Jenna wasn't exactly sure what day it was anymore. Being sick had that effect, especially when "sick" involved the world going to pieces outside. She was half-distracted by a ridiculous reality show when she heard a knock on the door. Who was still knocking in a zombie apocalypse?
She opened the door to find her best friend, Chanel. But something was off. Chanel looked…different. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide and lifeless, and there was an odd smell, like old tuna mixed with gym socks.
"Chanel, you okay?" Jenna asked, squinting. Chanel tilted her head and groaned.
Before Jenna could process what was wrong, Chanel lunged. "Whoa, whoa, what the—" Jenna barely had time to react before Chanel was all teeth and growls, biting her arm like she was a chew toy.
"Chanel! Bad friend! BAD!" Jenna yelped, but it was too late. She stumbled back, clutching her arm as her vision swam. Everything went fuzzy, then black.
When Jenna woke up, she felt…off. For one, she wasn't breathing, which was unsettling but also oddly relaxing. She stood up and looked around, her mind a little slower than usual. Was she missing something important? Oh, right. She had been bitten. By Chanel. Who was a zombie?
"Wait. I'm a zombie," Jenna mumbled. She took a few wobbly steps and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Pale skin, eyes a bit glassy, and… was that dried blood on her lip? Gross. She wiped it away, not exactly sure how to feel about the whole being dead but also still walking around thing.
That's when she noticed something really strange. She picked up the remote from the couch and just… stared at it. Suddenly, it vanished into thin air. Jenna blinked, then looked behind her. No remote. She checked her hands. Still empty.
"Did I…eat the remote?" she asked herself, mildly panicked. Then, in a burst of brilliance (or as brilliant as a zombie could manage), she concentrated, and poof! The remote reappeared in her hand.
"What the heck?" Jenna muttered, waving the remote around like a magic wand. Somehow, she had the power to store things… somewhere. A space, just for her. "I have a space?" she said, her voice rising with excitement. "I HAVE A SPACE!"
As her zombie brain struggled to keep up, she grinned. "Oh man, I could put, like…all the snacks in here. And shoes. I could hoard shoes now!"
She might have been a little bit slower now—thanks to the whole "zombie mutation" thing—but one thing was clear: zombie life had its perks.