"Rrrrgh...I can waaaalk..." Zed groaned, almost as if he were just about to turn into aforementioned zombie. Hell, the way he started forward wasn't that much different, if it weren't for his wounded arm's hand on his crotch, the wound on that arm grabbed by the other, free hand. Of course, zombies would've tripped as their feet landed on an object that jutted out of the ground at a noticeable angle.
You found: Cat's Claw!
Zed thought he heard some cheesy 16-bit jingle play in his head as he put his uninjured hand in the grip of the item Squall Leonhart had just left him, and yanked it out of the ground. It didn't take much force to do so, but the strain did proceed to force some blood to his affected region(s). The object was a bit weighty, but that was probably from the handle, which could shield the bearer's hand from another weapon like it. But the focal point was obviously the claw-like blades that extended from it. They were still shiny, almost hypnotizing, but above all...SHARP.
"I think I can follow you..." he groaned, trying to force a smile among the pain that wracked his vitals.
He probably wouldn't have a wet dream for a while, but once he could recover, he would certainly be quite the vengeful fucker with a very decent weapon and a thirst for the bodily fluids of those who...well...drank his.
((So...will you leave first or will I?