The Last Normal Thing

Marcus stood in the wreckage of what used to be 7-Eleven, gripping his baseball bat like it could actually save him. Three months ago, this aluminum Easton had been for varsity tryouts. Now? It was zombie repellent.

He was supposed to be worrying about college applications and whether Chloe would ever notice him existed. Instead, he was scavenging for fish food.

"You're ridiculous," he told himself, but he kept moving toward the pet supply aisle anyway.

His little sister's goldfish—she'd named it Peanut before everything went sideways—was somehow still alive in their basement bunker. A tiny, orange reminder of the world before. Before the dead started walking. Before his parents didn't make it home. Before he became the person who kept going when everyone else had given up.

The glass of the fish food jar shattered under his boot. Great.

"Marcus!"

He spun around, bat raised. Chloe stood there, ducking behind a fallen shelf. She'd cut her hair since the outbreak—practical, she'd said. She looked different. Harder. But she was still the most beautiful thing he'd seen in this hellscape.

"Zombie?" he whispered.

"Clear. For now." She crept closer, eyes flicking to his bat. "Still carrying that thing?"

"It's lucky," he said, then immediately felt stupid. Lucky? His parents were gone. Half his classmates were walking corpses. Nothing about this was lucky.

But Chloe smiled. It was small, but real. "You find any food?"

"Fish food."

"For real?"

"My sister's goldfish. It's still alive."

She stared at him like he was speaking a different language. Then: "That's the most normal thing I've heard in months."

They sat in the empty aisle, sharing a crushed protein bar he'd found. Outside, something groaned. A zombie, somewhere. Marcus didn't even flinch.

"You ever think about how random life is?" Chloe asked, picking at the wrapper. "Like, three months ago, I was stressing over SATs and Instagram posts. Now I'm hiding in a 7-Eleven with a guy who risks his life for a fish."

"Peanut's not just a fish. She's... I don't know. Proof that something small can survive everything."

Chloe's hand found his in the dim light. "Yeah. I get that."

Marcus's heart did something it hadn't done since the world ended—it jumped. Not from fear. From hope.

The zombie outside groaned again, closer this time.

He stood up, baseball bat ready. "Let's go home."