The television buzzed softly from the kitchen counter as a breaking news alert took over the screen.

A shaken anchor sat at a desk surrounded by stacks of papers and flickering monitors. Her hair was frazzled, her voice tight with fear but trying to stay calm.

“There is widespread panic across the city tonight,” she said. “Many communities are now without phone service, a growing number are without electricity, and some are reporting complete water loss.

“Scientists at the CDC have released the following statement: ‘The bodies of the recently deceased are returning to life. These reanimated individuals appear to be driven by an unknown force that activates the brainstem, resulting in basic motor function, heightened aggression, and a complete lack of self-preservation.’

“Citizens are urged to stay indoors, avoid contact with infected individuals, and do not—under any circumstances—attempt to assist those showing signs of reanimation.

“If you are unable to return to your home or are currently trapped, please note that a list of designated rescue stations is now appearing on your screen.”

A red banner crawled along the bottom of the broadcast, listing shelters and evacuation zones. Most were miles away.

I swallowed hard, pulling my knees to my chest as I sat at the kitchen table.
“I’m so glad we have a safe place to stay for now,” I whispered, watching the screen. “I don’t even want to think about being stuck out there.”

Mom stood at the window, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Outside, a slow horde of zombies wandered toward the house. They bumped into the invisible barrier—our solar-powered force field—and bounced off like confused mannequins.

The low hum of the generator was the only reassurance that the field still held.

Please don’t go out. Please don’t give out.

In the family room, Jennifer was watching Resident Evil 6: The Final Chapter like it was just another Saturday night. I wanted to hang out with her, but she picked that movie of all things. Zombies on the screen, zombies outside the house… it was too much.

Honestly, I think she did it just to creep me out.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ve seen plenty of zombie movies. World War Z, Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland, and of course, The Walking Dead (which is still the best, let’s be honest). But right now? Real zombies outside the window made watching fictional ones feel a lot less fun.

So I decided to make cookies with Jill.

Yes—Jill now. Not Jack anymore.

She picked the name herself, laughing at how “Jack and Jill” just worked. At first it was weird, but she was owning it now. And honestly? It felt right.

We got out the chocolate chips and mixing bowls and got to work.

“So Jill,” I teased while stirring the dough, “did you go up a hill to fetch a pail of water?”

Jill rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny,” she said with a smirk.

We pulled the cookies from the oven a few minutes later, the smell filling the house like warmth and safety. Chocolate chip—Jennifer’s and my favorite.

Almost on cue, Jennifer popped up behind me like a ninja.

I turned around and jumped.

“God, Jen! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, inhaling deeply.

“Yes,” I said, offering her one. “Fresh cookies. You’re welcome.”

Jennifer took one and nodded, munching.
“I tried watching that zombie movie, but I couldn’t do it. Want to watch Cartoon Network instead?”

My eyes lit up.
“Yeah!”

We rushed into the family room, and I grabbed the remote. Channel 176. My comfort zone.

But when the screen blinked on—nothing.

Just static and a red warning screen.

“Jen!” I cried, frustrated. “The channel’s not working!”

Jennifer walked over and glanced at the TV.

“Oh… sorry, little sis.” She frowned. “Looks like all the channels have switched over to the Emergency Alert System.”

I stared at the flickering red screen, feeling that disappointment sink in. I just wanted a break. One silly cartoon. One minute of normal.

But not today.

I sat back on the couch with my cookie, hugging a pillow while the Emergency Alert screen blinked red and white like it was trying to hypnotize us.

Jill flopped beside me, cradling her second cookie like it was sacred.

Jennifer was about to say something when the screen suddenly glitched.

Just for a second.

A loud buzz tore through the speakers, followed by a flicker of static. Then—something else. Not the red emergency screen.

A face.

But not a normal face.

It was grainy. Shadowed. Almost masked.

The voice that followed was distorted—deep and electronic, like it was passing through a dozen filters.

“To anyone still alive… listen carefully. We’re out here. We’re not infected. We know what Isisraxtosa really is. And we know who made it.”

The screen flickered again. Back to red.

I sat frozen, my mouth slightly open, my cookie halfway to my face.

“Did you see that?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Jennifer said, her eyes wide. “That wasn’t part of the alert system.”

Jill leaned forward, gripping the edge of the couch.
“Someone hijacked the signal.”

