Zombies.

Why does it have to be goddamn zombies?

I peer at the gang crouch down next to me. We've got two vampires, one werewolf, three Harley Quinns and Thing 2. I would rather any one of them be real than freakin' zombies.

"Are you guys seeing what I'm seeing?" Thing 2 asks. The Harley Quinns nod and a vampire whimpers. We're so screwed.

"Bloody hell..." The gaggle of undead, including some who are dressed as zombies, swagger around. My head whirls with the events of the last few minutes; we all thought this kid was just pretending to be a realistic zombie until it took a chunk out of a Joker's throat and all hell broke loose.

"How is this possible?" Vampire #1 continues to whimper.

"The important question is: how do we get out?" Harley Quinn in pigtails says. Finally, someone with brains. That's not meant to be funny...

"Regroup with the other survivors and force our way out?" werewolf suggests. I grimace at his bare chest; that's open invitation for being bit on.

"I bet it's that bio-hazard lab up town," Asian Harley Quinn says through gritted teeth. She looks around and pick up a broken chair leg. "The screaming have stopped. We need to move before the zombies find us."

Our little group starts searching for weapons, but given our location behind a couch in the living room, we're pretty out of option. Only vampire #2 got an iron poker from the fireplace. The rest of us ends up holding broken furnitures. Werewolf has a lamp.

I've never been happier that I've wore sneakers under my dress. Being a woman in white pays. Suddenly, a scream sounded upstairs and the zombies start tripping towards the stairs. That's our cue.

Almost-naked Harley Quinn leaps out with Vampire #1 close behind, the two of them gunning for the backdoor. The rest of us quickly follow. My heart sinks at the nearby sound of zombie growls and footsteps. At least they're not as fast as those in the movies.

We make it through the backdoor. I'm the last one out and I slam the door in the zombie's faces just in time. I dare not look at them; I might recognise them.

The back garden is clear. For now. As we run, we can hear shouts upstairs. Asian Harley Quinn climbs up to peer over the other side of the fence and gestures for us to follow.

We all leap over the fence. Werewolf boy isn't half as fit as he looks. But the street isn't deserted.

Sparse group of zombies roam, and the occasional scream alert us to the fact that survivors exist. Before we can decide what to do, Deadpool appears. He puts a finger on his lips and wave at us to follow him. He doesn't seem like a zombie. And we don't have any other bright ideas.

"Come with me, unless you want to die."