"If He Could Do it, So Can We"

Twenty minutes later, near the main gate plaza of the residential compound, the woman had been forced to climb up a tall tree. Initially, a ladder helped her reach the first few branches, but the rest was a terrifying scramble driven by fear. Her trembling hands clung tightly to a tree limb, legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Please, I beg you... bring me down! I'll do whatever you want from now on! I don't need food or water anymore... just don't let me die up here!"

"Shut up!" the short, heavyset man snapped, glaring up at her. His voice was low and threatening. "You want to live? Then scream your lungs out when I say. Get every zombie in this square to come over here! Once we take care of them, we'll rescue you."

The lanky man beside him looked pale. "Boss... are you sure about this? Over twenty zombies… just the two of us… what if—"

"Don't be such a coward," the heavy man sneered. "You saw it yesterday, didn't you? That guy with the fire axe took down seven or eight zombies like it was nothing. Didn't even break a sweat!"

"But…" the skinny man still hesitated.

"Listen to me," the heavy man said confidently. "Yeah, there's more of them today, but we have two people. We can back each other up! And think about it—if that guy could do it, why can't we? Those zombies only look scary. They're actually weak as hell. That guy cut through their necks like butter. That means they're fragile. We've just been psyching ourselves out."

The lanky man nodded hesitantly. He recalled the man with the axe—Lucas Kane. He didn't look especially strong or muscular, but he handled the zombies like they were training dummies. So maybe… it wasn't that Lucas was strong. Maybe the zombies were just weak?

With renewed resolve, they got into position behind a parked car near the plaza.

Up in the tree, the woman screamed.

"Help! Help me! I don't want to die!"

Her high-pitched cries pierced the air like a siren.

"Hhhh... ahhh!"

The groans of the undead answered her. Zombies that had been roaming aimlessly suddenly turned and charged towards the sound.

She screamed again—this time with genuine terror. A sea of zombies converged at the tree, arms outstretched, pale fingers clawing skyward.

"Now!" the heavy man whispered with a grin.

He remembered the scene perfectly: Lucas had stood alone and mowed down zombies in the same setting.

The two men crept up behind the horde. The heavy man raised his kitchen cleaver and slammed it into the back of a zombie's head.

Squelch!

The blade sank deep—but not enough. It lodged halfway into the skull and stuck fast. As the zombie collapsed, the man nearly lost his balance, still gripping the embedded cleaver.

"What the hell?!" he hissed.

It hadn't gone like this yesterday! He'd swung with full force, yet it barely penetrated. Worse—he couldn't get the blade out!

Nearby, the lanky man took his turn. He slashed horizontally across a zombie's neck.

Crunch.

The blade bit into flesh but caught on bone.

The zombie turned its head slowly.

"B-boss… something's not right! This isn't how it went down yesterday!"

The tall man's legs buckled as he fell backward in panic.

Now both men were weaponless.

And the zombies had noticed.

"Run!" the heavy man shouted.

His voice rang out across the plaza, drawing even more undead toward them. A dozen zombies peeled off from the tree and gave chase.

"Boss! Don't leave me!" the tall man scrambled to his feet, limping in terror.

He ran hard, quickly catching up to the shorter man.

"Hurry up! They're gaining!" he cried, not wanting to abandon his partner.

He reached out, trying to help.

The heavy man grabbed his arm—and then kicked.

Crack!

The forceful blow landed on the tall man's ankle.

"Bro… you—"

Pain and betrayal twisted across his face as he staggered, his ankle giving out.

He looked up, stunned, as the heavy man kept running without a word.

Behind him, the undead closed in.