The Zombie Algorithm

Maya's dad had disconnected the cable internet again. Third time this week. He claimed it was to help her focus on finals, but she knew the truth—he was salty about her 3.2 GPA.

"This is actually depression," she groaned, flopping onto her bed. Her phone showed zero bars. Luna, her goldendoodle, thumped her tail sympathetically from the floor.

Maya was supposed to be at Jordan's party tonight. Everyone would be there—except her, obviously. She'd been ghosting social events since her awkward "almost" with Tyler at homecoming. The rumors still low-key haunted her.

Whatever. She didn't need people. She had Luna.

Luna licked her hand. Maya sighed. "You're the only one who gets me, girl."

Around 11 PM, the neighborhood power flickered. Then died.

Maya scrambled for her flashlight, heart racing. What if this was it? The zombie apocalypse she'd been binge-watching on Netflix for months? She'd prepared—mentally, at least. Her brain supplied flashbacks: characters making terrible decisions, splitting up, checking weird noises.

"Stay, Luna," she whispered, grabbing her dad's baseball bat.

A scratch at the back door.

Maya's breath hitched. She crept forward, bat raised, ready to finally prove she wasn't some soft suburban kid who'd die first in a horror movie.

She yanked open the door.

"Yo!"

Tyler stood there, phone flashlight illuminating his sheepish grin. Behind him, the whole neighborhood was dark.

"Power's out everywhere," he said. "Figured you'd be vibing in the dark like the mysterious emo girl you are."

Maya lowered the bat. "I'm not emo."

"You literally have aesthetic blackout curtains."

"Touché."

Luna bounded over, demanding attention. Tyler's eyes lit up. "Wait, you have a DOG?"

"Her name's Luna."

"Dude. Why didn't you ever bring her to school?"

"It's... not allowed?"

"Bro, half the senior class vapes in the bathroom. I think they'd survive a goldendoodle."

They ended up on the roof, watching the neighborhood's emergency lights flicker on. Luna curled between them. Tyler talked about his ADHD meds making him feel like a zombie sometimes—just going through motions at soccer practice, barely remembering anything. Maya admitted she'd been scared to show her real self since homecoming, that she felt like she was sleepwalking through high school.

"That's valid," Tyler said. "We're all kinda zombies. Just trying to figure it out."

The power returned at 2 AM, bathing everything in sudden artificial light.

"Wanna come back tomorrow?" Tyler asked. "Luna too?"

Maya smiled—a real one. "Yeah. But I'm keeping the bat."