Chapter 5
Bella's POV
I didn't sleep.
Not because I didn't try — oh, I actually tried. I lay there with a blanket that felt like it was made of itchy sadness and air that tasted like stress.
But every tiny sound kept waking me.
A pipe tapping.
Wind pushing a loose window.
Someone breathing too loud.
My brain yelling, "WAKE UP, YOU'RE GONNA DIE LET'S PANIC."
So yea, zero sleep.
Outside, the world made zombie noises — low groans, distant banging, like the city was throwing a tantrum it couldn't explain.
The boys' whispers drifted across the room.
"Do you think this is everywhere?"
"Probably."
"What if the military comes?"
"What if they don't?"
I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten.
Ten. Safe.
Nine. Safe-ish.
Eight. I am thinking too much.
Seven. My stomach hurts.
Six. Happy birthday to me.
Five. Stop thinking.
Four. STOP.
Three. No seriously STOP.
Two. ZOMBIES.
One. Nope. Not sleeping.
I sighed and sat up.
Jesse noticed. "You should rest."
"I should win the lottery too," I whispered. "Life is cruel."
---
I don't know when "morning" started. There was no alarm except a long, angry moan from outside that sounded like a dying cow mixed with a demon.
Good morning, apocalypse.
Alya stretched and groaned. "I dreamed we ate spaghetti."
Violet sat up like a corpse rising. "I dreamed the toilet worked."
We all stared at her.
"What?" she snapped. "It was beautiful."
One boy peeked through the curtain. "Street looks… bad."
"Bad like 'we're not leaving anytime' or bad like 'burn it all'?" I asked.
"Both."
Great.
I rubbed my face. "We need a plan. Food won't last forever."
Violet raised a hand. "I vote we learn farming."
"On what land?" Jesse asked.
She blinked. "Balcony gardening?"
"We have one dying plant," Alya reminded her.
"We can talk to it. Encourage growth."
Jesse lightly smacked her with a pillow. "We are not emotionally coaching vegetables right now."
---
We were still arguing about whether Violet could make friends with lettuce when—
BANG!
We all froze.
Another bang.
Not a zombie moan. Not a car.
Something… hitting metal.
Gate? Door? Something big.
The boys rushed to the balcony window. Jesse grabbed a knife. I grabbed my bat again.
Alya whispered shakily, "W-what is that?"
Violet crawled under a blanket. "I am not here. I am a sock. Socks do not fight monsters."
We all crouched low, hearts pounding violently like they were trying to escape our chests.
Metal clanged again.
Something was trying to get in the building.
"Is it a zombie?" I whispered.
Jesse's jaw clenched. "I don't know."
We waited.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone — or something — climbed the stairs.
A shadow passed our door.
Everyone stopped breathing.
Violet whispered, "It's Death. He walked past us. Pretend you're asleep so he thinks you're ugly."
I elbowed her. "Quiet!"
The shadow paused.
Silence stabbed the room.
A long, horrible scraping sound ran across the wall outside — like claws dragging.
My skin crawled.
Alya bit her fist to keep from screaming.
Then…
Footsteps again.
Moving away.
Down the stairs.
Gone.
But we stayed frozen like statues too scared to exist.
--
After what felt like an hour (real time: maybe one dramatic minute), Jesse finally spoke.
"We need to barricade the door better."
We moved fast without talking — couch pushed tighter, table in front, chair under the knob. Blanket shoved in the gap so sound wouldn't leak.
Then we sat in a circle like terrified campers at a horror sleepover.
Jesse rubbed her face. "We can't stay here long."
"But it just got scary," Violet whispered. "Scary = stay put. Safe = move. This is science."
"We'll run out of food," I reminded.
"And water," Alya added softly.
Violet hugged the menthol oil. "I will not drink bathroom water. I will die fancy."
A small part of me smiled.
Even in terror, we joke.
Because if we stop laughing, we'll start screaming.
---
"We need supplies," one boy said.
"And a place where zombies can't get us," the other added.
Violet raised her hand carefully. "Can we… move to the roof?"
We blinked.
Jesse thought. "High ground… fewer zombies… visibility…"
Alya swallowed. "But exposed."
"Everything is dangerous," I whispered. "But up there… we can see things coming."
We looked toward the ceiling.
Roof.
A new chance.
Or a new nightmare.
Violet slowly peered out the window. "At least zombies don't like climbing. Right? Right??"
One boy shrugged. "Depends how hungry they are."
Violet covered her face. "I hate this world."
We all did.
But we looked at each other.
Alive.
Together.
Maybe that was enough to try again.
Jesse nodded. "Roof plan tomorrow. Today we rest and prepare."
I breathed out.
Not relief… but determination.
"We survive," I whispered.
Alya nodded.
Jesse nodded.
Violet saluted with her blanket cape.
The boys bumped fists.
In this tiny apartment, with fear crawling outside like monsters made of hunger…
We made a promise.
We fight tomorrow.
Because today?
We are still here.
Still human.
And I swear — I am getting cake someday.
Even if I have to fight the whole undead world for sugar.
---
Sleep never came.
I closed my eyes, but my brain refused to clock out.
Every creak in the building sounded like death doing warm-ups.
