BANG! BANG! BANG!

I ducked and covered my ears as Jennifer blew away another wave of zombies with that semi-auto rifle. Bodies dropped like sacks of meat, one after another.

I peeked out from behind the counter.

Dang. My little pistol wouldn’t have even made a dent in that mess.

I let out a pouty sigh.

“Hey,” Jen said between breaths, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we try calling 911? Tell them we’re trapped in Pawxie and can’t get out because of all the zombies?”

Hearing her say that made something twist in my chest.

Is the whole world like this… or just Mantri, Kansas?

“That’s a splendid idea, Jen,” I said, suddenly hopeful. “Do you still have your phone?”

She reached into her purse and pulled it out, waving it like a trophy.

“Got it right here.”

“Okay, I’ll stand guard while you call.”

I crouched next to the counter, eyes scanning left and right—my tiny hands gripping the pistol tighter than ever.

I could hear the faint ringing from her phone, echoing in the silence. It was eerily quiet now, except for that hollow sound.

“No one’s answering,” Jen muttered, her smile fading. “That’s… not a good sign.”

I swallowed hard.

“Maybe… maybe if we can get to the roof, we’ll get better reception. Maybe even reach someone on the outside.”

Jen perked up. “Yeah! That’s actually a great idea, Natalie.”

I nodded. “I remember when we passed through the kids’ area earlier, there was this maintenance closet open. It had a metal ladder inside—I bet it leads to the roof.”

She started loading more ammo into her purse.

I stared at it.
“You’ve gotta be kidding, sis. That thing is tiny. You’re trying to survive the apocalypse with a purse the size of a sandwich?”

Jen rolled her eyes, then looked around.

She picked up a bright pink backpack from behind the counter, holding it up with a grin. It had Hello Kitty’s face plastered across the front.

“Here—this’ll hold more. Plus, it matches your dress. You’ll be the most stylish little zombie hunter in Kansas.”

“Oh great,” I said, taking the backpack reluctantly. “I always dreamed of taking down the undead in a pastel glitter nightmare.”

Still, I stuffed a handful of bullets inside. No point in arguing with logic—ugly logic.

Jen found one for herself too—this one had glittery princess crowns on it. She shrugged and slung it over her shoulder like it was nothing.

“You ready, Natalie?” she asked.

I nodded, strapping the backpack on tight.

“I’m ready. I’ll watch our backs so none of those things sneak up on us.”

We started walking slowly through the store—silent, careful, like a pair of mini Special Forces. Except instead of camo and night vision goggles, we wore floral dresses, one of us limping, and both of us rocking cartoon backpacks loaded with ammunition.

No one ever told me survival would be this… adorable.

We moved like shadows across the tile, avoiding broken glass and blood puddles as best we could. Every squeak of a shoe, every creak of a display rack made my stomach twist. Our eyes scanned every dark aisle, every doorway, every shelf.

Up ahead, I spotted the open closet.

The ladder was still there, bolted to the back wall, stretching up into a dark shaft that probably led to the roof access hatch.

And just as I reached for the ladder—

a faint groan came from behind the mannequins.

A few minutes later, we made our way quietly through the kids' area. The mannequins loomed like frozen people in the dark, and the toy displays were eerie in the flickering emergency lights.

Jen stopped in front of a supply closet tucked between the changing rooms and the stuffed animal aisle.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I think this is it, Natalie. Looks like the coast is clear. You go up first.”

I nodded. “Got it. But come right behind me. I’ll shut the door behind us—zombies can’t open it, and if we need to come back down, we’ll know the area’s still clean.”

The closet was dimly lit, but I could see the metal ladder bolted straight to the wall, stretching up to a ceiling hatch.

I started climbing.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Each step echoed louder than I expected. I looked down—and saw Jen smirking up at me.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I can see up your dress,” she giggled.

I groaned. “Seriously?”

“Now I really understand why boys always tried to look up girls’ skirts,” she said, laughing. “How’s it feel having someone sneak a peek now that you’re the girl?”

