡±


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­¡±


    This crying made Billy Jean¡¯s hair stand on end and gave her goosebumps the size of golf balls.


    ¡°You¡­ tell¡­ me, who¡­ peeled¡­ your skin. We¡¯ll¡­ get justice¡­ for you.¡±


    Hearing Billy Jean¡¯s words, the ghost corpse stopped crying.


    It scampered up the wall on all fours, glanced at Billy Jean, and then crawled forward, like it was going to lead Billy Jean somewhere.


    ¡°Michael , follow.¡±


    Billy Jean turned around and said to Michael Joke.


    Then she followed the ghost corpse.


    The ghost corpse led the way, and Billy Jean and Michael Joke trailed behind.


    After about seven or eight minutes, they reached the end, but there was no sign of an exit hole.


    The ghost corpse came to a place and pushed upward with its hand.


    A large floor tile was lifted a bit, and a thin sliver of light shone through the crack.


    It didn¡¯t lift it all the way. Instead, it seemed to be checking to make sure there was no one there before fully opening it.


    A large beam of light poured down.


    The ghost corpse nimbly climbed up.


    It looked back at Billy Jean, as if asking her to come up too.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke quickly followed and climbed up.


    ¡°Crack, crack.¡±


    After being cooped up in the narrow tunnel for so long, their joints were popping like firecrackers.


    Billy Jean twisted her neck, wiggled her limbs, and scanned the area.


    But when she saw something, her pupils shrank to the size of pinheads, as if she had seen something that would make a grown man cry.

 26.Cold-Blooded and Cuckoo

    Michael Joke''s pupils shrank a smidge too.


    No doubt about it, he was just as gobsmacked.


    Before them were gory scenes straight out of a horror flick.


    Women, drenched in blood, were strung up in the air.


    Some were still clinging to life, writhing in agony.


    Moans and groans spilled from their lips, and their dangling bodies quivered like leaves in a storm.


    You could practically feel their pain.


    It wasn''t hyperbole to say they were living a nightmare on earth.


    In the corner, a grisly pile of human bones loomed.


    No wonder they hadn''t laid eyes on a single woman in the villa.


    Turned out, here, women were treated like cattle bound for the slaughterhouse.


    It was barbaric, beyond belief.


    These monsters couldn''t even pass for human.


    They were more like demons straight from the fiery pits of hell.


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­¡±


    The ghost corpse''s spine-tingling wail, part sob, part cackle, started up again.


    It circled the poor women like it was sharing in their torment.


    Michael Joke''s eyes darkened as night.


    Tiny, supercharged electric wires shot from his fingertips, zipping through the skulls of the still-breathing victims, putting them out of their misery.


    ¡°Who''d have thought that old hag was such a venomous snake and a few cards short of a full deck.¡±


    Billy Jean was revolted to her core.


    Just then, the villa''s alarm screeched to life, blaring through every nook and cranny.


    ¡°Ring, ring, ring¡­¡±


    Then a stampede of footsteps thundered their way.


    ¡°We''re busted.¡± Michael Joke said.


    The ghost corpse sprang into action, yanking up the floor tile that led to the tunnel.


    Its all-white eyes locked on Billy Jean, frantic, like it was begging her to take cover.


    Billy Jean shook her head.


    She flashed a grin and said,


    ¡°Si¡­ ster, thank¡­ you. Hang¡­ tight¡­ I''ll get even for you.¡±


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The door was bashed open like it was made of paper.


    Once again, a dozen guns were leveled at Billy Jean and Michael Joke.


    The big bad in the lead was still Panther.


    The second the door flew open, the ghost corpse scaled the ceiling like a lizard on a hot tin roof.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Nobody bothered to look up and spot it.


    ¡°Guns¡­ again. What a pain in the neck.¡±


    Billy Jean''s raspy voice was like nails on a chalkboard.


    ¡°Raise your hands and play nice. Otherwise, don''t blame our bullets for finding you.¡±


    Panther bellowed.


    If it wasn''t for the young lady''s strict orders not to mar that pretty face, he''d have given the order to fire ages ago.


    ¡°Oh¡­ I''m shaking in my boots.¡±


    Billy Jean''s smile was more of a smirk, and it sent chills down Panther''s spine.


    His gun hand started to tremble like a leaf.


    Out of nowhere, a blood-red blur dropped from above him.


    Its razor-sharp claws ripped his gun arm clean off.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    Panther howled in pain.


    His arm went flying, and blood spurted like a geyser from the stump.


    Everyone was caught off guard, frozen in shock.


    ¡°Shoot! Take down that freak!¡± Panther roared.


    Immediately, all guns zeroed in on the ghost corpse and let loose.


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang¡­¡±


    The ghost corpse was a blur, leaping and bounding around the room so fast your eyes couldn''t keep up.


    Billy Jean knew the ghost corpse was taking the heat for them.


    No way was she going to let that kindness go to waste.


    ¡°Time¡­ to chow down.¡±


    A bloodthirsty glimmer lit up Billy Jean''s eyes.


    She pounced on the crowd like a bolt of lightning.


    Her claws sliced through throats like butter, and blood sprayed everywhere.


    Michael Joke wasn''t twiddling his thumbs either.


    The electric wires dancing at his fingertips stretched out like deadly tentacles, strangling five lives in a blink.


    Bodies hit the floor with a thud.


    Panic spread like wildfire.


    The gun barrels swung from the ghost corpse to Billy Jean and Michael Joke, itching to fire.


    At the back of the pack, Panther screamed,


    ¡°Take them alive! Don''t touch that pretty face!¡±


    Billy Jean sneered,


    ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ thanks a bunch.¡±


    Then she and Michael Joke went on a rampage, cutting through the enemy like a hot knife through butter.


    The ghost corpse wasn''t one to sit on the sidelines either, popping out now and then for a sneak attack.


    With more and more bodies hitting the floor, forget capturing them alive.


    These goons couldn''t even lay a finger on Billy Jean and Michael Joke.


    Wave after wave of reinforcements charged in, but they were no match for the duo.


    Panther''s face was turning purple with rage.


    If this kept up, they''d all end up six feet under, courtesy of these two.


    He didn''t waste another second.


    ¡°Shoot! Kill them!¡±


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang¡­¡±


    Bullets rained down like hail.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke each snatched a human shield, front and back, and backed away.


