By the time Chenghai carried me into the bedroom, I had stopped pretending I cared whether my legs technically worked.
Hell, they could be broken for the rest of my life and I didn't think that I would overly care about it.
It would be an even better excuse as to why I couldn't leave my couch.
Unfortunately, I knew that my legs did work. There might have been a limp, but I had proven that I could walk several times already, including once after cutting nine separate tethers out of people Gu Han had been using as zombie doorbells. That felt like enough effort for one day.
Chenghai put me down beside the bathroom door and kept both hands around my waist until he was sure I wasn't going to immediately fold.
My leg still hurt where the old bite was lightly throbbing under my pants, and the rest of me smelled like smoke, wet pavement, Gu Han's disgusting basement, and whatever had leaked out of that giant pile of zombie bodies.
