So, I did what any smart, totally-prepared teen would do: I grabbed my napkin. Yup, my one napkin. I tore it in half, wrapped it around my arm, and then… naturally… layered it with every last bit of duct tape I had. It looked ridiculous — like a mummy who's running late for school — but hey, at least it might stop teeth. Hopefully.
Then, because I'm not entirely insane (yet), I did the next logical thing: I asked ChatGPT how to survive a zombie attack.
ChatGPT said: "Stay calm, avoid loud noises, barricade yourself, and use improvised weapons."
Great. Calm. Sure. Super easy when there's a zombie staring at you through a van door, groaning like it's auditioning for a heavy metal band.
I took a deep breath, double-checked my napkin-duct-tape-arm protection, and whispered to myself:
"Okay, Natasha. You can do this. Just… stay quiet. Don't trip. And maybe… maybe don't scream like a banshee if it looks at you."
Then I peeked again. Zombie still there. Slowly shuffling, dragging one foot, groaning like it's having a really bad day. I swear, if it had a coffee in its hand, I wouldn't be surprised.
I thought about movies — zombies always bite the loudest, right? So I tiptoed. Literally tiptoed. My water bottle clinked against the van floor. My heart tried to escape my chest. But somehow… it didn't notice me. Score one for Natasha's ninja skills (and her napkin-duct-tape armor).
Then… I remembered: I have no weapon. Just a water bottle, a napkin, and some duct tape. But hey, improvisation is key, right? Maybe I could throw the water bottle, distract it, and run? Or duct-tape my way out of danger? Not sure yet.
I'm sitting here now, breathing like a very worried goat, waiting for the zombie to move away, and trying not to laugh at the absurdity of my life. Exams in two weeks. Mom and sis 200 km away. And me? Alone, armed with duct tape, napkin, and a questionable amount of courage.
I tried calling Mom. She won't answer. Not once, not twice—like ten times. Every ring just ends in that same robotic voice: "The number you have dialed is not reachable."
My hands started shaking a little. I told myself it's fine, maybe the signal's bad, maybe she's just charging her phone. But deep down, I know something's off.
I opened TikTok again—yeah, bad habit—and my friends' accounts were flooded with the weirdest stuff. Some were filming from their balconies, screaming that there were zombies outside. One clip showed a road I knew near our school. There were people running, cars crashing, smoke everywhere. It didn't even feel real.
My school's about 8 kilometers from here. I stared at my phone and thought… maybe I could get there. Maybe I could find my friends or someone alive.
Then I remembered something: I've never driven an actual car in my life. But I've played VR driving games. The fake steering wheels, the pedals, the honking—I mean, how different could it be, right?
I looked out at the HiJet. The key was still in the ignition. My heart started pounding. Maybe, just maybe, I could drive there.