After enjoying the ramen and relaxing for an hour, Alex stood up, dusted off her pants, and declared, "We should get ready."
I blinked at her. "For what?"
She threw an old bag at me, hitting me square in the chest.
"To get Mira her precious motorbike. We need supplies. Food, duct tape, first-aid junk... and maybe a miracle."
Of course, Alex already had a plan. She was like a squirrel on espresso, always five steps ahead, even in the apocalypse.
First, we got ready.
The group huddled around the table, laying out what little gear we had. Duct tape was a hot topic.
"Wrap it around your arms and legs," Alex instructed, demonstrating on Ben, who stood stiffly as she layered his arms like a toddler wrapping a Christmas present. "Zombies can’t bite through this."
Ben looked down at his half-mummified limbs and groaned. "I look like a mummy wrapped by a drunk person."
"A surviving mummy," Alex corrected, slapping more tape onto his elbow with enthusiasm.
Jake, gripping his blunt sword, shifted uncomfortably. "I-uh-I feel kinda... suffocated." He tugged at the tape on his forearms and winced. "Like, what if-uh-what if I need to swing or move fast, and I-uh-can’t?"
Max, still fiddling with his ancient, barely-functioning phone, didn’t even look up. "It’s okay. We won’t duct tape the joints."
Jake exhaled in relief. "Oh. Okay. Good."
Alex, already winding tape around Ben’s wrist, smirked. "Yeah, we wouldn’t want you flopping around like a penguin."
Jake scowled. "I-I don’t flop."
"Uh-huh," Clara said, snatching the tape from Alex before she could do more damage. "Let’s not make Jake pass out before we even start."
I glanced at Elliot, who was grinning like this was the best idea he’d ever heard.
Of course he’s into this. He’d probably try to teach the zombies to line dance if he could.
With everyone mostly wrapped up in bite-proof armor, we moved to the next part of the plan.
****
Max took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped out first. The rest of us watched from behind cover as he casually strolled into the street, whistling like this was just a normal walk. He even had the audacity to adjust his rotting collar like he was heading to a job interview.
Zombies surrounded him, swaying in place, their rotting heads twitching toward the sound. One of them, a particularly bony, sharp-toothed ghoul with what looked like a mullet, stared a little too long.
Max froze.
The zombie tilted its head, suspicion creeping into its decayed features. It sniffed the air, its nose (or what was left of it) wrinkling.
Max slowly opened his mouth and, with perfect zombie inflection, groaned, "BAGHAGHAGA."
The zombie blinked.
Max groaned again, louder this time, adding a little head tilt for flair. "BAGHAGHAGA!"
The zombie nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned its head the other way.
Max exhaled silently, or at least as silently as a zombie with half a lung could and moving in slow, deliberate motions, placed the phone on the ground a good distance away. He set the alarm, pressed a button, then shuffled back to us like he had all the time in the world.
"Five minutes," he whispered once he was safely with the group, his voice barely audible over the sound of Clara’s eyeball swinging like a pendulum.
We waited.
Waited.
And then—
The phone alarm blared to life, playing a classic alarm tune at full volume.
Instant chaos.
The zombies spun toward the sound, their rotting limbs flailing like overcooked noodles. They immediately lunged, scrambling over each other to get to the blaring noise. One zombie tripped over its own foot and face-planted into the pavement, only to be trampled by three others. Another got stuck in a trash can, its legs kicking wildly as it tried to free itself.
Alex didn’t waste a second.
"Now—RUN!" she barked, shoving Ben forward.
We bolted, weapons in hand. Elliot swung his bat at a stray zombie, sending it spinning like a top. "Home run!" he yelled, grinning like a maniac.
I gripped my broom like a baseball bat, whacking a zombie in the face. It stumbled back, groaning, and I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. "Who’s sweeping now?!" I shouted, immediately regretting the terrible pun.
Lila, wielding her wiper like a sword, smacked a zombie’s hand away as it reached for her. "Back off, buddy! This wiper’s for windshields, not your face!"
Ben, clutching his crowbar like a lifeline, tripped over his own feet and face-planted into a puddle. "I’m okay!" he squeaked, scrambling up, his duct-taped arms flailing.
Jake, holding his blunt sword with both hands, swung it awkwardly at a zombie. It bounced off the zombie’s shoulder, barely making a dent. "S-Sorry!" he stammered, as the zombie groaned in confusion.
Alex, ever the leader, charged forward with her crowbar, clearing a path like a one-woman wrecking crew. "Move it, people! We’re not dying today!"
Clara, weaponless but fearless, yelled, "WOO! ZOMBIE DANCE PARTY!" as she dodged a particularly enthusiastic zombie.
Max, still in full zombie mode, shuffled alongside us, occasionally groaning "BAGHAGHAGA" to blend in.
I stole a glance to my right and saw Elliot running beside me, his face split in a wide grin, like this was some adrenaline-fueled game rather than a sprint for our lives. His dark hair was wild from the wind, his breath came in quick bursts, but he was laughing, laughing, like he was actually enjoying this.
Of course he is. He probably thinks this is the best cardio of his life.
We weren’t far from the store. Just a few more blocks,
A barricade of abandoned cars loomed ahead, forcing us to veer left. The detour sent us straight into a cluster of zombies that hadn’t noticed us before.
"Bad way, bad way!" Clara shouted.