    The poor suckers took the brunt of the bullets and dropped like flies.


    They ditched the bodies and ducked behind a pillar.


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang¡­¡±


    Sparks flew as bullets pinged off the pillar.


    Panther waved his arm, and his crew inched closer, surrounding the pillar.


    Just then, the lights flickered and dimmed.


    Something was blotting out the window outside.


    Everyone''s heads whipped around.


    All the color drained from their faces, and a bone-chilling dread shot up from their toes to the tops of their heads.


    ¡°Cannibal crows! It''s a horde of cannibal crows!¡±


    Someone shrieked.


    ¡°Wha¡­t the hell!¡±


    Billy Jean was caught off guard too.


    Why the heck had these nasties shown up again?


    These things were like a plague, swarming in massive numbers.


    They didn''t discriminate, munching on humans and zombies alike.


    They left a trail of terror wherever they went.


    Michael Joke''s face was as serious as a heart attack.


    He turned to Billy Jean and said,


    ¡°I''ll hold them off. You make a break for it.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ wait.¡±


    Billy Jean''s eyes widened as she stared out the window.


    Surprise and delight lit up her face.


    ¡°Wha¡­t the hell! Zompige is a badass!¡±


    Amid the swirling, dark mass of cannibal crows pecking at the window, a lone pigeon stood out like a sore thumb.


    It was perched on the back of what looked like the king of the crows, a behemoth compared to the others.


    Michael Joke was floored.


    He never expected to see a pigeon cozying up to a bunch of bloodthirsty crows.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The window shattered, and the crows poured in like a black tide.


    ¡°Ah¡­ They''re coming in!¡±


    ¡°What are you standing there for? Shoot!¡± Panther yelled.


    Instant chaos.


    Guns fired willy-nilly, spraying bullets everywhere.


    With that many crows, it was like trying to empty the ocean with a bucket.


    Already, the crows were tearing into people, their sharp beaks ripping flesh like paper.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Get away! Leave me alone¡­¡±


    ¡°Don''t come near me! Scram! All of you, scram, ah, ah¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ My eyes! Help¡­ Help me!¡±


    In the maelstrom of crows, you could see people flailing, screams ripping through the air.


    They watched helplessly as their flesh was devoured, bit by bit, until the pain was too much and they died.


    Over by Billy Jean and Michael Joke, it was like a different universe.


    Not a single crow came near them.


    The ghost corpse was getting the runaround from the crows.


    Seeing it was safe by Billy Jean and Michael Joke, it hightailed it over.


    The Zompige saw a bloody beast closing in on its friend and sprang into action.


    It ordered the king of the cannibal crows under its feet to go play bodyguard.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Mess with my friend, you''re asking for trouble."

 27.Zompige Rules the Roost

    Billy Jean saw Zompige leading a horde of cannibal crows like a battle-hardened general, charging at the ghost corpse.


    She dashed forward to put a stop to it.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Zompige, hold up! Don''t lay a finger on it. It''s my new pal."


    ¡°Coo¡­ Cease fire!"


    At the Zompige''s command, the cannibal crows screeched to a halt.


    The ghost corpse scurried behind Billy Jean, its spine-tingling wail starting up again,


    ¡°Woo-hoo¡­"


    It was shaking like a leaf.


    Billy Jean stared at Zompige, perched like a queen bee among the terrifying cannibal crows, and her eyes were filled with awe.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Zompige, I''m floored! You''re a total badass."


    The Zompige puffed out its chest, looking as proud as a peacock.


    ¡°Coo¡­ You betcha. Look at me. When my buds are in a jam, I don''t just sit on my tail feathers."


    ¡°Roar¡­ Spill the beans. How''d you wrangle these man-eating crows?"


    Billy Jean asked, her curiosity piqued.


    If she ever got caught in a crow storm again, even if she couldn''t boss them around, at least she''d know how to stay off their menu.


    The Zompige suddenly got all shy, like a schoolgirl with a crush.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Oh, it''s no biggie. Um¡­ I got cozy with their head honcho."


    Billy Jean''s jaw hit the floor. What?!


    Seeing the cannibal crow king gently fussing over Zompige''s feathers, she gave a thumbs up.


    Now that was something! She was seriously impressed.


    Michael Joke: Thank the stars I didn''t off Zompige this morning.


    Otherwise, I''d have a hornet''s nest on my hands.


    Panther was as white as a sheet from all the blood loss.


    Watching his buddies drop like flies, getting pecked to pieces by the ravenous cannibal crows and ending up as piles of bones, he panicked and made a run for it.


    Just then, a figure stepped into his path.


    ¡°Where¡­ do you think¡­ you''re going!¡±


    A raspy, gravelly voice rang out, like the Grim Reaper himself.


    ¡°Die!¡±


    Panther swung a fist the size of a bowling ball.


    Just a girl.


    Who did she think she was, trying to block his way?


    ¡°Bang¡±


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    A dainty hand caught his fist like it was nothing.


    Cold, ice-cold.


    Not the kind of warmth you''d expect from a human.


    Billy Jean pushed her shades up onto her head, locked her cloudy eyes on Panther, and flashed a chilling smirk.


    ¡°I¡­ am¡­ already six feet under.¡±


    Panther''s eyes bulged in horror.


    She was a zombie!


    A bona fide zombie!


    The next second, he let out a blood-curdling scream.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    His arm was twisted into a pretzel by Billy Jean.


    He writhed in agony, sweating bullets.


    Billy Jean whipped out an empty pen tube and jabbed it into Panther''s carotid artery.


    A fountain of blood spurted out.


    Before long, Panther was drained dry, and his body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.


    Billy Jean had the bloodstained tube in her mouth, her pupils glowing red, looking like something out of a horror flick.


    The Zompige, watching its friend''s freaky feeding ritual, thought it was the coolest thing ever.


    ¡°Caw, caw¡­ Your zombie pal is one odd duck."


    Said the cannibal crow king.


    It had feasted on at least five hundred zombies, seen God knows how many more, but never one as strange as this.


    Damn it, it even thought this zombie had a certain¡­ elegance.


    The Zompige pecked the crow king''s head.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Watch your beak. I''ll ruffle your feathers if you talk smack about my friend."


    The cannibal crow king flared up like a firecracker.


