As the group settled into their fragile routine, the air in the apartment began to shift. Ryder, the once-hostile rogue who had begrudgingly joined their ranks, now found himself cautiously woven into their daily lives. The walls of mistrust, however, were still standing—at least for Mallory.
Mallory lounged on the couch, half-listening to Alex and Harper debating the most ridiculous apocalypse questions.
"Okay, would you rather fight one giant zombie chicken or a hundred tiny zombie chickens?" Harper asked, her voice brimming with mock seriousness.
Alex rubbed his chin like he was solving a world crisis. "A hundred tiny ones. You can just kick them away."
Harper snorted. "Wrong answer. That's how you get overwhelmed! The giant chicken, obviously. You only have one target."
Mallory let out a dramatic groan. "You both lose. Just barricade yourself in a KFC and wait it out."
