*Bang!* The final bullet tore through the last zombie in the annex. The Cube's arms reverted to standard hands.
"Energy consumption: 6%. Recharge advised."
*6% for 100 zombies?* It cursed its tiny frame. *If only my true form were here…*
Back on the first floor, it dragged desks and chairs to barricade the entrance. Each trip fueled its resentment. *Manual labor? This is construction drone work!* The clatter echoed upstairs, met only with fearful silence.
Climbing the stairs, it hopped step by step. Halfway to the third floor, its right wheel sank into a puddle of rotting sludge.
"Ugh! **F**k this!" It shook the gunk off, stumbled backward, and—
*Clatter-clang!*
—tumbled down to the second-floor landing. A zombie's pocket yielded an unopened tissue pack. The Cube scrubbed its wheels obsessively.
Finally reaching the third floor, the Cube's right wheel sank into a puddle of rotting zombie sludge.
"Ugh! **F**k! Disgusting!" It shook the gunk off violently, hopping backward in revulsion—only to misstep and tumble.
"Whoa—!" Arms flailing, it crashed down the stairs in a clatter of metal, landing in a heap at the second-floor landing. Shaking its head, it spotted an unopened tissue pack in a zombie's pocket. Without hesitation, it snatched the pack and scrubbed its wheels obsessively until they gleamed.
Cautiously, it climbed back to the third floor, transformed into a remote-controlled car, and rolled toward a reinforced metal door at the end of the hallway. The door—thick and airtight, likely protecting valuables—refused to budge.
*Knock-knock-knock.* Its mechanical arm rapped rhythmically.
Inside the classroom, thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward the barricaded door. Girls huddled together; a male teacher and students gripped makeshift weapons, breath held. Zombies didn't *knock*.
*Knock-knock-knock.*
"Anyone alive in there? The hallway's clear. Put down the pipe, Fatty." The Cube mimicked Zhang Xiaowen's voice flawlessly.
"Someone's out there!" a pudgy student whispered, clutching a metal rod. "But… why does it sound like a phone speaker?"
"Hey, *Fatty*! Open up. I'm busy."
Silence. The students exchanged bewildered glances. *Who claims to be "busy" during the apocalypse?*
Reluctantly, the boys shifted desks blocking the door—weak from hunger, their movements sluggish. The Cube watched, unimpressed. *Organic limitations. Pathetic.*
*Click.* The lock disengaged. The door creaked open to reveal… an empty hallway littered with corpses.
"G-g-ghost…?" the pudgy student stammered, exchanging terrified looks with his friend.
"Down here, geniuses! Watch your feet!"
They jumped back, staring at the tiny toy car by their shoes.
"I'm Zhang Xiaowen—not here physically. We're evacuating soon. Gather the fourth-floor group.
Food arrives in 30."
"Food? But… how?" The student eyed the toy car skeptically. "That thing can't carry much, and the batteries—"
"Not your problem. Later."
The Cube sped toward a nearby supermarket. *Preserved goods should suffice. Can't let this planet's China share my homeworld's fate…*
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