"The apocalypse is coming, Ava. You need to come home!" "Mom, this is the 32nd excuse you've invented to trick me into coming home for a blind date. Your creativity is flowing better than the plumbing in this old apartment." I hung up on my mother helplessly and slumped back onto the sofa, half-watching TV while scrolling through Reddit. A thread popped up on my feed: "February 14, 2028: New infectious disease case found in Seattle. Potential for extreme aggression." I clicked on it. — This content has been removed by moderators. 1 "Meow!" A sharp, urgent cry pierced the night, ripping me from my sleep. I opened my eyes to see Lucky, my fat orange tabby, facing off against my vibrating phone. I scooped up the bristling cat to comfort him. Lucky was stressed. He leaped from my arms, arching his back and scratching anxiously at the concrete floor, making a teeth-grinding sound. I was about to check on him when the phone grabbed my attention. The video I had clicked on earlier was no longer blocked. It was playing on a loop. It was grainy surveillance footage. A hulking man, face obscured, was on all fours, lunging and biting into a crowd of people. Suddenly, a "Loading..." buffer wheel spun on the screen. I glanced at the top right corner. The Wi-Fi signal had a big red 'X' over it. "Garbage internet." I lived in a cheap studio in the old part of the city. The wiring was ancient, and the router failed constantly. I dialed my landlord, Mr. Henderson, hoping to get it fixed. After several attempts, he finally picked up. The background noise on his end was chaotic—a static-filled mess of shouting and screaming. Mr. Henderson didn't even say hello. He was yelling hoarsely, "Quit shoving! If you keep pushing, nobody gets any groceries!" Then came a string of panicked muttering I couldn't quite catch. Something about... "...madness... biting... can't run..." My stomach tightened. When the noise subsided slightly, he finally addressed me. "Ava? What's going on?" I explained the internet issue. "Ava, it's not the wiring. The signal is down across the whole downtown area. The tenant group chat is blowing up about it." "I'll add you to the group." "People are organizing bulk buys. Get in on it. Stock up on food." Mr. Henderson was rambling, but I froze. "Is Seattle going into lockdown again?" Before he could answer, a piercing scream cut through the line, followed by the sickening thud of a heavy object hitting the ground. I instinctively pulled the phone away from my ear. In that brief silence, a faint voice came through the receiver. I pressed the phone close again. I only caught two words: "Run. Fast." ... The signal cut out completely. I tried redialing multiple times with no luck. I tried calling 911. While waiting, I typed keywords into my notes app: "Apocalypse," "Madness," "Biting," "Panic Buying," "Run." None of these were good words. The emergency line was busy. My heart sank. Combining my mom's warning with Mr. Henderson's chaos, it seemed Seattle had an outbreak. Something far more aggressive than the flu. I had to go home. If the world was ending, I might be just another casualty, but I had to be with my family. I didn't want to die alone in a rented box. 2 Priority one: Don't get infected on the way. I raided the kitchen for plastic wrap. I wrapped it around my limbs to ensure no skin was exposed. Then came the layers: a heavy windbreaker, thick pants, boots, a beanie, a face mask, a scarf, and gloves. I even stitched the gaps between the fabrics with a needle and thread. I looked ridiculous, like a paranoid marshmallow, but I was sealed tight. I checked the airline app. Plenty of tickets available. It was 10:00 PM. To be safe, I selected a 2:00 AM flight to my hometown, Portland. But the payment screen kept spinning. Loading... I closed the app and retried. Nothing. I called the airline hotline. Busy signal. The automated system said there were 487 callers ahead of me. Was I trapped? My hands started shaking. I pinched my thigh hard, using the pain to force myself to focus. Optimistic view: Maybe the cell towers were just jammed. I couldn't sit and wait. I decided to head to the airport. At worst, I could get information from the counter. I didn't pack clothes. I shoved Lucky into his carrier, stuffed two bottles of water and some energy bars into the side pockets, and left. The subway was too crowded; too risky. I flagged down a taxi. The driver gave my weird outfit a second look but didn't say anything. As we drove toward the outskirts, the signal improved. Before I could dial, my mom called. "Thank God! Ava, you have to stay away from crowds. Don't let anyone bite you." "I swear on my life, I'm not joking. Those things are eating people!" "Your dad and I are packing the truck. We're driving to get you. In my last life... Seattle was the first to fall. I won't let you die this time!" "Mom..." My eyes welled up. Last life? Was she having a premonition? "Mom, Dad, don't be impulsive." "It's an eight-hour drive from Portland to Seattle. If the city is ground zero, you're driving into