Chapter Four

"You cut it," Zimo almost tripped over his own feet serving out their supper.

"Did I do a bad job?" Isolde often cut her hair herself due to lack of money, but never this short. She was always worried if it was too short people might mistake her for a boy as she had an androgynous face.

It was just long enough to put into two little pigtails. Short enough to keep out of the way and not be grabbed by anybody.

"It's just hair," he muttered while sitting down to eat.

The little girl who cried over cutting her hair when a bully put gum in it cut it so short because of his few words. She kept failing all these little tests he threw at her. His nanny and the guard who tried to kill him both wore skin masks of the people they'd murdered and taken over, yet her face was her own.

Was it just a case of head trauma or was she simply growing up through mental stimulation? He was never the same after he killed that imposter Nanny. Besides, it was the apocalypse, no assassin hired by those families would still work, they'd be like the guards from his father and running for their selfish interests.

"So when will we be leaving here?" Isolde nervously asked, poking around her bowl. She was using proper chopsticks for the first time. Though she appeared to have muscle memory she felt so clumsy.

Would he question her if she went and got a fork?

If he knew she wasn't herself would he abandon her?

"There is no rush, I want to confirm those things habits before we leave, we can't just rely on horror movies or we may end up regretting it later."

"Destroy the brain. Don't get eaten." She scoffed. They were zombies, not a science project. No need to overcomplicate it or a tiny bit of hesitation would hold you back. Her dad taught her this much about warfare. Something acting too smart you shoot yourself in the foot by mistake. Instinct over the brain, your body knows how to survive best.

"Have you noticed they're less mobile since the sun went down?" He raised a brow as she stabbed a bit of meat to eat seemingly in a bad mood.

"Umm… the sun was abnormally bright yesterday too," she hinted.

Zimo was also concerned about that, they were expecting a class X solar flare yesterday after some of the meteorites that landed on Earth ended up crashing into the sun. Without this strange pandemic that would be fine, they could repair, rebuild…

The mobile network was down, and the Internet struggling. He could no longer hack into surveillance but he saw his father had not made it. Her step-siblings were fine and so were a few of their friends.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his seat, running his hand to push back his slick black hair.

Nothing was making any sense to him anymore. Zombies, supernatural abilities, now the sun…

They were looking at another Carrington Event. If so, the living were screwed. 

Then he had this one to contend with, an abnormal wife who went from eating like an elegant young miss to a clumsy toddler using chopsticks for the first time.

She must have had bad brain damage yet even that seemed off, he knew she was a weak chicken, otherwise, why had he had to beat up those hooligan boys a few months back when picking her up from college for a date? She could not have learned that much from a guard in a few months. Unless she deliberately let herself get beaten black and blue to garner sympathy… no that was not like her either.

His head hurt, he couldn't get more answers just from observing her or questioning her, he needed to take her to the only doctor he knew.

"Since you don't want to go to Li's villa, how about we pay a visit to Brother Li instead?" 

"Sure," she thought Dr. An seemed quite nice; he was also the last friend to 'give up' on him.

Since she was alive and beside him, she could work with this as long as they avoided the Li siblings until they found her reborn female lead.

Her chopsticks paused in a slight panic then she shook the negative thoughts away. Her being alive the female lead can treat it as a butterfly effect, it'll be fine.

The female lead only heard rumors of the strongest team and saw them from afar in her first life.

Everything will be OK. She was her father's daughter, she was a Shaw. A wild Scottish Wolf. She could do this.

Wearing three pairs of socks, Isolde gingerly stepped out the apartment door gripping the hilt of the longest dagger. What was she thinking, she cannot do this.

The hallway was littered with body parts and smelled foul.

Stupid man, pig-headed villain, why drag her out when it's dark and scary?

He'd been down twice already to load his car, promising her it was safe. There were over one and a half million people in Changsha and they were in the city centre. How is it safe?

In her mind she went over all she wrote, vaguely recalling she said at least half of the people turned at the beginning. That's over seven hundred and fifty thousand zombies within walking distance.

More now as uninfected people will turn if they survive contact or drink the water.

Groaning, she avoided the dirty patches on the floor to follow him to the fire exit stairwell.

"Did you do all that?" She whispered as she entered through the door he held open. 

"Most of them were already half eaten, just a simple case of stabbing their brain whilst they were down." His words sent a shiver down her spine.

How could he say such things with a straight face? He must just have a good poker face. There was no way he was all there in the head right now.

The fluorescent light showed an equally eerie scene on the stairwell as people had tried to flee and been caught by those turning who fled.

Without any shoes, her feet felt extra vulnerable with each step she took.

In the underground car park, a few lights kept flickering making her gulp. So big. So many hidden nooks and crannies. Although a scratch on her ankle wouldn't be a risk to her beyond a normal bacterial infection, it would still hurt.

Walking behind him like a shadow, they approached a large dark silver jeep. He opened the passenger door for her, though she wanted to go into the rear seats they were packed with things from inside the house.

As she climbed in, she saw the fire exit door open and a group of three people fled ignoring them to reach their cars carrying bags and kitchen knives.

He shut the door walked around to the driver seat and climbed in, locking the door as soon as he closed his.

"It's nice to see other living people," Isolde sighed, fastening her seatbelt and watching the others reach their car in one piece.

"If you say so," he mumbled, starting the car. It was a high-tech electric car made by his family's company. They were at the forefront of eco-friendly technology in China. What people did not know was that the young master driving the car was responsible for almost all of their mind-blowing tech.

