By Leska Beikircher
The hand on the clock quietly moved towards sunrise. Outside the barred windows the night reached its darkest moment, minutes before dawn. Soon, the world would be bathed in sunlight.
And with the sunlight, they’d return. The barricade wouldn’t hold forever.
She breathed in and grabbed the shotgun.
She looked to the jukebox repairman who sat hunched in the corner. The jukebox repairman she had a crush on that was almost embarrassing for a woman her age.
She signalled him that it was time; already she heard them coming.
With him by her side, she’d fight zombie butterflies any day.