Meeting Prince Harry in an Apocalypse

Day 1 - Jeanna

The shrill ring of Jeanna's cellphone startled her awake, pulling her from an already fitful sleep. She grabbed it off the bedside table, groggily glancing at the screen—her father's number.

"Dad?" she answered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Jeanna! Thank God you're safe. Listen, your sister made it to New Jersey. We're all together now, and they've secured the perimeter here. The local government's keeping things under control, unlike the national chaos," he said, his voice steady but brisk. "No one's allowed in or out, and they're expecting to cut off signals and electricity soon."

"That's... a lot to take in," she muttered, blinking away the last of her grogginess. "But I'm fine, Dad, really. Just woke up, so... still getting a handle on all this."

"Good. Keep your wits about you, alright? We have food, water, everything we need here. We're safe, Jeanna. You focus on doing the same."

"I will. You stay safe too," she said softly.

After the call ended, Jeanna took a deep breath, then slipped on her jacket and cautiously stepped out into the hallway. The silence was heavy, the stillness only punctuated by overturned furniture and scattered supplies—an abandoned delivery cart, a few suitcases, and other forgotten belongings.

She walked slowly, eyes darting around. Reaching the lobby, the devastation fully hit her. Outside the glass doors, panic reigned. People were running in every direction, some stumbling, others trying to hide, and some being overtaken by those... things. Zombies. Running, attacking, devouring anything in sight.

Then her phone buzzed again. She answered without hesitation. "Hello?""Jeanna? It's Lea—"

A movement in her periphery—a zombie, rushing at her with soulless eyes and outstretched arms. She turned and bolted back toward the emergency stairwell, her phone slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor. No time to retrieve it now. She sprinted up the steps to the third floor, back to her apartment, where she slammed the door shut behind her.

Rushing to the window, she gazed out over the city, smoke thickening the sky, helicopters circling, and explosions rattling the ground. The bombs were hitting blocks away but getting closer, their impact shaking the entire building.

Focused now, she grabbed a pre-packed bag by her door—water, food, a small first aid kit, some clothes—and headed to the kitchen. She reached for a set of knives, shoving them into her bag, her mind working fast.

A pounding at her door snapped her back. "Please! Let me in!"

She froze. It was her neighbor. Harry—the Harry. He and Meghan had moved into her building after he stepped down from his royal duties. She hadn't spoken to him since their accidental encounter in the elevator, but she remembered his humor, his surprising charm.

Not long ago, Jeanna found herself in a cramped elevator, the lights flickering above as the cable groaned under the strain of the sudden earthquake. She glanced sideways at Harry, who was leaning against the wall, trying to maintain his composure.