Zombie survivor

[103] Dream house

The mansion sat on the edge of what used to be a wealthy neighborhood, its sprawling front lawn overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. The wrought iron gates were rusted, one of them hanging askew, but the sheer size of the place was enough to draw awe from the group as they stood in the cracked driveway. The building itself was weathered but intact, its stone facade still commanding despite years of neglect. Ivy crept up the walls, and several of the windows were shattered, but the structure held strong—an opulent reminder of a bygone era.

"Holy shit," Brad muttered, his hands on his hips as he stared up at the building. "This place is huge."

"It's literally a mansion," Chloe said, flipping her ponytail. "You can't just call it 'huge.' It's fucking epic."

"Bet it's haunted," Jordan chimed in, his crowbar resting against his shoulder. "Some rich dude probably died in here and now he's gonna possess our asses."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen," Blake quipped, adjusting his glasses. "At least ghosts don't eat people."

Garrett, standing near the front steps, let out a heavy sigh. "Ghosts don't exist, dumbass," he muttered, pushing open the creaking front door with a firm shove. "But if they do, I'll take my chances over another horde."

The group filed in cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous entryway. The interior was just as grand as the exterior—marble floors covered in a layer of dust, a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, and an enormous chandelier hanging precariously from the ceiling. Broken furniture was scattered about, and the wallpaper was peeling, but the sheer scale of the place made it impossible not to stare in awe.

"Yo, this is some 'Beauty and the Beast' shit," Evan said, his eyes wide as he took in the massive chandelier. "I feel like I'm gonna start singing about how I'm the guest or some shit."

"Except you're not the guest," Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "This is ours now."

Brittany twirled in a circle, her pink hair catching the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. "I'm already picturing TikToks in here," she said, her voice bright despite the situation. "This place is giving 'luxury influencer' vibes."

"More like 'post-apocalypse fixer-upper,'" Blake muttered, running his fingers along a dusty banister. "This place needs work."

"Work we can do," Jean said, his voice quiet but resolute. "This isn't just a house—it's home now. We can make it something good."

"Big words, dude," Brad said, grinning as he leaned against the staircase. "But what's the plan? Who gets what room? I call dibs on the master bedroom."

"Bro," Tyler interjected, his tone dripping with disbelief. "You can't just call the master. That's, like, dictatorship-level cringe."

"Shut up, Tyler," Chloe snapped, crossing her arms. "It's not like you're getting it either."

Akira, standing close to Jean as always, tilted her head. "Maybe we could draw lots? It's fair that way."

"I'm not leaving it up to luck," Brittany said, flipping her hair. "I need the room with the best lighting. For, you know, content."

"You mean selfies?" Jordan asked with a smirk. "You don't need a whole room for that."

"You wouldn't get it," Brittany shot back, her tone dripping with disdain.

Garrett clapped his hands together, his gruff voice cutting through the bickering. "Enough. You're arguing like kids. Everyone's getting a room, and if you don't like yours, tough shit."

The group muttered their reluctant agreement, though Chloe and Brad exchanged annoyed glances. They began exploring the mansion, their footsteps crunching over broken glass and debris. The rooms were vast and varied—some bedrooms had massive, broken canopy beds, while others were smaller, with simple wooden furniture now covered in grime.

"This one's mine!" Jordan shouted from down the hall. "It's got a working door and no creepy vibes. I'm taking it."

"Wow, your standards are so high," Blake said dryly, inspecting a nearby room. "I guess I'll take this one. It's... functional."

"I'm gonna clean this one up for Jean," Akira said, already moving toward a larger room with high windows. "He needs space to recover."

Jean shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "I don't need anything fancy, Akira. Whatever's left is fine."

"You're getting this one," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument. "You deserve it."

Chloe poked her head into a room with peeling floral wallpaper and groaned. "This place looks like a grandma died in here. I'm not staying in this."

"Then find another one," Garrett said, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Pick a room and start cleaning. We don't have time for your princess act."

Brittany flopped onto a dusty couch in the living room, coughing as a cloud of dust puffed up around her. "Okay, but can we talk about how we're decorating this place? It's giving 'haunted asylum' right now, and that's not the vibe I'm going for."

"We're not decorating shit," Brad said, kicking a broken chair aside. "We're barely surviving. Who cares what it looks like?"

"I care!" Brittany shot back. "We're living here, Brad. It should at least feel, you know, nice."

"Priorities, people," Blake said, his tone exasperated. "How about we focus on making it livable first? You know, cleaning, fixing doors, making sure it's secure?"

Evan wandered into the kitchen, which was surprisingly intact. "Yo, this place has a pantry. Think there's food in here?"

"Unless you wanna try 10-year-old canned peas, probably not," Chloe called from the hallway.

"Gross," Evan muttered, closing the pantry door.

Jordan flopped onto a decrepit armchair, his crowbar resting across his lap. "Okay, real talk: What are we doing with the big-ass dining room? Feels like wasted space unless we're throwing dinner parties."

"Dinner parties?" Akira asked, her tone incredulous. "In an apocalypse?"

"I mean, what else are we gonna use it for? A zombie fighting ring?" Jordan grinned. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

"No," Jean said firmly, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We'll figure something out. For now, let's focus on cleaning."

As the group continued to explore and claim rooms, the mansion slowly began to feel less like a ruin and more like a home. The bickering softened into playful banter, and even the ever-present tension of the apocalypse seemed to lift slightly.

When the day ended, they gathered in the massive, dusty living room, sitting on the floor or leaning against the walls. The chandelier above them swayed slightly, casting faint shadows across their faces.

"This is ours now," Jean said, his voice quiet but steady. "We've made it this far, and we'll keep going. Together."

Q: What is your dream house in a zombie apocalypse?