Apocalypse Rising: Brains After Brains

One breath. Then another.

If Zoe were here, Xenia thought, the whole room would probably feel lighter. Even in disaster, Zoe had a way of making things feel less... sharp. Less fatal. She could pull a joke from the rubble and convince you everything was survivable—if not exactly fine, then at least manageable.

But Zoe wasn't here. Just that thought made Xenia's chest tighten.

So, instead of spiraling, she forced herself to breathe and look around the room—then zeroed in on Jecipher. Time to reset the mood.

"I made it back," she said as she limped through the doorway, her voice dry, tired, and barely holding in a grin. Her once-pristine graduation gown had officially become a war casualty... torn down the side, wrapped around her waist like a scarf, and smeared in blood, dirt, and something she didn't want to identify. "Pay me."

Jecipher spun around from the couch like someone had lit a fire under him. "Oh THANK GOD—" he cut himself off mid-relief, clearing his throat and smoothing down his shirt like he hadn't just squealed. "I mean. You're alive. Obviously. Totally knew you'd make it. I wasn't worried. Not even a little."

Xenia raised an eyebrow. "You locked the door and played house."

"I was guarding the dog!" he protested, placing a defensive hand on Zuko's sleeping head.

"You were watching Project Runway," she said.

"While guarding the dog," he clarified, posture dignified. "Multitasking."

Rafe came in next, quiet and steady, shirt soaked through with sweat and streaked with blood... not his, she hoped. He didn't speak. Just closed the door with gentle precision, like anything louder might set the whole building off. Then he leaned back against it, exhaling slow and deep.

Rafaela followed. She didn't even make it to the couch. Just perched on the armrest, shoulders hunched and distant eyes locked on the flickering TV.

The news anchor was trying her best to sound professional. But her voice frayed at the edges.

"This is Argenta News Today. We urge all citizens to remain indoors and secure all entrances. If anyone in your home has been bitten or is showing signs of aggression, do not attempt to treat them yourself. Isolate them immediately and contact emergency responders. Authorities are working with the Department of Health to identify the pathogen and begin testing for a suppressant or cure. In the meantime… stay alert. Stay safe."

The screen cut to shaky footage... streets full of running, screaming people, vehicles crashed and burning, and the infected charging like wild animals, some of them literally gnawing on car windows.

Rafaela didn't blink. "So… zombies are real."

No one replied right away.

It was Jecipher who finally broke the silence, plopping into the armchair with theatrical exhaustion. "Honestly? I always thought it would be aliens. Or bees. But sure, undead cannibals. That's cool. Let's give them their big moment."

Xenia collapsed against the wall with a groan, her legs stretched out in front of her, feet absolutely wrecked. Her toes were scraped, bruised, and one pinky toe was definitely flirting with broken. Her ankle throbbed to its own chaotic rhythm.

She sighed. "This is insane."

Jecipher gave her a once-over, grimaced. "Girl. You survived barefoot in a zombie apocalypse and still made it back here. I'm impressed. But, uh… you might wanna shower. Your feet look like a crime scene."

She glanced down. "Fair."

Meanwhile, Rafe hadn't moved from his post by the door. He stood, arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the news feed like he was absorbing battle strategy. His silence wasn't emptiness... it was calculation.

Xenia suddenly sat upright. "Jecipher... do you have your phone?"

He blinked. "I had it. Left it in my Louis Vuitton clutch. Which I also left on the stadium bleachers. Which are now probably being modeled by stylish zombies who appreciate designer accessories."

Rafe handed her his own phone, wordlessly.

She took it without hesitation and dialed Zoe's number. It rang. Once. Twice.

Then... nothing.

Call could not be completed. Out of reach.

Her heart plummeted. She could practically hear Zoe's voice in her head. See her holding her mom's hand, running across campus, sneakers slapping against the same concrete that had blood on it now.

"I should've gone with her," she murmured, pacing. "I could've helped."

Rafe stepped forward. "They'll be okay. Zoe's smart. She knew where to go."

"Being smart doesn't make her safe," Xenia snapped, then immediately regretted it. Her voice cracked on the last word.

He didn't flinch. "I know. But panicking helps no one. Right now, we assume they're alive. We have to hold that line."

The silence that followed sat heavy on all of them.

On the TV, emergency maps flashed red. Giant block letters marked INFECTED ZONES.

"Outbreaks confirmed in Westburned, Radacre, and eastern South Argenta. Pathogen is believed to be spread via fluid exchange. Avoid high-density areas. Repeat: avoid high-density areas."

Rafaela finally slid all the way down onto the couch, curling into herself, knees hugged tight to her chest. Her voice was barely audible. "So, uh… how long till it all just, you know, goes to hell?"

Xenia didn't answer.

Because maybe it already had.

But somehow… they were still here.

Still breathing.

And tomorrow? They'd figure it out.

Rafaela finally slid all the way down onto the couch, curling into herself, knees hugged to her chest like she could fold away from the world if she tried hard enough. Her voice barely made it out a wobbly little thread of thought.

"So, uh… how long till it all just, you know, goes to hell?"

