Apocalypse: King of Zombies

He bolted straight toward the spot where Big Ears and the others were lying in wait.

"Woof! Woof!"

Behind him, the Husky was hot on his heels. With less than ten meters between them, the undead dog suddenly surged forward, leaping through the air like a missile.

"Now, boys—get him!" Shrimpy roared.

In that split second, thick black smoke erupted from the bushes ahead. Dense fog rolled out in waves, spreading like wildfire. In the blink of an eye, the entire area was swallowed in darkness.

Pitch black. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

Back down the trail, Bighead was still a ways off. He'd been watching smugly as his zombie pet, Buddy the Husky, chased that cocky little undead into the woods. Victory had seemed all but certain.

But then—bam!—everything changed. That sudden black fog surged up from the forest floor, swallowing Buddy whole.

"Buddy!" Bighead shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

The elite zombie crew behind him froze, confused and uneasy.

"What the hell is that? It's pitch black!"

"Looks like some kind of smoke... I remember last time—there was a zombie that could release black fog."

"Boss, what's going on?!"

"…"

Bighead paused, thinking fast. Then it hit him.

"Wait a second… what if Buddy walked right into an ambush?"

"What?!"

"No time for 'what'—go find him! Now!" Bighead snapped, his voice rising with urgency.

This whole setup had been Big Ears' idea—a classic bait-and-trap. And judging by how things were going, it was working like a charm.

Inside the fog, Buddy the zombie Husky was completely disoriented, alone and confused.

Then, out of the brush, Big Ears and his crew burst into action.

"Get him!" Shrimpy shouted, reacting first. He spun around and launched himself at Buddy, tackling the dog to the ground. The tables had turned—now Buddy was the one being hunted.

"You had the nerve to chase me? Let's see how you like getting torn apart!"

Shrimpy pinned Buddy down, clawing and biting like a madman. For a moment, it was hard to tell who was the dog in this fight.

Big Ears and the other two zombies rushed in to help, piling on top of the struggling Husky. It was chaos—limbs flailing, teeth snapping, everyone trying to hold the beast down.

But Buddy was built like a tank.

He thrashed like a wild stallion, nearly throwing them off. And he wasn't going down without a fight.

With a vicious snarl, he sank his teeth into Big Ears' calf.

"Shit!" Big Ears yelped in pain, but he didn't back off. He retaliated with a savage bite to Buddy's hind leg. The two of them ended up in a twisted, almost obscene tangle of limbs and teeth.

Buddy howled in agony, his cries echoing through the forest.

"Awooooo! Awooooooo!"

The sound tore through the trees like a siren.

Bighead and his crew plunged into the fog, drawn by the screams. But the mist was so thick, they could barely see five meters ahead.

"Buddy! Where are you?!" Bighead shouted, trying to follow the sound of the howls.

Big Ears and his crew weren't exactly elite fighters, but four against one? That was enough.

Within seconds, they'd torn Buddy apart.

The zombie Husky's body lay sprawled on the ground, blood and gore everywhere. His guts were spilling out, the forest floor soaked in black, oozing filth.

"Yes! That's for everything he did to us!" Mist said, panting. "Now let's get the hell out of here before Bighead shows up!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's move!" the others chimed in, already turning to run.

But just as they spun around, a furious voice exploded from the darkness.

"Don't you fucking move!"

Bighead's twisted silhouette emerged from the black fog, his face contorted with rage, eyes burning with fury.

"Holy shit! Run!"

The four zombies didn't hesitate—they turned on their heels and bolted like hell, showing off their signature survival skill: running for their un-lives. As they fled, Mist unleashed another wave of thick black fog, turning the air around them into something that looked and felt like black paint—sticky, suffocating, and impossible to see through.

Shrimpy, not even breaking stride, scooped up a rock with both hands and flung it blindly over his shoulder, then kept sprinting like his ass was on fire.

Bighead and his crew waved their arms frantically, trying to clear the fog, but it was no use. The stuff clung to everything like tar.

"They went that way! After them!" Bighead barked, pointing ahead.

But just as he gave the order, he heard a sharp whoosh slicing through the air. His gut told him something was off. He instinctively looked up.

"Huh?"

Too late.

Smack!

A rock came flying out of the darkness and nailed him square in the face, knocking him flat on his back.

His zombie underlings rushed over in a panic.

"Boss! You okay?!"

"Hurts! Hurts! Hurts!" Bighead groaned, clutching his face and slapping the ground with one hand in agony.

"Wait, seriously?" one of the elite zombies asked, confused. "That bad? I mean, we barely feel pain anymore. A rock shouldn't hurt that much…"

Bighead snapped, "You stepped on my hand, you idiot!"

"Oh! Oh, my bad!" The zombie quickly backed off, apologizing profusely.

…

Honestly, even without the rock to the face, Bighead didn't stand a chance of catching up to Big Ears and his crew. After that little detour, the four of them were long gone.

And they weren't taking any chances. They didn't stop once, sprinting deep into the forest until they were far, far away.

Finally, they came to a halt in a secluded part of the woods, surrounded by clusters of red, tumor-like growths sprouting from the ground.

"Whew—alright, we're safe now," Big Ears said, catching his breath.

"Yeah, yeah," Shrimpy nodded, still riding the high. "Man, that was awesome! I haven't had a fight that fun in ages!"

"Same here," Mist chimed in. "That was the most satisfying beatdown I've had in a long time."

They were all grinning, practically glowing with victory.

Just then, a figure stepped out from the dark brush nearby—a female Zombie King with a slightly dazed, dreamy look on her face. Perched on her head was a tiny mushroom cap: Lil' Shroom.

Big Ears lit up. "Shroom, sis!"

"Mm?" Lil' Shroom tilted her head, curious. "What happened to you guys?"

Big Ears puffed up with pride. "Didn't Boss say we're going to war with the San Diego zombies? Well, we just kicked off the first strike—took out a major chunk of their forces. First blood, baby!"

Shrimpy nodded eagerly. "Damn right! We're the Overlord Squad—we don't mess around!"

Lil' Shroom blinked. "Wait… which part of their forces did you take out?"

"We took down a dog!" Locomotive said, dead serious.

"A… dog?" Lil' Shroom's expression froze.

That was it? A dog? They were this hyped over killing a dog?

She stared at them for a second, then sighed. "Alright… if it makes you happy."

She turned away, clearly unimpressed, and went back to what she was doing.

With a wave of her hand, countless fungal spores drifted into the air, settling on tree trunks and bushes. Wherever they landed, red fleshy tumors began to grow—just like the ones around them.

"Shroom, sis! What are you doing?" Big Ears asked, watching her curiously.

"Boss said we need intel, right? I'm planting eyes."

"…"

Meanwhile, in a valley on the other side of the mountain, a heart-wrenching howl echoed through the night.

"Woooooo… Buddy! You died so horribly!" Bighead was on his knees, staring at the mangled corpse of his beloved zombie dog. Just hours ago, Buddy had been full of life—well, undead life. Now he was just a pile of shredded meat and leaking guts.

"Buddy, wake up… come on, wake up…"

"Boss, don't be too sad," one of the elite zombies said gently, trying to comfort him.

"You don't get it!" Bighead snapped, his voice cracking. "Buddy was my best bro!"

He sniffled, his face twisted in grief. "Now that he's gone… who's gonna catch chickens for me?"

…