"No!" Charlise shrieked, voice tinged with a panicked desperation.

Lyric stumbled, absolutely stunned; she nearly fell as she stuttered right into the path of the ravenous zombie. For a single heartbeat, time froze. She could hear the fetid breath of the creature, see the emptiness in its eyes. She could see the way it had bent forward, ready to pounce. 

Then, instinct kicked in, moving her body like a marionette on broken strings. She haphazardly pitched herself to the side, narrowly avoiding its clutches. The clumsy momentum sent her colliding into a table, the solid surface biting into her as she painfully caught herself. Lyric gasped and puffed, adrenaline overloading her system as she regained her footing. She was positively abuzz with electricity.

“Ch-Charlise,” Lyric sputtered. The situation had turned her into a fool, complete with the inability to speak and the complementary dumbfounded look to match. She twisted around, facing the woman who'd nearly ended her. “Y-you didn’t just— There's no way you were trying to—”

The question seared her throat, aching to be spoken—yet she couldn’t summon the courage to drag it into existence with her voice. In the haze of terror clouding her thoughts, Charlise had failed to reckon with the price of betrayal, even one born of desperation.

Elijah’s gaze snapped back to Charlise, coated with a hunger that was insatiably feral. And now, the space between her and Lyric had stretched into a chasm, a wound carved by unintentional treason. Any attempts at rescue would not come in time—not before the zombie reached her with its blood-caked hands. And when that happened, Charlise would truly have something to scream about.

“Lyric!” Charlise wailed, tears streaking her contorted face. She tripped in her retreat, failing to escape the inevitability of her fate as Elijah lunged. The space between them evaporating in an instant, and Lyric could only watch in horror. Elijah's jaw seemed to unhinge itself as the beast bore down on the writhing woman; her strength was no match. Elijah pinned her down as he seized his fill of blood and flesh.

"H-help..."

No matter what Lyric did now, it was too late. Charlise was bitten. She'd turn, eventually. The irony was bitter—karma had come swiftly and it was unforgiving. As Lyric stared, she could hardly hear anything else, not even Hanna and Kira as they frantically attended to Sarahi, nor Kira as she cry-called for Lyric. Why was everyone calling for her? What could she possibly do for these people that had them calling out her name? All she wished to do now was curl up into a ball and cover her ears. She just wanted to shut everything out and pretend nothing existed.

“…hardly breathing, Lyric!” Kira cried. Lyric balled her fists at her sides, driving her nails into the flesh of her palms. Then, she bolted forward, finally freeing herself from the shackles of shock. The uncertain barista grabbed Elijah, wrapping her dainty arms around the creature’s neck in a weak chokehold like some neophyte.

“Bastard!” Lyric shouted as she tried to strangle the zombie, hoping the interruption of air flow would have an effect, if only a little, but Elijah was unperturbed, lunging downward for another mouthful, nearly taking Lyric with it as it dove forward. 

Charlise sobbed uncontrollably, fishing around in her jacket pockets. She quickly withdrew a bright pink device from their depths, struggling to aim the pepper spray at the kid’s face. She didn’t care where she aimed, releasing the spicy fluid into the air without consideration. The main stream narrowly missed Lyric’s face, the majority of it successfully saturating Elijah’s unseeing eyes; however, the residual spread from the discharge was enough to trigger a simultaneous gasping and coughing fit in Lyric. The only ones suffering, it seemed, were her and Charlise as Elijah remained completely unfazed, his peachy skin stained a coppery red where the blast had nailed him. Not even a slight cough or flinch. 

“What… cough… the hell… cough!” Lyric hacked as she squinted at the walker. “Why isn’t he… cough…  reacting?”

It was at this moment things really spiraled out of control. Sarahi breathed her final breath, her eyes glassy as she stared into a beyond only her physical vessel could see. Charlise was kicking and screaming, fighting against an opponent she could not beat. 

And Lyric was helpless to do a damn thing. 

“Lyric!” Kira whimpered. “What should we do?”

“Lyric, help!”

“Oh, God! Get off—”

A terrible, stressful weight began to crush Lyric, her trembling gaze flicking from Charlise to Kira, and back again, over and over. 

“I can’t,” Lyric panted, nausea and dizziness swirling from her head down to the pit of her stomach. “How do I…Who do I even—” Her breaths were ragged, quick, and short. She wasn’t even sure she was getting any oxygen at this point. 

“—me!” Charlise shrieked. 

