The big fella whipped around and smacked the chatty underling right across the kisser.

  “Shut your trap! We’re playing good Samaritans here, channeling our inner Henry Norma. This dude’s just passing through and got blocked by the tree. We’re gonna lend a hand and move it.”

  All the underlings were gobsmacked.

  Hadn’t they been the ones to plant the tree there in the first place?

  Why the sudden change of heart?

  Had the boss lost his marbles?

  “Boss, we can’t just let ’em go. We ain’t even scored any supplies yet!”

  It was the same wiseacre underling, still not cluing in after getting slapped.

  The big man felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up from that dangerous stare and went rigid.

  He whacked the underling again.

  “You wanna meet your maker? Don’t drag me down with you. Take a gander at what’s in the car!”

  The big man gritted his teeth and yanked the underling’s collar.

  The underling, sporting two bright red hand-prints on his face, leaned over a smidge to peek into the car.

  When he saw the mummy, his face drained of color and he snapped upright in a flash.

  “Boss is right. We all gotta have that Henry Norma spirit and be ready to help a fella out.”

  The other underlings were completely befuddled: ??

  “Let’s hustle, move that tree.”

  The big man and the underling set to it with gusto.

  The rest of the crew watched in disbelief as the two of them actually got to work.

  Weren’t they here to raid for supplies?

  How had it morphed into a do-gooder mission?

  Finally, the hulking tree was hauled away, and the military vehicle roared off.

  “Brother, take care. Don’t let the door ding you on the way out.”

  The big man and the underling were bowing and waving like they were seeing off royalty.

  The other underlings: !!

  They’d blocked roads and pillaged supplies more times than they could count, but this was the strangest gig yet.

  The big man and the underling waited until the military vehicle was a speck in the distance before straightening up and wiping the cold sweat from their brows.

  Both heaved a huge sigh of relief.

  “Boss, what the heck was that? Weren’t we here to loot? Why’d we let ’em skate?” Someone blurted out.

  “If I hadn’t thought on my feet, we’d all be pushing up daisies by now.”

  The big man said, still shaken.

  The underlings weren’t buying it.

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  “Boss, that young punk looked like a pushover. With our dozen or so guys, we could’ve carved him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

  “Exactly. What a waste. We let a big fish off the hook. Just eyeballing that car, you could tell it was loaded with goodies.”

  “Boss screwed up this time.”

  The underlings were yapping away when suddenly they saw the big man and the twice-slapped underling staring at them in horror.

  The underlings turned around, puzzled, and nearly jumped out of their skins.

  “W-w-what the devil is that thing?”

  “This is the big fish you were moaning about letting go. Grab your machetes. I’m sure you can dice it into eighteen pieces. It’s all yours.”

  The big man said and then took off like a bat out of hell.

  The underlings: Aah!!

  Inside the military vehicle tearing down the highway.

  Michael Joke was behind the wheel, and Billy Jean was riding shotgun.

  The mummy, sandwiched in the middle, had pulled a Houdini.

  “Michael, you think we’ll track down the dame and the kid in the photo?” Billy Jean asked.

  “As long as the hospital records haven’t gone up in smoke, it won’t be a tall order. I’m just worried...”

  Michael Joke’s dark eyes grew darker, and he left the sentence hanging.

  Billy Jean knew what he was getting at.

  In this dog-eat-dog world, it was tough for a tough guy to make it, let alone a gal with a kid.

  “Alas! Let’s cross our fingers it all pans out.” Billy Jean sighed.

  Just then, she caught a whiff of a faint coppery tang filling the car.

  She turned her head and saw the mummy had reappeared and was sitting prim and proper in the middle.

  After so many run-ins, Billy Jean was unfazed by the mummy’s spooky stunts. She was used to it.

  The mummy’s return meant the highwaymen were toast.

  I mean, it’s the end of the world.

  They could’ve just helped themselves, but they had to try and rob on the road.

  If they didn’t bite the dust, who would?

  For the rest of the ride, aside from hitting another traffic snarl and having to hop back on the pink scooter, it was smooth sailing.

  Four hours later, they rolled into Zojia-city and made a beeline for the First People’s Hospital.

  After half an hour of driving, they finally pulled up a thousand yards from the First Hospital of Zojia-city.

  The car couldn’t budge an inch further.

  The entrance was barricaded by a jumble of dusty, rusted cars, sealed up tighter than a drum.

  Before the apocalypse hit, a mysterious fever had folks flocking to the hospital in droves.

  The place was in chaos.

  Every last pill for fevers and colds got snapped up.

  Then the zombie virus went berserk, and the hospitals became ground zero.

  zombies chomping on people was the norm, blood spraying everywhere, limbs flying.

  It was like a scene from Dante’s Inferno.

  Billy Jean eyeballed the hospital building in the distance.

  Every window pane was shattered.

  Just a casual glance showed the hallways on each floor were swarming with zombies, a mind-boggling sight.

  Before the end times, it was wall-to-wall people.

  Now? Wall-to-wall zombies.

  “Michael, you sit tight in the car. It’s a zombie zoo in there. You’ll just be in the way. The mummy and I will handle it. We’ll grab the info and be back in a jiffy.”

  Billy Jean didn’t think Michael Joke was a wimp.

  It was just that he was human and couldn’t mosey around among the zombies as freely as she and the mummy.

  Michael Joke thought it over and gave the nod.

  With Billy Jean’s current chops, as long as she wasn’t mobbed by a horde, she could usually hold her own.

  And let’s not forget the mummy, who was no slouch in the strength department.

  “Be quick about it and don’t go off on a tangent, okay?”

  Michael Joke warned.

  Billy Jean tossed off a nonchalant “Oh” and hopped out of the car.

  “Keep an eye on her for me.”

  Michael Joke said to the mummy.

  “Crackle...” The mummy replied.

  Michael Joke：？？

  He was once again reminded of the agony of being illiterate.

  There was still a stretch of road to the hospital.

  Billy Jean and the mummy were picking their way through the car graveyard.

  The zombies all turned to stare at the mummy, looking as confused as a bunch of kindergartners.

  Their pea brains seemed to be asking,

  “What on earth is this thing?”

  It was kind of ugly.

  Come to think of it, they didn’t seem to recognize the two of them.

  Were they newbies?

  Normally, if Billy Jean were new in town, she’d stop and shoot the breeze, make nice.

  But she was in a hurry now, so that’d have to wait.

  After hoofing it for over ten minutes, they finally reached the hospital entrance.

  The glass doors were long gone, shattered all over the ground.

  Medical forms and prescriptions were strewn about the lobby like confetti, and blood was splattered everywhere.

  It was a zombie parade.

  The ones in white coats, nurse uniforms, and hospital gowns stood out like sore thumbs.

  Each one was as stiff as a board and making menacing gestures.

  At a glance, she and the mummy were the only ones standing tall.

  A wheelchair whizzed by Billy Jean, with a male zombie in a hospital gown perched on it.

  It was gnawing on a bone like it was the last meal on earth.

  Billy Jean swiped the bone right out of its hand and chucked it.

  The male zombie took off after it like a shot.

  So Billy Jean plopped herself down in the wheelchair and wheeled away, cackling.

  The mummy:!!