Mom rushed into the room. “What’s going on?”

We all stared at the TV.

But it was quiet again.

Just the emergency broadcast.

Just the hum of the force field outside.

But now... something had changed.

Someone else was out there.

And they were watching.

The TV stayed on the Emergency Alert screen for a while. We all just sat there, staring at it like it might do something again.

Eventually, Mom stepped into the room with a laundry basket on her hip and a look on her face that said she was trying very hard to act normal.

“Alright, kids,” she said, “if we’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse, we’re at least going to do it with clean socks.”

Jennifer groaned.
“Seriously, Mom? There are zombies outside.”

“And I will not have mildew growing in my house,” she replied. “End of discussion. Now everyone, put your dirty clothes in the basket, or you’re wearing the same stinky stuff tomorrow.”

We all grumbled but obeyed.

Even Jill.

I watched her quietly as she followed Mom out of the room, still hugging her half-eaten cookie like a security blanket. She seemed fine—kind of. But I could tell something was still bubbling under the surface. Her smile was real, but only just.

Once we all had fresh pajamas and the emergency broadcast went silent, things felt… quieter. Still tense, but less chaotic.

We gathered in the den—me, Mom, Jennifer, and Jill—and spread out sleeping bags on the floor.

Even though we had bedrooms, it felt better being in the same room.

Safer.

More together.

Jennifer brought out some old board games from a hall closet. We picked Life, mostly because Risk felt a little too real and Monopoly might start an actual fight.

“Okay, Jill,” I said, spinning the wheel, “you’re going to college. I hope you’re ready to get buried in imaginary debt.”

“College?” she snorted. “I just woke up as a girl and survived a zombie invasion. I think I’ll skip straight to the ‘find a bunker and hide’ part.”

We all laughed—really laughed—and for a second, it almost felt like normal life again.

Almost.

Later that night, the lights dimmed as solar power switched to its nighttime setting. The windows glowed faintly with the blue shimmer of the force field outside.

We were all camped out on the den floor with blankets and pillows.

I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing around me.

Somewhere far off, I could still hear the low groans of the undead.

They couldn’t get in.

Not yet, anyway.

But something about hearing them... knowing they were still out there…

It felt like being inside a snow globe while monsters circled the glass.

Tap.

I sat up.

Tap. Tap.

It came from one of the back windows.

Jill stirred beside me.
“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” I got up slowly and tiptoed across the room.

Jennifer opened one eye.
“Probably just a branch.”

I pulled the curtain back and peeked outside.

Nothing.

Just shadows.

Just the blue shimmer of the force field.

I let out a breath and turned away from the window.

But just before I turned off the light and crawled back into my sleeping bag...

I thought I saw a shape standing at the tree line.

Not a zombie.

Something else.

Later that night, I was lying in bed when I heard a loud crash downstairs. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.

“What was that?” I gasped, running to the staircase.

“Don’t come down here!” Mom shouted from below. “A zombie somehow broke through the force field!”

My blood went cold.

“I thought you said it would protect us!” I cried.

From the basement, I heard George calling up.

“Sometimes there are flaws in things I build! You already know that from the Isisraxtosa virus I created!”

“Don’t forget it also turned Jack and me into girls!” I snapped.

“It’s Jill!” I heard my friend yell.

“So how are you going to stop the zombie?” I asked, my voice shaking.

There was no reply.

Everything went quiet.

All I could hear was the low, eerie moaning of the zombies outside. The sound was constant now—like the world itself had a stomachache.

“If I had a gun, I’d shoot every one of them!” I yelled, even though I knew it wouldn’t help.

I crept down the stairs.

The silence was too loud.

Then I saw it.

The zombie.

It was already inside the house.

I screamed—big mistake. The zombie turned toward me and growled, its cloudy eyes locking onto mine. It started moving fast—faster than I expected. Panic surged through me as I turned and ran.

Everyone else was in the basement.

I was completely alone.

I sprinted into the family room, frantically scanning for something—anything—I could use to defend myself. My eyes landed on a tall lamp. I grabbed it and threw it at the zombie.

It crashed against its shoulder and shattered. The zombie barely flinched.

I ran again.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it echo in my ears.

The thing was right behind me.

I had nowhere else to go. I backed into a corner, tears falling from my eyes as I curled up against the wall.

“Please…” I whimpered. “Please don’t…”

The zombie reached out—

And suddenly, it dropped.

