Inside the supermarket, three dudes covered in zombie goo were propped against the door, panting like they just ran a marathon.
Outside, the zombies were still throwing a fit, their claws screeching on the metal, but the guys were too pumped to care. They thought they'd hit the jackpot, expecting aisles full of goodies, hope pumping in their veins.
"Hold up..." Liam's eyes popped wide open, a bad vibe washing over him. The shelves were straight-up empty.
"Where's all the stuff?" The other two were just as shook, totally speechless. "Did someone beat us to it?"
"No way, man. Even if they did, they couldn't have cleaned it out this slick," Liam clutched his firefighter's axe, ready to scope out every nook and cranny.
As they dug deeper, their high hopes tanked into despair. The back storeroom? Empty. Not a single can left.
"Man, this blows!" Noah swung his crowbar in a fit, his anger and disappointment boiling over. They'd lost buddies getting here, all for nothing.
"Chill, Noah!" Liam jumped in, knowing any loud noise was like a dinner bell for zombies.
Noah, all fired up, looked ready to explode. "Liam, we're screwed!" he shouted, desperate.
"Not so fast," Liam scrunched his brow, thinking hard. Then it hit him. "This place being wiped out wasn't some random looters. It had to be the store owner, planning way ahead."
"You think..." the others started to catch his drift.
Liam nodded, "Yeah, I've shopped here before. The owner's pad is in that big building right there!"
"Let's roll up on him!" Hope sparked in Noah's eyes again. They weren't about to throw in the towel after all they'd been through. Plus, the building was just across the street.
The other guy, clutching a frying pan, looked uneasy, "But why would he hand over his stash?"
"Whether he's down or not, ain't his call no more!" Noah tightened his grip on his crowbar, his eyes fierce. Pushed to the edge, they were ready to do whatever it took.
Liam was on board, "If he's hoarding, we're taking it!"
"Let's do this!" the frying pan guy steeled himself.
They'd seen Liam and Noah's muscle in action; dealing with a supermarket owner would be a walk in the park.
Or... maybe there's a twist. Maybe the owner turned zombie, and they could just knock him off and grab the loot.
About ten minutes later, the zombies around the supermarket had peaced out, wandering off.
The rolling door cracked open just a bit, and the three guys rolled out on the DL, keeping it low-key as they booked it to the building.
"Typical..." Zane watched from a window, having seen it all. He'd seen this coming, but it was all good—the delivery had arrived... He was also curious to see what these three could do in a fight.
With no power in the building, the elevator was a no-go, so stairs it was.
Twenty floors!
A few zombies were chilling in the stairwell, but these guys were sharp, handling the undead quick. Still, the climb was no joke, and by the top floor, they were soaked in sweat.
"This is it, Noah, do your thing!" Liam ordered. Noah, amped as ever, stepped up and started banging on the door. "Open up! Open up!" His shouts echoed down the hall.
But Zane wasn't rushing; he was just finishing up washing his hands. After drying off and tying a crisp white scarf around his neck, it was dinner time...
"I know you're in there, open up or we're busting in!" Liam raised his axe, looking fierce.
"I'm counting to three, 3...2...1!" The blood-stained axe was ready to smash down, but right then, with a 'click', the door swung open all by itself.
The room lit up like a Christmas tree, revealing a dude standing there in a crisp white shirt, looking like he just stepped out of a laundry commercial. The scarf around his neck was the cherry on top, giving him a fancy vibe.
Liam and his crew were straight-up floored. Since the world went sideways, they hadn't seen anyone looking so fresh and so clean.
But the guy's eyes were a different story—icy, like he'd forgotten how to feel. "Yo, you the guy running the supermarket?" Liam tried to break the ice.
The dude just stood there, silent as a ghost, like he was lost in his own world. Liam's crew started getting jittery.
"Enough with the silent treatment! We know you're hoarding the goods. Cough 'em up, and maybe we'll go easy on you!" one of them barked.
"And what's with the scarf, bro? You were about to have dinner or something?" chimed in another.
"Spill it!" They were losing their patience fast.
Finally, the guy spoke, his voice rough like gravel. "Heh-heh—"
That creepy laugh had Liam and his boys shook. "Yo, is this dude a zombie or what?" one of them gasped.
They'd never seen a zombie so put-together. It was wild.
"Zombie or not, we can handle it," Liam tightened his grip on his axe, ready to swing if things went south.
His buddies nodded, all set for whatever came next. But then, footsteps echoed down the hall. The creepy laugh had called up some friends.
"More zombies?" Liam was on edge but not panicking—they'd been through worse. The footsteps sounded light; their homemade armor should hold up.
But then, three zombies stepped into the light, each packing a crossbow.
"What the...?" Liam and his crew were shook. Zombies packing heat? That was new.
The zombies didn't charge; they just stood there, crossbows aimed and ready.
"Man, zombies with crossbows? What's next, zombies driving tanks?" Liam muttered, disbelief written all over his face.