Henry squinted at the cat, then said, "I'm guessing it used to be someone's pet. Probably lived with humans for a long time. Then it mutated, brain got a boost, and now it can understand some of what we're saying."
Ethan nodded. That tracked. He crouched down, meeting the orange cat's eyes.
"So what, you want us to let you go? Be our pet or something?"
The cat nodded quickly, ears perked, eyes wide with hope.
"And why the hell should I trust you?" Ethan asked, voice low. "What if we let you up and you bolt?"
Truth was, he really did want to keep it. A pet like this? That was a serious asset. But if it couldn't be trusted, it was more liability than help.
The cat hesitated, then slowly lifted its head.
That's when they noticed it—tucked deep in the thick fur around its neck, nearly hidden, was a small bell. It had been cinched tight, probably from the cat's sudden growth in size. No wonder they hadn't seen it before.
"You want me to take this off?" Ethan asked, puzzled.
The cat nodded again, this time with a look that was almost... solemn. Like it was offering something precious.
Curious, Ethan reached down and tugged the bell free. It came off with a soft jingle. He turned it over in his hand. Just a regular bell. Nothing special.
But the cat stared at it like it had just given away a piece of its soul.
That bell had been a gift from its owner—someone it'd lived with for eight years. Through thick and thin, just the two of them. It had never taken the bell off, not even when it started to hurt. Not even after the world ended.
But then the apocalypse hit. Its owner turned into a zombie. Everything changed. The cat had gone feral, lashing out at anything that came close—including Ethan and the others.
Still, deep down, it didn't hate humans. It missed them. It wanted someone to belong to again.
So when Ethan asked if it wanted to be their pet, it did the only thing it could think of to show sincerity: it gave up the one thing it loved most.
Ethan, meanwhile, was still baffled. "You're giving me a bell. That's your pitch?"
But then he caught the way the cat looked at it—like it was watching a memory walk away—and something in him softened.
He glanced at Chris and Henry. "Try lifting your feet. Let's see what it does."
Chris frowned. "You're not seriously trusting it?"
"Let's just try. If it pulls anything, we take it down again. We caught it once, we can do it again." Ethan's voice was calm, but confident. He knew its speed couldn't beat his eyes.
"Alright," Henry said, stepping back. Chris followed, both of them ready to pounce if needed.
The moment their boots lifted, the orange cat rolled to its feet in one smooth motion. But it didn't run. Didn't hiss. Didn't even twitch.
Instead, it looked at the bell in Ethan's hand, then quietly padded over and lay down at his feet, tail curled neatly around its body.
"...Huh."
The three of them stared.
Ethan reached down, slowly, and stroked the cat's head. It didn't flinch. In fact, it leaned into the touch, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
Ethan grinned. "Alright then. From now on, your name's Pumpkin."
"..."
"Pumpkin?" Chris echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" Ethan said, defensive.
Henry smirked. "No, no. It's... perfect."
"Damn right it is," Ethan said, beaming.
Chris still looked skeptical. "You sure about this?"
"Not yet," Ethan admitted. "We'll keep an eye on it. See how it goes."
Henry nodded. "If it really is loyal, it could be a huge boost for us."
"Alright," Ethan said, standing. "Let's go find that zombie."
"Yeah."
The three of them turned and headed back toward Mirror Lake. Behind them, Pumpkin trotted along, tail swaying, never straying more than a few steps from Ethan's heels.
It didn't take long for them to find the Tier 2 zombie loitering by Mirror Lake, apparently on a date with a regular one.
"Pumpkin, go," Ethan said, pointing.
He wanted to see if this new "pet" was actually useful—or if it needed to be put down before it became a problem.
Pumpkin seemed to understand exactly what he meant. Without hesitation, the orange blur launched itself toward the zombies.
In seconds, it was on them.
The Tier 2 zombie barely had time to react before Pumpkin's claws raked across its throat, spraying blood in a wide arc.
The zombie roared and swung at the cat, but Pumpkin was already gone, darting around it like a flame in the wind. No matter how it lunged or grabbed, it couldn't land a hit.