“Sarahi?” Hanna called not long after Charlise’s shriek. Lyric’s attention drifted to the high school girls. Her eyes still burned a bit, but nothing she couldn’t manage in the heat of the moment. 

“E… li…” Sarahi jolted upward suddenly. True to her newly undead nature, she turned her head slowly. “E-E… li…”  

With a piercing yowl, Sarahi dove forward, seizing Hanna as Kira scooted away, propelling herself as quickly as the smooth tile of the floor would allow her. Sarahi tore into Hanna, feral and brutal, messy and torturous. The stench of carnage grew, saturating the air as it mingled with the acrid smell of fear.

These monsters were swift and powerful, a far cry from the slow, lumbering beasts that populated the silver screen. But just like in those films, people transformed after being bitten, but the timeframes were unpredictable and varied.

"Lyric?" Kira whimpered. It was just her left. Just Kira. Lyric hadn't been able to do anything before. Would she just continue to do nothing, to stare in horror, and let Kira perish along with the others?

With trembling hands, Lyric reached for her gun, her mind racing. She'd nearly forgotten the weapon she held. It hadn't occurred to her to use it until now. And she hated herself for not realizing sooner. If she had, then maybe...

Part of her still could not fathom what she was witnessing, like she was trapped inside an extremely visceral nightmare. What if she shot Elijah or Sarahi under the delusion that they were some mythical monsters come to life, and they were nothing more than a couple of teenagers under the influence of something far more mundane than zombies? Could she bear the guilt or the consequences that would follow?

Lyric brought the pistol into view, wrapping her hands securely around the grip. It felt almost instinctive positioning it, aligning the sights the way she’d been taught at the shooting range. She was, by no means, an expert. And if she pulled the trigger now, this would be the first time she’d ever aimed it at someone—or rather, a something that looked like someone.

“Hey!” Lyric shouted, directing the weapon at Elijah. “Stop or I’ll shoot you!”

Unsurprisingly, her warnings went unheard. Lyric tried to steady her hands as she aimed at Elijah’s back. It was far too engrossed in its dinner to care.

Lyric squeezed one eye shut and pulled the trigger. 

The bullet pierced the zombie as she blinked, tearing into the back of its torso; it jerked, as if struck by lightning, but it did not stop feasting. Lyric readjusted her sweaty grip, the crack of the shot still reverberating in her ears. It had been a while since she last hit the range, but the recoil was less intense than she remembered. I can do this, she told herself, trying to steady her trembling breath. Lyric quickly fired another round. Still, it showed no reaction, ravaging the now-silent Charlise like a starved beast.

“No way,” Lyric whispered. Now, she was convinced. They really were no longer human. She aimed higher, targeting the back of its head, and pulled the trigger again. The bullet grazed the side of its skull, barely registering. Gritting her teeth, she steadied her aim and fired once more, this time nearly hitting dead-center.

Finally, the thing that had once been Elijah ceased all movement and fell like a giant tree, crashing to the ground. Kira's scream echoed from behind, but Lyric's focus remained solely on the corpse. It was tangled with Charlise, soaked in a blooming puddle of scarlet. If I’d just shot that damn thing earlier… Her throat began to swell as tears nipped at the backs of her eyes.

“Lyric!” Kira's voice shattered her guilty conscience. Sarahi had begun the brief trek to Kira. Lyric spun around, gun ready.

“We need to run!” Lyric shouted, firing at Sarahi’s head. She winced, her throat still burning faintly from the pepper spray. The zombie instantly dropped, mere inches from Kira. It didn’t feel real. That shot was lucky, not practiced, but she couldn’t dwell on it, knowing that if she’d missed, Kira would have been zombie fare. “To the back! Hurry!” 

As Kira sprinted toward Lyric, she noticed Hanna’s crumpled figure begin to twitch. It was only a matter of time before the young walker arose, with Charlise not far behind. She had only three bullets left. She’d have to nail both zombies the first time, leaving her with only a single bullet, if she managed even that. She wasn’t even sure what awaited them outside the café, and if anything could possibly be far worse than what they’d experienced in here. She’d wasted more than half her magazine on just two zombies, let alone an entire town of them. 

Once Kira was within reach, Lyric grabbed her, yanking her along as they bolted behind the service counters. A vicious mix between a growl and a scream originated from the lobby; Lyric subconsciously squeezed Kira’s hand tighter, edging a startled cry from the girl. 

“Sorry,” Lyric said over her shoulder. In her other hand, she clutched the firearm tightly. 

