Chapter Two: Running Faster Than Him

After about ten seconds, transitioning from vomiting to dry heaving, Gavin suppressed his nausea and palpitations. He spat out the sour bile in his mouth and retreated from the bathroom, trembling.

Clutching a combat knife, he approached the window, crouched down, and pressed his face against the floor-to-ceiling glass to scan the villa's backyard. The pool remained, but the figures that had been thrashing about just moments ago had now fallen into the water. Dark, murky blood spread rapidly beneath the pool lights, becoming even more visceral as the two figures stirred the water.

"Huff."

Gavin exhaled a sour breath, carefully backed away two steps, and pulled the curtains shut. He then hid in the corner of the window, parting the drapes just enough to continue watching. The gunfire in the yard had long since ceased, and there were no more screams, only a few twisted, sprinting figures weaving through the garden. There was no growling—or rather, the sound could not penetrate the well-insulated glass.

Yet, Gavin’s mood did not improve in the slightest. Those savage figures were running far too fast—like sprinters in a hundred-meter dash.

With a heavy heart, Gavin let go of the curtain and returned to the bed, collapsing onto it. The plush carpet and soft mattress offered no comfort, though the phone on the nightstand provided a sliver of warmth. He reached for it belatedly and checked the time: 2:52 AM.

A zombie outbreak at this hour—it couldn't be worse. Tonight was supposed to be his night of celebration, the night to honor his leading of the Dallas Cowboys to dominate the league and clinch the championship for five consecutive seasons. That was why he had been in the mood to party until nearly 3:00 AM, only to witness Gigi turn into a zombie in the bathroom.

What about the others? Even Kobe only saw Los Angeles at 4:00 AM, and it was only 3:00 AM! At this hour, if just one person in a household turned like Gigi, the rest of the family would likely face total annihilation. No attack was more lethal than one launched while victims were fast asleep.

With a chaotic, uncontrollable swirl of thoughts in his mind, Gavin frantically scrolled through his phone, but found no news related to zombies. There were no reports of the various epidemics that always preceded zombie outbreaks in movies, nor were there any live videos of global outbreaks common in games. Looking at the messages on his screen, Gavin almost felt like this was a prank, as if the zombie crisis had only broken out within the confines of his own villa estate.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

*Bam!*

The sudden pounding on the door made Gavin jump off the bed. He sprinted to the entrance and stared nervously at the shuddering door.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

"Gavin!" A frantic shout came from outside. "Are you fucking alive?!"

"Madison?!"

Gavin was startled. He recognized the voice; it was his fellow offensive lineman from the Cowboys, a man he had worked alongside for four years—a behemoth standing 6'9" and weighing 310 pounds.

Hearing Gavin's voice, Madison clearly paused for a second before pounding on the door even more violently. "Holy shit, thank God, you're alive! Open the door, please, open it! They’re catching up, Gavin, help me!"

*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Listening to the increasingly desperate hammering, Gavin had to make a choice without time to think. Should he let Madison, who could still speak like a human, into his room? He couldn't help but glance back at Gigi in the bathroom. If Madison turned into a zombie, with his massive physique, there was no way Gavin could take him down as easily as he had Gigi.

However, after a momentary hesitation, Gavin reached out and unlocked the door, letting the stumbling Madison collapse inside.

*Thud!*

As he hit the carpet, Madison crawled forward on his hands and knees, shouting at Gavin, "Close the door! Shut it!"

"I know!" Gavin responded, quickly poking his head out to scan left and right. In the left corridor, two blood-stained figures were only seven or eight meters away from the door; they were former teammates, now charging toward him with savage movements. The right corridor was empty, with only faint moonlight filtering in from the window at the end of the hall.

After one glance, Gavin pulled his head back and slammed the door shut, locking it tight. No sooner had he locked it than a violent impact hit the door.

*Boom!*

The strength of his teammates slamming against the door made Gavin’s heart race. On the floor, Madison crawled five or six meters before flipping over to sit up. Bracing his hands on the carpet, he stammered frantically, "Leonard is dead. He was bitten to death by Kendrick right in front of me. I even saw Kendrick rip out Leonard’s intestines and stuff them into his mouth! Kendrick is crazy, he's a total lunatic! Leonard was crazy too; his guts were ripped out, and he still lunged at me. I'm fucking terrified, I pissed myself in the hallway, damn it, this is fucking..."

"Shut up!" Gavin stepped back and kicked Madison in the shin, causing him to shuffle backward on his buttocks in pain. As Madison tried to stand, he happened to look over and saw Gigi lying in the bathroom.

"Fuck!" He jumped, scrambled to his feet, and leaned against the glass wall of the bathroom, staring nervously at Gavin. "You killed him! You killed him too!" He glanced fearfully at the knife in Gavin’s hand.

"Shut up and be quiet. Don't tell me you don't know what those things are!" Gavin barked, then carefully inspected Madison.

Good. Aside from being a mess, Madison had no wounds or bloodstains; he didn't look like he was about to turn. As for whether Madison would cause trouble... it didn't matter. Gavin knew he could run faster than him.

Across from him, Madison’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he asked, "Are you saying... zombies?"

"What else? Rabies?" Gavin snapped. He returned to the door, watching it nervously as it continued to be battered. He knew Kendrick and Leonard too well; together, they weighed at least 580 pounds. Could this door really withstand their full-force ramming? But to get rid of them... are you kidding? Gavin wasn't even wearing underwear; there was no way he was going to take that risk.

Gavin leaned against the door, trying to reinforce it, and said to Madison, "Old Mac."

"I'm here. What? I'm a bit messed up, damn it." Madison’s voice grew weaker, and he slid down the glass wall of the bathroom until he was sitting on the floor in despair.

Gavin frowned at the wet patch on his pants and ordered, "Get my phone. It's on the bed. Hurry!"

"Okay, I know, I... fuck, I left my phone in my room!" Madison muttered instinctively as he stood up, stiff as a corpse, and walked toward the bed. He crossed the sixteen-meter distance, grabbed his phone, and brought it back to Gavin. As members of the same offensive line, with Gavin as the quarterback and the brain of the team, Madison was used to following his orders. However, as he passed the bathroom, he still averted his eyes, afraid to look at Gigi.

"Here."

Madison swallowed hard as he handed over the phone, looking at Gavin with anticipation, as if asking what else he could do. He was panicked and confused, instinctively looking for tasks to distract himself. Seeing Madison’s dazed expression, Gavin pointed toward the bathroom while opening his phone.

"Go wash up, man."

"I'm on it. Damn, I really need to wash... wait, no, I need to be fast. We still need to run, damn it!" Madison walked toward the bathroom with a sense of relief, avoiding Gigi as he headed for the shower.

Just then, Gavin’s voice followed from behind. "Don't turn on the shower, use the bathtub; it's much quieter. By the way, is your ringtone loud? Whose is louder, yours or Leonard's? I remember our coach’s ringtone was incredibly loud—his hearing wasn't great."

As he spoke, Gavin dialed a number.