The Night We Didn't Die (Almost)

Marcus was running on three hours of sleep and pure anxiety when everything went sideways. It was 2 AM on a Friday, technically Saturday, and the group chat had been blowing up for hours. Everyone was at Tyler's house watching horror movies, because apparently that's what normal sixteen-year-olds do. Marcus, being Marcus, had bailed with some weak excuse about his dog needing attention.

But the truth? His dog Buster was fine. Marcus was the one who felt like a zombie lately—scrolling through social media, watching everyone live their best lives while he sat in his room overthinking every interaction, every text, every awkward pause in conversation at school.

Then his phone buzzed. *Yo, you coming? We're doing a zombie apocalypse simulation in the woods behind my house. It's lowkey terrifying but also kind of iconic.*

Marcus stared at his screen. This was it—the moment to choose. Stay safe in his room or risk looking foolish in front of everyone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his shoes and whistled for Buster. The old golden retriever might actually give him an excuse if things got weird.

The woods were darker than he expected. Flashlights cut through the trees as Marcus's classmates stumbled around, pretending to be infected. Tyler, wearing way too much fake blood, lunged at someone from behind a tree. Everyone screamed and laughed. It was chaos.

Then Marcus heard it—actual howling, not the fake kind. A real dog, somewhere in the darkness, crying like it was hurt.

"Did you guys hear that?" Marcus called out.

"Bro, that's just part of the game," Tyler said, but Marcus was already running, flashlight cutting through the undergrowth. Buster stayed right beside him, ears perked.

They found the dog tangled in barbed wire near the old fence line—somebody's pet, scared and bleeding. Marcus didn't think. He just knelt down, talked softly, and worked the wire free while Tyler shone the light. The dog licked Marcus's hand.

When they got back to the group, nobody was making zombie noises anymore. They all just stared, then someone said, "That was actually kind of hardcore, Marcus."

Later, sitting on Tyler's back porch watching the sun come up, Marcus realized something. He'd spent months feeling like the walking dead, afraid of everything. But tonight, running into the dark to help some scared dog—**that** was the most alive he'd felt in forever.

"You good?" Tyler asked, passing him a soda.

Marcus nodded. For the first time in a long time, he actually was.