I ignored her. My face was hot.

At the top of the ladder, I reached the hatch and gave it a hard push. It creaked open, revealing the night sky.

It was dark, but the glow of the airport lights still spilled across the roof, giving us enough visibility to move around. A light breeze brushed against my face as I climbed up and pulled myself onto the rooftop.

I scanned the area—empty. Silent.

“Okay, Jen,” I called softly. “It seems safe up here.”

She climbed up behind me, and we stood together under the hazy night sky.

“I’m gonna try 911 again,” Jen said, pulling out her phone with a serious look.

I grinned. “Need the number for that?”

We both burst out laughing—because yeah, what else can you do at this point?

Her phone started ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

No answer.

Just like before.

She sighed. “It’s hopeless. No one’s picking up. Not even dispatch.”

I looked around the vast rooftop, my stomach rumbling.

“Well,” Jen said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, “we’re only a few stores down from McDonald’s. Think we can find the roof access and climb down? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

I smoothed out my dress and giggled. “You bet I am. I could eat a horse—well, y’know, not a zombie horse.”

We both laughed again. It felt good, even if it was a little forced.

We crept across the rooftops, peering into rooftop hatches as we went. A few were locked, others too rusted to open. But then—we struck gold.

Jen yanked open a hatch, and inside we saw a metal ladder leading down… and crates labeled McDonald’s all over the storage room below.

“Jackpot,” Jen whispered. “Let’s hope and pray they’ve got something edible left.”

She climbed down first, her rifle swinging behind her. I followed, closing the hatch gently behind me.

As I descended, I couldn’t help myself—I started giggling.

“Why are you giggling?” Jen asked from below.

I smirked. “Well… we’re on another ladder. You’re under me. I’m just saying—you can probably see my panties again.”

Jen looked up, rolled her eyes, and groaned.
“You are so weird.”

I grinned.
“You started it.”

Jen slowly turned the doorknob, and I raised my rifle, aiming into the darkness ahead of us. The air was cold, still. We stepped into the back of McDonald’s, and Jen’s hand reached toward the wall.

Click.

A harsh fluorescent light flickered on overhead.

“Oh crap,” I whispered. “There’s a dead zombie on the floor. Hole in the head. Yuck.”

“That’s not funny, Natalie,” Jen muttered.

We both scanned the room—storage boxes, frozen fry cartons, an overturned mop bucket—but no signs of life. Or… undeath.

“I wonder how this one got taken out?” I asked, stepping around the motionless corpse. “I don’t see anyone else around.”

We kept moving cautiously through the kitchen and into the dining area. Booths, wrappers, chairs—all empty. It was like time just… stopped.

After confirming the place was clear, I dropped into a booth seat and sighed, setting my rifle on the table. My little legs swung slightly off the bench as I propped them up and leaned back.

For a moment, it felt almost normal.

But then—

“Natalie, wake up!”

My eyes shot open. Jen was aiming her gun toward a shadow moving across the far wall. I grabbed mine, heart thudding, but the shape stepped into view.

“Girls, don’t shoot me!” the voice called out. “I’m your mother, after all.”

The second we heard her voice, both Jen and I knew she wasn’t a zombie.

Her hair still looked nice.

No zombie had good hair.

We rushed her in unison, throwing our arms around her like we never thought we’d get the chance again.

“Mom!” I cried. “What happened? We thought you were gone—zombies were all over you!”

She hugged us back tightly. “It’s okay. They must’ve knocked me out when they fell on me. But you two… you shot them. None of them bit me. I woke up and started looking for you. I saw the closet door closed and figured you’d gone up. I had to shoot my way to it, but I didn’t want to bring any of those things with me.”

Jen and I kept hugging her as she told her story, almost not believing our luck.

“Another Hollywood moment,” I muttered. “Unbelievable.”

Mom chuckled softly, brushing hair from my face.

