The crash of broken glass and the moaning of the undead sent a ripple of panic through the library. Survivors darted between shelves, grabbing whatever makeshift weapons they could find—broken chair legs, fire pokers, and even a sharp-edged ruler wielded by an elderly woman with surprising gusto.
"Great," Mallory muttered, hoisting her trusty frying pan. "I finally find a group of nerds, and they're about to get eaten. Classic Mallory luck."
Greg, crouched behind an overturned table, waved frantically. "Mallory, focus! We need to block the main entrance!"
"I'm busy having an existential crisis!" she shot back, but jogged over anyway, her slippers slapping loudly against the floor.
The zombies poured in through a shattered window, their mangled bodies tangling in the curtains. One particularly ambitious corpse, wearing a tattered prom dress, got stuck halfway through, flailing like a fish on land.
