One by one, the Zombie Kings arrived, each radiating an overwhelming aura of power.
Pickle was completely surrounded. His eyes were filled with despair as he stared blankly at the scene unfolding around him.
"Why…?"
"Why would a Zombie Leader from some backwater outpost get this many Zombie Kings to come bail him out?"
He just couldn't wrap his head around it. It didn't make any sense.
Bulldozer rumbled in his deep, dopey voice, "What's there to figure out? I'm in trouble, of course they're gonna show up. Don't Zombie Kings help each other out in your nest?"
"Uh…" Pickle froze, his expression stiffening. That comment hit like a dagger to the chest.
Man… that cut deep.
Because if he were the one in trouble, there's no way this many Zombie Kings would come running.
They were both leaders from the outskirts, so why was the difference between them so damn huge?
That's when Pickle suddenly realized—this group of zombies… they weren't like the ones from your average nest.