“I’m starving,” she said. “And I figure since you two came here in the first place, you must be too. Let me cook up a little something. You girls rest for a bit.”

Jen and I exchanged tired smiles.

“Thanks, Mom,” we said in unison.

I returned to the same booth and sat back down, placing my rifle on the table again. Jen sat across from me, her weapon beside her too.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

She smiled back, sticking hers out too.

“This may take a while,” Mom called from the kitchen. “So just take a nap. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready, girls.”

I nodded and leaned back.

And soon, I was out cold.

“Mom, can you hear little Natalie?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “She must be exhausted. Listen to those cute little snores.”

Jen grinned, resting her chin on her arms as she watched me sleep.

“Doesn’t she look like the cutesiest thing lying there?”

Mom smiled and nodded. For a moment, the horror outside the walls didn’t matter.

But peace doesn’t last forever.

I twitched in my sleep—murmuring, then crying. A quiet sob escaped me, followed by a soft whimper.

Mom was instantly by my side, cradling me as I sat up.

“Please don’t cry,” she said gently, brushing hair from my tear-soaked cheek.

“I’m scared,” I whimpered. “I’m scared the zombies are gonna find us.”

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart,” she whispered. “I checked the doors. They’re locked tight. We’re safe in here.”

I clung to her.

“I don’t think I can sleep anymore. Could you... could you sing to me?”

She hesitated.

“Natalie, try to rest, okay?”

“Please, Mom. Just once.”

She pulled me in tighter and began to hum.

And then, her voice filled the empty restaurant. Soft. Warm. Safe.

When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother, What will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me...
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be...
I closed my eyes, her voice wrapping around me like a blanket.

And for a little while, there were no zombies. No guns. No blood.

Just Mom.

Just as Mom’s song faded into the soft hum of the overhead lights, I heard a distant thud.

I sat up quickly, eyes darting toward the doors. Jen’s head lifted too, and I could see that instant tension in her body—the kind you don’t shake off after what we’ve seen.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“Probably just the building settling,” Mom said quietly, but her eyes were scanning the same shadows mine were. Her hand instinctively moved toward her pistol on the counter.

Jen stood up slowly, careful not to make a sound. She peeked out from the booth’s edge.

Thump.

Louder this time.

Coming from the back.

From the freezer.

I reached for my rifle and slid off the bench.

“Maybe a rat knocked something over?” I offered, half-hoping it was true.

Jen shook her head. “That didn’t sound like a rat. That sounded like a person.”

Mom moved closer to us and whispered, “Stay behind me.”

We crept toward the kitchen area, the soft glow of the fryer lights casting long, stretched shadows along the tiled floor.

Thunk.

Another hit.

This time it was clear—it was coming from inside the walk-in freezer.

I felt a chill crawl up my back. And it wasn’t from the cold air.

The three of us stood outside the heavy metal door. Jen raised her rifle. Mom gripped the handle with one hand, her other hovering over her pistol.

She glanced at us.

“Ready?”

Jen and I both nodded.

Mom opened the door fast, stepping to the side. Jen pointed her rifle inside.

Nothing.

Just stacked boxes of burger patties and bags of frozen fries.

Then—

A small knock. Once.

Not from inside the freezer.

But from behind us.

We all turned at once, guns raised.

There was no one there.

The swinging kitchen doors were still. The restaurant was silent.

Jen turned pale. “I… I swear I just heard knocking.”

Mom exhaled slowly, lowering her weapon.

“Maybe it was just the freezer expanding or something.”

But I wasn’t so sure.

Because on the floor, right where we’d been sitting, was my rifle.

Exactly where I’d just put it down.

Only now it was facing the other direction.

I froze.

The rifle on the floor was facing the wrong direction—pointed toward the window instead of the table.

I hadn’t left it that way.

Jen slowly approached it, eyes wide, like she thought it might grow teeth and lunge at her.

“Did… did either of you move my gun?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

“No,” Mom said immediately. “I haven’t left the kitchen.”

