Mia had never seen a dead person before, but when her mother's corpse hobbled into the bedroom she knew what she was. Mia watched the late show; she knew how things worked. So did her sister Rose, who started shrieking fit to raise the dead.
Too late for that, Mia thought, as the zombie bit Rose's arm before collapsing on the floor.
"Quiet!" she snapped. "You want the rest of them to find us?"
There was no such thing as just one zombie.
Not that it mattered; there was no escape anyway. How were they supposed to run like this? Mia felt Rose dying behind her, felt her just... slowing down. She shed a few tears for her, and then a few more for their mother. She'd been the smartest woman around. She'd always known best.
She'd known how much they'd wanted separate lives. "Maybe someday," she'd said, so often they'd almost believed it. They shared too much spine for safe surgery, but—maybe someday.
Mia noticed she was cold the same moment she realized Rose had gone still. She stared at the hand mirror on her night stand, the twin of the mirror on Rose's, the only way they could see each other. At least Rose couldn't turn her head far enough to bite.
It wasn't so bad, Mia thought. She felt herself just... slowing down. Even Rose pulling at her didn't hurt. In fact, she could probably use some help.
Mia smashed her mirror against the headboard. Glass rained on them, a shower of knives. She reached back and started cutting.
As she peeled away from her sister, Mia rolled over and smiled at the thing on the floor. Still the smartest woman around, she thought.
Mom always knew best.
Bob's and Dave's and Claude's Flash-Flash Fiction Competition
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