"The best thing to do is talk to that person I saw," she said. "Figure out how bad this zombie situation is. If it’s really too much for us to handle, then… I don’t know. But I’m not taking any chances fighting both the zombies and that mother monster."

James nodded. "I agree. But which house? And do you think the others are *really* empty?"

Jennifer glanced at the broken and boarded-up windows of the nearby buildings. Some of them had boarded-up doors, others were just broken apart. "Some of them definitely are," she said.

She moved toward the house where she’d spotted someone earlier. The front door was closed, but the window had thick wooden planks nailed over it. She stepped close and whispered, "Hello?"

No response.

Jennifer pressed her palm against the wood. "Look, my friend and I are here to kill monsters. And zombies. We just need some information."

A woman’s voice came from inside, sharp and tense. "Go away. Or I’ll blow your pimp’s head off."

Jennifer frowned. "Pimp?" she muttered under her breath, confused and already irritated.

She tried again. "This isn’t a trap."

There was movement behind the window. A moment later, a shotgun barrel pushed through the gaps between the planks, pointing directly at Jennifer’s face.

Jennifer’s skin shimmered, shifting to silver in an instant. She didn’t flinch.

The woman’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Get the hell out of here." Her eyes flicked between Jennifer and James, her grip on the shotgun steady. "I know your tricks. The *nerve* to come back here after everything you’ve done, but now dressed in fancy armor and—"

She hesitated, eyes narrowing as she took in their features.

"Wait… your ears. They’re not pointed?"

Jennifer didn’t react at first, just letting the woman process the realization. Unlike her—yellow-eyed, sharp-eared, her face gaunt with exhaustion—they looked completely different.

Jennifer flexed her fingers, letting her claws slide out in a slow, deliberate motion. "We’re not hu-- people traffickers," she said, her voice steady. "You heard about that monster attack on the school?"

The woman didn’t blink.

Jennifer continued. "We stopped it. Used our powers to keep those kids alive."

The woman let out a slow breath, but instead of relief, her expression darkened. "That’s unfortunate."

Jennifer frowned. "What?"

The woman’s grip on the shotgun tightened. "_The Highlanders should’ve died._" The words came out cold, firm, like a fact she had long accepted. "You should have let them die."

James stiffened beside Jennifer, his hands clenching at his sides. "Those were _kids_," he said, his voice edged with frustration. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The woman turned her eyes on him, unflinching. "They were Highlanders."

"Are the Highlanders the traffickers?"

The woman let out a bitter chuckle. "No," she said flatly. "But I don’t give a shit if they were kids. From the moment Highlanders are born, they’re evil."

Jennifer felt James tense again, but she didn’t look at him.

The woman’s voice didn’t waver. "You wanna know where the zombies came from? *Them*. While the rest of us are fighting to survive, they live separate. Safe. Protected. And the people who *do* sell people?" She exhaled sharply through her nose. "They’re my own kind. Preying on us. Selling us to Highlanders, selling us to _each other_."

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Silence stretched between them.

Jennifer nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of her words. "I want to help."

James said nothing.

The woman’s expression didn’t change, but her lips curled into something like amusement—bitter, distant, tired. "Good luck with that." Her voice was dry. "I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. The world’s fucked."

Jennifer held her gaze. "Monsters exist in this world now," she said simply. "That’s new. You won’t just have to deal with zombies anymore. You’ll have to worry about *them* too."

The woman let out a small, almost humorless laugh. "Then I die."

James shook his head. "I don’t get it."

Jennifer did. It was the way the woman spoke, the dullness in her tone—not fear, not even bitterness, just the acceptance of someone who had already lost too much to care.

The woman reached into her pocket, fingers closing around something. Slowly, she pulled out a pendant.

It was old, the metal worn, but the picture inside was still clear enough to see. A man. A woman. A little girl, no older than five, all smiling like they belonged in a world that no longer existed.

Jennifer said nothing.

The woman swallowed hard, staring at the picture as if she wasn’t even sure why she had taken it out. "My husband," she murmured. "He died to a zombie."

She hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly.

"My little girl…" Her voice broke for just a second before she pushed through. "She was kidnapped by the people who sell others to sick bastards. And most likely…" She trailed off, then shook her head. "I don’t even want to *think* about what they did to her."

Jennifer stayed quiet, letting her speak.

"All I can hope for is that an accident happened," the woman whispered. "That they gave her a quick death. Because death is better than… what they do to you."

A heavy silence filled the space between them.

Jennifer inhaled, her voice quieter this time. "I’m sorry to hear that."

The woman just tucked the pendant back into her pocket. "Doesn’t change anything," she muttered.

Jennifer hesitated, then said, "I don’t want you to fight. I just need to know… how many of them are around here? If I attack one, how many will come running?"

The woman exhaled slowly. "Hundreds. Thousands, maybe."

Jennifer’s jaw tightened. "How sensitive to sound are they?"

"Extremely reactive, hearing is that of a normal person. So they can't hear us as long as we keep out voice extremely low like we are doing right now."

Jennifer looked around, taking in the silent, ruined place. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a quiet sigh escaping her. "And… their bites? Their speed?"

The woman blinked at her, almost disbelieving the question. "Speed? Like a full-grown adult with infinite stamina. Bite… like a dog. But if they can’t bite you, they’ll try spitting in your mouth, your ears. That’s how they infect you."

Jennifer nodded, filing the information away.

Then the woman’s eyes flicked upward. A thin thread stretched across the ceiling, almost invisible in the dim light. It was vibrating. Her face paled.

"Inside. Now," she whispered harshly. "Back door!"

Jennifer and James didn’t hesitate. They slipped around the side of the house, moving quickly but quietly.

A deep, guttural roar echoed from somewhere close. Too close.

Jennifer shoved James inside, shutting the door behind them. The place was a mess—furniture overturned, empty cans stacked in a corner, dust thick in the air.

The woman dropped to the floor, pressing herself flat. Jennifer and James followed.

The sound grew louder. Heavy footsteps, snarls, the scrape of something dragging across the pavement.

Then… silence.

They waited. Seconds stretched, then minutes. Finally, the woman let out a breath. "They do rounds," she whispered.

Jennifer turned her head slightly. "Bloody hell."

The woman nodded. "Since we’re trapped here, with the bridge blown off, they do walks. Not sure why. But they always come back."

Jennifer absorbed that. "How have you survived?"

The woman was quiet for a moment, then said, "There’s about five of us. I had food. A lot of it. When the outbreak started, it was in faraway part of the country. I was paranoid. The whole town was. We made a plan, stocked up a couple years’ worth of rations." She exhaled through her nose. "That was six years ago."

Jennifer frowned. "So you’ve been living off that?"

"Not exactly." The woman’s voice was flat. "I ran out a while ago. Had to take from my dead townfolk."

Jennifer said nothing.

James shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Jennifer. She was lost in thought, brow furrowed. Then, suddenly, she straightened.

"James," she said. "I have an idea. It’s kinda dumb, and it’ll need you to be really, really fast."

James arched a brow. "Tell me."

Jennifer gestured for him to lean in, speaking low. The woman watched, uninterested. Whatever they were planning, she didn’t care.

After a while, she finally spoke. "What are you?"

Jennifer and James both looked at her.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "And where are you from?"

Jennifer smiled faintly. "We’re humans, far from this world. We specialize in killing monsters."

The woman studied them. "You do this for a living?"

They both nodded.

Jennifer added, "But we’re kinda new. When we saved that school, the guards there thought we were sent by the gods."

The woman let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t count on the gods to save this place."

Jennifer didn’t argue. "I know. Today we'll be your gods."

"Oh ho...?"

She and James stood. The woman didn’t try to stop them as they made their way to the door.

James exhaled, flexing his fingers. He was anxious.

Jennifer gave him a look. "You ready?"

He sighed. "As ready as I’ll ever be."