“I’ve been watching you sleep,” Jen added, her voice shaking just a little. “I didn’t move it either.”

A heavy silence dropped over us like a blanket.

Thunk.

Another sound. Softer this time. A metallic scrape. It came from somewhere above—like something brushing the vents overhead.

Mom turned and scanned the ceiling. “Maybe a bird got stuck in the ductwork?”

Jen slowly knelt beside the rifle, picked it up, and placed it carefully on the table.

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe. Or maybe this place is just… messing with us.”

I sat back down, hugging my Hello Kitty backpack against my chest. I didn’t say anything. But I noticed something else.

The ketchup packets on the table we hadn’t touched?

They were in a different spot now.

Stacked neatly.

I hadn’t seen them like that before.

Mom brought over three small paper trays filled with warm fries and what looked like microwave-warmed nuggets. It smelled amazing.

“Here,” she said. “Eat something. Might help us calm down.”

We didn’t argue.

We sat and munched quietly, eyes glancing every few seconds at the windows, the kitchen door, the ceiling. Everything.

Halfway through my fries, I stopped and looked at the security cameras hanging in the corner of the ceiling.

One of them was turning.

Very slowly.

And then it stopped.

“Uh… was that camera moving?” I pointed.

Mom and Jen both looked.

“Maybe it’s motion-activated,” Mom offered.

“Yeah, but…” I trailed off. “What power’s still running that? The whole system should’ve gone out by now, right?”

Jen nodded slowly. “This place is running on backup power. It shouldn’t be enough for surveillance rotation.”

And then, as if on cue—

The monitor in the kitchen lit up.

No one had touched it.

The flickering black-and-white feed showed a view from the camera by the entrance.

A still frame.

A figure standing at the front glass doors.

Not a zombie.

A person.

Or… something shaped like one.

No movement. Just standing. Staring.

“Is… is that someone?” Jen whispered, rising halfway out of her seat.

Mom squinted at the screen. “I don’t know. I think it’s just a shadow or—”

And then the figure on the screen slowly turned its head toward the camera.

We all stared.

The monitor flickered again.

The grainy black-and-white image cleared up, and the figure at the front of the store became sharper—more distinct.

“Wait…” Mom leaned closer. “Is that—?”

“It’s a zombie, in a security guard uniform,” Jen said, her voice shifting from fear to confusion. “That’s… just a regular infected.”

I squinted at the screen. The thing was standing awkwardly outside the glass doors, head tilted at an unnatural angle, mouth hanging slack. One arm hung limp, while the other twitched now and then, like it was trying to reach for something it couldn't remember.

It didn’t growl. Didn’t move toward the doors. Just stood there.

The security badge on its chest read “M. Lawrence.”

“He must’ve worked here,” Mom said softly. “Poor guy…”

We all watched the screen in silence.

And then the zombie took a single, slow step forward—and bumped into the glass.

Bonk.

It bounced back slightly, then just stood there again.

Jen raised an eyebrow. “...Yeah. He doesn’t even know how doors work anymore.”

I exhaled, finally relaxing a little in my seat. “So basically, we’re watching a dead guy bump into glass like a Roomba.”

“Pretty much,” Jen agreed, cracking a tired smile.

Mom reached out and gently flipped the monitor off. “He can’t get in. The doors are locked. The gates are down. We’re safe.”

The room went quiet again—but this time, it wasn’t oppressive.

It was calm.

Jen sat back down, slowly pulling her tray of fries closer. “That was a serious heart attack moment. I thought we were about to deal with some stalker psycho.”

“Me too,” I said. “At least it’s just a zombie who forgot how doors work. I’ll take that over something smarter.”

Mom ruffled my hair gently. “Eat your nuggets, little zombie hunter.”

I grinned and popped another one in my mouth.

Even though I still felt tense, my chest didn’t feel as tight. We were okay—for now.

But I still couldn’t help glancing back at the now-dark monitor, imagining that guard just standing there.

Waiting.