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:!!