I woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs.

The scent wrapped around me like a blanket, warm and familiar, almost like home. I sat up slowly and blinked.

Wait… where am I?

I looked around. I was lying on a padded bench in a booth. The walls were red and yellow, and the giant menu board still glowed faintly above the counter. The place was clean—well, clean enough. Grease still clung to the edges of the fryer, and empty wrappers littered a few tables, but otherwise, it looked like your average fast food joint.

McDonald’s, I realized.

I rubbed my eyes and stood up, wobbling slightly in my oversized shoes. My legs felt stiff. I glanced toward the front entrance.

The steel gate was down, the same kind that had sealed Pawxie shut. Behind it… were hundreds of people.

Except they weren’t people.

They were zombies.

Grotesque faces. Torn clothing. Bloody hands slapping against the gate in slow, jerky movements. Some just stood there, rocking back and forth, their heads twitching like broken bobbleheads.

“How did I get here?” I whispered to myself, my mind foggy. It was like waking up inside a dream—or a nightmare.

I spotted Jennifer sitting at a nearby table, her gun resting on the bench beside her. She was calm, just watching them. Like it was… routine.

I walked over and sat beside her, my eyes still locked on the crowd outside.

“I hope they don’t come in,” I muttered.

“I doubt they will,” Jennifer said, unfazed. “They’ve been trying for a while now. The gate’s like the one at Pawxie—heavy-duty. They don’t have the brains to figure it out.”

Just then, Mom appeared with a tray. On it: three pancakes, two eggs, and a sausage patty, still steaming. She set it in front of me with a smile.

“Eat up, sweetie,” she said. “We’ll need our energy.”

I picked up the plastic fork and slowly took a bite.

The warm food, the soft chatter of Jen across the table, the distant banging of undead hands on the gate—it all blurred together. My mind drifted back to before all of this.

Back to the good old days.

Back when I’d wake up, log in to Okra—the video game streaming platform that beat out Twitch and YouTube—and play all day. I had a decent following. Nothing huge, but enough. I was partnered, made money from subscriptions and power points. My friends would hop on stream and mess around with me for hours.

I wasn’t big like Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, or Mr.Beast, but I had my little crew. It felt like my world.

And now… my world was pancakes and pistols in a child’s body, surrounded by the undead.

“Natalie, let’s go!” Mom’s voice snapped me out of it.

She had a bag slung over her shoulder—paper, stamped with grease. I could tell from the smell it was packed with food.

I blinked and looked back toward the gate.

The zombies were gone.

What?

Jennifer walked over, adjusting the strap of her backpack.

“They cleared out a few minutes ago,” she said casually. “I figured out how to get them to leave. It’s a trick I came up with. Not totally sure why it works—but it does.”

“Wait, what trick?” I asked, following them toward the back door.

Jen just smirked.

“Trade secret,” she said.

The rooftop was empty.

Thank God.

No zombies. No surprises. Just open sky, stale wind, and a little hope.

I stayed close to Mom as we stepped carefully to the edge. Below us, the parking lot stretched out in all directions, littered with trash, wrecked shopping carts, and the walking dead.

Zombies were everywhere—but scattered, wandering in crooked lines like wind-up toys with dying batteries.

I peered over the edge.

“This reminds me of Dawn of the Dead,” I said. “You know, the one where they’re on the roof of a mall? Just like us. Only… in that movie, the zombies actually chased them. These ones are pretty slow. I bet we could outrun them.”

Mom squinted into the distance.

“We just have to make it to the car,” she murmured. “If we can get that far, we’re out.”

I groaned.

“How are we supposed to do that? What—act like zombies like in Shaun of the Dead? This isn’t a movie. This is real life.”

Mom gave me a sidelong glance, that familiar I have an idea you’re gonna hate look.

“We could smear ourselves with zombie guts. You know… like in The Walking Dead. Mask our scent.”

“Eew. Gross, Mom.” Jennifer gagged a little. “I am not doing that.”

I glanced over at her—and noticed something.

“Hey, your phone’s in your pocket. What if you try calling someone?”

Jen pulled it out and checked the screen.
“There probably isn’t any—wait. Huh. There’s a bar.” She blinked in surprise. “Signal must be bouncing off a tower nearby. Battery’s low though…”

Mom reached over and took the phone gently from her hands.

“I know exactly who to call.”

She walked a few steps away and pressed in a number by memory. Jennifer and I exchanged confused looks.

We watched her whisper into the phone, her voice too low to catch.

A minute later, she hung up and sat down on the rooftop with a satisfied smile.

“Who did you call?” I asked.

“George,” she said simply. “He’s on his way.”

Jen and I sat down beside her.

“What about all that food we packed?” Jen asked, holding up her grease-stained McDonald’s bag.

“We’ll still use it—”

“I’m starving!” I interrupted, clutching my stomach.

Mom narrowed her eyes.
“Natalie, it’s not polite to interrupt.”