No one answered at first.

Xenia just stared at her scraped-up feet, blinking slowly. There was no punchline this time. No sass. No dramatic one-liner waiting in the wings.

Because maybe it had already gone to hell.

And yet, somehow… they were still here.

Still breathing.

Still trying to be human, even with the world burning just outside the window.

Rafe leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the TV like he was trying to find a sliver of sense in the chaos.

"It already is," he said flatly. "We're just watching it unravel in real time."

Xenia folded her arms tight across her chest, the ache in her muscles catching up to her. "I don't think the government has a plan for this."

"They never do," Jecipher chimed in from the couch, stroking Zuko's golden ears like he was a therapy dog and maybe he was. "That's why I always say: when the systems fail, it's the weirdos and overthinkers who survive. Not the suits. We're built for collapse."

Rafe allowed a flicker of a smirk, but it didn't last.

Rafaela looked toward Xenia again. Her voice was softer now, but more grounded. "We need a real plan. Not just caffeine and sarcasm. You're the valedictorian, right?"

Xenia blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I saw your name on the list," Rafaela said. "Xenia Alderidge."

There was a beat of silence. The only sound came from the news broadcast still playing grainy footage of overrun neighborhoods and statistics no one could verify anymore.

Xenia exhaled slowly, pressing her palms against her knees like she needed to feel something solid. "Yeah," she said. "That's me."

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

"Alright," she said, voice sharper now. "You're right. We need to figure this out."

She turned to Rafe. "Do you have a notebook? Preferably a planner. I work better with boxes and bullet points."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. "Why do you even need that right now?"

"Because my brain is basically Google with seventy tabs open," she replied without missing a beat. "If I don't dump some of this out, I'm going to crash mentally, emotionally, all of it."

He didn't argue. Just disappeared down the hallway.

Less than a minute later, he came back holding a beat-up, black leather planner with a half-used pen clipped to the cover. No words. Just set it gently on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Xenia said, already flipping it open, the transition into planning-mode near immediate. She sat cross-legged on the rug like it was a makeshift classroom and stared down the blank page like it owed her an apology.

"Alright. Let's make an actual escape plan."

"Before we go full apocalypse strategy," Jecipher said, lifting a finger like he was about to deliver a TED Talk, "I'd just like to report that I did a little recon in the kitchen."

Rafe narrowed his eyes. "You were snooping through my fridge?"

"I was scavenging for the greater good," Jecipher corrected, lounging back with mock elegance. Zuko sighed on his lap, clearly resigned to being a pillow. "Anyway, the good news is: your fridge is basically a protein paradise. I'm talking eggs, tofu, chicken breast, maybe two unopened yogurt tubs that don't expire till next week."

Xenia looked up from her planner. "Wait... actual food? Not just leftover granola bars and one sad apple?"

"Girl, it's a gym bro's fridge," Jecipher said with a grin. "It's like a shrine to macros in there. We're good for at least four days. Maybe five if we ration."

Rafe gave him a long, skeptical look. "You took inventory?"

"I'm an artist and a survivor," Jecipher said proudly. "Also, I ate half a protein bar. Hope that's cool."

Xenia scribbled in the notebook, drawing a box and labeling it Safe Zone: Temporary Base. She added notes beside it:

Fridge: 4-5 days of food

Water: working for now

Power: intermittent

Access: gated, 2nd floor, secure windows

Then she moved to the next page and titled it Next Steps.

Rafaela leaned forward, peeking over her shoulder. "What's the plan?"

"First, we secure this place completely. Reinforce windows if we can. Rafe, do you have duct tape? Nails? Anything?"

"In the storage closet," he replied.

"Good. We'll need to blackout windows at night. Keep lights low, noise down."

Jecipher whistled. "You're like a military strategist with glitter lip balm."

"Thanks," Xenia muttered, not looking up. "Next... scouting. If we're staying here longer than a few days, we'll need supplies. That means someone needs to check surrounding buildings. Groceries. Medical. Weapons. Anything useful."

"Guess that's me," Rafe said simply.

Xenia didn't argue. "But no solo missions anymore. You go, you bring someone. Preferably someone who won't scream every time a pigeon flaps its wings."

Jecipher raised a hand. "I'll take that personally."

"You should."

Then she flipped to a fresh page. Labeled it Known Survivors. Listed their names. Paused.

And, quietly, she added Zoe? with a question mark.

Her throat tightened. But she didn't cross it out.

Rafaela was watching her. "You miss her."

"She was the only person who made me laugh when everything sucked," Xenia said, eyes still fixed on the page.

"And she made it out. I have to believe that."

Silence fell again, softer this time. It wasn't despair. Just the kind that made you feel the weight of being alive in a world that didn't make room for certainty anymore.

"Alright," Xenia said, finally capping the pen and snapping the planner shut. "We have a starting point."

Rafe gave a small nod. "Tomorrow, we reinforce. Then we move."

Jecipher raised a hand again. "And maybe we sleep now?"

They all sat there for a beat longer, the outside world howling in the distance.

But inside?

Inside, they had a plan.

And for now, that was enough.