a death trap." "I'm heading to the airport. If all goes well, I'll be home by morning. Use this time to buy supplies." "In times like this, food and weapons are the only currency." With the driver listening, I couldn't say much more. I hung up after calming them down. I checked the GPS. The highway to the airport was a solid red line. Ten miles. Estimated time: three hours. The airtight suit was suffocating. I pulled down my mask, took a deep breath, and sealed it back up. The air smelled faintly of rot. While stuck in traffic, I made two lists on my phone. List A: High-calorie, shelf-stable food and essential medicine. List B: Tools, hardware, and defensive gear. I sent List A to my parents. These items make you a target; they had to buy them personally. For List B, I contacted a delivery courier service in Portland. I had used them before to send gifts home. I paid an extra $1,500 for a rush order, demanding delivery to my parents' house by 10:00 AM tomorrow. Shortly after sending the list, Dad texted: [Ava, we're at Costco. Buying everything.] [Text us the second you land. We'll be waiting.] I replied in the family group chat: [If we hoard this much, the neighbors will notice. The apartment isn't safe.] [We should move to the old Lighthouse. Dad still has the keys, right?] We all agreed. The Lighthouse was isolated, sturdy, and defensible. [Mom, Dad, I ordered tools. Sign for them tomorrow morning, but wait until no one is looking to load the truck.] I remembered reading survival novels. Never expose your stash. I looked up. The line of cars stretched endlessly. The red taillights looked like hundreds of eyes watching me from the abyss. Something was wrong. Lucky poked his head out of the carrier, scratching frantically at the plastic mesh. He hadn't made a sound since we left the apartment. Now he was hissing. I realized what was wrong. The traffic toward the airport was gridlocked. The lanes heading back to the city were empty. Aside from cars making illegal U-turns, no one was coming back from the airport. The airport had likely already fallen. Before I could process this, the driver pulled over on the shoulder. "Miss, I can't take you any further." "Don't blame me. The driver group chat says the airport is a slaughterhouse. I need to get home to my family." ... He dumped me on the side of the overpass. No matter how much cash I offered, no one would stop. For three hours, I watched cars U-turn and flee back to the city. I refused to give up. I started running along the highway shoulder toward the airport. Maybe a plane would take off. Maybe there was a chance. I ran until my lungs burned. The outline of the airport terminal came into view. I watched a plane taxi down the runway, lift off, and then—nose dive straight into the tarmac. BOOM. The shockwave nearly ruptured my eardrums. I stood frozen, watching the flames turn the night sky blood red. "Hello? Mom," I called, voice trembling. Mom sounded out of breath. "We split up. Your dad got the food. We used our savings to get everything on the list. We even managed to get two compound crossbows." She kept talking about picking me up. I listened quietly, waiting for her to finish. "Mom, I decided not to come back." "I'm staying with Ethan. He has a villa in the suburbs, fully stocked. It's safe." "You know Ethan, he's a doctor. He has resources." My voice sounded calm, even cheerful. "I transferred $40,000 to Dad's account. Buy more supplies." "Protect yourselves." Suddenly, a hand snatched the phone away. I whipped around, terrified. A man was leaning against the guardrail, phone pressed to his ear, looking at me with a smirk. "Yes, Auntie, this is Ethan." "As much as I'd love for Ava to stay in my villa..." "It wouldn't be right to keep her from you." "I promise, I will bring her home safely." Ethan hung up. His warm hand brushed over my eyes, wiping away tears I didn't know were there. "I'm late." I realized I was crying uncontrollably. "Not late. Just in time to see your ex-girlfriend make a fool of herself." I turned my face away. Dealing with an ex during the apocalypse was awkward. He didn't argue, his tone softening. "Still got the sharp tongue. Good. You're not in shock." "Hey! Ethan! Stop flirting with the sister-in-law, we gotta move!" A voice shouted from above. I looked up in shock. A rescue helicopter was hovering just overhead. The rotors were deafening. I had been so overwhelmed I hadn't even noticed it. 3 Almost no cars were left on the road. Ethan set up flares to block the lane. He took Lucky's carrier and slung it over his shoulder. He pulled a climbing harness from his bag, strapped himself in, and then strapped me to his chest. We were pressed tightly together. I looked away. "Scared?" he asked, checking the buckles. I shook my head. The helicopter lowered a rope ladder. He held me as we climbed. Inside the chopper, there were three men in camo gear and helmets. One took off his helmet and grinned. "Sister-in-law! When we got the call about Seattle, Ethan went crazy." It was Leo, the guy who shouted