The Cable Guy Apocalypse

Jordan's parents had ditched him for the weekend again. Three days of solitude, Netflix, and zero responsibility. Until the internet died. That's when he found himself wearing his dad's ridiculous fishing hat—the one with the built-in LED lights and multiple pockets—sweating through his Misfits shirt while Mr. Henderson from next door lectured him about router placement.

"Your generation doesn't understand hardware," Mr. Henderson grumbled, wrestling with a tangle of cables behind the TV. "Everything's wireless until it isn't."

Jordan nodded absently, phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. No WiFi meant no texting Maya, the girl he'd been vibing with since sophomore year started two weeks ago. She'd sent a " wyd? " message an hour ago, and his inability to respond was literally killing him inside.

Mr. Henderson's dog—a chihuahua mix named Bear who weighed maybe eight pounds—started barking at absolutely nothing from the doorway. Bear had zero chill and even less respect for personal space.

"Bear, knock it off," Mr. Henderson said, then squinted at the cables. "Huh. That's weird."

"What's weird?" Jordan asked, suddenly interested.

"This coaxial cable. It's not connected to anything." Mr. Henderson frowned, following the loose cable with his fingers toward the basement door. "And it's... wet?"

Jordan's stomach dropped. His little brother Leo had been obsessed with zombies since summer camp. Last week, Jordan had caught him dragging what looked like fake blood toward the basement in Solo cups. "Zombie apocalypse prep," Leo had called it, completely deadpan.

"Mr. Henderson, maybe we should—" Jordan started, but the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then stayed off.

Bear growled, backing away from the basement door. Outside, a car alarm started blaring.

"Jordan," Mr. Henderson said slowly, "how many people are in your basement right now?"

Jordan's phone lit up with a new notification from Maya: "party @ emma's, u coming??"

He looked at the basement door, at Mr. Henderson, at his reflection in the darkened TV screen wearing that stupid hat like a crown. He thought about Maya, about high school, about how he just wanted to be normal for once in his life.

"Just my brother," Jordan said. "But he's been... weird lately."

As if on cue, a low, guttural sound echoed from the basement. Not quite human. Not quite animal.

Mr. Henderson's eyes went wide. He grabbed his toolbox. "Kid, your internet's gonna have to wait."

Jordan pulled off the LED hat, handed it to him. "You're gonna need this more than I will."

Sometimes, he thought, as they crept toward the basement door together, being normal was overrated anyway.