My Cats Ruled the Apocalypse
A single bite from those teeth, top and bottom, was lethal.
Forget feeding my three cats chicken, duck, mice, or rabbits—even if I had raised them on wolves, they couldn't stand in for me against zombies.
The clock ticked down: less than 23 hours to the end of the world.
I couldn't bear to sacrifice my cats. But with the little money I had, I couldn't buy loyal, strong pets—and wild beasts couldn't be tamed in time.
What to do? Just wait to die?
After weighing the options, I clenched my teeth and decided: fine. I'd prepare. I wouldn't fight zombies head-on.
Bab Populer