Chapter 2 Tina

My mom snapped, "Handle him? Yeah, right! Do you really think he's brave enough to chop off Mr. Hoffman's head? He'll end up drenched in stinking blood! And if he doesn't clean up properly, he's not setting foot back inside!"

My dad stiffened, resembling a malfunctioning robot, as he dragged his feet, clumsily reaching for his backpack. I stepped in to help him strap it on. "Remember, if you run into any living people, just drop down and play dead."

Dad let out his usual croaky chuckle. "That's my specialty."

But before he could leave, my mom grabbed him by the collar. "Quit dragging your feet and get moving! You may not need to eat, but we do, and we're out of food. Just look at Mr. Hoffman—he's bulked up since this whole mess began. You? You've had the best care and all the good food, yet somehow, you're the one who's losing weight!"

Dad groaned, "You feed me pasta every day, but I'm a zombie! I choke down one serving and throw up two. How am I not supposed to lose weight?"

The door slammed shut behind him. I quickly reopened it and called out, "Hey, Dad, check the market. See if you can find any veggies or fruit."

"Ha… ha…" His croaky voice trailed off.

"Just take a look, who knows? Maybe some seeds have sprouted," I added with a shrug.

Since this was only my dad's second outing since the apocalypse, my mom was understandably anxious.

She bombarded him with a barrage of cautions: "Don't eat any of the corpses you find lying around—unless you're aiming for a stomach upset. And if anyone tries to mess with you, just bite them… No, wait, you won't actually do that. Forget it. If anyone gives you trouble, just call me. I'll handle them myself."

She was dead serious. About six months into the apocalypse, both my mom and I had discovered some serious powers.

Mine? I could hear my dad's thoughts—yes, only his. In an apocalyptic world where survival hinged on brute strength, this ability was as useful as a screen door on a submarine. The only upside was that I became his personal translator.

But my mom? She struck gold. She developed super strength—and not just the run-of-the-mill kind. Her entire body mutated.

She went through a second growth spurt, and now she was almost seven feet tall—tall and built like a tank.

Back when her evolution kicked in, the zombies in the store had already been wiped out by survivors, so she took her bat to the streets. Her technique was simple: one swing, one head. The zombie skulls shattered like watermelons under her strikes, bursting with a satisfying crunch.

Even before the apocalypse, she had been known as the toughest woman in town, but now? She was downright terrifying. A single glare from her could make my knees buckle.

My dad had it worse—he usually dropped straight to his knees.

"Are you going to sit there, or do I need to spoon-feed you myself? Look at Tina—she was top of her class, and even as a zombie, she's evolved. And you? Useless as a student, and now, just as ineffective with your abilities."

I kept my gaze low, slowly eating my porridge, yearning for a moment of peace. Honestly, I envied my dad.

All the grocery stores in town had been looted clean by survivors months ago—except for the one on Tina's street.

Thanks to my dad's hard work, he managed to clear most of the zombies from the nearby streets over the past two weeks.

He had a simple, kind nature that seemed to bring him a bit of luck.

Whenever he encountered someone he knew, he would guide them back to their homes, and most still had their keys or fingerprint locks in place. Along the way, he would gather supplies from their houses.

For those he didn't recognize, he'd take them gently by the hand and lock them up in a nearby housing complex.

But when it came to Tina? He wouldn't go anywhere near her.

She had evolved into something else entirely—her mouth could split wide open, and her tongue lashed out like a lizard's, piercing straight through the heads of both humans and zombies.

She had become more of a beast than a person, and even other zombies steered clear of her territory.

It all started about six months ago, the first time my dad ventured outside.

A group of survivors had come looking for supplies, and Tina's street was the last place in town that still had anything left.

My dad witnessed it first-hand—Tina tore through that group without hesitation. The bloodbath drew every zombie in the area, but she obliterated them all, blowing their heads off like it was nothing.

After that, my dad didn't dare go outside again.

Though he had never been the bravest—more of a coward, really—he volunteered to head out today. He said he would try to lure Tina away, just for the sake of me and my mom.