“Never thought… this old witch… would hang on for so long.”

  Billy Jean eyed Kelly, sprawled on the ground like a wet rag, with pure disgust.

  “Just right, it’s your feeding time.” Michael Joke said.

  Billy Jean looked at him like he’d sprouted horns.

  "Ain’t you scared I’ll turn psycho like her after guzzling that?"

  “She’s a superhuman. Her mojo will do you a world of good.”

  "This revolting dame makes me wanna hurl just looking at her. I ain’t touching it."

  After that, Billy Jean spun on her heel and marched off.

  “Well… what about that gold-element superhuman?”

  Michael Joke called out.

  "Just as unappetizing."

  Billy Jean waved him off and strutted out of the villa.

  Even as a zombie, she had her standards.

  Michael Joke watched her leave and let out a sigh that could’ve blown down a house.

  Superhumans were like hens’ teeth, and here he had two on a silver platter.

  In the end, like a mother hen, Michael Joke painstakingly whipped up bags of blood packs and stashed them in his space.

  The grub in there stayed fresh as a daisy and never went bad.

  Handy as heck to pull out whenever you had the munchies.

  He’d thought it through.

  If Billy Jean didn’t chow down, he’d be the one paying the piper.

  When he finished up and stepped out of the villa, he found Billy Jean had vanished.

  He scoured every nook and cranny but came up empty-handed.

  Michael Joke’s heart sank like a stone.

  At that moment, Billy Jean was airborne, being lugged along by four man-eating crows the size of eagles, each talon clamped around one of her limbs.

  Zompige and her beau were tagging along.

  Just now, Zompige said she’d take Billy Jean to check out the man-eating crows’ lair.

  Before Billy Jean could even holler to Michael Joke, the crows swooped in and snatched her up.

  Looking down, she could see the city in miniature, but she was in no mood to soak up the view.

  All she cared about was staying in one piece.

  “Roar… Four crow fellas, hang on tight. I don’t wanna splat like a bug on a windshield."

  Her voice quivered like a leaf.

  “Coo… Pal, don’t sweat it. You’re safe as houses."

  No sooner had Zompige spoken than, whoosh, Billy Jean was in a nosedive.

  “Roar… Damn it!! Didn’t you say it was safe?"

  Zompige:!!

  “Ahhhh…”

  Billy Jean let out a scream that could wake the dead, like she was on a rollercoaster from hell.

  The wind whipped past her ears, sharp as knives.

  In a farm grove.

  A hunting party of three guys and a gal were spooked when they heard the scream.

  “What in tarnation? Didn’t the man-eating crows nab a corpse? Why’s it a person?”

  A young fella with a crew cut blurted.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Yeah! That’s plum strange. Man-eating crows are as brutal as they come. They’re the Grim Reapers of humans and livestock. How’d they let a human slide?”

  A tubby guy chimed in.

  “Forget her. Anyhow, falling from that height, she’ll be six feet under or on her last legs. What’s the difference? Right, Bro.lon?”

  The gal with big, bouncy curls batted her eyes at a tattooed-arm fella.

  Bro.lon draped his arm around her, his hand doing the two-step on her waist.

  “Haha, Cherry’s right. Either way, she’ll end up worm food. No difference.”

  The curly-haired gal nuzzled up to Bro.lon, giving him a flirty smile, proud as a peacock of her charm.

  This guy was the one she’d poached from another gal.

  He was a wind superhuman and her knight in shining armor in the apocalypse.

  “It’s coming down.” The tubby guy said.

  Then, with a scream for company, a figure came crashing out of the sky.

  “Boom…”

  A crater the size of a kiddie pool was blasted in the ground and dust went flying.

  Then the bodies of the four man-eating crows thumped down.

  Seeing the fallen figure was as still as a statue, the young fella with a crew cut said,

  “Not a peep. She’s dead, right?”

  The curly-haired gal shot him a look, like he’d just said the dumbest thing ever.

  “Falling from that height, it’d be a miracle if she wasn’t dead.”

  “Butterball, go grab those man-eating crows. Let’s skedaddle before we draw more of ‘em.”

  Bro.lon was the brains of the outfit.

  “Okay, boss.”

  Big Fat waddled over to where the man-eating crows had landed.

  Passing by the crater, he averted his eyes and hustled past.

  He didn’t want to see the poor soul who’d been flattened like a pancake.

  Big Fat was built like a tank.

  He could hoist two crows in one mitt and schlepped back with all four.

  “We’re in for a feast today.”

  The young fella with a crew cut was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  Even though man-eating crows feasted on zombies, they didn’t carry the zombie virus and were fair game.

  The three guys and one gal, having bagged some wild game and in high spirits, were about to vamoose.