    ¡°Caw, caw¡­ You wouldn''t dare!"


    The Zompige whacked it with a wing.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Oh, you think you can sass me?"


    The cannibal crow king cowered, hugging its head with its wings.


    ¡°Caw, caw¡­ Your Highness, I''m sorry. I''ll zip my beak."


    ¡°Coo¡­ That''s what I thought. Learn to keep your yap shut¡­"


    The Zompige gave the crow king a good thrashing, feathers flying every which way.


    Billy Jean and Michael Joke, watching the domestic drama:


    Uh¡­ Dude, should we call the cops?


    The cannibal crow henchmen: Poor boss!!


    ¡°Roar¡­ Zompige, I''m leaving this in your capable hands. I''ve got some unfinished business."


    Only a few stragglers were left, still putting up a fight.


    It was just a matter of time before they were wiped out.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Roger that. Go do your thing."


    The Zompige waved its wing like it was royalty.


    Billy Jean nodded.


    She beckoned to the ghost corpse, still whimpering pitifully.


    ¡°Sister, come here. I''ll take you¡­ to find¡­ the creep who skinned you.¡±


    Feeding had done wonders for her voice.


    She was sounding more and more human.


    She reckoned it wouldn''t be long before she could gab like a regular person.


    Billy Jean took the ghost corpse and tagged along with Michael Joke to track down that repulsive old hag.


    When the alarm went off, Kelly and Albert were in the throes of passion.


    Besides, she was dead sure Panther would handle things, so she didn''t have to lift a finger.


    So she''d been holed up in the bedroom with Albert, having the time of her life.


    Afterwards.


    Albert cuddled Kelly like she was his teddy bear, unable to keep his hands off her silky smooth skin.


    She was still drop-dead gorgeous.


    With doe eyes as innocent as a fawn''s, a pert little nose, cherry-red lips, and an oval face that could launch a thousand ships, she was as cute as a button.


    ¡°Kelly, I love you.¡±


    Albert had a goofy grin on his face and planted a smooch on Kelly''s wrinkled forehead.


    Not satisfied, he trailed kisses down her face.


    He smooched her droopy eyelids, her flat, wide nose, her sagging mouth corners, and finally landed a big, wet one on her lips.


    The two of them smooched for a bit before coming up for air.


    ¡°Panther should be wrapping things up. I''ll go check.¡±


    Kelly untangled herself from Albert and got up.


    Albert propped his head up on one hand and lounged on the bed.


    Seeing Kelly pick up the skin on the floor to put it on, he said,


    ¡°This skin''s a dud. I''ll pick you a better one.¡±


    After saying that, he hopped out of bed.


    His chiseled, youthful bod caught Kelly''s lustful eye in a flash.


    Haha!


    The end of the world was a freaking party.


    There were so many young, hunky guys to play with.


    In the past, those old farts had given her the cold shoulder and shot her down.


    Humph!


    She didn''t care.


    Now she had a revolving door of young studs.


    Thinking of that smoking-hot guy today, Kelly''s heart did a little flip.


    She couldn''t wait to make him swoon under her cheongsam tonight.


    Albert walked to the wardrobe and flung open the door.


    There was a whole row of skins hanging inside.


    Among the sea of skins, his hand zeroed in on one like a heat-seeking missile.


    He stroked it lovingly, like it was his long-lost love.


    He handed it to Kelly.


    ¡°The rest are all dogs. Only this one''s a diamond. It looks just like you.¡±


    Kelly looked at the skin in his hand, a flicker of something dark passing through her eyes.


    As expected¡­


    ¡°Kelly, Kelly¡­¡±


    Kelly snapped back to reality and plastered on a sweet smile.


    ¡°Okay, I''ll wear this one.¡±


    ¡°Mm, I love Kelly the most.¡±


    Albert gazed at Kelly with hearts in his eyes.

 28.Whuppin’ the Nasty Old Broad

    Kelly and Albert, sporting their new looks, strolled downstairs and were met with a dead-quiet villa.


    Had Panther not gotten the job done yet?


    ¡°Hey!¡± a raspy female voice hollered.


    Kelly and Albert swung their heads around to see Billy Jean and Michael Joke kicked back on the sofa, sipping tea like they owned the joint.


    Their laid-back vibes were enough to make you think they were home sweet home.


    Kelly and Albert¡¯s faces twitched.


    If these two could sit there as cool as cucumbers and the place was deserted, it meant Panther and his crew had bitten the dust.


    Quick as a wink, Kelly masked all her emotions and flashed a saccharine smile.


    ¡°Miss Joke, did you sleep tight?¡±


    She was still playing the part of the sweet, considerate hostess, like nothing was amiss.


    Billy Jean, eyeballing Kelly¡¯s fresh face, was revolted and let out a snort.


    ¡°Old¡­ hag, stop painting the barn red and pretending to be young. Doesn¡¯t it make you wanna hurl, wearing someone else¡¯s skin every day?¡±


    Kelly¡¯s smile froze up, then her face contorted and she screeched like a banshee.


    ¡°Who you calling an old hag?!¡±


    She had a major hate-on for being called old, and Billy Jean¡¯s jab sent her right over the edge.


    ¡°Wrinkled as a prune, saggy as a deflated balloon, and smelling like mothballs. Am I wrong, old hag?¡±


    Billy Jean taunted.


    Fuming mad, Kelly hollered,


    ¡°Ahh¡­ I¡¯ll rip your trap wide open!¡±


    ¡°You cheap tramp, asking for trouble,¡±


    Albert growled.


    Seeing his sweetheart getting pushed around, he lunged at Billy Jean without a second thought.


    His metal arm balled up into a fist and shot forward, aiming to smash Billy Jean to smithereens.


    ¡°Clang¡­¡±


    An axe met his metal fist head-on, sparks flying like the Fourth of July.


    ¡°Crunch¡­¡±


    The axe head splintered.


    The metal fist, full steam ahead, kept on coming.


    Michael Joke yanked Billy Jean to the ground, and they narrowly dodged the blow.


    A wicked glint flashed in Albert¡¯s eyes as his metal fist morphed into a sledgehammer, coming down hard on the two sprawled on the floor.


    Michael Joke, clutching Billy Jean, rolled out of harm¡¯s way.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The sledgehammer crashed into the floor, leaving a crater the size of a small pool and shattering tiles like glass.


