The apartment was unusually quiet when Mallory woke up late the next morning. Normally, the air was filled with the sounds of Altair's tinkering, Vanessa's drills, or Zara playfully trash-talking Greg over some board game. But today, there was nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioning.
"Guys?" Mallory called out groggily, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled toward the living room. Her heart sank slightly when she saw the note pinned to the fridge.
Mallory,
We've gone to reinforce the east stairwell. It's been looking shaky, and we don't want it giving out. Be back soon.
Mallory sighed, crumpling the note. "Great. Leave the lazy one to fend for herself."
As she slumped onto the couch, she noticed a faint scratching sound coming from the corner of the room. She blinked, her grogginess clearing slightly as she realized the noise was coming from Sprinkles' play area.
"Sprinkles?" she called.
Sprinkles, their adopted apocalypse pet, was a scruffy little dog with more energy than Mallory had on her best day. He usually spent mornings running laps around the apartment or trying to steal bits of food from Greg's plate. But now, he was nowhere to be seen.
The scratching continued, more insistent this time. Mallory frowned and followed the noise to the kitchen, where she found Sprinkles clawing at the base of the pantry door.
"What are you doing, you little weirdo?" Mallory muttered, crouching down. She opened the pantry, expecting to see a rogue bag of dog treats. Instead, she was met with… nothing.
Sprinkles barked, wagging his tail furiously as he squeezed into the pantry, sniffing at the floor.
"Okay, you're acting strange, even for you," Mallory said, grabbing his collar to pull him back. But as she did, a faint sound caught her attention—a soft, rhythmic tapping, coming from beneath the floorboards.
Mallory froze. "Oh, no. Nope. Not dealing with this."
She tried to close the pantry, but Sprinkles barked again, his paws scrabbling at the floor. His energy was infectious, and despite her better judgment, Mallory found herself crouching down to inspect the spot he was so interested in.
The tapping grew louder.
---
By the time the others returned, Mallory was pacing the living room, her face pale. Sprinkles sat proudly on the couch, chewing on an old slipper like nothing had happened.
"What's with the haunted-house vibe?" Vanessa asked, setting down her bag of tools.
"We have a problem," Mallory said, pointing toward the kitchen. "There's something under the pantry floor."
Altair perked up, his curiosity piqued. "Something? Like what?"
"Like… I don't know, a zombie? A raccoon? A tiny drum band?" Mallory threw up her hands. "All I know is there's tapping, and Sprinkles is way too into it."
Vanessa exchanged a look with Zara, who immediately grabbed her bat. "Let's check it out," she said.
---
The group gathered in the kitchen, weapons drawn. Mallory stayed a safe distance away, clutching Sprinkles protectively.
Altair knelt down and tapped the floor experimentally. Sure enough, the tapping sound returned, fainter this time but undeniably there.
"Could be a loose pipe," he said, though his tone was uncertain.
"Or someone hiding down there," Vanessa said grimly. "Altair, can you get this open?"
With some effort—and a lot of grumbling from Mallory about her poor, innocent pantry—the team pried up the floorboards to reveal a narrow crawlspace. The air that wafted up was stale and damp, carrying with it the faint scent of mildew.
"Lovely," Zara said, peering into the darkness. "Anyone want to volunteer to go first?"
Everyone turned to Mallory.
"Oh, no," she said, clutching Sprinkles tighter. "I'm the last person you want crawling into that death trap."
"Fine," Vanessa said, rolling her eyes. She climbed down carefully, her flashlight cutting through the gloom.
The crawlspace was cramped and eerily quiet, save for the occasional drip of water. Vanessa scanned the area, her stomach tightening when her light caught movement.
"Found it," she called up, her voice tense.
"What is it?" Altair asked, leaning over the opening.
Vanessa hesitated. "It's… a person."
---
They hauled the figure up moments later: a gaunt, wide-eyed teenager who couldn't have been older than sixteen. He was shivering, his clothes filthy and torn. Sprinkles barked excitedly, wagging his tail as if greeting an old friend.
"Who are you?" Vanessa asked, her tone firm but not unkind.
The boy flinched, his eyes darting around the room. "I didn't mean to intrude," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was just looking for shelter. I didn't know anyone lived here."
Mallory frowned. "How long have you been under there?"
"A few days," the boy admitted. "I heard voices, but I was too scared to come out."
"You could've knocked," Zara said, crossing her arms.
"I didn't know if you were friendly," the boy said, his eyes darting nervously to Vanessa's crossbow.
Vanessa sighed, lowering her weapon. "Alright, kid. What's your name?"
"Ethan," he said.
"Well, Ethan," Mallory said, setting Sprinkles down. "You owe me a new pantry floor."
---
Ethan's arrival threw the group into a whirlwind of questions. Where had he come from? Why was he alone? And most importantly, could they trust him?
Vanessa was cautious, insisting on keeping a close eye on him. Zara, on the other hand, was more welcoming, offering him a plate of reheated spaghetti and asking about his story.
Mallory, as usual, was more concerned about the practicalities. "Does this mean we have to share food now? Because I was really looking forward to making nachos tonight."
"You'll survive," Vanessa said dryly.
---
As the evening wore on, Ethan began to open up. He told them about his small group of friends who had been separated during a zombie attack and how he had stumbled across the apartment while searching for safety.
"I didn't mean to hide," he said, his voice trembling. "I just… I didn't know what else to do."
"Sounds like you've had a rough time," Zara said sympathetically.
Ethan nodded, his eyes downcast.
Mallory sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Well, you picked a good spot. Welcome to Mallory Greene's Zombie-Free Paradise, where the food is semi-decent and the company is questionable."
Zara smirked. "Questionable? Says the woman who tried to adopt a plant last week."
"That plant had potential," Mallory shot back.
---
Despite the lighthearted banter, a sense of unease lingered in the air. Ethan's arrival was a stark reminder that their apartment wasn't as impenetrable as they'd believed. For the first time in weeks, the group began to feel the weight of the outside world pressing in on their sanctuary.
As Mallory lay in bed that night, Sprinkles curled up at her feet, she couldn't shake the feeling that their peaceful days were numbered. Ethan's presence was a reminder that survival wasn't just about avoiding danger—it was about facing it head-on.
"Looks like things are about to get complicated," she murmured, scratching Sprinkles behind the ears. The dog yawned, completely unfazed by the day's events.
Mallory envied his simplicity.