A few days down the line.

  Billy Jean was sprawled out on a tree limb, looking down with all the enthusiasm of a sloth as a small mob of people got hemmed in by a horde of zombies.

  These regular foodstuffs, what she called “walking Happy Meals,” didn't spark her interest one bit.

  Ever since she gave Michael Joke the boot that day, she hadn't been chowing down properly.

  To keep from going off the deep end, she'd grudgingly take a sip or two of blood now and then.

  It was like she'd slid back into her old ways, only she was even pickier than before.

  “Coo...There you are. I've been hunting high and low for you for ages."

  Zompige swooped down and perched on Billy Jean's shoulder.

  “Roar... Has he split?"

  Billy Jean was so laid-back on that branch, she couldn't even muster up the energy to lift an eyelid.

  She hadn't set foot in the hotel since that blowout.

  The past few days, she'd sent Zompige to keep tabs on the joint.

  “Coo... Nope. Same old, same old today. The drapes are drawn tight, and he's holed up inside the hotel."

  Billy Jean's brow furrowed just a smidge, and she mumbled,

  “What in tarnation is he up to?”

  He wasn't making tracks, and he wasn't stepping out.

  The Michael Joke she knew wouldn't let a little thing like this get him down so easy.

  “Coo...Sis Jean, you two were getting along like a house on fire before. Why'd you have to send him packing? He's easy on the eyes and as strong as an ox. I can't fathom why you'd let him go."

  Zompige was scratching its head in confusion.

  Billy Jean lowered her lids, hiding the storm of emotions in her eyes.

  “Roar...Go scope out the place again. Holler if anything's up."

  Zompige didn't yap any more and flapped its wings and took off.

  After Zompige vamoosed, Billy Jean shot a glance at the brouhaha under the tree and then shut her peepers to “catch some Z's.”

  The gang getting corralled by the zombie mob under the tree was getting their butts kicked.

  Everyone looked like they'd seen a ghost.

  Watching their pals bite the dust one by one, their energy was tapped out.

  zombies kept piling on, and they wouldn't last much longer.

  Were they doomed to meet their maker right there?

  Just then, the team leader's eyes about popped out of his head when he spotted someone in the tree.

  After he rubbed his eyes and took a second look, he finally swallowed hard and believed that with the zombies going berserk below, there was actually someone catching some shut-eye in the tree.

  That nonchalant air was like they were lounging in their living room.

  The team leader figured he'd found a glimmer of hope and hollered,

  “Fellas, let's shimmy up the tree!”

  He swung his ax, hacked at the zombies lunging at him, and nimbly scampered up the tree.

  “Get up here pronto! Hurry it up!”

  He yelled at his buddies under the tree, his voice cracking with panic.

  Some of his pals got swallowed whole by the zombie mob before they could even touch the tree, and others got yanked down by the zombies halfway up.

  Only two of them managed to scramble up, making it a grand total of three, including the team leader.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The ones who didn't make it?

  They became zombie chow.

  Screams mingled with the gnashing of bones and flesh.

  It was nightmare fuel.

  There were ten of them in the crew, handpicked from the survivor camp on the west side of town to go scavenging for supplies.

  Usually, they'd poke around the outskirts.

  Fewer zombies out there, but the pickings were slim to none.

  Today, they struck out in the suburbs and were too proud to go back empty-handed.

  So they took a flyer and headed into the city center.

  Who knew they'd be walking into a buzz saw?

  As soon as they got there, a small horde of zombies swarmed them.

  Now there were just three of them left.

  They were getting a crash course in the brutality of the apocalypse.

  “So many of our brothers bought the farm. I'm afraid we're next,”

  A lanky young fella said, looking down at the writhing zombie horde like it was the end of the world.

  “Damn it. I should've checked my horoscope before stepping out today. Bad juju all around,”

  The other young fella with a single eyelid growled.

  He had a temper shorter than a matchstick.

  The team leader kept mum.

  He'd been eyeballing the person snoozing on the tree limb.

  They were decked out in a baggy black getup and a big ol' hat, and it was anyone's guess if they were male or female.

  Anyone who could be that chill in this chaos had to have some tricks up their sleeve and wasn't someone to trifle with.

  The zombie mob under the tree had polished off their meal and were now zeroing in on the tree-sitters.

  They waved their claws and howled at the tree like banshees.

  Each zombie had just pigged out and didn't bother wiping their chops.

  Blood smeared their mouths and chins, and bits of meat were stuck in their pearly whites.

