The dim glow of the laboratory’s fluorescent lights illuminated the group as they stepped out of the service elevator. For a mont, everyone stood in silence, their eyes adjusting to the sterile white tiles and rows of abandoned workstations.
"Wow," Mallory said, squinting at a bulletin board cluttered with old mos. "This looks like every office I’ve ever tried to avoid."
Alex chuckled. "Bet they had those mandatory ’team-building’ days too."
"Ugh," Mallory groaned, shivering at the thought. "Death might be better."
Clara, ignoring their banter, moved to the nearest terminal and began typing furiously. "This is it," she murmured. "The last operational hub before the outbreak. If the cure exists, it’ll be here."
Greg glanced over her shoulder, his brow furrowed. "What exactly are we looking for? A vial? Data? A zombie with a natag that says, ’Hi, I’m the Cure’?"
"More like files," Clara replied, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Research notes, blueprints...anything that points to the formula they were working on."
Mallory leaned against a desk, idly spinning her frying pan. "So basically, we’re treasure hunting in a science fair project gone wrong."
Altair shot her a look. "Could you take this seriously for once?"
"Define ’seriously,’" Mallory said, grinning.
Before Altair could respond, the computer beeped, and Clara let out a triumphant gasp. "I found it! The data’s here."
"Great," Greg said, clapping his hands. "Now can we get out before the zombies decide to hold a et-and-greet?"
"Not so fast," Clara said, scrolling through the files. "We need to transfer this to a drive. It’s too much to morize."
"Of course it is," Mallory muttered, glancing at the empty hallway behind them. The silence was starting to feel oppressive.
As Clara worked, the rest of the group began exploring the lab. Vanessa found a cabinet full of expired snacks and squealed in delight.
"Look!" she said, holding up a bag of gummy bears. "Who wants so apocalypse candy?"
"Depends," Mallory said, eyeing the bag suspiciously. "What year did those expire?"
Vanessa checked the label and winced. "2019."
"Pass," Mallory said.
Alex, anwhile, was examining a row of test tubes filled with ominous-looking liquids. "Hey, Mallory," he called, holding up a bright green vial. "Bet you five bucks this turns you into a zombie if you drink it."
"Tempting," Mallory said, walking over. "But I don’t carry cash in the apocalypse."
Greg snorted. "She barely carried cash before the apocalypse."
"Touché," Mallory said, giving him a mock salute.
As they joked, Blinky scuttled across the floor, its tiny legs clicking against the tiles. It stopped abruptly and began beeping frantically.
"What’s wrong, buddy?" Mallory asked, crouching down.
Blinky beeped again, this ti louder, and turned toward the hallway.
"Oh no," Greg said, his face paling. "Tell that’s not—"
The distant sound of shuffling footsteps confird his fears.
"Zombies," Altair said grimly, drawing his machete.
---
The first wave ca fast, their groans echoing through the narrow corridor. Mallory swung her frying pan with precision, sending one zombie crashing into a desk.
"I told you we should’ve brought more traps," she yelled over the chaos.
"And I told you to stop relying on frying pans!" Altair shot back, slicing through a zombie with a clean strike.
"Don’t hate the pan," Mallory said, ducking under a clawed hand. "Hate the apocalypse."
Alex was holding his own, using his bat to knock zombies back into the crowd. "Anyone else feel like we’re in a bad video ga?"
Vanessa, ard with a crowbar, let out a nervous laugh. "If this is a ga, I want a refund!"
Clara, still at the computer, shouted, "Stall them! I just need five more minutes!"
"Five minutes?" Mallory said, her voice rising. "That’s like five years in zombie ti!"
Greg, wielding a fire extinguisher he’d found under a desk, sprayed a group of zombies, temporarily blinding them. "This stuff actually works!"
"Good," Mallory said, smirking. "You’ve finally found your calling as a fireman."
Despite their efforts, the horde kept advancing. Blinky beeped wildly, skittering around and creating a surprising amount of chaos.
At one point, the robotic spider tripped a zombie by tangling its legs in a stray power cord.
"Good boy, Blinky!" Mallory cheered.
The chaos reached its peak when Greg accidentally knocked over a shelf, causing a cascade of books and lab equipnt to rain down on the zombies.
"Oops," he said, wincing.
Mallory burst out laughing, even as she swung her frying pan. "Greg, you’re a one-man apocalypse."
---
Finally, Clara shouted, "Got it! Let’s move!"
The group retreated toward the elevator, fighting off zombies every step of the way.
As they piled into the cramped space, Mallory couldn’t help but crack a grin. "Well, that was fun. Who’s up for round two?"
"Not funny," Altair said, panting.
The elevator doors closed just as a zombie lunged forward, its clawed hand swiping the air inches from Mallory’s face.
"Missed !" she taunted, sticking out her tongue.
Greg groaned. "You’re going to give a heart attack one day."
"Don’t worry," Mallory said, patting his shoulder. "I’ll give you CPR. Probably."
As the elevator ascended, Clara held up the flash drive triumphantly. "We’ve got what we ca for."
"Great," Alex said, slumping against the wall. "Now let’s never co back."
Mallory grinned. "Agreed. But first, I’m raiding the vending machines on the way out."
Despite the exhaustion and terror, the group couldn’t help but laugh.
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