When the Dead Walk

There are certain things you say because they’ll never happen, like pigs flying or a zombie apocalypse. Well, I take them back. Everything like that I’ve ever said. Every. Single. One. Because I was wrong. Zombies are real, and they want to eat me.

In fact, they’re banging on my door right now. Meanwhile, Greg and I are trying to get my bedroom window open.

“Come on,” I say, stealing a glance at the door. It’s rattling. The frame looks about ready to give.

“It’s stuck,” Greg says. His face is turning purple as he strains to lift the window.

I push him aside. “Then we’ll just break it.” I slam the butt of my dad’s hunting rifle into the glass. It shatters on the first try.

“Mom and Dad are gonna kill you.”

I gape at him. “Seriously? You think they’re gonna care more about the broken window than the zombies busting down the door?”

“You have a point,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, now go.” I nod toward the window.

“Why do I have to go first?”

“Because I’ve got the gun, and that door’s about to give.” To emphasize my point, the door jumps in its frame again. Cracks are growing between the frame and the wall.

Greg sighs and picks up my old Little League bat. I always joked we needed to keep it around in case of a zombie apocalypse. Who knew I’d be right.

I keep the rifle trained on the door as Greg crawls out onto the roof. “Uh, Grant?”

I turn my back on the door, peering out onto the roof where Greg is perched. My mouth opens to say something, but my jaw drops instead.

“Got any other great ideas?” Greg asks.

Before I can answer, my door finally bursts open. Clumsy feet thud across the floor. I scramble out the window, joining Greg on the roof. Together, we take in the scene below us.

Zombies. Everywhere. All over the yard, shuffling in and out of the house. Crawling through the neighbors’ yards, clawing at the cars frantically driving down the road.

“Now would be a really great time for one of your brilliant plans,” Greg says. For once in his life, his fear outweighs his sarcasm.

Zombies arrive at the window, and one tries to crawl onto the roof with us. She loses her footing and falls to the ground below, her body making a sickening crunch.

“Come on, Grant. We can’t die before our phones do!”

I turn in circles on the roof. My eyes absorb the world around me, and as I see it, a crazy, will-probably-get-us-killed plan forms.

I punch Greg’s arm and point. “There.”

He shakes his head. “You’re nuts.”

“It’s our only option.”

Greg sighs. He takes a second to collect himself. Then he nods.

We step up to the edge of the roof. As the first zombie scrambles onto the roof, we jump and run for our lives.