  Paired with their sickly green-gray complexions and milky eyes, it was horror movie material.

  The three in the tree saw the zombie ranks swelling and some of them starting to claw their way up.

  They gulped hard, and beads of cold sweat trickled down their foreheads.

  “Tea... Team leader, what... do we... do now?”

  The lanky young fella's voice quivered like a leaf.

  They were all running on fumes and at the end of their rope.

  They didn't have the juice to put up a fight.

  Once the zombies climbed up, it was game over.

  “Friend, you got any bright ideas?”

  The team leader bellowed.

  The lanky young fella and the one with the single eyelid did a double-take.

  Who was the team leader talking to?

  Following his gaze, they finally clued in that there was another person in the tree.

  And that person was zonked out.

  They were gobsmacked.

  Was this person loony tunes?

  There was a horde of ravenous zombies below, and this person was sawing logs.

  Shouldn't any sane person be scrambling to figure out an escape plan?

  zombies don't sleep.

  When Billy Jean shut her eyes, she was just zoning out, not really catching some Z's.

  She'd planned to wait until the zombie mob below polished off that bunch and then go down for a sip or two of blood.

  But they were tougher than she thought.

  Looked like she'd have to fend for herself.

  Billy Jean sat up on the branch, all cat-like grace, and gave the three a lazy once-over.

  “Y'all talking to me?”

  The second Billy Jean's voice cut through the air, the three of them froze like deer in headlights.

  They hadn't expected a gal.

  In the apocalypse, even the toughest hombres were walking on eggshells, and here was a woman, cool as a cucumber.

  The team leader snapped out of it quick and was even more convinced this person was the real deal.

  If they could buddy up, maybe she could pull them out of this mess.

  “Friend, we're surrounded by zombies from here to kingdom come. Any ideas? The three of us will go down swinging to protect you and bust out of here.”

  Billy Jean peeked at the zombies below, looking at her snarling, clawing “buddies,” and the corner of her mouth twitched.

  “Why bust out? Aren't they kinda cute?”

  When the team leader and the other two heard that, their jaws dropped.

  Cute?

  She thought zombies were cute?

  Was she off her rocker?

  They'd heard people call zombies all kinds of names, but “cute” was a new one.

  “Team leader, I think she's got a screw loose,”

  The lanky young fella whispered.

  “I'm with you. Just the fact that she was snoozing in the tree with zombies all around? No way a normal person could konk out like that.”

  The young fella with the single eyelid whispered back.

  The team leader nodded in agreement one second.

  “I feel you.”

  The next second, he said to Billy Jean,

  “Friend, I'm with you. I've finally found someone who sees eye to eye with me on zombies.”

  His tone was all regret, like he'd missed out on a lifetime of zombie love.

  The lanky young fella and the one with the single eyelid.

  What the heck!!

  Sensing their side-eye, the team leader hushed them up.

  “There's a fine line between a genius and a nut-job. The crazier she is, the more likely she's a brainiac.”

  After that pearl of wisdom, the lanky young fella and the one with the single eyelid thought it made sense.

  “Let's play along with the loony. Maybe if she's in a good mood, she'll go all kung fu on the zombies and wipe them out.”

  The lanky young fella said, hope in his voice.

  “Right. That's the play. Crazy people are easy to please.”

  The young fella with the single eyelid chimed in.

  The three of them gabbed away in hushed tones, clueless that Billy Jean was eavesdropping.

  Billy Jean's face darkened.

  Dang it, couldn't these people be a bit more respectful?

  They kept calling her crazy.

  Since they wanted to play games, she'd show them how a lady dined in style.

  Just as Billy Jean was about to make her move, Zompige flapped back and landed on her shoulder.

  When the team leader and the other two saw the pigeon with its beady red eyes and fierce glare, its face like a gargoyle's, their spines turned to ice, and they didn't dare breathe too loud.

  It was Zompige.

  The team leader signaled Billy Jean to freeze, for crying out loud, lest she spook Zompige.

  One nip from it and they'd be goners.

  Zompige was no ordinary pigeon.

  It didn't go on the attack unless you poked the bear.

  Billy Jean ignored him and turned to Zompige.

  “Roar... What's the skinny?"

  When the team leader and the other two heard the roar, their eyes bugged out in terror.

  Their legs gave out, and they clung to the tree branches like their lives depended on it.

  Fear gripped them, and their lips trembled like leaves in a storm.

  A... a zombie.

  She was a zombie.