Once every entrance was blocked, every remaining indoor zombie was slain, and we were all tired, injured, and panting, Lynette continued to take charge. 

This was something she did often. It extended to everything we had to work on together in real life (or what real life used to be). She would hand out tasks when we did laundry (it was cheaper to pay for the washing machine together), when we had to collaborate on projects or papers in our one shared class, and when we made bread together that one time. What she was doing now was no different. 

In a way, I was grateful. It was easier to cope with all this when I didn't have to think about what I had to do next. 

She had us gather everything into piles. The pile of zombie corpses was left up front; Lynette didn't want to see or think about them at all. The second pile was one of everything in the building that could feasibly become a weapon. The crowbar, the fire ax, the bent golf club, and almost every piece of hardware from the garage were collected, cataloged, and redistributed. The windows were boarded up; the entrances were blocked we shut ourselves in the office and tried to figure out what was going on. 

"Seriously, Lewis, have you found anything yet?" 

"The Wi-Fi is spotty, but, uh..." Lewis continued looking at his phone, scrolling through the different tabs he had open. "There's a lot... Do you want the skinny version?" 

Peter laughed. (It seemed involuntary.) "I'm sorry, what?" 

"The skinny? You know-- Jesus, I'll just summarize!" Lewis dug chewed-down fingernails into the back of the hand he was holding his phone with. 

Lynette lowered herself and put her hands on the edge of the desk as if she was going to flip it over-- which she did. The rest of us flinched at the crashing metal and locked rattling drawers. Lynette hoisted herself onto its surface and looked expectantly at Lewis. "Go on, then." 

I gave her the most exasperated look I could muster as Lewis began to speak. 

"So, basically, what happened is... it's like a pandemic. You know how they were talking about an outbreak of the Black Plague-- the bubonic one-- back in January?" 

I nodded. "I thought it was the same as every other time, though?" 

Lynette shook her head no, though. That made sense to me. She wasn't involved in the news of other places; the shit going on where we were was more than enough. Truth be told, I knew that Peter and I were in the same kind of boat. 

I only heard about it because it was brought up by one of my professors. He liked to share current events with us at the beginning of class. 

"Of course not," Lynette laughed. It sounded uncomfortable. 

"You mean to tell me this is the bubonic plague?" Peter sounded like he was a sweater in a Weezer song (about to unravel and coming apart at the seams). "Fuckin' Yersinia pestis? Like throwing bodies over walls and shit? Rats?" 

Lewis shook his head. "No, man. Let me finish." 

"Fine." 

"Seriously, chill out man." 

"I can't, we're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse!" 

"Oh my god," I interjected. "Let him fucking finish!" 

"Thank you!" Lewis gestured tome in the most vindicated and annoyed way possible. "It came from somewhere! I don't know! Everyone is saying is started in China and it made its way here and--" 

"The bubonic plague?" Lynette interjected. 

"No! ZB." 

"What the fuck is that? Fuckin-- tuberculosis?" 

"No. It's a new thing. Zhou-Bradfield disease, after the first two patients who were studied and had it. It's rare, or it was... it's not rare anymore, I mean. It's infectious, too. You're contagious for about two weeks after infection, but the symptoms can linger. And then your body begins to rot, apparently. Or it can. And you're essentially a zombie." 

"Okay, okay. Can you start over with no interruptions this time?" I looked pointedly at everyone else in the room. 

"Yes, thank you." Lewis paused and took a deep breath, then began again. "So, back in January, there was another outbreak of what they thought was the black plague. It steadily got worse and they closed off the province it was happening in-- or, rather, they tried to. It got through and made its way to basically everywhere else, including the good old U.S. of A. 

"We only had a few cases, to begin with, but it got worse and worse, and we didn't stop it in time, or something. I don't know. Long story short, it's an outbreak of some sort of disease that gets people sick and turns them into zombies when they recover, sometimes? The chances of that happening are slim, but they're not zero.

"They're recommending quarantining yourself if you can. If your town was overtaken, they have some fortified cities set up. Of course, those can get super-infected super quickly, So... You know..." Lewis paused and frowned, then scrolled through something on his phone. "School is temporarily canceled." 

I understood that this was a horrible tragedy-- and there was so much that was happening and so many people had died already-- but really? Canceling school? I had a test I was supposed to take when we got back and I did not want to do it online. I was passing my classes! I didn't want to have to put my degree on hold! 

That was a selfish thought. People were dying and I was worried about a math exam. How pathetic. 

"Anyway," Lewis continued, after turning off the screen of his phone and tucking it under his folded arms, "apparently the President and V.P. already got it, so... The federal government is already flipping out. It's the local governments that are setting up relief and quarantine zones and shit." 

"All this in, what, three days?" Lynette mused. 

"A lot can happen in three days. Remember last October's chili dog fiasco?" Peter stretched out his legs in front of them and crossed them at the ankle. 

"This isn't the same as your brother putting laxatives in the chili instead of beans," Lewis said. His voice was dark like he was a mysterious man in an old Western movie.

"No," Lynette responded sagely. "No, it isn't." 

"Great, wonderful. What happens next?" I tried to make my tone as dry as possible, like old lunch meat left out under the hot summer sun. 

Lynette opened her mouth to speak, but Peter jumped in before she could. (Her frown was unmistakable.) Peter's voice shook as he said, "We have to get to Salt Lake City. We have to. We're so close." 

"Jesus Christ, Pete, do you really think it's a good idea to go see your girlfriend right now?" I was the only person who was still standing and I took the opportunity to tower over him. "Are you fucking serious? Are you high?"