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    Michael Joke¡¯s eyes were dark as a storm cloud, and fury crackled in them.


    He juiced up his fist with enough electricity to power a city and slammed it into the ground.


    A web of electric threads zipped towards Albert.


    Albert¡¯s face went white as a sheet as he backpedaled, but the electric threads were faster than a speeding bullet.


    Before he could blink, they¡¯d wrapped around his feet and zapped into his body.


    It was like getting hit with a bolt of lightning.


    His body jerked like a fish on a line, and foam bubbled from his mouth.


    Soon, he was out cold, stiff as a board, with the odd electric thread still twitching through him.


    Kelly¡¯s face turned uglier than a mud fence.


    She couldn¡¯t believe Albert had been taken down in one fell swoop.


    She cursed, ¡°Loser.¡±


    ¡°Old hag, if you¡¯re not happy, come get some,¡±


    Billy Jean dared her.


    Kelly¡¯s venomous gaze zeroed in on Billy Jean and Michael Joke.


    ¡°Hope you don¡¯t live to regret this,¡± she Roared.


    Her eyes suddenly lit up like green fire, and the expressions on Billy Jean and Michael Joke¡¯s faces went blank, like someone had wiped the slate clean.


    They looked like zombies, all numb and lifeless, as if their souls had been sucked right out.


    Kelly cackled like a madwoman,


    ¡°Haha¡­ Nobody escapes my soul-snatching mojo.¡±


    She strutted towards Billy Jean and Michael Joke, eyes wild with glee.


    She stroked Billy Jean¡¯s cheek like it was a prized possession.


    ¡°So pretty. This face is mine now. I¡¯ll slip into your perfect skin and keep living the high life in this apocalypse. It¡¯s an honor to be my next skin.¡±


    She then swung her gaze to Michael Joke, and her eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated lust.


    ¡°So handsome. Let me take care of you.¡±


    She puckered up and tiptoed to plant one on Michael Joke¡¯s lips.


    Albert, flat on his back, felt his heart shatter into a million pieces as he watched his beloved about to kiss another guy.


    ¡°Kelly, don¡¯t.¡±


    Just then, a shoe came out of nowhere and intercepted Kelly.


    Her lips smacked into the sole of a shoe that¡¯d stepped in God-knows-what.


    Before she could react, she was kicked to the ground and then pummeled like a punching bag.


    ¡°Fuck, I can¡¯t¡­ hold it in anymore. fuck it all...¡±


    Billy Jean cursed, throwing punches and kicks like a wild woman.


    No matter how young Kelly¡¯s skin looked, she was still an old biddy underneath, and she didn¡¯t have the strength to fight back.


    She was getting the beating of her life, wailing in pain and scrabbling around for her teeth.


    Twenty minutes later.


    Billy Jean finally stopped, sweating buckets, but still not feeling like she¡¯d gotten even.


    She snatched up a nearby chair and swung it at Kelly like a baseball bat.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The chair exploded into splinters.


    ¡°Pffft¡­¡±


    Kelly spat out a mouthful of blood and crumpled like a rag doll, barely hanging on.


    ¡°F¡­ I¡¯m¡­ beat,¡±


    Billy Jean dragged over a chair and plopped down, fanning herself like she was on fire and trying to cool off the rage boiling inside her.


    Kelly lay there, moaning and groaning, every inch of her hurting like hell.


    She couldn¡¯t wrap her head around what had gone wrong.


    Why had her soul-stealing superpower fizzled out against this chick?


    It had never let her down before.


    No matter how tough the opponent, they always caved under her spell.


    She screamed in disbelief,


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible! No way! Nobody¡¯s ever slipped through my fingers. It¡¯s the strongest!¡±


    ¡°Hehe¡­¡±


    Billy Jean gave a devilish grin.


    ¡°What a shame¡­ I¡¯m¡­ not¡­ human.¡±


    She whipped off her sunglasses, revealing eyes that glowed like hot coals, bloodthirsty and wild.


    ¡°You¡¯re a zombie,¡± Kelly squeaked in horror.


    ¡°Hehe¡­ Bingo. I gotta¡­ reward you. The reward is¡­¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s face went cold as ice, and she struck like a cobra.


    The next second, Kelly¡¯s scream ripped through the villa.


    ¡°Ahhhhhh¡­¡±


    Billy Jean looked at the pair of bloody eyeballs in her hand and smirked like a cat that got the cream.


    ¡°Reward¡­ a pair¡­ of eyeballs.¡±


    Kelly, clutching her empty eye sockets, thrashed around on the ground like a fish out of water.


    ¡°Ahh¡­ My eyes, my eyes¡­¡±


    Michael Joke watched Billy Jean with a twitch of his lips, not finding her scary at all.


    In fact, he thought she was kind of cute.


    Especially when she¡¯d just given that repulsive woman the what-for, that side of her was downright adorable.


    With her eyeballs gone, Kelly¡¯s power fizzled out, and the faint green light in Albert¡¯s eyes blinked out.


    He stared at the woman writhing on the ground, his body turning to ice, his limbs shaking like leaves, and his pupils filling up with red veins.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    His voice was shrill, full of fear, horror, and despair.


    This wasn¡¯t Kelly.


    Even though she had Kelly¡¯s face, he knew it deep down.


    He suddenly went ballistic, jumped up, and grabbed Kelly, shouting,


    ¡°Where¡¯s Kelly? What¡¯d you do with Kelly? Give her back to me¡­¡±


    Billy Jean didn¡¯t have the patience for their soap opera drama.


    ¡°To hell with both of you.¡±


    She lunged like a leopard, her claws aimed at Albert¡¯s neck to finish him off pronto.


    But just then, a blood-red blur shot out and tackled Albert to the ground.

 29.The Wails of the Ghost Corpse

    Billy Jean''s attack missed its mark, and she was taken aback when the ghost corpse suddenly leaped out to save Albert.


    The ghost corpse had just scurried in and then vanished in a flash, as if it was spooked by something.


    No matter how much she called out to it, it stayed hidden.


    But now, it had popped up on its own to rescue Albert.


    Putting two and two together, Billy Jean thought she had a hunch.


    Could it be that she was...


    ¡°Kelly.¡±


    Albert''s words confirmed her suspicion.