  Suddenly, a raspy, spine-tingling voice rang out.

  “I said, can you… beat it?”

  The four of them froze like deer in headlights and slowly pivoted.

  Then their eyes popped like balloons.

  They saw a delicate white hand reach out of the crater, and then a raven-haired gal crawled out.

  The scene was ripped straight from a horror flick, like Sadako clawing her way out of the TV.

  “Th… that…”

  Big Fat was so scared he dropped the crows and his legs turned to jelly.

  “It’s a… zombie…”

  The young fella with a crew cut’s voice was as shaky as a Jell-O mold.

  The curly-haired gal was even more terrified and burrowed into Bro.lon’s arms, shaking like a leaf.

  The only one with a shred of calm was Bro.lon.

  Maybe it was because he was a superhuman, so his nerves were tougher than steel.

  He’d slain countless zombies.

  Why should he quiver at a ghost?

  Billy Jean crawled out of the crater.

  That tumble.

  Even though it hadn’t cracked her skull open, her body was one step from falling apart.

  If she could feel pain, she’d probably be screaming bloody murder.

  She stood up and twisted her joints, popping and cracking like firecrackers.

  She could tell her ribs were busted, her arm fractured, her femur split, and her innards—heart, liver, spleen, stomach—all out of whack.

  Fuck, her body she’d finally patched up.

  “Are you… human or spook?”

  A terrified voice squeaked.

  Billy Jean swept the hair from her face, revealing her drop-dead gorgeous mug.

  Instantly, there was a collective gasp.

  Bro.lon even shoved the curly-haired gal out of his arms and stared at Billy Jean like she was a juicy steak.

  He wanted this dame.

  The curly-haired gal, tossed aside like yesterday’s trash:??

  She peeked over, confused.

  Unlike the smelly guys who only saw Billy Jean’s knockout face, she spotted Billy Jean’s cloudy eyes, like they were fogged up.

  The gal screamed and jabbed a trembling finger at Billy Jean.

  “She… she’s not human. Off with her head!”

  By now, the other three guys had caught sight of Billy Jean’s eyes and were spooked.

  Those were zombie peepers, all right.

  But looking at Billy Jean’s beauty and her cool-as-a-cucumber reaction, she didn’t seem like a zombie.

  And she’d just spoken.

  Which zombie could gab like that?

  “Bro.lon, I don’t think so. I think she’s got cataracts.” Big Fat said.

  “Right, I don’t think so either. If she were a zombie, she’d be foaming at the mouth and lunging at us. Why’s she standing there like a statue?”

  The young fella with a crew cut added.

  Bro.lon was more cagey than the rest.

  He snatched up a man-eating crow, slit its throat, let the blood drip, and chucked it at Billy Jean.

  It landed at her feet.

  If she were a zombie, she’d pounce on it like a wildcat.

  “Are you… yanking my chain… me?”

  The raspy female voice rasped.

  Bro.lon saw Billy Jean didn’t even glance at the crow and was dead sure she wasn’t a zombie.

  Sure enough, Big Fat was on the money.

  She just had cataracts.

  The fire in Bro.lon’s eyes blazed anew.

  So what if she had cataracts?

  As long as she was a looker.

  Looking at her waist, as slender as a willow branch, it was tantalizing.

  “Beauty, I saw them crows snatch you, so I saved you. Glad you’re okay.”

  Billy Jean eyed the tattooed-arm fella and marveled at how he could spout such baloney without batting an eye.

  She curled her lips in a scornful smirk.

  “Oh! Then I… should… give you props.”

  “It’s my pleasure to be your knight in shining armor.”

  Bro.lon flipped his hair, thinking he was God’s gift to women.

  Little did he know, in Billy Jean’s eyes, he was as greasy as a used car salesman.

  “Beauty, you alone? Wanna join our crew? We’ll keep you safe from zombies and man-eating crows.”

  Hearing this, the curly-haired gal screeched,

  “Bro.lon, trust me. Kill her. She’s not human.”

  Her sixth sense was tingling.

  There was something fishy about this dame.

  “Slap…”

  Bro.lon backhanded her.

  “Zip it. It’s not your call.”

  He’d given her the time of day, and now she was getting too big for her britches.

  If she dared to rain on his parade again, he’d knock her lights out.

  The curly-haired gal covered her swollen cheek and bawled like a baby.

  She glared at Billy Jean with daggers in her eyes.

  It was all this dame’s fault.

  Otherwise, why would she have gotten slapped?

  She’d expose her, come hell or high water.

  At this time, she saw Billy Jean give her a chilling grin.

  Then she heard Billy Jean say calmly,

  “Okay, if… you off her, I’ll join… you.”