Rom-Com Zombie Apocalypse

The barricade was gone. Wrestler's monstrous form loomed in the shattered doorway, his guttural roars shaking the walls.

The horde pressed behind him, a writhing mass of decay and hunger. We were trapped on the upper floors, and Ben had crumpled to his knees, his spirit broken.

"Ben, get up!" I shouted, gripping my broom like it could somehow ward off the nightmare below. I yanked at his arm, but he didn't budge.

His eyes were hollow, fixed on the floor like it was the only thing left in the world.

"It's over," he whispered, barely audible over the chaos. "We're done. We can't outrun that… that thing."

Lila stormed over, her pink hair wild and face flushed with anger. She grabbed Ben by the collar, her Southern drawl sharp as a knife. "Listen here, Benjamin Elijah Carter. Ya don't get to quit on me, not now, not ever."

Ben blinked up at her, stunned.

"You remember that time in third grade when ya fell off Old Man Jenkins' fence and broke your arm?" she snapped,

her voice rising.

"You cried like a baby, but ya got back up and climbed that fence again the next year. Or what 'bout when ya lost your mama's ring in the creek and spent hours divin' in the mud to find it? You didn't give up then, did ya?"

Ben's lips parted, but no words came out.

"And don't even get me started on the time ya tried askin' Sarah-May to prom, and she laughed right in your face," Lila continued, her tone dripping with scorn.

"You were embarrassed as hell, but ya still went to that dance, even if it was alone. You've always been a fighter, Ben. So what the hell is this?"

She gestured to the horde below, her voice trembling with fury. "You gonna let some overgrown zombie and his nasty friends take ya out? You gonna let me down? After all we been through?"

Ben's eyes flickered something stirring deep within them.

Lila leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a growl. "You get your sorry butt up right now, or I swear I'll drag ya outta here myself. And if ya die, I'll kill ya all over again."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Slowly, Ben reached up and took Lila's hand. His grip tightened, and he rose to his feet, his jaw set with newfound determination.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Alright, Lil. Let's go."

Lila's lips twitched into a smirk, though her eyes were still blazing. "About damn time."

****

As we regrouped, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of bubblegum. I had swiped it from the store earlier, not that I ever planned on telling anyone. I'd been saving it, thinking maybe, just maybe, I'd chew it on my deathbed.

But now? Screw it.

Unwrapping it with the reverence of unveiling treasure, I popped it into my mouth and started chewing. Sweet. Artificial. A tiny, stupid comfort.

Elliot's eyes flicked to me. "Silly. We're not dying here."

I smirked, blowing a small bubble. "Optimism. I like it."

Before I could say anything else, Jake suddenly bolted down the hallway, his bag bouncing like a kangaroo on caffeine.

"Jake, where are you going?!" I shouted after him.

"B-broadcast room! I'll be... r-right back" he called over his shoulder.

The broadcast room? Was he serious? We were about to die, and he was going on a field trip?!

Elliot let out a slow chuckle, watching Jake disappear. "Kid's either a genius or an idiot. Place your bets."

Less than a minute later, Jake came sprinting back, his bag bulging awkwardly."Got it!" he panted.

Alex narrowed her eyes. "Got what?!"

"The radio!" Jake declared triumphantly. "It's the only working one we have. We might need it later!"

I stared at him in disbelief.

Elliot snorted. "Priorities, man. Priorities."

Then, out of nowhere, Elliot turned to me, his expression unreadable. But his ears, bright red.

"Y'know, Mira… you look cute today."

I blinked. "Huh?"

His face remained straight, but the faint pink creeping up his cheeks gave him away. "This might be the last time we ever get to talk."

His voice was steady, but there was something else there.

Something unspoken.

Huh? What was this dumbass talking about? Cute, did he just say cute? Ahh, calm down, hormones, calm down. My brain short-circuited, and I could feel my own face heating up, my pulse racing like I'd just sprinted a mile. Did he really just say that? Out loud? What do I say? What do I do? Do I say something back? Do I laugh it off? Do I—

Before I could even process whatever just happened, the growls from below intensified, louder, more desperate, too close.

Alex's voice cut through the rising panic. "WE NEED TO MOVE, NOW. THE ROOF'S OUR ONLY SHOT. ELLIOT AND BEN, TAKE THE REAR!"

We moved through the hallway of the second floor slowly at first, every creak and groan of the building making my heart race.

The noises from below were getting louder, guttural growls, the shuffle of decaying feet. The horde was onto us, as if they could smell the living. Maybe they could. We immediately started running.

They can smell us. They can definitely smell us. Oh God, I'm sweating. I'm sweating so much. They're going to smell me first. I'm going to be the first one eaten.

"UP, UP, UP! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" Alex shouted, her voice sharp and urgent. Zombies were climbing the stairs now, their groans echoing like a death march.

But then our worst fear came true. Something slammed into the staircase below with a deafening THUD. It was Wrestler. He was coming for us.

"Oh shit, oh shit," I muttered under my breath, my mind racing. What were we going to do after reaching the rooftop? 

There were zombie pigeons up there, and Alex was making panicked decisions. This wasn't going to work.

My voice ripped out of me, muffled slightly by the bubblegum I was still chewing. "WAIT! FIFTH FLOOR FIRST, THEN CENTRAL STAIRS! ROOF'S A DEATH TRAP, YOU IDIOTS!"

Alex twitched, her eyes widening as she realized what I meant. "YEAH! SHE'S RIGHT! FIFTH FLOOR, GO GO GO!" she barked, her voice frantic but focused. She kept glancing back, making sure no one fell behind.

Please let this work. Please let this not be the dumbest idea I've ever had. Please, please, please.

