The Night We Didn't Die

The zombie apocalypse started at 2:47 AM on a Saturday, which was honestly peak cringe timing. Maya's older brother had left her in charge of feeding his goldfish while he was at college, and somehow — through a series of events that involved way too many energy drinks and a questionable decision to reenact a scene from that zombie show everyone's obsessed with — we found ourselves sprinting through the woods behind her subdivision, convinced something was chasing us.

"I literally can't even right now," I panted, ducking under a branch. "We're being dramatic."

"No joke," Maya whisper-yelled back, even though we were definitely loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. "But did you HEAR that noise?"

We'd been watching zombie movies since midnight, surviving on stale chips and pure secondhand embarrassment from watching Maya's TikTok drafts from eighth grade (she'd made me promise to delete them, but obviously I'd watched them first). The woods were dark and spooky and we were absolutely that couple of girls in every horror movie who make terrible decisions.

And then we heard it.

A massive crash. Something tearing through bushes. A low, guttural sound that made my stomach drop.

"BEAR!" Maya shrieked, grabbing my arm so hard I'd definitely have a bruise tomorrow. "There's literally a bear!"

We scrambled up a tree — well, attempted to. I got about three feet up and slid back down, scraping my knee something awful. Maya somehow monkey-climbed to the lowest branch like her life depended on it, which, honestly, we thought it did.

The creature emerged from the shadows.

I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to become bear food, or zombie food, or whatever horror movie ending we'd somehow scripted ourselves into.

"You guys okay up there?"

I opened one eye. Mr. Harrison from down the street stood there in an orange hunting vest, holding a flashlight, with his elderly golden retriever Buster wagging beside him. Buster was the one who'd made the scary noises — he'd been chasing a raccoon.

"We thought you were a zombie," Maya said from the tree, which was somehow worse.

Mr. Harrison just nodded, like teenage girls in trees at 3 AM was totally normal. "Happens. Your mom called, Maya. Said you forgot to feed the goldfish again."

We walked home in the most awkward silence of my life, but Maya was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe by the time we reached her driveway.

"Best friend award," she said, bumping my shoulder. "Even when you're being dumb."

"Even when you're dumb too," I shot back, but I was smiling. Some nights are terrible. Some nights are embarrassing. But this one? This one was exactly the kind of mess you remember forever.