Pumpkin, on the other hand, kept going for the neck—again and again, relentless. Within moments, the zombie's throat was shredded. It staggered, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Damn, that's brutal," Chris muttered, impressed.
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. It's got bite."
"Alright, let's go dig out that crystal core."
By the time they walked over, Pumpkin had already dispatched the second, lesser zombie. It bounded over to Ethan, tail high, eyes gleaming with pride, like a cat dropping a dead mouse at its owner's feet.
"Well done, Pumpkin," Ethan said, grinning as he scratched behind its ears.
Chris stepped up to the Tier 2 corpse and smashed its skull in with a single swing of the barbell bar. He dug around for a moment, then pulled out the crystal core, still slick with blood.
"This one should go to Ethan," he said, glancing at Henry.
"Obviously," Henry agreed.
Chris handed it over. Ethan didn't argue—he was still Tier 1, and the other two had already leveled up. Time to catch up.
He swallowed the core. The energy surged through him instantly, flooding his veins, nerves, and muscles with raw power. He could feel it—his body sharpening, strengthening.
"Yeah," he exhaled. "Definitely need Tier 2 cores to push past the wall."
"The next Tier 2's over by Patterson Hall," Henry said. "That's the last one we can realistically take on today. The rest are in massive hordes—no way we're touching those."
"Let's finish this one and call it a day," Ethan agreed. "There'll probably be more Tier 2s popping up tomorrow anyway."
They headed toward Patterson Hall.
And the moment they arrived, all three of them stopped in their tracks.
Zombies in pajamas.
College girls, or what was left of them—still surprisingly bouncy, even in undeath. Their chests jiggled with every step, and compared to the rotting messes over at Bates West, these were... well, easier on the eyes.
"Man, we should've been clearing zombies here from the start," Henry said, eyes wide.
"You really came here to kill zombies?" Ethan shot him a look.
"He probably just wants to see if the pajamas are hiding any rot," Chris snorted.
"..."
"I can tell you right now," Ethan said, deadpan, "they're not."
Chris blinked. "Wait, how do you know?"
"I can see through things, remember?"
"..."
"Ethan," Henry said, eyes gleaming, "can we trade powers? I take back everything I said about yours being weak. Yours is God-tier, man. God-tier."
Ethan laughed. "Too bad. No trades."
"Alright, let's find that Tier 2."
Ethan scanned the area, then led them to a dorm building nearby. But as they turned the corner and looked ahead, all three of them froze.
"E-Ethan," Chris stammered, "you sure this one's doable?"
"I swear, when I scouted it, there were only like... twenty," Ethan said, swallowing hard.
Now?
Now the entire courtyard was packed. Zombies as far as the eye could see—at least five hundred of them, swaying and snarling, packed shoulder to shoulder.
"Someone must've drawn them here," Henry said, scanning the area.
"Yeah. Look—fresh blood in the middle. Some idiot probably screamed their lungs out and brought the whole damn neighborhood."
"So... can we still fight this?"
"How?" Chris said. "There's like a hundred Tier 1s in there. If we get surrounded, we're dead unless we can fly."
"Guess we wait till tomorrow," Ethan said with a sigh.
"Or," Chris offered, "we send Pumpkin in. It's fast—maybe it can slip through the crowd and take out the Tier 2."
At that, Pumpkin arched its back and hissed, glaring at Chris like he'd just suggested throwing it into a blender.
Clearly, it understood.
"Forget it," Ethan said, shaking his head. "Too risky. We don't need this one that badly. Let's head back, get some rest. Tomorrow'll bring more Tier 2s anyway."
"Yeah."
They turned to leave—only to hear a sudden stampede of footsteps behind them.
They spun around.
A group of college girls—actual, living ones—were sprinting toward them, screaming for help. Behind them, a fresh wave of zombies was hot on their heels.
The girls spotted the trio and ran even faster, yelling louder.
"Shit!" all three of them cursed in unison.
And just like that, the five hundred zombies in front of them perked up at the noise—then started charging too, eyes gleaming with hunger.
Now they were trapped.
Zombies in front. Zombies behind. No way out.
"Holy shit," Henry groaned. "We never should've come to Patterson Hall."
...
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