Henry and Chris were about to say something, but the cat didn't give them the chance. In a blur of motion, it launched another attack—this time streaking toward Chris so fast it was nearly invisible.
Chris swung the barbell bar hard in the direction of the orange blur, but it sliced through empty air.
"Shit—!"
A sharp, burning pain tore through his shoulder. Four fresh claw marks bloomed across his skin, blood already welling up.
"I can't hit it! It's too damn fast!" Chris hissed through clenched teeth.
"Well, cats are fast to begin with. A mutated one? Of course it's faster," Henry muttered, frowning.
Ethan frowned too. Judging by its strength, the cat was probably no more than Tier 2—but the speed was the real problem.
And now the barbell bar's downside was painfully obvious.
Sure, it was great for smashing zombies—one swing, one splattered skull. But against something this quick? Useless. You couldn't hit what you couldn't catch.
