The moans of the undead outside Regina's apartment were getting uncomfortably loud.
Not that any sound the undead make is comfortable. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
But they were out there in the parking lot now. Regina did not dare stand by the window. She did not want to be seen by those...things. Instead, she sat huddled in a corner, shivering, waiting, phone to her ear.
This phone call was her only hope.
An insurmountable dread had formed in her stomach, chilling her like a block of ice. Her stomach churned, and a whimper escaped her throat.
God, please let him answer...
Outside, screams sounded in the night. She fought with every fiber of her being not to join them, however much she wanted to give in. Her boyfriend needed to answer.
He would never leave me here.
Beastly snarls and the ripping and tearing of flesh from outside met her ears, followed by more bloodcurdling screams. She was thankfully on the second floor, and her door was locked tight.
But would it be enough?
At last, the rings went to voicemail - and Regina felt an all new coldness. She was being ingnored. She had been abandoned, betrayed; numbed to the point that she could not think or even feel angry.
"Oh God," Regina said, the tears starting to come. "Oh God..."
She looked toward the front door. It was locked, chained. She thought that maybe she should also move something in front of it.
But she couldn't even move herself.
I'm dead. I'm going to die...
She curled into the corner, paralyzed. She didn't move for a few minutes - not even daring to lift a finger.
Outside, it had quieted. There was nothing but the wind and the crackling of a fire outside.
Slowly, Regina stood and looked through the window. A fire engulfed a car across the parking lot - she had heard it explode earlier, had seen its fierce light paint the walls in the hues of the sun for a moment. Behind the fence, the trees were dark, indifferent to the chaos that had unfolded.
There were none of the horrible creatures, however. At least, none in sight.
Perhaps they moved on. Perhaps this wasn't real - just a dream.
She pinched herself, even though she already knew the pointlessness of such an act. Somehow, someway, zombies were attacking her apartment complex, and she was going to die.
Don't think like that. It's not over yet. They don't know you're in here. They haven't seen you.
She suddenly went cold when she realized she had just stood in front of the window. It was a stupid, careless thing to do. She might even die for it.
Then, realizing nothing could be done about it, she forced herself to move. She stood and began pacing the room. She paused a moment, thinking of who else might help her.
She shook her head. If her boyfriend would not come for her, who would?
She only had herself.
The room darkened a bit, and Regina frowned. There was a heavy stillness.
Then behind her, the window shattered. She screamed as shards rained down on her neck, causing sharp, stinging pain. Adrenaline and fear coursed through her veins as she stumbled onto the floor.
A bloodthirsty snarl sounded from behind her, and she gave another futile scream.
She crawled away madly, screaming and whimpering, oblivious to the broken bits of glass cutting into her hands and knees. She crawled toward the door, not daring to look back at the zombie behind her.
She put a hand on the knob and started to turn it, but then she heard the scuffling. The sound of another zombie - right outside her apartment door.
She was cornered.
She could hear the zombie crawling toward her on all fours, grunting, groaning, bent on its goal. Regina sobbed as she leaned into the door.
She could not get out.
Regina finally looked at the zombie. It wore a tattered black suit. Red clumps of dirt fell from its shoulders, its skin gray and peeling. Long, gray hair descended in a skullet, green with slime. The large, baleful eyes stared at Regina: ghostlike, vacant, hungry.
It groaned louder as it neared, and the zombies outside her door echoed its call. Regina pressed her back against the front door. She could hear fingernails scraping down the wood.
Then, as if of its own volition, the panic subsided. She knew she had to do something - anything - because doing nothing would get her killed.
She looked around the ktichen for something to defend herself with. It was hard to see through the tears in her eyes. The zombie on the floor was pulling its way toward her, like a slug.
At last, she saw an iron skillet sitting on the stove. That could work. She could use that, right on the head, and knock the zombie out.
But maybe I'll miss...and then I'm good as dead. And I'll have to swing it really hard.
Or I could go outside, but there is at least one zombie out there, maybe even more waiting for me. If I could just take this one out now...
These thoughts raced through her mind as the zombie crawled toward her, as slow and inevitable as a glacier.
Regina knew she could not move from her place. It was too close now. It could snap at her. One bite, and it was all over.
She only had two options - use the skillet, or try to force her way out the front door and into the horror-filled night.
The zombie was now only mere feet away...
If I'm going to leave the apartment now, this is my only chance.
Regina looked once more at the skillet. The zombie reached for her...
What should Regina do:
Fight the zombie with the skillet,
Get out her apartment?
Place your vote in the comments section, and come back Friday to discover Regina's fate.