    Albert stared at the blood-red monster, its human skin stripped away in agony.


    His face was as white as a sheet, and his voice quivered.


    ¡°Kelly, you''re my Kelly. I''d know you anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Kelly.¡±


    He reached out a trembling hand to touch its face, but the ghost corpse snapped at his hand, and blood gushed out like a fountain.


    Albert didn''t seem to feel a thing.


    He gazed tenderly at the ghost corpse, its jaws clamped tight on his hand.


    ¡°Kelly, it''s okay. It doesn''t hurt.¡±


    ¡°Wuwuwu...¡±


    The ghost corpse let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-cry, but this time, it was filled with an overwhelming sadness.


    The ghost corpse had saved him, yet it had also torn a chunk of flesh from his hand.


    You could tell just how much hatred it held.


    The gash on Albert''s arm was so deep that the bone was showing, and the blood just kept flowing.


    Strangely, even though he was the one bleeding, he kept blubbering and apologizing to the ghost corpse.


    ¡°Kelly, I''m sorry. I''m so sorry...¡±


    The ghost corpse squeezed its eyes shut in pain, its body trembling ever so slightly, and its cries grew even more mournful and eerie.


    ¡°Wuwuwu...¡±


    Any normal person who heard that would probably have nightmares for a week straight.


    Billy Jean couldn''t help but rub at the goosebumps that had popped up on her arms.


    Just then, the ghost corpse fell silent, and its all-white eyes snapped open, locking onto Kelly, who was now blind without her eyes.


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    Kelly seemed to sense the danger.


    She started crawling away on the floor, her hands and knees scrabbling at the ground.


    She shrieked in terror,


    ¡°Don''t come near me! Stay away!¡±


    The ghost corpse''s voice suddenly rose to a scream,


    ¡°Give me back my skin!¡±


    ¡°Bang bang bang...¡±


    All the glassware nearby shattered into a million pieces.


    The ghost corpse was seething with rage.


    Kelly''s face was a mask of horror.


    She crawled as fast as she could, as if getting out of the villa would save her.


    The ghost corpse moved like lightning, leaving behind a blur.


    With two sickening ¡°clicks" Kelly''s legs were twisted at unnatural angles.


    ¡°Ahhh...¡±


    Kelly let out a scream that sounded like a pig being slaughtered.


    The ghost corpse tore off the beautiful skin from Kelly''s body, revealing her wrinkled, ugly face and sagging skin.


    Albert''s eyes widened in shock.


    Looking at the hideous old woman writhing on the ground, a wave of nausea washed over him, and he threw up violently.


    Thinking of all the nights they''d spent together, he suddenly let out a scream and gouged out his own eyes with his bare hands.


    ¡°Ahhhhh...¡±


    The two bloody eyeballs rolled across the floor.


    ¡°Fuck urmom!!¡°Billy yelped in surprise.


    This guy was one cold-blooded son of a gun.


    The ghost corpse stared at Albert, who had just blinded himself, and let out a furious roar.


    ¡°Ahhhh...¡±


    Its sharp claws ripped at Kelly''s skin like a wild animal, sending bits of flesh and blood flying everywhere.


    The ear-splitting screams went on for a solid hour.


    By now, Kelly had been reduced to a bloody mess, and every bit of skin had been peeled from her body.


    The floor was soaked in blood, and the stench of it filled the air.


    All the pain she had inflicted on others, she was now feeling tenfold.


    Only then did she realize how excruciating it was.


    It hurt so bad she wished she could just drop dead.


    It hurt so much that she regretted ever being born.


    She was now lying in a pool of blood, barely breathing, waiting for death to take her out of her misery.


    Billy Jean watched as the ghost corpse put on its own skin.


    It was a very pretty and cute girl.


    The skin really only looked right on its original owner.


    When Kelly had worn it, it had just looked all kinds of wrong.


    The ghost corpse got its skin back and returned to its former beautiful self.


    It walked over to Albert, crouched down, and hugged him.


    The familiar scent hit Albert, and his body shook like a leaf in a hurricane.


    The next second, he shoved the ghost corpse away with all his might.


    ¡°Don''t touch me. I''m filthy.¡±


    ¡°A... Albert.¡±


    The ghost corpse managed to choke out the name it had been longing to say.


    That one word shattered Albert''s defenses completely, and he broke down into a flood of tears.


    ¡°Ahhhh... Why? Why did it have to end up like this? Why...¡±


    They had been the perfect couple, so in love and happy.


    But now, it was all in ruins.


    All this time, he had thought he was with Kelly, but it had actually been the woman who had hurt her.


    ¡°Ahhhh...¡±


    The guilt and self-loathing ate away at him until he snapped and went crazy.


    ¡°Bang¡±


    A gunshot rang out.


    Albert was shot in the head and crumpled to the ground.


    He seemed to know who had pulled the trigger, and there was a hint of relief on his lips.


    Kelly caught Albert''s falling body, and the sound she made was no longer that strange laugh-cry.


    It was real, heart-breaking sobbing.


    ¡°Wuwuwu...¡±


    There was so much grief, so much sorrow.


    Tears of blood streamed down from her all-white eyes.


    Finally, she raised the gun to her own head and pulled the trigger without hesitation.


    ¡°Bang...¡±


    After the gunshot, Kelly and Albert lay there side by side, like a pair of lovebirds.


    They would now sleep for eternity in this apocalyptic world.


    Billy Jean stared at the two lifeless bodies, speechless for a long time.


    After a while, she said,


    ¡°Michael .¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I''m here.¡±


    ¡°You said, if... just now... that soul-sucking superpower... had worked on me, would our... fate be... like theirs?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Michael Joke didn''t even hesitate.


    Billy Jean curled her lips, skeptical.


    ¡°You got caught yourself... Where do you get the... confidence?¡±


    ¡°Billy , I''m not him. I wouldn''t mix up my girl. I was wide awake when that woman came at me. Even if you hadn''t stepped in, I would''ve done something.¡±


    ¡°And you''re not her. You wouldn''t have the guts to face it if you saw your lover with someone else. You''d just be a scaredy-cat, hiding and spying.¡±


    ¡°So, Billy , we''re nothing like them.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Billy Jean''s lips twitched into a small smile.

