Chameleon let out a low growl, shaking his head in amusement—or as close to amusement as a zombie could get. His first encounter with Jenna had been similarly confusing. He had been skulking in an alley, using his camouflage to hide from some particularly aggressive humans. It had worked—until Jenna had spotted him.
"That's a neat trick!" she had said, crouching down to peer at him with curious eyes. "You blend right into the wall! You're like... a chameleon!"
He hadn't known what a "chameleon" was, but apparently, that's what he was now. She had decided it, and that was that.
"I'll call you Chameleon!" she had declared, like it was the most genius idea in the world. He had wanted to groan in protest—Really? Chameleon? That's the best you've got?—but for some reason, the name had stuck. And so had he. He had followed her from that day forward, still not entirely sure why. But it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
The other zombies groaned their agreement, each of them having been named by Jenna in similarly ridiculous ways. "Big Guy" was the largest of them all, towering over the rest. His name was simple, but it fit. He didn't mind it—he had been too far gone when Jenna found him to care much about a name anyway.
And then there was Lefty. Lefty, who had been Jenna's first "official" recruit. He had lost his arm long before she found him, and when she did, she had tilted her head, studying him for a long moment before declaring, "I'll call you Lefty. Because, well... you know."
The gang groaned softly, a strange sense of pride swelling in their chests. Jenna's names might have been ridiculous, but in a weird way, they had given each of them an identity. They were more than just mindless husks wandering the apocalypse. They were Jenna's mindless husks, and that meant something.