Lefty, the one-armed zombie, let out a long groan as he sat down on a pile of rubble, staring at the space where Jenna had vanished into her storage for a moment. He wasn't always the sharpest of the bunch, but he knew one thing: Jenna had saved him. He still remembered the moment clearly—well, as clearly as a zombie could remember anything. He had been cornered by a group of humans, armed to the teeth, and Jenna had swooped in (in her clumsy way), opened up her space, and dumped an entire load of random supplies between him and the humans. It had confused everyone long enough for Lefty to escape. From that moment on, he had stuck by her side.
The others groaned softly in agreement, sharing unspoken memories of how Jenna had brought them all together. It wasn't just about survival anymore. It was something more. Jenna had a way of making even zombies feel like they were part of something bigger. A group, a gang, a family—whatever you wanted to call it.
And even though she was clumsy, even though she was dumb as a rock sometimes, they respected her. After all, it was her dumb luck that had gotten them this far. Jenna's unique ability to stumble her way into success was... kind of inspiring. At least to zombies.
Sparky looked at the others and gave a low, crackling groan. They all nodded. It didn't matter that Jenna wasn't the smartest, or that she got distracted by shiny objects and random junk. They'd follow her anywhere. And they'd protect her—because Jenna, in all her weird, hoarding glory, was the best leader they could've asked for.