The four set out, following the path the little girl directed. Lion carried Melina in his arms, shielding her from wandering zombies. Suddenly, he paused and turned to his sister.
"Sister… there's a problem. We're too slow—slower than tortoises. How can we overpower a human like this?"
Lona's black eyes narrowed. "You're right. At this rate, even one human could kill us. And we've wasted too much time. If the brain-eating time limit expires, we'll rot for good." She tilted her head. "Brother, remember the trap Mother taught us? We could build it… use the girl as bait."
"A pit with spikes?" Lion pulsed, recalling their mother's hands guiding theirs in the dirt. "But we need a shovel. Sticks. Digging will take hours."
"It's the only plan we have," Lona replied. "Better than starving."
Lion turned to Ron, who trailed behind them with seething hatred. "Can you hear me?" he telepathized. "Do you know where to find a shovel?"
Ron glared, lips peeling back in a silent snarl.
"He can't hear us," Lona thought flatly.
"There," pointing to a crumbling QuickMart with a shattered sign. Broken glass littered the entrance.
"Go this way!" Melina tugged Lion's arm. "The camp's over there, you dummies!"
Ignoring her, they entered the store. Dust motes floated in the dim light. Ron stomped ahead
"CLANG."
A rusted bear trap snapped around his leg. He howled, the sound guttural and raw.
"What was that?!" Lion pulsed.
They rushed over to find Ron thrashing, black ooze seeping from his wound. Dozens of identical traps lay scattered nearby, jaws glinting.
"Sister…" Lion crouched, examining the mechanism. This trap is better than Mother's. How does it work?"