POV: Jenna
Jenna grumbled under her breath as she trudged through the overgrown remnants of the town, the mixed group of humans and zombies trailing behind her like an awkward parade. It was supposed to be a simple supply run—grab what they could, bring it back, and maybe, just maybe, not step on anyone's toes. But the atmosphere was tense, and Jenna could practically feel the humans' eyes burning holes into her back.
"Do they have to stare so much?" she muttered to Carl, who walked beside her, calm as ever.
Carl smirked, not looking away from the street ahead. "They're scared. To them, you're the weird zombie lady with a hoarding problem."
Jenna rolled her eyes. "Great. I'm a walking stereotype."
"Better than being a walking corpse," Carl quipped, earning a reluctant chuckle from Jenna.
Behind them, the zombies from her gang shuffled quietly, their groaning minimal, as if they knew they had to behave. Jenna had drilled into them—well, as much as one could drill anything into zombies—that this was a mission of diplomacy. They couldn't go around trying to snack on their new "allies."
Up ahead, Sarah and Rick led the human group, scanning the area for threats. Sarah occasionally glanced back, her expression a mix of nervousness and determination. It was clear she was trying to set an example for the others, but Jenna could see the strain in her shoulders.
"Think this'll work?" Jenna asked, her tone light but her gaze serious.
Carl shrugged. "Depends on who screws up first—us or them."
---
POV: Sarah
Sarah gripped her crowbar tightly as they approached an old grocery store, its windows shattered and shelves barely visible through the encroaching vines. The idea of working with zombies still felt surreal, even after fighting alongside them during the blood moon. But as much as she wanted to believe in this alliance, the tension between the two groups was palpable.
She glanced back at Jenna and her gang, trying to focus on their usefulness instead of their… undeadness. Jenna was surprisingly capable, and Carl—well, Carl was intimidating, but in a reassuring way. The others, though… Sarah wasn't so sure. One of them was gnawing on a piece of wood, another was staring blankly at a streetlamp, and the rest just looked like they were waiting for an excuse to lose it.
"Alright," Rick said, breaking her train of thought. "We go in pairs. Humans and zombies stick together. No one goes off on their own."
The group exchanged uneasy looks, but no one objected. Sarah found herself paired with Carl, which was both a relief and a little nerve-wracking. He might have been a zombie, but he was the most competent one by far.
"Let's move," Rick ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
---
POV: Carl
Carl stepped into the grocery store with Sarah beside him, his senses on high alert. The place reeked of decay, and the faint rustling in the shadows told him they weren't alone. He glanced at Sarah, who was gripping her crowbar like her life depended on it.
"Stay close," he said, his voice low but firm.
She nodded, her eyes darting around the room. "Do you think there's anything left worth taking?"
Carl scanned the shelves, his enhanced vision picking up faint glimmers of metal and plastic amid the debris. "Probably. But we'll have to move fast. This place feels… wrong."
As if on cue, a low growl echoed from the back of the store. Sarah froze, her knuckles whitening around the crowbar. Carl stepped in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
"Stay behind me," he said, his voice calm but commanding.
The growl grew louder, and moments later, a mutated dog-like creature emerged from the shadows. Its body was twisted and grotesque, with glowing green eyes and jagged spikes protruding from its back. It snarled, saliva dripping from its fanged maw.
"Great," Carl muttered. "Just what we needed."
---
POV: Jenna
Jenna was rifling through a pile of rusted cans when she heard the snarl. Her head snapped up, and she saw Carl and Sarah facing off against the mutated dog. For a moment, she considered staying put—she wasn't exactly the fighting type—but then she sighed and grabbed the sharpest stick she could find.
"Alright, guys," she called to her gang, who were still loitering outside. "Time to earn your keep."
The zombies shuffled forward, their groans growing louder as they caught sight of the creature. Jenna led the charge—or rather, stumbled awkwardly in front of her gang—waving her stick like a flag.
The mutated dog turned its glowing eyes toward her, and for a split second, she regretted every decision that had led her to this moment. But then Carl lunged, his blade slicing through one of the creature's legs. It howled in pain, thrashing wildly as it tried to fight back.
"Nice work!" Jenna shouted, hoping to sound more confident than she felt. She jabbed her stick at the creature's side, hitting it with all the force of a mildly annoyed toddler. It didn't do much, but hey, it was the thought that counted.
Carl glanced at her, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated. "Really, Jenna?"
"Hey, I'm trying!" she shot back.
---
POV: Rick
From his vantage point outside, Rick watched as the battle unfolded. The humans and zombies were working together—barely—but it was clear that tensions were still high. He could see the fear in his group's eyes, the way they flinched every time a zombie got too close.
But then he saw something that surprised him. One of Jenna's zombies, the one with the blank stare, lunged at the mutated dog with surprising precision, biting down on its neck. The creature yelped, thrashing wildly before finally collapsing to the ground.
Rick blinked, taken aback. Maybe there was more to these zombies than he'd realized.
"Everyone okay?" he called, stepping into the store.
Jenna gave him a thumbs-up, her stick still in hand. "Just another day in paradise."
Carl wiped his blade clean, his expression serious. "We need to keep moving. That thing wasn't alone."
Rick nodded, his respect for the zombies begrudgingly growing. Maybe, just maybe, this alliance had a chance after all.