We surged forward, our footsteps pounding against the stairs. Wrestler's roars grew louder, shaking the walls as he climbed after us.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Oh God, he's coming.

My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. The fifth floor was close, but so was he.

And if we didn't make it to the central stairs in time, we were done for.

We're not going to make it. We're not going to make it. We're not going to make it.

I just hoped my plan wasn't as stupid as it felt.

**** 

We hit the fifth floor, and everything turned into a total nightmare. The floor was so slippery, it was like trying to walk on ice-covered in oil, and the air smelled like death and despair.

Wrestler's thuds echoed from below, shaking the walls like a goddamn earthquake.

"DAMN YOU ALL!" I yelled, smashing a zombie's skull with my broom's blunt side.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Elliot shouted, swinging his bat like a maniac.

Wrestler burst through the stairwell door, roaring like a demon.

Oh God, here he comes. Here he comes.

"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" Alex screamed, shoving us forward.

SMACK. Elliot's bat connected with a zombie's head, and it crumpled to the ground.

SQUELCH. Ben stomped on a crawler's face, his boot squelching into rotten flesh.

"Uhh Sorry" 

SMASH. Alex smashed a zombie's skull with her crowbar, screaming, "KEEP MOVING, EVERYONE!"

WHACK. I swung my Broom, smashing a zombie's jaw.

"TRUCK YOU, YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!"

Suddenly Wrestler charged at me, his rotting muscles bulging. My heart froze.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"MIRA, MOVE!" Elliot yanked me sideways, and Wrestler barreled past, slamming into the wall.

We crashed through the central stairs, smashing zombies left and right.

A zombie lunged at me, and I bashed its skull in, screaming, "STAY THE HELL DOWN!"

Ben kicked a zombie down the stairs, its body tumbling into the horde below. "Pardon me," he said with a slight wince, "but I'm afraid you really shouldn't be up here."

We hit the third floor, Wrestler hot on our heels. 

And then wrestler charged again, and Elliot shoved me out of the way just in time.

"TRUCK YOUUU!, WRESTLER!" I screamed, swinging my broom's blunt side at a zombie's head.

We were a blur of motion, smashing, screaming, slipping on blood and guts. The walls were splattered, the air thick with the stench of decay.

Wrestler roared behind us, but we were already crashing toward the exit.

We're going to live. We're going to live. We're going to live.

"WE'RE GONNA LIVE, YOU TRUCKERS!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face.

We had smashed most of the zombies in here because there weren't many who had crawled up.

The real problem was the trucking Wrestler, too fast, too strong, too mad.

I chomped down on my bubblegum, my brain in full panic mode. Then, because why not, I spit it out. A perfect little pink blob of doom.

And that's when Wrestler, in all his muscle-mutant glory, came charging straight at me.It all happened in slow motion.

One big foot landed directly on my discarded gum. There was a beautiful moment of realization on his ugly, mutated face before, 

SCHHHHRRRP!

He slipped. Both legs shot out from under him like a cartoon character on a banana peel.

"OOORGH!"

And down he went, tumbling like an overgrown sack of bricks, straight down the stairs.

He landed on his back with a glorious THUD, groaning, momentarily stunned.

Alex, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the chance like a cat seeing an unattended slice of pizza.

She swung her crowbar in a beautiful arc, CRACK, straight into his left eye.

Wrestler roared, flailing, trying to grab whoever was in front of him.

Problem for him? Alex was standing behind his head.

That's when Elliot let out a battle cry that was equal parts fear and hype.

SMACK! His bat crashed into Wrestler's skull.

The beast tried to get up.

WHACK! Lila slammed the wiper down on his head.

He tried again.

BAM! I drove the blunt end of my broom right into his other eye.

And then it was chaos.

Smack! Whack! Smack! Whack! Bam! Clack!

We were like a bunch of raccoons attacking a fallen trash can. No rhythm, no coordination, just a storm of sheer, unfiltered panic-fueled bonking.

Every time he tried to push himself up, someone smacked him back down like an unholy game of whack-a-mole.

At some point, I realized I was laughing. Hysterically. Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe we all were.

And then I heard the others laughing too.

Like absolute madmen, we kept smacking the shit out of the big piece of shit, wheezing and cackling like we'd officially gone feral.

Maybe we had.

But damn, it felt good.

****

Wrestler twitched one last time, groaned like an old man with back problems, and finally went limp.

We all stood there, weapons raised, panting, waiting for him to get up again.

He didn't.

For a solid three seconds, we just stared at the massive pile of muscle and regret we had collectively beaten into the ground. Then, slowly, we turned to each other.

We were sweaty, covered in god-knows-what, and most likely concussed from all the chaos. And yet—We were laughing

Lila was doubled over, smacking her wiper against the floor like she was trying to summon a demon. Elliot fell back against the stairs, wiping tears from his eyes between wheezes.

Alex was just lying there, crowbar resting on her chest, grinning like she had ascended to a higher plane of existence.

And me? I just stood over Wrestler's massive, knocked-out body, broom in hand, and took a deep, victorious breath.

"Well," I announced, hands on my hips.

"Guess we found out the cure to super-mutant rage monsters."

Everyone looked at me, still grinning ear to ear.

"Blunt force trauma," I said, waggling my broom.

That sent us into another fit of hysterics.

Honestly? At this point, if the zombies didn't kill us, I was pretty sure we were just going to die from laughing ourselves to death.

And you know what? That'd be fine.

Except, A low, guttural moan echoed from the hallway.

We all slowly turned our heads.

More zombies. Lots more zombies.

Shambling toward us, arms outstretched, looking extremely unbeaten compared to the pile of Wrestler-flavored roadkill at our feet.

And yet?

We kept grinning from ear to ear like absolute lunatics.

Because at this point, why the hell not?