Mallory watched the new survivors interact in the common area through the apartnt's caras, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. They had only been inside for an hour, but it already felt like her precious solitude was a distant mory.
The lanky man—whose na turned out to be Greg—was enthusiastically gesturing with a half-eaten granola bar.
"So there I was, surrounded by like ten zombies," he said, puffing out his chest. "I grabbed a mop, broke it over my knee like a pro, and—bam! Zombie kebab!"
"Dude," said one of the other survivors, a scruffy guy in a beanie. "I was there. You tripped over a bucket and scread like a banshee. The zombies didn't even chase you because they thought you were one of them."
Greg's face turned beet red. "That's... creative interpretation!"
Mallory groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. "Why do I feel like I'm stuck in a bad reality TV show?"
Alex smirked from their spot near the kitchenette, where they were attempting to make coffee. "Could be worse. At least they're entertaining."
Mallory snorted. "Entertaining? This is like watching clowns rehearse for the apocalypse."
---
The peace—or what little of it existed—was shattered when the apartnt's external defenses activated. Mallory's tablet chid furiously as the speakers outside blared:
"WARNING: ZOMBIES DETECTED. DEFENSE PROTOCOLS INITIATED."
Greg, still holding his granola bar, jumped so high he nearly hit the ceiling. "Z-z-zombies?!"
"Relax," Mallory said, waving him off. "The defenses will handle it."
But instead of the usual hum of laser turrets, there was a strange sizzling noise followed by an odd, savory sll wafting through the vents.
"What is that sll?" Alex asked, wrinkling their nose.
Mallory pulled up the security feed, her jaw dropping at the sight. Instead of neutralizing the zombies with their usual precision, the apartnt's flathrowers had malfunctioned, turning the undead into a literal barbecue pit.
"Oh no," Mallory groaned. "The apartnt glitched again!"
"Is that... grilled zombie?" Alex asked, leaning over her shoulder.
Greg sniffed the air, his fear montarily forgotten. "Honestly, it slls kinda good. Like smoked at or sothing."
One of the other survivors gagged. "You're disgusting."
The tablet beeped cheerfully, displaying a new ssage:
Kitchen Upgrade Unlocked: Outdoor Grill Mode Activated.
Mallory buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to lose my mind."
---
Despite the chaos, Mallory begrudgingly allowed the survivors to stay. But it wasn't long before Greg decided he wanted to "help" improve their situation.
"I've got ideas," he announced, barging into the living room where Mallory was enjoying her first mont of peace in days.
"Oh good," Mallory deadpanned. "Just what we needed: ideas from the guy who wears socks with holes in both toes."
Greg ignored her sarcasm and plopped down on the couch, spreading out a crude drawing of what appeared to be a homade catapult.
"Picture this," he said, grinning. "A zombie-launching defense system. We build it on the roof, right? Zombies co close, we fling them into the next county."
Mallory stared at him, unblinking. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Greg said, not catching the irony.
"I'm not turning my apartnt into a dieval trebuchet park," Mallory snapped. "Besides, what happens when they land? You think they'll just thank you for the free ride and leave?"
Greg blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Uh... hadn't thought that far ahead."
"Shocking," Mallory muttered.
---
One evening, as the survivors settled in for dinner, a commotion erupted in the kitchen.
"Hey!" shouted Beanie Guy (whose actual na was Marvin, though no one used it). "Who ate my leftover beans?"
"I didn't touch them!" Greg protested, his mouth suspiciously full.
Mallory rolled her eyes. "Can you people stop acting like toddlers for five minutes?"
Alex, standing near the fridge, frowned. "Wait a second. This fridge is... different."
Mallory looked up, narrowing her eyes. "What do you an, different?"
Alex opened the fridge door, revealing rows of neatly organized, freshly stocked food. The interior glead with a strange, almost otherworldly light.
"This wasn't here yesterday," Alex said, stepping back.
Mallory grabbed the tablet, pulling up the apartnt's latest updates. Sure enough, there was a new notification:
Mystery Fridge Unlocked: Supplies Restocked Daily. Warning: Contents May Vary.
"Oh great," Mallory muttered. "My apartnt has its own ga show now. 'What's in the Fridge Tonight?'"
Greg rushed over, sticking his head inside. "This is amazing! It's like magic!"
"Or a disaster waiting to happen," Mallory shot back.
As if to prove her point, the fridge emitted a soft ping and ejected a small package labeled: SPICY EXPERINTAL JELLY.
Greg grabbed it eagerly. "I call dibs!"
"No!" Mallory shouted, lunging to stop him. But it was too late. Greg popped the jelly into his mouth and imdiately turned bright red.
"Oh my god," he gasped, fanning his mouth. "It's like lava!"
Mallory sighed as Greg stumbled around, frantically chugging a carton of milk. "I swear, this place is going to kill before the zombies do."
---
Later that week, Alex found a dusty karaoke machine in one of the storage rooms, and naturally, chaos ensued.
"Let's liven this place up!" Greg declared, grabbing the microphone.
Mallory groaned from the couch. "No. Absolutely not. I already have a headache."
But Greg ignored her, launching into a tone-deaf rendition of "Living on a Prayer" that made even the zombies outside groan in protest.
"Kill now," Mallory muttered, burying her face in a pillow.
Alex, to Mallory's surprise, picked up the second microphone and joined in, belting out an off-key harmony.
"This is my nightmare," Mallory said, glaring at the ceiling. "Why couldn't I have found a deserted island instead of this apartnt?"
By the ti Greg and Alex finished, the entire group was howling with laughter—except Mallory, who sat silently plotting ways to dismantle the karaoke machine without anyone noticing.
---
To Be Continued...
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