“Sorry, Mom…” I mumbled.

Just then, we heard a loud beep-beep-beep echoing from below.

We looked over the edge.

It was George.

“That was fast,” Jen said, glancing at the time on her phone.

Down below, George was barreling through the parking lot—literally. His truck mowed over zombie after zombie, splattering limbs and torsos as it plowed a path to the building.

When he pulled up beneath us, we saw it clearly:

The truck bed was filled with manure.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jen muttered.

“That’s our ride?” I gasped. “The poop wagon?”

Mom stood up and dusted off her jeans.
“Hey—it beats smelling like a dead zombie carcass.”

Jen wrinkled her nose. “Fine. But I get first dibs on the shower when we get home.”

One by one, we jumped. The fall wasn’t far, but landing in manure wasn’t exactly fun. Still, it was soft enough to cushion the drop.

The truck sped off, leaving crushed bodies and moaning zombies behind us.

I peeked over the edge of the truck bed, my hair dripping with stink. Zombies dotted the horizon, some stumbling in our direction, others just wandering aimlessly.

Were we the last people left alive? I wondered.

That thought didn’t get much time to settle.

Because the truck jerked to a stop.

“What’s going on?” Mom shouted toward the cab.

George leaned out the window, looking grim.

“We’re out of fuel!” he called back. “I didn’t think I’d use it up so fast—there were a lot of bodies to run over.”

We all looked at each other.

“So… what now?”

George grabbed his rifle.
“We run.”

I turned and looked behind us.

Hundreds of zombies were heading our way now. Slow. Steady. Relentless.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

George and Jennifer fired into the horde, bullets slamming into skulls and dropping monsters like dominos.

I reached for my own gun—
But my holster was empty.

Gone.

Had I left it back at the restaurant? Dropped it somewhere on the roof? I didn’t know.

A wave of panic crashed over me.

Then—

Everything went blurry.

My legs gave out. The sky tilted sideways.

I hit the ground hard.

And then everything went dark.

I woke up to the sound of a bell.

A bell?

It sounded like a doorbell.

I opened my eyes slowly, confused. I wasn’t on the ground anymore… I wasn’t outside, either. I was in my bedroom. In my bed. At the house.

I sat up, still dazed, and stared out the window. It was bright outside—daytime. The kind of late morning sunlight that always used to make me feel like I’d overslept on a weekend.

Downstairs, I heard the front door open and Jennifer’s voice carrying up through the walls.

“Hello, Jack!” she greeted cheerfully. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” I heard a familiar voice reply. “Is Nathan around?”

There was a pause.

“Yes,” Jen said, “Let me get her.”

“Her?” Jack echoed, clearly confused.

Jennifer started walking up the stairs. “Natalie! Your friend Jack is here!”

“Natalie?” Jack repeated, this time baffled.

I could hear him moving into the kitchen while Jennifer came up to get me. He must’ve opened the fridge, because a few seconds later I heard a bottle crack open and a muttered:

“Ugh. What is this?”

He didn’t finish the drink. I heard the fridge close again.

I ran down the stairs, excited. “Jack!” I called. “I’m so glad you made it! I’ve been so bored.”

He turned to face me—and his expression changed instantly.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I hesitated, then looked at the floor.
“Nathan… or, well… Natalie now.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is this some kind of joke?” he laughed, clearly not buying it.

“It’s a long story,” I mumbled.

Before I could explain, Jack suddenly swayed.

He staggered backward, knocking into the table, and then collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.

“Jack!” I screamed, rushing over to him.

The noise brought Mom and George running from the basement, their faces pale with alarm.

They froze when they saw Jack lying unconscious on the floor.

George’s eyes darted to the kitchen. “Did he drink from the fridge?” he demanded. “That bottle—it's half empty.”

Jennifer nodded. “I don’t know for sure, but he went into the kitchen right after I went upstairs to get Natalie.”

George groaned and grabbed the half-empty bottle, holding it up to the light.

“This is the formula. The same one Natalie drank.”

I blinked. “Wait... That’s what turned me into a girl?” I pointed at the bottle, horrified.

“Yes,” George said, setting it down with a sigh. “That’s the experimental gender-switch serum I’ve been working on. I knew I should’ve stored it in the basement fridge, but I figured we’d be safe here—with just us and Alfred and no one else around.”

He carefully picked Jack up and carried him down into the basement, into a small sterile room that looked more like a lab.

I followed.

Jack was laid gently on a cot. His breathing was steady. His expression calm.

I sat next to him, my heart pounding.

And then, I saw it.

His face started to change.

It was subtle at first. The shape of his jaw. The softness creeping into his cheeks. His hands—shrinking slightly. His fingers growing smaller.

I felt like I was watching a dream and a nightmare at the same time.

“How is this even possible?” I whispered, staring at him.

Jack—my best friend—was slowly turning into a little girl.

Just like I had.