Olivia hummed to herself as she did her homework. She idly glanced at the clock. Her parents would be back from work in an hour or so at 10 o’clock.

            Knock. Knock.

            She sighed. Olivia hollered to the bedroom next door, “George! Get the door.”

            “You get the door. Your room is closer to the front door,” George’s muffled voice came through the thin walls.

            “Sarah probably forgot her keys again. I’m your older sister. You have to listen to me.” Oliva sighed again. Their sister Sarah was always absent-minded.

            “Fine! But next time it’s your turn.” George pattered down the stairs.

            Olivia heard the front door open. She could just barely hear them from her room. “Hey,” George said, a note of concern in his voice. “Sarah, what’s wrong? Why do you have blood all over you? Is this some sort of prank?”

            Olivia frowned. It wasn’t like Sarah to pull pranks. She swung off the bed and went downstairs to see what was going on.

            She came upon George struggling to fend Sarah off. Sarah’s hair was wild and matted. A deranged look was in her bloodshot eyes, and her jaws were wide open, bloody, as she tried to bite George.

            George gave a strangled yell, holding on to Sarah’s arms. “Olivia! Help! I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”

            Olivia stood, panicked. Was this a bad case of the rabies? It didn’t seem like it. Time seemed to stand still.

            George tripped, falling backward.

            Sarah’s jaw clamped on George’s face, and he screamed as she ripped into his cheeks.

            Olivia cried out, panic stabbing her chest as she saw Sarah chewing George’s tongue. He choked on his own blood as he writhed and struggled on the floor, Sarah’s dirty hands pushing his shoulders down.

            Then finally, he went still.

            Time resumed. Olivia knew this must be the beginning of the zombie plague. Guilt filled her. This wouldn’t have happened to George if she hadn’t sent him down here. It should have been her.

            She slowly backed away in the direction of the kitchen. And accidentally bumped into the lamp.

            It fell with a boom.

            Sarah looked up, blood dribbling down her chin, her manic eyes filled with darkness and death. George was already stirring.

            Olivia dashed toward the kitchen, unintelligible noises coming from her throat as she panicked.

            She turned on the lights and tried to lock the kitchen door. She fumbled and missed the lock the first time, her nails scratching the door, the sound eerie and haunting. Then she got it the second time.

            She almost fell as she jumped toward the knives on the counter.

            Sarah and George banged on the door, nearly causing Olivia’s heart to jump out of her chest. She fumbled through the knives. She hissed as her hand accidentally nicked the edge of a knife. Finally, she found what she was looking for, a large butcher knife.

            She grabbed a longer and sharper knife as well just in case.

            Her siblings scratched and clawed at the door. Olivia managed a panicked glance at the door, noting that it was holding for now. The rusty lock was rattling though. They should have changed the lock but had never gotten around to it.

            Olivia swallowed hard. It felt like there was a frog stuck in her throat.

            She stuffed a water bottle into a pocket, and some protein bars into her other pocket, then ran down into the basement, locking the door after her. She turned on the light switch. She didn’t know if these zombies could or couldn’t see in the dark, but it would be better to leave the lights on.

            The stairs creaked as she tried to make as little noise as possible, and she winced.

            Finally she had a moment to breathe. Upstairs, she heard the occasional moan and growl. Something crunched overhead. Maybe it was some bowls or pottery.

            Olivia gasped. Her parents would be back soon. She glanced wildly at the clock. They would be back in forty minutes.

            What should she do? Wait it out here, or risk going upstairs to get her phone?

            She put her knives down on a foosball table.

            She drank some water, wincing as the plastic crinkled. She paused, hoping her brother and sister didn’t hear her downstairs.

            It grew quiet upstairs. She gulped. Maybe they had heard her. Maybe they were zombies with sensitive hearing.

            Movement continued upstairs, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

            Now that she had time to think, the grief came in a wave. She bit back a sob. Then hot tears fell through blurry eyes. Her shoulders shuddered, and she felt like she had a knot in her chest.

            She couldn’t get her brother’s tongue being eaten in front of her out of her mind. He was an idiot at times, but she’d miss his teasing. She’d miss her sister’s absent-mindedness as well.

            Growling came from upstairs, and she grabbed some tissue nearby and blew her nose.

            The growling intensified, and she froze. Did they hear her?

            A few seconds later the growling decreased in volume.

            Olivia took stock of her surroundings.

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            There wasn’t much in the basement. There was the foosball table, some old weightlifting equipment, and some tools.

            She rifled through the tools and supplies, placing a hammer, two screwdrivers, duct tape, and rope on the foosball table. She didn’t know what to do with most of them if she had to use them.

            Olivia clenched her jaw in determination. She had to get her phone from upstairs to call her parents. Hopefully they were still alive and hadn’t been attacked.

            A flash of inspiration hit her. She grabbed the hammer and went to the far corner of the room, in the opposite direction of where her room was.

            She flung the hammer up as hard as she could.

            It slammed into the ceiling, making a loud thunk.

            Her siblings growled and headed that way. Hopefully they would take the bait and think the noise came from that side of the house, assuming these zombies were smart enough to navigate through rooms.

            A pang of sadness rippled through her. If she thought of them as zombies, it would only make it easier to hurt them. And it made them less human.

            Olivia grabbed the butcher knife in her right hand, and put a screwdriver in a pocket.

            She crept up the stairs one agonizing step at a time. The third step creaked, and she froze. Her skin grew cold and clammy, and she wiped sweat from her forehead.

