Day 18
Nobody wanted to talk about the military.
Not really.
Nana just said, "Figures." She sipped from her chipped mug that said 'World's Okayest Grandma' and stirred something gray in a bowl. It might've been oatmeal. It might've been glue. Nobody asked.
Carl leaned on the porch, watching crows peck at something that used to be a sandwich.
"So, the army's not saving us."
Nana shrugged. "They never do."
Ellie was on the sidewalk with chalk, drawing a dinosaur in a hat.
"He's got style," she said.
Toby, fresh from the basement, eating crackers, squinted at the art. "If that dino dabs, I'm out."
"Same," Carl said.
---
Breakfast was the usual mess.
Carl wore an apron that said "Flip it Good."
Ellie poured three kinds of cereal into one bowl and called it "crunch time."
Nana hummed along to static on a broken radio like it was her favorite station.
Toby swore he saw a squirrel with a second squirrel wearing goggles. He claimed they were playing poker with bottle caps. No one argued. Ellie added it to her sketchbook.
---
Today's goal: check out the gas station.
Shopping list: chips, band-aids, random canned stuff, and maybe chocolate.
"We go in quiet," Ellie said. "And I'm wearing the banana suit."
Carl blinked. "You're serious?"
"Banana mode," she said, pulling out the wrinkly yellow costume from a box marked "Weird Stuff."
Toby nodded. "Solid choice. They'll never see it coming."
---
Fifteen minutes later, the group was on the move.
Carl had a rake with duct tape around the handle. Nana carried a nail gun hooked to an old car battery strapped in a baby carrier. Ellie wore the banana suit like it was tactical armor, slingshot holstered on her hip. Toby's mop weapon bounced slightly as he walked, strainer wobbling with every step.
They looked like a family cosplay squad that took a wrong turn at Comic-Con.
And they liked it that way.
It made the day feel like it belonged to them, not the undead.
---
Halfway down the street, they saw a zombie stuck halfway through a doggy door, legs kicking in the air.
Toby pointed. "Guess he skipped leg day."
Nana poked it with her nail gun. "This one still owes me snacks from book club."
Carl waved it off. "Let him think about his choices."
Ellie posed like an action hero. "We're still undefeated."
The zombie gave one last kick, got stuck harder, and groaned with exhausted disappointment.
---
The gas station was quiet.
Windows were fogged, like the inside hadn't seen fresh air in a week. One of the doors hung crooked, swaying in the breeze.
Carl raised his hand. "We go in, grab stuff, and get out. No weird buttons, no splitting up, and no side quests."
Ellie opened her mouth, clearly about to ask what counted as a "weird button"—
Then a sound crackled to life.
A single, electronic jingle.
"Do your ears hang lo—"
The speaker glitched out mid-line. Static. Then silence.
No one moved.
Nana raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's creepy."
Carl gripped his rake tighter. "Alright. Quiet steps. Let's see what's inside."
Toby looked around, then crouched slightly. "Banana mode… activated."
Ellie pulled her goggles down like a pro. "Let's roll."
They stepped forward together.
Each footstep slow. Careful.
Because in the post-apocalypse, a catchy jingle was sometimes the scariest thing you could hear.
---
The gas station was one of those old ones with dusty snack shelves, sun-bleached posters, and a freezer that hummed like it was haunted by bad decisions. The lights overhead flickered, buzzing like lazy hornets, and the whole place smelled like melted plastic, expired hotdogs, and maybe a touch of doom.
Carl stepped through the door first, rake raised like a knight with very low standards.
Ellie followed, crouching in her banana suit like a special ops fruit ninja. "We're a stealth team. Fruit-based elite," she whispered.
Toby tiptoed behind her, gripping his mop-staff. He nudged a stack of soda cans with it. "Clear. But sticky."
Nana brought up the rear, her nail gun buzzing slightly with power from the battery she'd stolen off a golf cart. "If anyone screams," she said flatly, "I'm blaming the banana."
---
They split up to gather supplies like it was a bizarre supermarket sweep.
Carl found a half-full box of protein bars labeled "HIGH ENERGY, LOW HOPE." They tasted like sadness and chalk, but calories were calories.
Toby found a cache of batteries, a lighter, and a can of pineapple so dented it looked like it had survived a boxing match.
Nana hit the jackpot behind the counter: a medical kit wrapped in duct tape and hope. "Score," she muttered, stuffing gauze and alcohol into her bag.