 30.She Ain’t No vampire

    ¡°Never thought¡­ this old witch¡­ would hang on for so long.¡±


    Billy Jean eyed Kelly, sprawled on the ground like a wet rag, with pure disgust.


    ¡°Just right, it¡¯s your feeding time.¡± Michael Joke said.


    Billy Jean looked at him like he¡¯d sprouted horns.


    "Ain¡¯t you scared I¡¯ll turn psycho like her after guzzling that?"


    ¡°She¡¯s a superhuman. Her mojo will do you a world of good.¡±


    "This revolting dame makes me wanna hurl just looking at her. I ain¡¯t touching it."


    After that, Billy Jean spun on her heel and marched off.


    ¡°Well¡­ what about that gold-element superhuman?¡±


    Michael Joke called out.


    "Just as unappetizing."


    Billy Jean waved him off and strutted out of the villa.


    Even as a zombie, she had her standards.


    Michael Joke watched her leave and let out a sigh that could¡¯ve blown down a house.


    Superhumans were like hens¡¯ teeth, and here he had two on a silver platter.


    In the end, like a mother hen, Michael Joke painstakingly whipped up bags of blood packs and stashed them in his space.


    The grub in there stayed fresh as a daisy and never went bad.


    Handy as heck to pull out whenever you had the munchies.


    He¡¯d thought it through.


    If Billy Jean didn¡¯t chow down, he¡¯d be the one paying the piper.


    When he finished up and stepped out of the villa, he found Billy Jean had vanished.


    He scoured every nook and cranny but came up empty-handed.


    Michael Joke¡¯s heart sank like a stone.


    At that moment, Billy Jean was airborne, being lugged along by four man-eating crows the size of eagles, each talon clamped around one of her limbs.


    Zompige and her beau were tagging along.


    Just now, Zompige said she¡¯d take Billy Jean to check out the man-eating crows¡¯ lair.


    Before Billy Jean could even holler to Michael Joke, the crows swooped in and snatched her up.


    Looking down, she could see the city in miniature, but she was in no mood to soak up the view.


    All she cared about was staying in one piece.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Four crow fellas, hang on tight. I don¡¯t wanna splat like a bug on a windshield."


    Her voice quivered like a leaf.


    ¡°Coo¡­ Pal, don¡¯t sweat it. You¡¯re safe as houses."


    No sooner had Zompige spoken than, whoosh, Billy Jean was in a nosedive.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Damn it!! Didn¡¯t you say it was safe?"


    Zompige:!!


    ¡°Ahhhh¡­¡±


    Billy Jean let out a scream that could wake the dead, like she was on a rollercoaster from hell.


    The wind whipped past her ears, sharp as knives.


    In a farm grove.


    A hunting party of three guys and a gal were spooked when they heard the scream.


    ¡°What in tarnation? Didn¡¯t the man-eating crows nab a corpse? Why¡¯s it a person?¡±


    A young fella with a crew cut blurted.


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    ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s plum strange. Man-eating crows are as brutal as they come. They¡¯re the Grim Reapers of humans and livestock. How¡¯d they let a human slide?¡±


    A tubby guy chimed in.


    ¡°Forget her. Anyhow, falling from that height, she¡¯ll be six feet under or on her last legs. What¡¯s the difference? Right, Bro.lon?¡±


    The gal with big, bouncy curls batted her eyes at a tattooed-arm fella.


    Bro.lon draped his arm around her, his hand doing the two-step on her waist.


    ¡°Haha, Cherry¡¯s right. Either way, she¡¯ll end up worm food. No difference.¡±


    The curly-haired gal nuzzled up to Bro.lon, giving him a flirty smile, proud as a peacock of her charm.


    This guy was the one she¡¯d poached from another gal.


    He was a wind superhuman and her knight in shining armor in the apocalypse.


    ¡°It¡¯s coming down.¡± The tubby guy said.


    Then, with a scream for company, a figure came crashing out of the sky.


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    A crater the size of a kiddie pool was blasted in the ground and dust went flying.


    Then the bodies of the four man-eating crows thumped down.


    Seeing the fallen figure was as still as a statue, the young fella with a crew cut said,


    ¡°Not a peep. She¡¯s dead, right?¡±


    The curly-haired gal shot him a look, like he¡¯d just said the dumbest thing ever.


    ¡°Falling from that height, it¡¯d be a miracle if she wasn¡¯t dead.¡±


    ¡°Butterball, go grab those man-eating crows. Let¡¯s skedaddle before we draw more of ¡®em.¡±


    Bro.lon was the brains of the outfit.


    ¡°Okay, boss.¡±


    Big Fat waddled over to where the man-eating crows had landed.


    Passing by the crater, he averted his eyes and hustled past.


    He didn¡¯t want to see the poor soul who¡¯d been flattened like a pancake.


    Big Fat was built like a tank.


    He could hoist two crows in one mitt and schlepped back with all four.


    ¡°We¡¯re in for a feast today.¡±


    The young fella with a crew cut was grinning like a Cheshire cat.


    Even though man-eating crows feasted on zombies, they didn¡¯t carry the zombie virus and were fair game.


    The three guys and one gal, having bagged some wild game and in high spirits, were about to vamoose.


    Suddenly, a raspy, spine-tingling voice rang out.


    ¡°I said, can you¡­ beat it?¡±


    The four of them froze like deer in headlights and slowly pivoted.


    Then their eyes popped like balloons.


    They saw a delicate white hand reach out of the crater, and then a raven-haired gal crawled out.


    The scene was ripped straight from a horror flick, like Sadako clawing her way out of the TV.


    ¡°Th¡­ that¡­¡±


    Big Fat was so scared he dropped the crows and his legs turned to jelly.


    ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ zombie¡­¡±


    The young fella with a crew cut¡¯s voice was as shaky as a Jell-O mold.


    The curly-haired gal was even more terrified and burrowed into Bro.lon¡¯s arms, shaking like a leaf.


    The only one with a shred of calm was Bro.lon.


    Maybe it was because he was a superhuman, so his nerves were tougher than steel.


    He¡¯d slain countless zombies.


    Why should he quiver at a ghost?


    Billy Jean crawled out of the crater.


    That tumble.


    Even though it hadn¡¯t cracked her skull open, her body was one step from falling apart.


    If she could feel pain, she¡¯d probably be screaming bloody murder.


    She stood up and twisted her joints, popping and cracking like firecrackers.