            She couldn’t hear any growling upstairs, and that scared her. For all she knew they were right outside the door waiting, or had taken the bait. Or maybe they were waiting in her room.

            Olivia reached a shaking hand to the door and paused. She put her ear against the door to determine if they were waiting outside.

            Hearing nothing, she gently twisted the lock and stepped out.

            She peeked out to the right and didn’t see anybody. She looked left and didn’t see anything either, so she crept through the kitchen.

            The door was open.

            Its hinges were still intact, but the lock had fallen out and the zombies had broken through.

            She shuddered as she saw blood streaks on the door. It was still fresh and smelled sickly.

            George slowly ambled by in front of her, and she froze.

            He didn’t appear to have noticed her, so she hid next to the door.

            She peeked out and saw and heard him walking away, so she crept forward.

            Hopefully Sarah didn’t attack her from behind while she was inching forward. She took a quick glance backward and didn’t see anything. That didn’t make her feel any better though.

            A minute later George went out the front door, and Olivia let out a pent-up breath. It would suck if he attacked somebody else, like their nice neighbors, but she had to get her phone before she could save anybody else.

            She tiptoed up the carpeted stairs, relieved that they didn’t creak.

            As she saw the open door of her brother’s bedroom, the light spilling out into the hallway, she suppressed another sob. Now wasn’t the time to cry, or she would be dead.

            She went into her room and grabbed her phone, as well as the charger, and stuffed them into her pockets.

            She took a second and grew still, listening to see if she had attracted the attention of her siblings.

            Nothing. They didn’t notice she was here. Good.

            She crept back downstairs and when she reached the bottom, she mentally swore. George had wandered back in.

            He locked gazes with her, black eyes seeming to stare through her soul.

            She turned and ran back through the kitchen, knife at the ready just in case Sarah stepped in front of her.

            She tripped on some blood at the foot of the broken door, banging her knee and an elbow on the hard floor, the knife flying out of her hands. It stung, but she got back up.

            She looked back and saw George bearing down on her, so she left the knife where it lay. No time to get it now.

            Olivia rushed to the door, grabbing her screwdriver out of her pockets, her mouth open in a silent scream.

            Sarah, blood and spit streaming from her mouth, bore down at her from just past the door to the basement. Olivia ran faster, hoping to reach the door and lock it before her sister got to her first.

            Olivia managed to reach the door first, grabbing the corner to steady herself. She pulled herself in and slammed the door shut.

            Sarah thudded into the other side of the door, and it rattled. Olivia managed to twist the lock shut.

            She darted down the stairs, grabbing the long knife off the foosball table. She readied herself on the other side, hoping it would let her live longer.

            The door shuddered as heavy fists thudded into it. Several minutes later, it was still holding. Then the door stopped shaking. The zombies must have lost interest.

            Olivia laughed nervously, glad she was still alive. She ate a protein bar for some energy.

            Then she grabbed her phone and called her parents. “Mom? You and Dad please don’t come back home right now. George and Sarah are zombies.”

            “What’s wrong? Zombies aren’t real. Is something else going on that you want to talk about?” Mom asked.

            “No! Sarah ate George’s tongue.”

            “What? Nonsense. I don’t know where you’re getting all this nonsense from. I know you called because you miss me. I’ve had a long day at work but Dad and I are back early now. We’re just outside the house and…why’s the door broken? Is there a bad guy in the house?”

            “Please don’t come in.” Olivia gulped. It sucked that her parents didn’t know what zombies were.

            “George? Sarah? Can you explain to me why the door is broken? Is this some sort of prank?” Olivia heard her mom through the phone. Dread filled her heard.

            “I’m not fixing the door,” Dad’s voice came through the phone.

            Olivia heard growling come from upstairs and cried. She ran up the stairs and unlocked the door.

            She heard her parents screaming, and she covered her ears, trying to block out the painful sounds.

            She ran out the back door, feeling like she had let everyone down. She was the only one left alive.

            Screams and gunfire sounded throughout the neighborhood. She ran to the front of the house to her car, hoping her zombified family wouldn’t see her. Everywhere she looked, chaos ruled. Just a few houses down, a man and his dog were fending off a zombie, its arms outstretched, looking for a deathly embrace from the dog’s owner.

            She fumbled with her keys in the dark, nearly dropping them as she heard her family come out of the house toward her.

            She glanced up through blurry eyes and threw herself into the car, slamming the lock shut after her.

            Her mom clawed at the door, not uttering a word. Olivia couldn’t bring herself to look at her family as they tried to get at her.

            Finally she got the keys in and stepped on the gas, the car screeching away through the dark.

            Thirty minutes later, she reached the countryside. Lucky she lived at the edge of their small town, or else she might have run out of gas before reaching safety.

            It was quiet, peaceful almost, if it wasn’t for the horror that had greeted her just a few minutes earlier.

            She wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hands. The tears wouldn’t stop, and after a while her hands were wet and couldn’t absorb any more tears, so she used her palms. She also used several tissues to blow her nose.

            She would miss her parents, her brother, and sister.

            Olivia looked in the rearview mirror at her own reflection, determination in her eyes. The moonlight cast a soft glow in the car. She had to keep on living. She had to keep her feet on the ground, no matter what. She thought of her favorite wrestler, John Cena. If he was here, he would tell her, “Never give up.” Hope existed in this world. She just had to find it.