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Turns Out Cats Are Endgame Novel Cover

Turns Out Cats Are Endgame

When a system-driven apocalypse transforms pets into powerful guardians, everyone rushes to claim the fiercest predators. While his peers secure lions and crocodiles, the protagonist is locked into his three 'broken' strays: a blind cat, a lame cat, and a tiny kitten. Barricaded and hopeless, he expects the worst. However, on the third day, his pets return from the fray. Bubba, the blind stray, reveals he has cleared the entire block of zombies, proving these cats are the ultimate endgame.
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Chapter 3

Through all that noise, the three cats never woke up. Lately, they'd been sleeping more and more.

My one-bedroom was crammed with supplies. I was drenched, legs shaking, ready to drop.

Didn't matter. No time to crash.

I hit the hardware store, bought steel plates, and reinforced every door and window. When the zombies showed up, I'd at least buy myself a little time.

When I finally finished, I sank to the floor, eyes half-shut.

The lock clicked.

My landlord, Alan, stormed in with a crew behind him.

"Leave the stuff. Get out. I'm not renting to you anymore."

***

My heart slammed. I glared at him. "On what grounds?"

Alan swaggered, twirling the stick in his hand. "Because it's my apartment. I do whatever I want."

His guys slammed me to the floor. I couldn't move.

I watched them haul out my supplies. Then I watched them set up a custom fish tank in my living room.

No clue how Alan pulled it off, but he'd gotten crocodiles.

Wires cinched their jaws shut. Their exposed teeth still gleamed—cold, sharp.

Alan admired them, then scooped up sleeping Snowy.

He grabbed him by the tail and swung him around, laughing. "You're not actually counting on this thing to protect you, right? There's barely any meat on it. Wouldn't even fill my crocs' teeth."

Snowy, usually feral, hung limp—dead asleep.

Bubba and Missy didn't react either. Heads down. Out cold.

Still talking, Alan moved to toss Snowy into the tank.

"Don't!" I shouted. "I'll leave. Just don't hurt them."

Only then did he fling Snowy back at me. "Smart. Get the hell out. Come back and I'll feed you to the crocs too."

One hour until the apocalypse. My fully stocked home? Gone. I was out on the street with my three cats.

This time, I was done.

One in my arms. Two on my back. I kept my head down, trying to disappear.

I turned the corner—and walked straight into Dylan, my former friend, and Bella.

Arm in arm. Three Caucasian Shepherds at their side.

Dylan smirked. "Well, if it isn't Jaime. Still can't quit your three feline bosses, huh?"

I barely heard him. I was staring at their hands.

"We broke up a few hours ago. You're already with him?"

Bella dropped the mask. "You really think I'd date a skinny, broke loser?

"Dylan and I have been together for a while.

"We were gonna use you to raise strong pets. Then shove you to the zombies. Nine guardians for us.

"But you're too stupid. Clinging to those deadweight cats."

Dylan grinned, patting her head. "Babe, why waste breath? We've got Shepherds and a lion. Zombies or not, he's dead. Let's give our boys a snack."

I backed up, shaking.

Was I really about to get ripped apart before the zombies even showed? Their teeth were huge. This was gonna hurt.

The dogs lunged like they got the memo. Barking. Charging.

Dylan clapped. "That's it! Tear him up!"

Jaws wide. The stink of blood hit me. My legs locked. Nowhere to run.

I shut my eyes.

That's when the cats woke up.

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