    She could tell her ribs were busted, her arm fractured, her femur split, and her innards¡ªheart, liver, spleen, stomach¡ªall out of whack.


    Fuck, her body she¡¯d finally patched up.


    ¡°Are you¡­ human or spook?¡±


    A terrified voice squeaked.


    Billy Jean swept the hair from her face, revealing her drop-dead gorgeous mug.


    Instantly, there was a collective gasp.


    Bro.lon even shoved the curly-haired gal out of his arms and stared at Billy Jean like she was a juicy steak.


    He wanted this dame.


    The curly-haired gal, tossed aside like yesterday¡¯s trash:??


    She peeked over, confused.


    Unlike the smelly guys who only saw Billy Jean¡¯s knockout face, she spotted Billy Jean¡¯s cloudy eyes, like they were fogged up.


    The gal screamed and jabbed a trembling finger at Billy Jean.


    ¡°She¡­ she¡¯s not human. Off with her head!¡±


    By now, the other three guys had caught sight of Billy Jean¡¯s eyes and were spooked.


    Those were zombie peepers, all right.


    But looking at Billy Jean¡¯s beauty and her cool-as-a-cucumber reaction, she didn¡¯t seem like a zombie.


    And she¡¯d just spoken.


    Which zombie could gab like that?


    ¡°Bro.lon, I don¡¯t think so. I think she¡¯s got cataracts.¡± Big Fat said.


    ¡°Right, I don¡¯t think so either. If she were a zombie, she¡¯d be foaming at the mouth and lunging at us. Why¡¯s she standing there like a statue?¡±


    The young fella with a crew cut added.


    Bro.lon was more cagey than the rest.


    He snatched up a man-eating crow, slit its throat, let the blood drip, and chucked it at Billy Jean.


    It landed at her feet.


    If she were a zombie, she¡¯d pounce on it like a wildcat.


    ¡°Are you¡­ yanking my chain¡­ me?¡±


    The raspy female voice rasped.


    Bro.lon saw Billy Jean didn¡¯t even glance at the crow and was dead sure she wasn¡¯t a zombie.


    Sure enough, Big Fat was on the money.


    She just had cataracts.


    The fire in Bro.lon¡¯s eyes blazed anew.


    So what if she had cataracts?


    As long as she was a looker.


    Looking at her waist, as slender as a willow branch, it was tantalizing.


    ¡°Beauty, I saw them crows snatch you, so I saved you. Glad you¡¯re okay.¡±


    Billy Jean eyed the tattooed-arm fella and marveled at how he could spout such baloney without batting an eye.


    She curled her lips in a scornful smirk.


    ¡°Oh! Then I¡­ should¡­ give you props.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure to be your knight in shining armor.¡±


    Bro.lon flipped his hair, thinking he was God¡¯s gift to women.


    Little did he know, in Billy Jean¡¯s eyes, he was as greasy as a used car salesman.


    ¡°Beauty, you alone? Wanna join our crew? We¡¯ll keep you safe from zombies and man-eating crows.¡±


    Hearing this, the curly-haired gal screeched,


    ¡°Bro.lon, trust me. Kill her. She¡¯s not human.¡±


    Her sixth sense was tingling.


    There was something fishy about this dame.


    ¡°Slap¡­¡±


    Bro.lon backhanded her.


    ¡°Zip it. It¡¯s not your call.¡±


    He¡¯d given her the time of day, and now she was getting too big for her britches.


    If she dared to rain on his parade again, he¡¯d knock her lights out.


    The curly-haired gal covered her swollen cheek and bawled like a baby.


    She glared at Billy Jean with daggers in her eyes.


    It was all this dame¡¯s fault.


    Otherwise, why would she have gotten slapped?


    She¡¯d expose her, come hell or high water.


    At this time, she saw Billy Jean give her a chilling grin.


    Then she heard Billy Jean say calmly,


    ¡°Okay, if¡­ you off her, I¡¯ll join¡­ you.¡±

 31.The Sting of Pain

    The curly-haired gal¡¯s face went white as a sheet, and she screeched,


    ¡°You wicked witch! I¡¯m telling you, Bro.lon won¡¯t¡­ Um¡­¡±


    All of a sudden, her eyes bugged out like she¡¯d seen a ghost as she clutched her spurting throat and stared at the tattooed-arm fella beside her.


    ¡°You¡­ you actually¡­¡±


    ¡°Boom¡­¡±


    The curly-haired gal hit the dirt, dead as a doornail, her eyes filled with hate.


    Big Fat and the young fella with a crew cut didn¡¯t bat an eye.


    It was just a dame.


    If she got whacked, so be it.


    It wasn¡¯t like they hadn¡¯t done the dirty deed before.


    Billy Jean looked at the gal¡¯s corpse on the ground, cool as a cucumber.


    Counting on a man was just plain dumb.


    Didn¡¯t she know guys were as reliable as a leaky faucet?


    Billy Jean looked up at the tattooed-arm fella.


    Heh! She was on a lucky streak.


    She¡¯d stumbled onto another superhuman.


    Just in time to patch up her messed-up innards.


    The way Billy Jean eyeballed her prey had the tattooed-arm fella thinking she was giving him the googly eyes.


    He flipped his hair like he was on a fashion runway and flashed a grin.


    ¡°I¡¯m a wind superhuman. Don¡¯t sweat it. I won¡¯t let anyone push you around from here on out.¡±


    ¡°Bro.lon¡¯s one lucky dog. Damn it, I¡¯ve never seen such a looker.¡±


    Big Fat whispered to the young fella with a crew cut.


    ¡°When Bro.Zozia gets tired of her, we¡¯ll surely get a piece of the action.¡±


    The young fella with a crew cut was staring at Billy Jean like she was a juicy steak.


    ¡°Damn it, I wanna get my hands on her right this second.¡±


    vampires had ears like a bat.


    No matter how hushed their voices were, Billy Jean caught every word.


    A cold smirk curled her lips.


    She locked eyes with the tattooed-arm fella and crooked her finger at him.


    ¡°Come here.¡±


    When the tattooed-arm fella saw the beauty beckoning, he practically skipped over, grinning from ear to ear.


    If he¡¯d known he was waltzing toward his doom, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been so chuffed.


    ¡°Very good.¡±


    Billy Jean smiled, satisfied as a cat with cream.