Alex skidded to a stop, gripping her crowbar. "There! Through the alley!"
We bolted for the narrow gap between two buildings, breaking out onto another street.
The store was just ahead. We pushed through the doors, breathless, lungs burning.
Everyone doubled over, panting, weapons still clutched tightly. Everyone except Max and Clara, who, being zombies, simply strolled inside like they’d gone for a light jog.
Max glanced at us, then at Clara. He shrugged.
"Guess we’re just built different."
****
The store was a mess, shelves knocked over, glass everywhere, and a faint smell of something that might’ve been cheese puffs. Alex immediately started shoving cans of food into her bag.
"Grab what you can," she ordered. "Canned food, water, first-aid kits. And no, Lila, Funyuns don’t count as supplies."
Lila, already holding a bag of chips, pouted. "They’re morale boosters."
Ben, still catching his breath, leaned against a shelf. "I-I think I pulled something."
"You’ll live," Alex said, tossing him a roll of duct tape. "Wrap it up."
Elliot wandered over to a display of energy drinks, holding one up like it was a trophy. "Look! Liquid courage!"
I rolled my eyes. "You don’t need more energy. You’re already insufferable."
He grinned. "You love it."
Ugh. Why does he have to be so... Elliot?
Clara, meanwhile, was inspecting a rack of sunglasses. She tried on a pair, her loose eyeball peeking out from behind the lens. "How do I look?"
Max gave her a thumbs-up. "Like a zombie movie star."
Lila, now holding two bags of chips, snorted. "Y’all are ridiculous."
"Says the girl with a vending machine grudge," I muttered.
Lila shot me a look. "That machine stole my dollar. It had it coming."
Ben, still wrapping his leg in duct tape, whispered, "I-I think it’s broken, Lila."
"Broken? That thing’s been broken since the Obama administration!"
Elliot laughed, popping open his energy drink. "You’re scarier than the zombies, Lila."
She smirked. "Damn right."
We finished looting the store, our bags stuffed with supplies. Alex did a quick headcount, making sure no one had been left behind or accidentally duct-taped to a shelf.
"Alright," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Let’s get to Max’s garage before the zombies figure out where we went."
We stepped outside, the street still eerily quiet. The zombies were nowhere to be seen, probably still swarming the phone we’d left behind.
Elliot fell into step beside me, his energy drink in hand. "So, how’s your first apocalypse road trip going?"
I glared at him. "It’s not a road trip. It’s a survival mission."
"Same thing," he said, grinning. "Just with more zombies."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept onto my face.
Why does he have to be so... annoying? And why do I kind of like it?
My brain immediately short-circuited.
Wait. Like? No. No, no, no. I don’t like him. I don’t. He’s just... Elliot. The guy who said he liked me in the middle of the freaking apocalypse. The guy who’s been grinning like an idiot this whole time. The guy who—
"You’re overthinking again," Elliot said, snapping me out of my spiral.
"I’m not overthinking," I snapped, my voice a little too high-pitched.
He raised an eyebrow, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. "Sure you’re not. Your face does this thing when you’re overthinking. It’s kinda cute."
Cute. He said cute. Why did he say cute? Why does he have to say things like that? And why does my face feel like it’s on fire?
I opened my mouth to fire back, but nothing came out. My brain was too busy screaming at me to say something, anything, just don’t stand there like an idiot!
Elliot tilted his head, his grin softening. "You okay, Mira?"
No, I’m not okay. I’m freaking out because you said you liked me, and I haven’t said anything back, and now we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and I don’t know how I feel, and—
"I’m fine," I said, my voice strangled.
He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged and took a sip of his energy drink. "Alright. Just making sure."
Just making sure. What does that even mean? Is he worried about me? Does he actually care? Or is he just messing with me like he always does?
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was humming some stupid tune, his bat slung over his shoulder like he didn’t have a care in the world.
How can he be so calm? How can he just... say things like that and then act like nothing happened?
My stomach churned.
I should say something. I should tell him... what? That I don’t know how I feel? That I’m scared? That I’m scared of him, of this, of everything?
I opened my mouth again, but the words stuck in my throat.
What if I say the wrong thing? What if I ruin everything? What if—
"Mira," Elliot said, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
I jumped. "What?"
He smirked. "You’re doing the thing again."
"What thing?"
"The overthinking thing."
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "I’m not overthinking."
"Sure you’re not," he said, his tone teasing.
I glared at him, but there was no heat behind it.
But at least we were doing it together.
As we walked down the street, something felt... off. The usual groans and shuffles of the undead were gone. The streets were empty. Too empty.
I stopped, frowning. "Where are the zombies?"
Alex paused, scanning the area. "They were just here. about 60 of them."
Max tilted his head, his neck creaking. "Maybe they got bored?"
Clara shook her head. "Zombies don’t get bored. They’re not exactly thrill-seekers."
Elliot squinted into the distance. "You don’t think they... vanished again, do you?"
The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.
"No way," Lila said, clutching her bag of chips. "They can’t just disappear twice. That’s not how zombies work."
But as we looked around, the truth was undeniable. The zombies were gone. Vanished. Again.
Alex’s face hardened. "This isn’t right. Zombies don’t just disappear. Something’s going on."
I glanced at Elliot, his usual grin replaced by a look of unease. Even Max and Clara seemed unsettled, their zombie calm cracking for the first time.
The world was ending.
But now, it seemed, the rules were changing.