Hard.

I stared in shock.

Jill was standing there, breathing hard, a bloody kitchen knife shaking in her hand. Her eyes were full of tears—just like mine.

She rushed to me and pulled me into a hug.

“I can’t believe you saved me,” I sobbed into her shoulder.

“I didn’t want to lose my best friend,” she whispered, crying too.

I pulled away and looked at her.

“Who let the zombie in?” I asked. “And why did you all go into the basement?”

Jill sniffed.
“Your mom left the front door open… she said she just wanted some fresh air.” She shook her head. “They went to the basement. I ran into the closet. I guess they didn’t realize we weren’t with them.”

I stood up, furious.

“So they left us up here—alone—with a zombie?”

Jill crossed her arms.
“Some parents you’ve got.”

We stormed over to the basement door. I twisted the knob—locked.

I banged on it hard.

“Mom! Jennifer!” I screamed. “Let us in!”

No answer.

I hit the door again, but they still didn’t open it. Either they thought we were the zombie… or they just didn’t care.

My stomach twisted.

I turned and noticed the front door was still wide open. The blue glow from the force field flickered outside.

I shut the door and locked it tight.

“I can’t believe she left it open,” I muttered.

I looked out the front window.

Zombies.

Hundreds of them—maybe thousands—all closing in, some slow, some faster. The smell of rot and rain was heavy in the air. I looked down at the dead zombie Jill had killed. It stank worse than anything I’d ever smelled.

“We have to get rid of it,” I said.

Jill and I dragged the body to the front door. I peeked outside—no zombies in sight at the moment. Together, we shoved the corpse out and slammed the door shut.

That’s when I noticed the sky.

Dark clouds, swirling. Greenish. Lit with lightning that looked… wrong.

“Jill,” I said, pointing out the window, “look at that.”

She gasped.

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a wall cloud. That’s not just a thunderstorm—it’s dangerous.”

We stood at the window as hail began to fall—massive chunks the size of baseballs. We watched as zombies were pelted by the falling ice, some toppling over under the force.

And then we saw it.

The funnel cloud.

Touching down.

“It’s a tornado,” Jill whispered. “And it’s heading straight for the house.”

Panic took over. We ran back to the basement door, pounding with everything we had.

“LET US IN!”

Nothing.

“MOM! PLEASE!”

Still no answer.

The sound of a train roared in the distance. But we didn’t have trains in Mantri.

That wasn’t a train.

That was the tornado.

I didn’t want to leave them—but they had left us.

“We have to go,” I told Jill. “Now.”

She nodded.

We ran to the kitchen, packed food in bags, and bolted out the door. I glanced once at the basement window—but still no one came out.

The car sat in the driveway.

“Let’s pray we can get through the force field,” I said.

Jill jumped into the driver’s seat. I knelt beside her, too small to reach the pedals myself.

She floored it.

We screamed as we crashed through the barrier—and it let us through. Sparks flew, but we made it.

Zombies reached for the car. Rain poured. Wind howled.

I looked back just in time to see the tornado rip through the house.

The house where I used to play games, watch movies, eat cookies.

Gone.

I cried.

Not just because of the house… but because my mom was still in it.

We kept driving. The headlights lit up dozens of zombies in the road. Jill swerved around debris—parts of the house, flying garbage, broken trees.

“Turn on the headlights!” I yelled. She did—and it only drew more zombies to us.

I looked out the window. The tornado was no longer behind us—it had shifted away—but the damage was done.

I checked the fuel gauge. Almost empty.

We pulled into a small town and found a gas station with power still working.

I filled the tank halfway before the electricity cut out.

“Well,” I said, breathing hard, “at least we’ve got half a tank.”

“Where do we go now?” Jill asked.

I turned on the radio. It buzzed with static, then a faint voice came through.

“…people taking the law into their own hands. If you are listening to this broadcast, please locate a rescue station immediately…”

Jill looked at me.
“We could try the capital. Maybe that’s a good place to start.”

I shook my head.
“No. Didn’t you ever watch The Walking Dead? People tried to go to Atlanta and just ended up eaten. Big cities aren’t safe.”

Jill sighed.
“I hope you’re right.”

“So far I have been,” I said with a half-smile.

We drove off into the night, not knowing what we’d find.

But we were still alive.

For now.