Ellie stood frozen in front of the freezer.
"Uh… guys? Why is there a mannequin in here?"
Carl walked over, peering through the frost-covered glass.
It wasn't a mannequin.
It was a zombie with a name tag: "Greg."
Greg was frozen mid-reach, stuck to the back wall like someone paused his final moment. He was covered in frost, still clutching a rainbow popsicle with the look of someone who just wanted five more minutes of summer.
Toby joined them, arms crossed. "He died how he lived. Cold and confused."
Carl gently pulled the popsicle from Greg's icy grip. "Still good?"
Ellie licked it. "Freezer burn. But edible."
Nana tapped the glass. "Let Greg sleep. He earned it."
---
Suddenly, the ceiling gave a sharp groan.
They all stopped breathing.
A beat passed.
Then, CRASH!—something dropped through the tiles.
They jumped back, weapons raised.
It was… a cat. A very angry, very dusty cat.
It hissed, stared each of them down like they owed it rent, and bolted out the front door like a furry comet.
Toby blinked. "That was new."
Carl lowered his rake. "I need a nap. Or an exorcist."
---
They gathered the last of the loot, carefully avoiding the snack aisle where a squirrel threw a single peanut at Ellie and vanished into the shelves.
They loaded everything into a rusty shopping cart with one wobbly wheel.
Ellie pushed it down the sidewalk, making engine noises with her mouth.
The sun was warm, and the world—for just a moment—felt like a parody of peace.
Toby looked over at Carl.
"What's the plan if that music plays again?"
Carl groaned. "Same as always. Don't panic, crack a joke, and hope the banana terrifies them."
Ellie flexed in her costume. "Banana power reigns supreme!"
Nana snorted. "Until someone slips on you."
They laughed. Real, tired, ridiculous laughter.
For a while, it drowned out the silence.
---
Back at home, they unloaded their loot onto the kitchen counter like pirates who raided a cursed vending machine.
Ellie opened the dented can Toby found. It hissed like a haunted soda. Inside was a gray blob that jiggled when poked.
"Why does it smell like gym socks?"
Carl sniffed. "That's... definitely not pineapple."
Nana prodded it with a spoon. "That's meatloaf from another timeline."
They all agreed to bury it in the backyard.
---
Toby sat cross-legged on the floor, chewing a protein bar and staring at the ceiling.
"You know, this whole thing was probably planned."
Carl looked up. "You mean the apocalypse?"
"Yup. Classic cover-up. They made zombie juice in a secret lab. Probably spilled it during a pizza party."
Nana raised a brow. "Pizza party?"
"That's how all cover-ups happen. Just enough cheese to silence the truth."
Ellie nodded. "We should write that down."
Carl sighed. "No more sugary cereal before noon, Toby."
Toby pointed to the fridge. "I think the cereal knows. They've been watching us."
Nana sipped her dark brown mystery coffee. "If it's watching us, it better clean the dishes."
---
The rest of the day was slow.
They played Zombopoly, Ellie's homemade board game with rules that changed mid-round.
Carl landed on "Rot Alley" four times and flipped the table.
Toby threw fake money and yelled, "I own all the undead real estate!"
Nana knit a new sweater that somehow looked like a warning sign from a nuclear facility.
Ellie updated her apocalypse sketchbook, adding:
The Squirrel Commander (still watching)
A dog named Sir Borksalot (possibly imaginary)
Greg the Ice Cream Ghost
The banana suit hung on a line, flapping like a weird flag for a nation of survivors.
---
As the sun set, painting the rooftops orange and soft, Toby looked out the window.
"Think the world will ever go back to normal?"
Carl wiped his hands on a towel. "No idea. But maybe we're building a better version, one weird day at a time."
Nana nodded. "Long as there's coffee."
Ellie yawned. "Let's just live long enough for the cereal uprising."
They all chuckled.
Outside, no zombies groaned.
No sirens. No jingle.
Just quiet.
And Toby mumbling about Area 52 and cereal overlords.
For now, they were okay.
---
End of Chapter 22 – Business as Unusual
They didn't find salvation. Just snacks, squirrels, and a frozen Greg. But sometimes that's enough.
The world kept ending. But the jokes kept coming.
And so did the banana suit. Somehow.
See you in the next chapter. Probably.
---