The chorus of awakening birds and the sky’s magnificent hues—blazing oranges, soft pinks, and deepening blues—brought Erica a fleeting sense of normalcy. She sighed, driving her large spade into the earth once more. Shoveling was grueling work; she’d envisioned a deeper pit, but after over an hour, the hole stretched barely a foot deep and was barely wide enough to fit the corpse in.

She had shooed Coco off to rest earlier, though it puzzled her that Coco had wandered deeper into the forest instead of retreating to the house. Blisters stung her palms and she wondered if she’d have to settle for dumping the body into the shallow grave and piling sticks atop it.

It was not ideal but the thought of laboring all day felt absurd. She kept at it, the spade’s rhythm steady, until footsteps crunched behind her. With an exasperated sigh, she called out, “Coco, I told you to rest,” not turning around, to hide the flicker of relief she felt at the prospect of help.

A chill slithered up her spine as the steps grew closer—too heavy, too uneven to be Coco’s. She whipped around, shovel gripped tight, adrenaline surging. Her eyes widened in terror. The corpse she’d left sprawled on the back porch now stood upright, shambling toward her. “Zombie,” she whispered, breathless.

It paused, just for a heartbeat, then lunged into a sprint. A scream tore from her throat, raw and unbidden. Before she knew it, she was bolting through the woods, shouting Coco’s name, a warm trickle seeping down her legs—she barely registered that she had wet herself.

She stumbled to a halt, glancing around, and cursed under her breath. In her panic, she had dropped the shovel. Fear pulsed through her, a visceral current tightening every muscle. 

She had never felt anything like it—crippling, electric.

The zombie’s relentless, plodding steps echoed behind her. Her survival instinct told her to run, but something rooted her in place—fear, stupidity, pride? She couldn’t tell.

It emerged from behind a towering oak, pausing again before charging. The world tilted, a dizzying shift rippling through her senses. Suddenly, she felt everything—whispers of power and alluring, incomprehensible pull, pulsed through the world around her. The zombie wasn’t just a corpse; a force animated it, dark and choking, an intelligent malevolence that thirsted to spread, to kill, to dominate.

Instinct took over. As it leapt, she dropped to the ground, the air whooshing as it sailed over her head. What the fuck was I thinking? she wondered, stunned by her own actions.

The clarity faded, the world snapping back to its familiar shape. The zombie clambered up awkwardly as she scrambled back, putting distance between them. She understood now: it was a husk, propelled by that force, but its sprints shredded its decayed flesh—ligaments snapping, bones grinding. She’d felt it.

She felt fine physically but that hyper sensation strangely hollowed her out, leaving her feeling emptier than before. The zombie lurched forward, undeterred. She retreated, circling to position herself beside a broad pine. It paused, then sprang again. She rolled aside, the tree shielding her as she leapt to her feet.

It stumbled, turning too sharply, and a wet snap rang out—its ankle buckling under the strain. It rose, limping now, one leg dragging uselessly behind.

A rock whizzed past, cracking against the zombie’s skull. It didn’t flinch. Erica glanced aside long enough to see Coco winding up for another throw. “Don’t.” she hissed, eyes locked on the creature. “It can’t hurt me if I’m careful.” She edged back, widening the gap.

It plodded on. She wove through the trees, letting them block its path. It tried to sprint again, hopping on its good leg, but she sidestepped to its weak side. It toppled once more.

“Come on,” she said to Coco, still watching it. “Let’s head back.” She turned, striding toward the house.

Coco followed, casting a final look at the zombie. “You peed yourself,” she noted dryly.

“Yeah, well, you’re barefoot,” Erica retorted. “And you’ve got leaves in your hair.”

“So do you,” Coco shot back. “What’s your plan?” She nodded toward the zombie’s direction.

“Not sure,” Erica admitted. “I figured you’d have ideas on how to kill it.”

They reached the house, the zombie trailing not far behind. They tested multiple ways to end it. Coco bashed its head with a push broom’s handle, then a metal bat, until its skull split and brains splattered across the dirt—yet it kept coming.

Finally, they doused it with charcoal lighter fluid and struck a match. Flames swallowed the corpse, crackling and popping, and it stilled within moments. The stench—burnt flesh and rot—hit Erica hard; she gagged, vomiting again.

She shoveled dirt over the mess and trudged inside to splash cold water on her face, half-expecting another zombie to lurch from some unseen corner.

“It’s moving again,” Coco called from the porch as Erica stepped out.

She peered over. The flames had died, the fluid burned off, leaving the corpse charred but stirring, as if it had never stopped. Coco doused it again, lit it anew. It froze briefly, then twitched back to life as the fire faded.

“Huh,” Erica muttered, she took a breath to compose herself. “I’ve got something to tell you that might explain this.” She recounted the shift she’d felt when the zombie leapt, the power she had sensed.

Coco stared at the smoldering heap, silent for a long stretch. “If it’s controlled by something,” she said at last, “fire must disrupt the connection.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Erica agreed.

Coco sighed, weary. “I guess cremation’s probably the only way to kill it then.”

The house had a hefty stockpile of fire logs. By noon, Erica ignited the funeral pyre, the blaze roaring as logs snapped and spat. She gazed into the flames, probing the hollow feeling that had lingered since the forest.

The presence she’d felt—pure, remorseless malevolence—haunted her. Were zombies attacking people everywhere? How many had died? She clenched her fist, recalling the moment she’d stood her ground. Something deep within urged her to fight.

All that is needed for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing, she thought.

“I think we need to rethink our plans,” she said aloud.

Coco tilted her head. “In what way?”

“I don’t want to hide from the world,” Erica said. “If what I felt was real, something’s still turning people into zombies. It could take ages for anyone else to figure out how to stop them.”

“The whole point of coming here was to survive whatever’s happening,” Coco countered.

“I know, but what if we can’t outrun this? Are we really safer in the forest? Who knows what’s out there.”

“I’ve been wondering that too,” Coco admitted.

“And?”

“Isolating ourselves was the plan,” Coco said. “It’s worked so far.”

“Until a zombie horde finds us,” Erica replied.

Coco fell quiet, then glanced skyward. “I can’t fly,” she murmured after a pause.

“What do you mean? I saw you fly,” Erica said.

“That was before. I can’t flap my wings hard enough to create my own positive lift.” Coco’s voice softened, tinged with sorrow as she ran her fingers over her feathers.

Erica turned to the fire, its heat washing over her face. A question flared in her mind: why did fire sever the zombie’s control? And why would Coco become an elf with wings too weak to lift her? Coco saw it as a physical flaw, but what if the answer lay deeper?

She recalled the incomprehensible connection she’d felt in the forest—unknown powers weaving through the world, alive and potent. “Hmm,” she said, stroking her chin.

“Hmm?” Coco echoed, curious.

Words failed Erica as her mind buzzed with impressions, sensations too vast to name. But as she watched the flames dance, they merged into a quiet certainty, a sense that everything was stating to fall into place.

“I have an idea,” she said at last.

Coco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t we find another elf—or anyone else transformed like you? There might be a clue to help you fly.”

Coco mulled it over. “That’s not a bad idea,” she conceded. “Although I’m curious what led you to it.”

Erica knew Coco needed a logical argument she couldn’t offer. She shrugged. “Just a hunch, I guess,” she said, silently hoping their search would also uncover a way to stop the zombies.