Carl stood before Jenna and her group with the expression of a man who had clearly underestimated his own patience. "Alright," he said, pacing in front of them like a drill sergeant, "if we're going to be stronger, we need to start with physical training. You need to be faster, more coordinated. No more tripping over yourselves."
Jenna nodded eagerly. "I'm great at running! I can, uh, run real fast... if there's something shiny up ahead."
Carl sighed. "This isn't about shiny objects, Jenna."
She looked down, a little disappointed, but quickly perked up again. "Okay, got it. No shiny things."
Carl took a deep breath. "Let's start with some sprints. Zombies aren't known for speed, but if you want to survive, you need to move faster than the humans."
Jenna and the gang lined up, looking somewhat determined. Carl raised his hand, ready to start the drill. "On my mark... go!"
Jenna took off like a rocket, her arms flailing in every direction, feet barely in sync with each other. Behind her, the rest of the zombies lurched forward at different speeds—one of them tripping almost immediately, another veering off to chase a gust of wind. The noise of groans filled the air as the gang stumbled over themselves, completely ignoring any semblance of coordination.
Carl watched in horror as one zombie collided with a tree and another zigzagged in circles. Jenna, however, was still going, her face scrunched up in concentration, completely missing the fact that she'd just run straight through a broken fence and was now heading toward a pile of trash.
"Jenna, stop! You're going the wrong way!" Carl shouted, but Jenna was already too far gone, tumbling headfirst into the garbage. She popped up, holding a rusted shovel in her hand, looking oddly proud of herself. "Look, Carl! Supplies!"
Carl's hand met his face with a dull smack. "This isn't about supplies, Jenna!"
She blinked, confused. "But we're supposed to be stronger by collecting things, right?"
Carl shook his head. "No, we're supposed to be stronger by actually training. You know, running, fighting, survival?"
"Ohhhh," Jenna said, nodding slowly. "Right, right. Got it. But... can I keep the shovel?"
Carl stared at her for a long moment. "Fine. Keep the shovel."
The training session continued in a similar chaotic fashion, with the zombies proving to be as uncoordinated as ever. Carl tried to show them basic fighting moves, but Jenna accidentally swung the shovel into one of her zombies' legs, causing it to collapse into a pile of limbs. Another zombie got distracted by a squirrel, while two others were locked in a strange, stumbling dance as they tried to follow Carl's instructions.
By the end of the session, Carl looked completely worn out, while Jenna stood proudly with her new shovel in hand. "I think we're really getting the hang of this!" she said.
Carl, rubbing his temples, muttered under his breath, "This is going to take a miracle…"