And my stomach rumbled like it was auditioning for a zombie role.
At this point I wasn't sure if hunger or fear was killing me faster.
The sky outside slowly brightened — not real sunrise, more like the world put a dim filter over itself. The kind of morning where nothing feels safe.
Alya whispered, "Is it morning?"
"No," Violet whispered back. "It is an illusion. Time doesn't exist anymore."
Jesse rubbed her temples. "Violet, please. It's too early for existential dread."
I stretched my legs and tried to feel human again.
Spoiler: it wasn't working.
---
"Okay," Jesse whispered, sitting up straighter. "Roof plan. We need to check it. Quietly."
"Oh joy," Violet mumbled, "death ladder adventure."
"We don't have a ladder," one boy said.
"Exactly," Violet hissed. "We are going to die."
Alya squeezed her blanket. "Maybe the roof door is just… unlocked?"
Everyone stared at her like she just suggested zombies run on friendship magic.
"Let's check," Jesse said.
We geared up:
* Jesse — kitchen knife
* Boys — metal pipe + chair leg
* Me — my bat (trusted emotional support weapon)
* Alya — flashlight she can throw very hard
* Violet — menthol oil like it's holy water
We moved.
Slow.
Quiet.
Terrified.
The hallway outside the apartment was empty, but somehow scarier than a zombie crowd. Silent places always feel like something is waiting.
---
The stairs to the roof were narrow and dusty.
One boy whispered, "Be careful. If something jumps—"
"DO NOT CONTINUE THAT SENTENCE," Violet whisper-yelled.
We climbed.
One step.
Pause.
Listen.
Next step.
My heart beat like it was doing cardio without my consent.
At the top — a metal door with a chain lock.
We all froze.
Alya whispered, "Locked… that's good, right?"
"Unless something locked *themselves in,*" Violet whispered dramatically.
Everyone glared at her.
"Sorry! My brain is full of fear scenarios."
Jesse tried the door gently.
Locked.
No scratching.
No groaning.
Just… silence.
"Roof's blocked," she whispered. "We'll need another plan."
Relief mixed with disappointment.
No rooftop paradise today.
---
Then behind us
THUD.
We whipped around.
Something hit a door down the hallway.
A second thud.
Then a slow dragging sound.
"Oh no oh no oh no—" Alya breathed.
We backed up toward the stairs.
Footsteps approached inside one of the rooms.
Violet clutched my arm. "Bella, if I die tell my future cat I loved it."
"No one is dying," I whispered.
Not today.
Not on my birthday hangover apocalypse morning.
The door creaked.
A groan seeped through the crack.
One zombie. Trapped inside.
Trying to get out.
Good. Stay inside, sir. Enjoy your room. No checkout today.
We backed away step by step.
Then one step creaked loud.
The zombie slammed the door from inside.
Violet squeaked.
"GO," Jesse hissed.
We ran down the stairs quietly-fast — the kind where you move fast but also pray you don't fall and embarrass yourself before dying.
Back into the apartment.
Lock. Bolt. Couch barricade back.
All panting.
Not from running — from pure anxiety.
Alya clutched her chest. "I think I lost ten years of my life."
"Good," Violet wheezed. "Now maybe we won't pay adult taxes."
---
We sat on the floor again.
The boys rationed food:
A handful of chips each.
Half an apple for the three of us to share.
Water in tiny sips.
Violet licked her crumbs like fine cuisine. "Mm. Gourmet."
I took my little piece of apple and swallowed slow.
Imagined pancakes.
Eggs.
Bacon.
Cake.
Birthday cake.
My stomach cried internally.
Alya whispered, "We have to find real food soon."
Jesse nodded. "Tonight. When it's quieter."
Violet shook her head wildly. "Night?? Zombies are spicy at night!"
"We can't go now," Jesse said. "Too exposed."
A war started in my brain.
Fear vs Hunger.
They were tied.
But then something shifted inside me.
A quiet, stubborn flame.
"We'll make it," I said softly. "We survived yesterday. We'll survive today."
Everyone looked at me.
I held my bat tighter.
"And when this ends, we're going to eat until we explode. Cake, pizza, noodles, fries — all of it."
Violet put a hand over her heart. "I am emotional. Continue."
I smirked weakly. "And Alya's mom will make spaghetti."
Alya teared up. "Her spaghetti is… really good…"
Jesse nodded. "So we live. To eat spaghetti."
"To eat spaghetti," the boys repeated.
"To LIVE," Violet declared, raising her menthol oil like a trophy.
I raised my bat.
We bumped our *weapons of survival* in the middle.
Makeshift team toast.
---
For a moment…
We were okay.
Not safe.
Not calm.
But together.
And that was enough to breathe again.
Outside, zombies groaned and shuffled.
Inside, we hugged our blankets, sat shoulder to shoulder, and tried to believe we weren't hopeless.
The world was ending.
But we had each other.
And tonight when darkness comes?
We'd move.
We'd search.
We'd fight again.
But for now…
We rest.
We exist.
We hold onto a tiny spark of human hope.
Because the apocalypse might be loud,
but survival?
Survival starts quiet.
And we weren't done yet.
Not even close.