“But—” Kira gasped, fighting against Lyric’s hold “—Charlise!” 

Lyric pulled harder, overpowering the girl just enough to propel her forward. “You should know better than I do what’s happening right now,” she hissed, leading them toward the emergency exit in the back. “You’re into horror movies and stuff. How do I know those are fucking zombies and you don’t? Did you not see with your own eyes?”

Kira dug her heels in more deeply this time, jerking them to a stuttering halt. Lyric released her, whirling around in frustration to confront the stubborn girl. Conflict raged on Kira’s face as she struggled to comprehend the circumstances they were in while Lyric could only feel exasperation. Whether she believed it or not, the fact was that they were in very real danger. 

“This is real life, though,” Kira whispered. “I can’t believe it because… this is real life.”

“Yes,” Lyric agreed tersely. They absolutely had no time for this right now. “This is real life and things aren’t looking good right now. We can’t stay here debating all day. Those things are going to come after us next, I’m down to three bullets, and I'm not the greatest shot.”

Kira’s gaze dropped to her toes. “I can’t even call my mom or the police… Why is this happening? You… you shot them. You really shot them...”

Lyric's heart stopped for a moment at the accusation. “I tried to hold it off as the last resort.” She fished around in her black work jacket for her keys. “Please. Let’s get somewhere safe first, then we can talk all you want. We’ll head to my apartment, so we can—”

“No!” Kira shook her head vehemently, clutching her cell phone to her chest. “I need to get home. I have to make sure my mom and sister are okay.”

“Of course, but—”

“I need to be with my family!” she cried, suddenly barreling past before Lyric could react. Kira threw open the back door as Lyric gasped. Fortunately, the back lot was empty, but Lyric couldn't stop the subtle shaking the girl's desperately reckless action had caused.

Before she slipped out, Kira paused. In a soft voice, she added, “I’m sorry, Lyric. Please. Stay safe.”

Then, she was gone, the heavy door slamming shut in a final farewell. Lyric moved toward it, flinging it open with greater force than she had intended. Kira moved fast, zipping through the tiny back lot and into the surrounding suburb. Lyric tried to swallow the lump in her throat, tried not to think of how vulnerable the girl—who was barely a hundred pounds soaking wet—was, especially on foot with no weapon. I should’ve offered to drive her, at least, Lyric thought belatedly. Fuck. Why didn’t I offer to drive her? If she gets grabbed by one of those things…

In times like these, who could blame anyone for the desperation to be with their loved ones—to ensure they were safe in a world unraveling? Lyric understood, though the sentiments felt like distant memories. After all, she had no one left to cling to. Just herself. In a way, that solitude offered a grim relief, a twisted reprieve in this chaos. But even so, she could not quell the gnawing guilt Kira's departure had left.

She had let Kira go. Alone. And though she could not stop her, it felt as if the weight of responsibility was hers to bear.

All Lyric could do now was pray that Kira was nimble enough to avoid the undead's grasp. She lived only minutes from the café, but with the world splintering at its seams, even a few mere minutes felt like a death sentence. Just how many monsters lay in wait on the girl's path home?

Stepping halfway past the threshold, Lyric surveyed the surrounding area. The only thing present was her car in the lonely lot. Things were rather lively out here, something she hadn’t realized whilst trapped within her own hell-bubble that was the café. How long until the bulk of the craziness made it her way?

“... elp… m-me…” 

Lyric stiffened, petrified in place like stone. She could hardly bring herself to turn. There was a warped familiarity to the voice—a dead echo creeping up from the depths of the vessel that had been left behind. At last, Lyric managed to wrench her gaze over her shoulder, the ghoulish resonance of approaching footsteps forcing her to acknowledge her grim reality before it was too late.

If she didn’t run now, she would become one of them, a conscripted shadow in the slow march of the dead.

At last, they emerged into view—what remained of Charlise and Hanna, swaying silhouettes of ruin stitched together by death’s cruel whim. Their forms were bedraggled, as if they'd been dead for decades, shambling forward with a lifeless un-grace that defied all natural law. There was something unnerving in the way they moved—too broken to be living, too deliberate to be truly dead. Hanna was the first to sprint, taking long clumsy strides. The others were hot on her heels.

Lyric quickly slipped outside, heart leaping into her throat. Just as the door shut, bodies slammed into it one-by-one. Eyes wide and shaking never left the barrier as she slowly receded, listening to the persistent thud, thud, thud! as she backed away. She watched anxiously with bated breath. Could they open doors?

It seemed not.