The gun had been the first thing Annie had asked for once it became clear that they were living in an apocalypse. She hadn’t had a chance to use it yet (the fence really did keep the zombies out), which she was actually glad about. She hadn’t been allowed to have one when she first moved into Golden Meadows, but she had requested a weapon during the first supply run. One of the aids had managed to find a youth rifle in Dick’s (most of the weapons there had already been taken). It was bright orange and the most pathetic thing Annie had ever seen, but it would do the trick. Hopefully.

And so Annie sat in the middle of the second-floor hallway, two of the more iron-stomach nurses next to her. It was the next morning -- Doris had been in there all night, and her bangs were getting progressively louder. It was clear that she was trying to get the door open.

“I wonder what she blocked it with,” one of the nurses said. “There really isn’t anything in that bathroom.”

“You can take the mirror off the wall and wedge it beneath the handle,” Annie said. The nurses stared at her.

“Is this, like, a common thing you guys do?”

“It's the only bathroom with a window,” Annie said. “Eunice and I used to smoke in there.”

“Eunice had COPD,” one of the nurses said. “Why the hell was she smoking?”

Annie shrugged. “Eunice did what she pleased.”

“Doris has been in there awhile,” the other nurse said. “Do you think she’s, like, tunneling through the wall or something?”

“Annie!” a voice from down the hall was yelling. “Annie, it’s Norman!”

“Shit,” Annie hissed. The nurses groaned audibly. Norman was almost as infamous as Doris. But whereas Doris embraced the fact that everyone hated her, Norman thought that everyone loved him.

“Norman, we have this hallway blocked off,” one of the nurses called. “There’s a zombie up here, please go back to your room.”

“Yeah, I heard about Doris!” Norman was obviously right behind the blockade. “I just came to tell Annie that I was right about the beans!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Norman?” Annie called.

“Canned Bean Man bit the dust! We’re raiding his place.”

Canned Bean Man was the man who lived next door to Golden Meadows. At the beginning of the apocalypse, he had gone to Costco, and bought the literal entirety of their supply of canned beans. Annie didn’t know Costco could ever run out of canned beans, but it was possible, and Canned Bean Man discovered how. He needed three runs with his pickup truck to carry them all to his house, and the residents of Golden Meadows had gathered at the rec room windows and watched him unload them into his house.

“He’ll die before he can eat them all,” Norman had whispered to Annie. “And then we strike.”

By “we,” Norman had meant “the aids,” because Norman couldn’t even wipe his own ass, let alone carry an armload of beans up the road.

But he had been right (he usually was, annoyingly), and now Annie could see through the window that a large group of nurses and aids were loading up the Gadabout. She had to admit that they could use the supplies. And there must be a whole lot of beans over there.

“That’s great, Norman,” she said. “But I need to stay focused on Doris.”

“Sure thing, sure thing!” Norman called. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry!”

“Speaking of which --” one of the nurses pointed at the door, which was rattling now. Doris was clearly close to getting it open. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, obviously the mirror shattering. Annie lifted the gun.

“Get me outta this chair,” she hissed. The nurses hoisted her to her feet, and Annie trained the gun on the door.

It began to open, and Doris stumbled out. There was no denying it now, she was clearly a zombie. She had been in the bathroom for almost eight hours, and had obviously been dead for the majority of that.

Zombies were physically just like any other dead body, as far as progression went. They were stiff and pale at first, then they started to bloat, then their flesh rotted. The only difference was that they moved around and bit people. The apocalypse had only been going on for five months, so nobody really knew the long-term effects, but everyone still alive was hoping that if they waited long enough, all the zombies would just decompose.

Doris was pale and stiff, and her jaw was slack. She stumbled towards them, her legs half-locked in rigor mortis. Annie lifted the gun and fired twice. The first struck Doris directly in the chest, and the second hit her forehead. Doris slumped to the ground.

“Nice shot,” one of the nurses said. “Should we grab her?”

“Give it a few minutes,” Annie said. “Sometimes it takes a few shots.”

They waited for ten minute, but Doris was still, sticky dark blood oozing out of her head. Annie was pretty sure blood was supposed to flow like a liquid (maybe a thick liquid, but still), but who was she to say what zombie blood did?

“Why does shooting them in the head stop them?” one of the nurses asked. “It’s not like it kills them, they’re already dead.”

“Hell if I know,” Annie said. “And hell if I care. Let’s dump her quickly. I want to watch the bean raid.”