Where Z-Go, We Go
Ronda had gotten the notification at eight that morning. Small family, two kids, pet dog.
Urgent pickup.
The young families always were.
She frowns at the clock. It’s nearly dark now. Families always waited too long to call, thinking walls and quiet were safety enough.
(They weren’t.)
She arrives at the coordinates around seven. Zees are there already, swarming the walls of the two-story house. She watches, numb and angry.
The first rule of Z-Go is to never leave the vehicle.
A child jumps from the window, stumbling toward her. The zees follow him.
She opens the door. And hopes.
Urgent pickup.
The young families always were.
She frowns at the clock. It’s nearly dark now. Families always waited too long to call, thinking walls and quiet were safety enough.
(They weren’t.)
She arrives at the coordinates around seven. Zees are there already, swarming the walls of the two-story house. She watches, numb and angry.
The first rule of Z-Go is to never leave the vehicle.
A child jumps from the window, stumbling toward her. The zees follow him.
She opens the door. And hopes.
Originally Published in APOCALYPSE: An Apocalyptic Microfiction Anthology