Chapter Nine: I Do Not Like Taking Risks

“Alright, forget I said anything...” Madison stifled a laugh and patted the carpet, then gradually composed himself.

Once fully calm, he shifted his gaze to Gavin’s face.

Meeting Gavin’s steady eyes, Madison spoke, “Let’s not talk about that damn Aston Martin, Gavin.”

“If we want to lure the zombies away from the helicopter to the far end of the parking lot, someone has to go outside the villa and stand on the terrace to throw a bottle.”

“So let me go out and throw it—I’m pretty good at passing.”

Before Gavin could respond, Madison moved toward the door, raising the bottle to signal him to open it.

But Gavin stopped Madison at the doorway and whispered, “It’s no big deal, don’t get all fired up over it. This house does give us some sense of security, but it won’t protect us.”

“Leaving the house is inevitable. You stepping out first won’t make a difference, and besides, I have some details to observe.”

With that, Gavin pushed past Madison and stood by the door.

He gazed at the massive horde of zombies in the parking lot and took a deep breath before continuing.

“When I open this damn door, if it makes any unexpected screeching sound that draws the zombies’ attention,”

“we’ll run straight to the boss’s room.”

“As the estate owner, his room is better equipped than the guest rooms. If we can hold out through the first few waves inside, we might still have a chance to survive.”

“Besides, I worry there might be some stragglers hiding in other rooms of the villa.”

“More worrisome is that they might not be drawn away by the helicopter crash, but instead attracted by the bottle I throw, going berserk inside the villa and making noise. That could lure the external zombie horde to attack the villa, even flooding the corridors.”

“So, Old Mac, if things go that way, be ready to clear a path for me!”

Gavin’s eyes were grave as he looked at Madison.

After a brief silence, Madison nodded resolutely. “I know how to fight for my life!”

He stopped cautiously behind the door, giving Gavin space.

Seeing Madison grit his teeth, Gavin nodded and continued, “Of course, if something unexpected happens, there are countless possibilities.”

“If I feel our rooms are safer to hide in, or rushing straight to your car gives us better odds, I’ll call out to you.”

“You have to keep your eyes on me and never miss my signal, Madison.”

“I will, Gavin, just like in the game!”

“Exactly, just like in the game!”

They bumped their arms together, then Gavin turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door, making as little noise as possible.

Opening the door would inevitably lose the advantage of soundproofing, so Gavin was especially cautious, taking over ten seconds to open it.

Naturally, taking time wasn’t a bad thing. The creaking of the door hinge was almost quieter than breathing and didn’t attract the zombies’ attention.

After confirming it was safe, Gavin stepped out onto the terrace connected to the stairs and surveyed the entire parking lot.

At this moment, the horde was gathering about sixty degrees to the left of the terrace.

Because they were so many, the outermost zombies were only about fifty meters from Gavin.

Satisfied he hadn’t drawn attention, Gavin rolled up his right sleeve, grabbed the bottle, and hurled it forcefully toward the far right of the parking lot.

As a quarterback, long throws were basic skills. Within two seconds, a sharp shattering sound echoed from afar.

Following the breaking glass came the blaring alarm of a Chevrolet—the bottle had smashed its window.

The instant these two sounds rang out, hundreds of zombies snapped their heads in unison!

Then, the zombies closest to the noise took off like cheetahs, wildly charging toward the source.

This ignition triggered a chain reaction; the horde surged forward like a tidal wave, thundering toward the distance.

The sheer number and sight of this, even under the dim night, sent shivers down Gavin’s spine.

Despite his unease, he braved the cold February wind and stayed on the terrace, meticulously observing the zombies’ behavior.

He wasn’t just gauging their average running speed but also analyzing how they handled obstacles and their reaction times.

The helicopter crash site and the bottle’s landing spot were roughly one hundred and ten meters apart.

Gavin, being a football player with a good sense of distance, trusted his estimation.

From the first zombie’s sprint to the last one reaching the noise source and searching for a target, it took only nineteen seconds.

That might not sound fast, but the zombies had to overcome numerous obstacles along the way.

Each zombie encountering a barrier had to leap or hurdle, slowing them down considerably.

Recalling the frequency of zombies facing car obstacles, Gavin realized that on flat, unobstructed ground, they could cover the one hundred and ten meters in about fourteen seconds.

Possibly even less.

What did that mean?

A typical man’s hundred-meter sprint time is around thirteen to sixteen seconds.

For women, it’s about one second slower, between fourteen and seventeen seconds.

This meant once zombies spotted a target, they would run at their bodily limits.

Moreover, since zombies feel no pain, they wouldn’t tire like humans.

Setting aside how many people might outrun zombies, the real question is how far a human can sustain a hundred-meter sprint speed.

Five hundred meters?

A thousand meters?

Gavin stopped pondering and darkened his expression as he continued watching the horde.

After all zombies reached the noise source, they didn’t stop immediately. Instead, like alert dogs, they excitedly shifted around, trying to get closer to the beeping alarm.

Each alarm beep caused the horde to contract tightly, stacking like a human pyramid.

A minute passed, and even after the alarm ceased, the zombies remained vigilant, keeping their dense formation.

Gavin glanced at his watch and then back up.

One second...

Two seconds...

When the zombies finally stopped piling around the car and began to disperse and patrol, Gavin checked his watch again—thirty-four seconds had passed.

This meant that if he were spotted by the zombies, even if he managed to slip into a safe zone, he would need to withstand their attacks silently for at least half a minute before they might give up on him.

And that’s only a possibility, considering the zombies’ visual and olfactory senses.

Having observed and analyzed this much, Gavin felt it was sufficient for now.

As for the zombies’ sensitivity to light and how far their hearing extends relative to noise volume...

That would have to wait until after they escaped the estate alive, found a suitable camp, and secured it.

Slowly, Gavin retreated. Madison greeted him tensely as he quietly shut the door.

“Whew...”

Even Gavin exhaled deeply when the door closed.

Beside him, Madison swallowed nervously and asked softly, “How are you?”

“How do you mean? About our plan?”

Gavin patted Madison’s shoulder. “The plan’s solid. Nothing unexpected happened just now. Let’s head to your room and the terrace opposite the villa to keep throwing bottles.”

“Stay sharp—I don’t want to spend another second in this hellhole.”

With that, Gavin headed toward Madison’s room.

Madison clutched the two military knives on his back, careful not to let them knock over the potted plants lining the hallway, and said, “Gavin, just now you acted exactly like we did in the finals—one tactic and plan after another, covering almost every possibility.”

“And what else would you have me do?”

Without turning his head, Gavin replied, “Rush in blindly, hoping Lady Luck covers what I didn’t consider?”

“Quit joking. I don’t like taking risks, and accidents are part of those risks. That’s why I prefer making plans for every possible contingency, Madison.”

With that, Gavin entered Madison’s room and went to the window to keep observing.