Tomorrow's Coronal Mass Ejection was going to disrupt life even further, luckily her husband knew how to fix most of the things broken. The car would be fine. A good car was all they needed. 

It was large and spacious, she could easily sleep on this seat. He sat waiting patiently as the other car went ahead. After waiting five minutes he started the car himself.

The barrier had been driven through by the previous car but then stopped by the over one hundred zombies on the street. 

Isolde swallowed the vomit threatening to dirty the immaculate car. Cold sweat drenched her body. A good distance away, he honked his horn making her squeal.

In the wing mirror, she saw the zombies covering that car become more attracted by the sound of the moving honking car.

Only when most of them moved did he stop honking as he drove down the long road, turning a corner.

He wasn't a villain yet, she had to remind herself of that. The candle still burned, it hadn't been extinguished.

Rubbing her aching chest, she tried to dissuade the guilt building up. As a psychology student, she loved to play around with characters like a cruel God, showing both the best and the worst of humanity. Every villain had the potential to be someone great.

She reassessed the man driving looking like he was chewing a wasp nest.

He drove not too fast, but not too slow that the zombies could overcrowd the jeep. Occasionally he would simply plow into them making her clutch the armrests. Due to his delicate career, his vehicle was adapted to even survive an I.E.D. so a few weak corpses did not matter.

He even shoved a car along the road, refusing to stop no matter what. Not even for a small group of people who tried to flag them down with a broken car in the suburbs.

When they approached a small gated community Isolde suddenly smacked her stupid head. The 'friends' weren't all the same age, though some were classmates the main reason they were all friends was that they all grew up in the same high-security villa community.

Hitting her head off the back of the car seat, she closed her eyes, envisioning her dad giving her a pep talk before a cross-country horse show as a kid.

"Izzy, winning or losing it doesn't matter, you just trust Oscar to carry you well and get as far as you can get. As long as you safely make it back to me here, you've made Dad proud."

Opening her eyes again, she looked at the man scowling at the closed gate with a long face.

She'll trust her horse.

"I won't let the Li's take you in, don't worry," he patted her shoulder, then jumped out of the car to swing his sword to decapitate the few zombies blocking the gate and use a keycard to open it.

"I have a good horse, trust the horse," she mumbled to herself watching him almost effortlessly handle several of those things. Compared to his long double-edged blade, the little seven-inch military blade in her hand felt as pitiful as her trembling body.

Once inside the gated community, he climbed back out to make sure the gate was firmly shut behind them.

The zombified guard inside the guard booth was banging on the window trying to get out, but he ignored it like air.

The modern villas were all similarly made with cream stone and blue tiles. They are not spaced out far, each with walls and gates for entry. Though they saw corpses on the road and paths, there were none still intact. Somebody had already cleaned the house.

Of course, the male lead was capable, he would not leave those things to roam outside. However, the villas themselves showed zombies inside trying to walk through the windows as they drove slowly. 

Though some curtains moved quickly, showing the living.

Which one belonged to the Li's?

"We're here, come on," he jumped out and walked around to open her door.

"Can I not stay here?" She gulped, looking at the open door with an eerie blood stain on the stone floor.

"You're brother and sister will have seen my car by now, if you want to wait here for them-"

"Coming," she jumped down and then gripped his jumper hem anxiously.

"That scared of them? You could easily take Jiaxin down with that blade," he rolled his eyes and pushed her hand off his jumper, to enclasp in his own and drag her along.

"You should at least go home to get some clothes," he muttered as he approached the door. The cameras showed at least ten zombies inside before they stopped working.

At the door, he whistled loudly and waited like a farmer calling his sheep.

Isolde swiftly pulled her hand free to rest her back against the wall well out of the way.

Zombies in staff clothing wandered out to be cut and kicked away one by one.

"Come here," Zimo beckoned her when the seventh one came out.

"W-why?" She stuttered feeling her knees go weak.

"Kill it," he cleaned his blade on a rag walking towards her.

"O-okay..." she found herself agreeing due to the cold stillness of his eyes catching hers. He was testing if she was too useless to keep. Of course, she couldn't just stand there and look pretty, this guy hates pretty vases that break easily.

Stepping back, Zimo kept a tight hold of his hilt, then relaxed it, ready to swing at any time when she approached the maid.

Biting her lip, she took in a deep breath to calm down and regretted it. The smell knocked her nauseous.

The maid had her face chewed off, showing bone and teeth at the jawline. Strong zombies might be stronger, but at least they'd learned how to heal their bodies. Weak ones were decomposing and disgusting.

Instead of swinging her blade, she kicked the maid's abdomen making her stiff limbs stagger back. Kicking a second time, she fell completely onto her back. Only when the maid was flat on her back, did Isolde get close enough to pierce the blade through the eyes to the brain.

Unable to cope with the popping sound of the eyeball, she let go of the hilt and bowed over to vomit right beside the now no longer moving corpse.

A hand rubbed up and down her back, whilst another retrieved her blade.

"Even if you have to vomit, don't let go of this okay?" He wiped it on the maid's uniform and handed it firmly into her shaking grip.

"Come on, there's at least three more," he used his clean sleeve to wipe her mouth and stood her up straight.

"I have, no, do I have to do it again?" She blinked the tears away from her eyes.

"Just two, just two more, leave the last one to me," he ruffled her hair and walked ahead into his childhood home.