earlier. "Leo!" Ethan barked. Leo shut up. Ethan handed me a hazmat suit identical to theirs. "How did you find me?" I asked. "You never turned off your location sharing from when we dated. I saw you were near our flight path." "We're heading to Sea-Tac Airport for extraction. Saving you was just a detour." He placed the cat carrier on an empty seat and sat opposite me, avoiding eye contact. Back to the "business only" attitude. Fine. I examined the suit. It had a peculiar pouch near the waist. I leaned in to sniff it. A wave of rotting stench hit me. I gagged, covering my mouth. "Heh." Ethan chuckled. "It masks your scent. The chemicals inside evaporate quickly, so it only lasts thirty minutes." "Open it only if you're in immediate danger." "Otherwise... don't be curious." Before I could retort, a roar echoed from below. Like wild beasts. The smell of blood filled the air. I looked out the window. A full moon illuminated the airport sign: Welcome to Sea-Tac. Beneath it, the ground was painted red. The moonlight was too bright. I could clearly see the "Zombies"—mangled, bloody figures—tearing into the remains of the crashed plane survivors. The helicopter noise drew their attention. One by one, dozens, then hundreds of heads snapped up. They began to converge, forming a massive circle below us. One of them looked straight at me with hollow, leaking eyes. I recoiled. The pilot kept the chopper hovering just outside the perimeter. Are we bait? I noticed many zombies wearing shredded military uniforms. "The first responders are already dead," I whispered. "If we're bait, there must be survivors inside." "Medical Team Alpha, ready for insertion!" Ethan stood up. They were all gearing up to jump. He paused, looking at me. "The pilot will take you to the port. I have people there who will get you on a boat to Portland." A sense of powerlessness washed over me. Ten years. Five years as a couple, five years as strangers. We graduated med school together. I became a vet; he became a surgeon. We were intersecting lines that had drifted apart. "Ethan, listen to me!" I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed his collar, forcing him to look at me. "Don't come back into my life if you don't care." "We haven't settled our score yet. You are not allowed to die quietly." "Or I will haunt you." Ethan didn't push me away. When my tears hit his face, I heard him sigh. "Okay." "Neither of us dies first." I wiped my eyes and helped him buckle his helmet. ... The rest of the trip was a blur. They rappelled down to the terminal roof. The helicopter drew the horde away, buying time for the ground team. The pilot dropped me at the Port of Tacoma, where I boarded a private cargo ship headed for Portland. 4 6:00 AM. Arrival. The port security was intense. I filled out a form: Origin - Seattle. The moment I wrote it, I was pulled aside by hazmat-clad officers. They inspected every inch of my skin for bites or scratches. Then, I was locked in a quarantine room for three hours. The room was white and sterile, reminding me of the tiny apartment I rented when I followed Ethan to grad school. I texted him. Delivered. No reply. Three hours later, I was released. I had to wear a GPS ankle monitor and quarantine at home for 14 days. Compared to the alternative, this was freedom. My parents were waiting at the dock. Mom cried the moment she saw me. Dad took the cat carrier. "You're back. That's all that matters." We drove straight to the Lighthouse. It was built on a cliff, surrounded by ocean on three sides. Solid stone walls. It was the perfect fortress. We unloaded the trucks. Mom went back to the city to get the tools I ordered. Dad went for one last supply run. I was left to clean and organize. The lighthouse had seven floors. The ground floor was spacious, about 400 square feet, getting smaller as it went up. The top floor was the lamp room, surrounded by a glass enclosure and a narrow balcony. There were two high-powered binoculars mounted there. I cleaned the lenses and looked out. I could see the highway entrance clearly. I sketched a map, marking blind spots, and installed micro-cameras in those areas. I checked my phone. Food delivery apps were all "Temporarily Closed." I called a local agricultural supplier. I paid triple for three heavy-lift agricultural drones, ten LED grow lights, and boxes of vegetable seeds. I designated the 4th floor for hydroponics and water purification. We had stored water, but we needed a renewable source. The drones could haul buckets of seawater up to the tower for desalination. The plants would provide food and oxygen. Waste management? Cat litter. It absorbs moisture and odor. The main ingredient is silica. Sand is silica. We were surrounded by a beach. I grabbed a shovel and spent hours hauling sand to the first floor. I ordered 20 barrels of waterproof cement from a local factory. I called Dad. "Get liquid nitrogen and dry ice." I organized the supplies. Heavy items on floors 1-3. Sand on 1. Tools on 2. Canned food on 3.
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