    The next second, her eyes went sharp as razors.


    ¡°You can kick the bucket now.¡±


    Before the tattooed-arm fella could even blink, her razor-sharp claws had pierced his chest.


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    ¡°You¡­¡±


    The tattooed-arm fella¡¯s eyes were bloodshot, popping out like corks.


    Billy Jean¡¯s grin was as bright as the sun.


    ¡°That gal¡­ was right. I¡¯m not¡­ human.¡±


    She suddenly clenched her fist, and the tattooed-arm fella¡¯s ticker exploded in her hand like a water balloon.


    The tattooed-arm fella¡¯s body thumped to the ground.


    Seeing him dead, Big Fat and the young fella with a crew cut were so scared they dropped to their knees, their faces as green as grass.


    ¡°Dead¡­ dead.¡±


    To them, Billy Jean, with her angelic face, had morphed into a bloodthirsty demon.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say¡­ you wanted to¡­ have a go at me? Why¡­ don¡¯t you come over?¡±


    Billy Jean¡¯s voice was as spooky as a haunted house.


    Big Fat and the young fella with a crew cut felt a chill slither down their spines, and cold sweat broke out like a flash flood.


    ¡°vampire¡­ vampire King, you¡¯re a saint. Spare us this time. We won¡¯t be stupid again.¡±


    Big Fat groveled.


    Since Bro.lon, a superhuman, had bit the dust at her hands, dealing with them, a couple of lowly henchmen, would be a piece of cake.


    Billy Jean raised an eyebrow.


    It was the first time she¡¯d heard that title, and oddly enough, it didn¡¯t sound half bad.


    Seeing she seemed a bit soft, the young fella with a crew cut also got on his knees and begged.


    ¡°We were blind as bats and ticked you off, vampire King. We kowtow to make amends. Please, for the sake of our groveling, spare us.¡±


    Billy Jean lazily eyed the two on their knees.


    Her voice was as lazy as a sloth.


    ¡°I¡­ could¡­ let you off the hook.¡±


    Big Fat and the young fella with a crew cut were over the moon and started banging their heads on the ground like crazy.


    ¡°Thank you, vampire King. Thank you, vampire King.¡±


    After thanking her, they shot up and hightailed it out of there, scared she¡¯d change her mind.


    But just then, a shadow swooped down on them.


    They looked up.


    ¡°Ahhh...¡±


    In a flash, they were swallowed up by a mob of man-eating crows.


    Billy Jean listened to the screams getting shriller by the second and let out a couple of cackles, a bit on the twisted side.


    There was a flutter on her shoulder as Zompige landed.


    ¡°Coo¡­ sis, you okay?"


    Billy Jean side-eyed her.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Since they¡¯re worm food, what does it matter if I¡¯m okay or not."


    Zompige: ¡­


    The man-eating crows scattered, and two skeletons, picked as clean as a whistle, thumped down and shattered.


    The man-eating crows then zeroed in on the corpses of the curly-haired gal and the tattooed-arm fella.


    Seeing this, Billy Jean quickly put the kibosh on them.


    Seeing Zompige, the ¡°pigeon sister-in-law,¡± perched on Billy Jean¡¯s shoulder, the man-eating crows didn¡¯t dare to mess with her.


    They all backed off from the tattooed-arm fella and swarmed the curly-haired gal like vultures.


    Billy Jean knew it was all thanks to Zompige and casually invited her.


    ¡°Roar¡­ Join me?"


    Zompige nodded.


    She¡¯d been hankering for a taste for ages.


    Billy Jean whipped out her ¡°dining utensil,¡± an empty pen tube.


    Zompige also dug under her wing with her beak and pulled out her ¡°dining utensil,¡± a milk tea straw.


    Billy Jean:??


    Zompige tossed her head like a diva.


    She was an elegant pigeon, after all.


    Anyway, she¡¯d never admit she was copying Billy Jean.


    Billy Jean did her usual thing, jamming the tube into the carotid artery.


    Her busted-up body was on the mend in a flash¡­


    Zompige, on the other hand, held the straw in her beak and, thinking she was being classy, flapped her wing.


    Seeing his wife¡¯s wacky move, the King of Crows was deep in thought.


    Should he tell his nutty wife that when a bombshell did it, it was classy, but when a pigeon did it, it just looked creepy and had nothing to do with elegance?


    Afterward, Billy Jean looked up and cranked her neck.


    Her body seemed more limber.


    Her pale lips, smeared with blood, were as alluring as a siren¡¯s song, making her beauty even more jaw-dropping.


    She set her sights on the tattooed-arm fella¡¯s head.


    She¡¯d never chowed down on a human crystal core before.


    Michael Joke wouldn¡¯t let her.


    She was as rebellious as a teenager.


    The more he nixed something, the more she wanted to do it.


    Billy Jean yanked the spring knife dangling from the tattooed-arm fella¡¯s waist and plunged it into his head, rummaging around.


    When she felt something hard, she pried it out with the tip of the knife.


    A crystal core the size of a thumb plopped out.


    Billy Jean wasn¡¯t fussy.


    She wiped it on the tattooed-arm fella¡¯s clothes and popped it into her mouth.


    It crunched like a potato chip.


    A powerful jolt of energy blasted through her, and she gulped it down.


    Soon, Billy Jean felt her body heat up like a furnace, and then came the pain.


    Every bone in her body was on fire, and the pain was piling on.


    She couldn¡¯t recall the last time she¡¯d felt pain.


    For a moment, the pain had her writhing on the ground, howling.


    ¡°Ahhh...¡±


    The flock of man-eating crows took off like a rocket, flapping their wings like crazy.


    Zompige, seeing Billy Jean rolling around, was as frantic as a mother hen.


    She paced around her like a caged animal.


    ¡°Coo¡­ sis, don¡¯t freak me out. What¡¯s wrong with you?"


    Billy Jean couldn¡¯t answer.


    The agony was tearing her apart.


    She felt like something was sprouting from her bones.


    Zompige kept pacing, itching to help but at a loss.


    Right, find that fella.


    Zompige stopped and said to the King of Crows,


    ¡°Coo¡­ Go fetch her man pronto. Hurry up."


    The King of Crows didn¡¯t dare to cross his wife and spread his wings and flew off like a bat out of hell.