"No, he's right." Lynette drummed her fingers on the metal surface of the desk. It was an unsteady beat full of something tense and undesirable. "We can't go back to the university. Not right now, anyway. It's across the country. Everything's shut down, right? We have to get to the next city, and Salt Lake's our best bet. Plus, my Cousin Bonnie lives there; I'm sure she and her wife would let us drop in if we needed to." 

Lynette had mentioned her cousin before. Bonnie used to be a firefighter; when she came out (as in, came out as not straight), she was made, in a way, an outcast from her family. Lynette's dad said he accepted her, but he didn't talk to her anymore. 

From what I heard, Bonnie wasn't really Lynette's cousin. She was closer to a second-cousin or an aunt because she was really Lynette's dad's cousin. I could never remember if the proper term was "second cousin" or "first cousin once removed," and Lynette referred to her like an ancillary character in an Amish romance novel or something, so Cousin Bonnie worked.

"Do you want to talk to her, then?" I asked, still standing over Peter, but looking over at Lynette. 

She tapped the side of her head with two knowing fingers. "No reception, Kurtie." 

"You don't have her Facebook or anything?" 

"Nope. I never got around to it. I know the code to her garage, though." 

"What about right now?" Lewis asked. He was picking at the skin around his fingers again-- anxiously, without thought. Blood was welling in those rough, skinless places, staining his fingernails red. What's the plan for right now?" 

"We have to get out of here," Lynette said, bobbing her head from side to side. Like Lewis's skin-picking, it was ambient. She wasn't thinking about it. 

"Okay, and?" 

"So, we need to find some supplies. We need to get to Pete's car to get our shit out of it-- it's not going to run anymore, not after what the zombies did to it. We need a new car..." As Lynette listed things off, it was obvious that Pete was getting more and more agitated. 

"The plan, goddamnit!" he snapped. "Tell us the fucking plan!" 

Lynette jumped a little; she leaned back in shock. "Jesus. Fine. Chill out." 

I winced. I knew from experience that telling him to "chill out" would never end well. There was this one time, when our other roommate, Drew Bai, ate a spoonful of Peter's Nutella. He took it straight from the jar and ate it right there in front of him. When he told Peter to chill, it was akin to dropping a nuclear bomb. 

There's a reason Drew doesn't talk to Peter anymore. 

I instinctively tuned out Peter's tirade. I had heard it a thousand times before. The only thing that was different this time was the constant threat of zombies finding us once again. 

Eventually, Peter stopped yelling and unclenched his fists. He sat there, still on the floor, seething; his face was the color of a cherry tomato. 

Lynette looked at him. She was deadpan and absolutely done with his shit. (That much was obvious.) "Are you done?" 

Peter scowled at her, hesitated, then said, "Yes." 

"Good. So, while you were yelling, I finished coming up with the plan. I sure hope you didn't draw anything to us. Anyway, this town is teeny-tiny, so we have almost nowhere to search for supplies that we'll probably need. Kurtis and I will search most of the houses. There's four east of this car dealership, plus a Little Caesars. I know, from the month where Kurtis and I worked there together, there's a bunch of shit we can take, including bottled water. So, we'll take that side of town. 

"While we're doing that, you two need to search the two houses on the west side and get our stuff from the car. You're also going to have to find us a new car because, as far as I know, none of us know how to change a flat and-slash-or fix an engine." 

I nodded. "What are we looking for?" 

"I mean, you'll be with me, so I can point shit out. Pete and Lew, though... We need toilet paper, antibacterial wipes or sprays, a few cleaning supplies-- any survival gear you can find, too. And weapons. If you find guns and ammo, great. Get those. If not?" Lynette chuckled, then took off her hat to run a hand through her greasy hair. "This is a zombie apocalypse. Get a fucking chainsaw." 

That would have been a good place to end the list, but Lewis, who was once again doom-scrolling on his phone, piped up, "We need masks." 

"What?"

"Like-- surgical ones? Or face masks? Even neck gaiters are better than nothing." 

"Noted: if we raid a surgeon's hellhole--" 

"--CSI people use them, too--" 

"--then we'll be fine." Lynette spun the black-and-white ring on her middle finger. It was striped like a darker version of a barber's pole. She laughed again. 

Lewis scrunched up his nose without looking up from his phone. "Oh, ew. Guess what our neighbors did."

"Which ones?" Lynette said, even though she didn't live with us.

"Tyson and Elton, specifically."

I knew those guys all too well. They were the kind of college-aged guys who used gender-nonconformity as a talking point and, in fact, weaponized it. It was easy for them, especially when people associated painted nails with being a good person. I raised my hand. "Pick me?"

Lewis pointed at me. "Yes, Kurtie-Boy?"

"They flew out to Elton's dad's island to hunker down like this is some sort of cool fun tropical break instead of a literal apocalypse?"

"Ding ding ding!" Lewis did a little dance. "Peter, tell him what he's won!"

Peter, still visibly on the come-down after that little tantrum, let out the longest, loudest burp I had ever heard; I kicked him gently in the knee. While he was still sitting, he gave me a mock bow, then punched me in the shin. 

"All right. Are y'all ready to hit the streets?" Lynette asked. 

Peter squinted at Lewis. "What are the masks for?" 

"They're supposed to keep us from getting infected or infecting others." Lewis shrugged. "I don't get all the science or whatever-- I'm not, like, that good at science-- but the CDC says it's a good idea, so..." 

"Yeah, I'll trust the CDC." Lynette clapped her hands. "That's enough, then. We'll look for scarves and shit, too. Anything that can cover a mouth. That's the plan. Let's break!"