It started with a knock-knock joke. We were holed up in the radio tower, second floor, with two broken rifles and one can of peaches. No power, no backup, no chance of getting out alive. The swarm had us surrounded—dead eyes glittering in the moonlight. I was checking ammo. Useless. Empty. And that's when Mira turned to me and said: I stared at her, half-mad from hunger. She grinned. Blood in her teeth. "Zombie serious, you look like crap." God help me, we laughed. For the first time in weeks, something broke loose inside me—raw, cracked laughter echoing off concrete and shattered radio gear. She joined in, eyes closed, hands pressed to her sides like she was trying to hold her ribs in. But in that moment, we didn't care. "Do you think it'll hurt?" she asked me later. We were lying side by side, watching the shadows slither past the boarded-up window. "No," she said softly. "Dying. This way. ." I thought about lying. This% c^h!ap%ter- was fi-r-st. seen on *.+ I thought about saying something poetic or brave. Instead, I told the truth. "I think it already does." She nodded. "Yeah. Me too." The tower creaked. Something was banging on the front door below—slow, steady. Like death wasn't in a rush. We didn't flinch. We just shared the last peach. Barely a spoonful each. She fed me the last bit. "You always hogged the syrup," she whispered. "You always faked being full." Hours passed like ghosts. We told stories—some true, some twisted from memory. I told her how I found a wedding ring in the stomach of a walker once. She told me about the time she danced barefoot on a rooftop while Rome burned behind her. She made that part up. I think. We both pretended it wasn't our last night. And with it, the breach. Glass shattered. Boards snapped. The tower shook as they poured in—feral and beautiful in that sick, final way. And Mira said, through cracked lips: "Promise me one more laugh." So I looked at her, heart pounding, and whispered: She smirked. "Who's there?" "Last chance to run like hell!" She howled with laughter. And then they were on us. I don't remember much after that. Her scream. My arms around her. They found my body days later, curled against the wall. Torn, but peaceful. They said I was smiling. They said Mira's body wasn't there. Only a trail of blood leading down the tower stairs. But I hope… wherever she is… She's still laughing.