The whole thing felt like the world had just flipped upside down! One minute Liam and his squad were kings of the hill, the next, they were hitting rock bottom hard.
"Liam, what's the game plan?" Noah, who was all gung-ho before, now looked like a ghost, totally lost.
Liam was all scrunched up, thinking hard. "Guess we gotta hope these dudes are lousy shots!"
"Alright, let's roll the dice!" Noah wasn't exactly jumping for joy, but he was in.
Just then, Zane yelled, "Fire!"
"Whoosh!"
The bolt from the doc zombie's crossbow zipped like a missile, nailing Noah right in the forehead. Down he went, out cold.
"How... how can this be?" Liam was shook. His gamble had tanked, big time.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Two more bolts sliced the air, silent but deadly. The jock zombie and the trainer zombie were on point, their bolts hitting another dude's throat and Liam's chest.
"Ah—"
Liam hit the deck, yelling out. He tried to get up, but the trainer zombie was on him fast, pinning him down.
These zombies weren't tearing into them like wild animals; they seemed to be waiting for a signal. Liam bit down, realizing these weren't your garden-variety zombies—they were organized, with Zane calling the shots!
"So, they get what we're saying?" Liam wondered, trying to talk to Zane.
"Please! Let me live, I got reasons... I'll do anything, just let me go!"
But Zane kept coming. He grabbed the bolt in Liam's chest and yanked it out.
"Ptuh!"
Blood went flying.
"Ah—"
Liam hollered again, scared out of his wits, not knowing what this freaky zombie had in store.
Then Zane pulled out a plastic straw.
Liam stared, baffled and scared. He had a wild guess about what was coming, but it was too bizarre to fully believe.
"I wonder what human blood tastes like? How much energy does it have..." Zane pondered, never having tried fresh human blood. He stuck the straw in Liam's wound and took a sip.
But then Zane made a face.
"Yuck!"
He spat the blood out. "This dude's too greasy, his cholesterol's off the charts..."
Liam was even more freaked out. His own blood was so nasty even a zombie spit it out? Did he even have a chance to get out of this mess?
But then, any hope he had was crushed. A huge mouth snapped at his neck.
Zane had given the word.
His three goons, hungry and ready, jumped in. They weren't choosy like people.
Soon, the gory feast wrapped up.
The three zombies licked their chops, still hungry, but their respect for Zane had grown, almost to hero-worship. Rolling with a leader like this meant they never went hungry!
"Ding-a-ling-a-ling, ding-a-ling-a-ling!"
Out of nowhere, a ringtone cut through the silence.
"Who's rocking that cheesy ringtone?" Zane looked around and spotted the source of the noise—it was coming from a pocket in some discarded clothes on the ground, Liam's to be exact. He snagged the phone and hit answer.
A menacing voice came through: "Liam! Cut the games, bring back the goods! Your lady's with me, and if you don't deliver... heh heh heh..."
That's when it clicked for Zane. Liam had been strong-armed into scavenging. That explained his desperate spiel earlier.
"Yo, yo, yo! Liam, talk to me, don't play possum! Here, listen to your lady!"
The threat kept up, and then a woman's scream pierced the air: "Babe! Save me, these dudes are savages aaaaah~~~"
But Zane just killed the call.
Funny thing, he wasn't human either. But Zane was a different breed; he figured he might suss out where these folks were holed up. After all, living humans were a kind of "supply" too, heh heh.
To Zane, these living peeps were like bonus loot. He grabbed Liam's phone and started snooping through his texts. Bingo—big tip-off!
Turns out, this "stash" was tucked away in a bustling construction site. Liam, the little boss man there, used to run things, milking the workers with his cutthroat ways.
After soaking that in, Zane chucked the phone, the address burned into his brain. He wasn't itching to grab his "stash" just yet. Best to play it cool. Sure, he was beefed up now with three loyal goons, but he figured he'd chill a bit longer.
Who knew what other dangers were out there? Back at his pad, he slipped into his slippers, washed up, and sat down to keep munching at the dining table. The TV was on—eating and watching, living the dream.
Five hours later, he was stuffed. His body was beefing up, needing more grub—from two cows a day to now four.
Post-dinner, he took a bath, slipped into his white PJs, and did his laundry. All set. He plopped down on the couch, ready for some TV time. Outside, it was dark, the streets a mess, with zombies roaming all over.
But this chaotic world seemed a world away to Zane. He was just soaking up the rare calm in his cozy den. That's when he suddenly caught the mournful wail of a woman slicing through the night, sending shivers down the spine.
But Zane just scowled, slightly ticked off. The wailing was coming from one of his minions—the athlete zombie lady.
"Has this one caught feelings now? Crying?" Zane mused. He figured maybe she'd chowed down on some flesh and blood today and picked up some basic emotions.
Shoot, if zombies evolved enough, they might even start thinking like humans. But that would probably need hitting an S-level.
It all depended on the zombie's potential. Like that brainy Doctor Zombie, who might hit high smarts before reaching S-level.
Looks like he shouldn't sleep on this female zombie; she was already showing some feels. "Might as well check out her sob story," Zane thought, since he had nothing better lined up.
So, he got up and strolled downstairs...