“??”

  Billy Jean was all kinds of confused.

  If he didn’t want to, fine.

  But did he have to look like he wanted to wring her neck?

  “Forget it. Never mind. You’re so stingy. You said you’d send the mummy home, but you won’t even cough up a set of clothes.”

  “You wanted me to strip down so it could wear my threads?”

  “Otherwise? What did you think?”

  Billy Jean shot him a look.

  “I thought...”

  Michael Joke clammed up.

  Seeing Billy Jean’s probing stare, he said, dead serious,

  “Yes, I thought it was for it to wear. It’s just that I don’t think what I’ve got on suits it. This set here is more its style.”

  Michael Joke yanked a set of clothes out of his space ring and practically shoved them at the mummy.

  “This... set... suits... you.”

  He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

  The mummy:??

  What had it done to tick him off?

  After the mummy changed, Billy Jean’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

  It had on a cool, slick men’s windbreaker and a pair of jeans that made its long legs look like a million bucks.

  Tall guys really were like walking mannequins.

  They could make a burlap sack look good.

  Even though the mummy was all shriveled up, the loose duds hid it to perfection and gave it a laid-back, cool-cat vibe.

  Plus, with the mask, shades, and baseball cap, at first glance, you’d think it was a celeb trying to dodge the paparazzi.

  Sure enough, clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse.

  If nobody spilled the beans, who’d know this tall, handsome dude was that creepy mummy?

  Uh... except for those feet.

  Billy Jean’s mouth twitched as she eyeballed the ratty old slippers on the mummy’s feet that looked like they’d been fished out of the dumpster.

  Paired with its claw-like feet, they were a hot mess.

  So she shifted her gaze to Michael Joke’s feet.

  Michael Joke: A minute later.

  The mummy had new kicks on.

  With the whole ensemble looking primo, Billy Jean nodded, satisfied as a cat with cream.

  Handsome.

  If it strolled out now, it could turn heads and make hearts flutter.

  Three people strutted out of the busted-up roll-up door of the supermarket.

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  They all looked like movie stars, even better than the A-listers on TV.

  They hopped in the car and roared off.

  In the distance, a bunch of survivors were gawking, staring at the vanishing car like they’d seen a UFO.

  They hadn’t laid eyes on anyone that good-looking, not even before the apocalypse.

  Garden Community.

  It was a hop, skip, and a jump from the supermarket, less than ten minutes’ drive.

  By now, the military vehicle had screeched to a halt at the community entrance.

  The iron gate was lying on the ground, and the place was like the Wild West, free for all.

  A zombie in a security uniform poked its head out of the guard shack and let out a roar, like it was saying,

  “No cars allowed!”

  Quite a few zombie_fied homeowners were out for an evening constitutional.

  “Let’s hoof it from here.”

  Billy Jean and the mummy climbed out.

  The zombies didn’t give them a second glance.

  The second Michael Joke’s foot hit the ground, zombies came swarming from all directions, baring their teeth and claws like they were throwing a welcome party.

  Billy Jean cranked up her intimidating aura, and the zombies scattered like roaches, one wave after another.

  Then the three of them marched into the community.

  The zombies on the road parted like the Red Sea when they saw them.

  They looked like they owned the place.

  Behind them, a few zombies were shooting the breeze.

  “Roar... A measly morsel is actually strutting around with the big Mutant. What makes him so special?"

  “Roar... Maybe he’s the pet project of the big Mutant."

  “Roar... Ah! The big Mutant has lousy taste. He doesn’t even smell or look dirty, not manly at all."

  “Roar "Is that one also the big Mutant’s pet? His mojo is different from ours. Is he a foreigner?"

  “Roar... The big Mutant sure has some wacky tastes."

  They waltzed up to Building 18 without a hitch.

  The power was out, so the elevator was a no-go.

  They had to hoof it up the stairs.

  After what felt like an eternity, they finally made it to the 12th floor.

  There were four apartments up there.

  Three of them had their doors flung wide open, and the insides were trashed.

  Only one apartment had its iron door shut tight.

  The room number was 1201, just like they’d hoped.

  Billy Jean parked herself outside the apartment door and turned to the mummy, saying,

  “Mummy, look...”

  Then she stopped short.

  “Where’d it skedaddle to?”

  The mummy, which had been tagging along, had pulled a Houdini.

  No need to be a rocket scientist.

  It must’ve gone into hiding.

  She’d kinda expected it. It had been cool as a cucumber the whole way here.

  “Michael, the mummy’s gone AWOL. What’s our play?”

  “Knock on the door. Let’s see if anyone’s home.” Michael Joke said.

  “Okay.”

  Billy Jean stepped up and rapped three times.

  “Knock, knock, knock... Anyone home?”

  They waited, but it was crickets.

  But Billy Jean didn’t go for round two.

  “Michael, there’s someone in there. I can hear breathing behind the door. She’s probably eyeballing us through the peephole right now."

  Billy Jean telepathed to Michael Joke.

  "What’s our move? Should we just lay it all out?"

  Michael Joke nodded and took the lead.

  “We know someone’s in there. Sorry to barge in like this. But we come in peace. We were sent here on a mission.”

  After he finished speaking, there was more silence.

  But Billy Jean knew the person behind the door hadn’t budged.

  She guessed she was mulling things over.

  After what felt like forever, just as Billy Jean was wondering if she should say something more, a weak female voice piped up:

  “Who sent you?”

  Billy Jean: ?

  Why did that voice sound so darn familiar?

  Michael Joke’s dark eyes got even darker, and the slight furrow in his brow seemed to say something was fishy.

  “Who asked you to come?”

  The person behind the door sounded antsy.

  “We don’t know his name. We were sent to find someone named Loree. Are you Loree?” Billy Jean said.

  “Where is that person?”

  The woman’s voice quivered.

  “Uh...”

  Billy Jean glanced back at the empty hallway.

  “I don’t know how to break it to you. Why don’t you open the door and let us in, and I’ll fill you in?”

  There was more silence from behind the door.

  After a while, there was a “click” and the door swung open.

  Billy Jean’s eyes about popped out of her head when she saw who was inside.

  She blurted out,

  “It’s you.”

  Michael Joke wasn’t fazed.

  He’d probably seen it coming.

  The person who opened the door was the scarred-up woman they’d run into at the supermarket.

  “Are you Loree?”

  Billy Jean wanted to be sure, because she didn’t look anything like the photo.

  Loree nodded.

  “Come in.”

  Billy Jean and Michael Joke looked back but didn’t see the mummy.

  The two of them stepped inside.

  Loree peeked at the stairwell, her eyes dulled, and she shut the door.

  At that moment, a figure emerged from the stairwell.

  It was the mummy, who’d done a runner.

  It stared at the house, and a wave of sadness washed over it.

  Its clenched fist trembled like a leaf.

  Once it got back here, it all came flooding back.

  It remembered its name, age, home address, wife’s name, and son’s name.

  Precisely because of this, it couldn’t forgive itself.

  When the apocalypse hit, it had bit the dust on the way home, leaving its wife and son to fend for themselves in this cruel new world.

  It deserved to die.