[ WP ] You are in a Movie Genre , everyone else is in a different Movie Genre .

This is n't supposed to be how the zombie apocalypse happens. There's supposed to be news stories about a virus on TV. It's supposed to start overseas, spread here, and take days to work its way across the country. In all the zombie apocalypse fantasies we had joked about, we thought we would have some warning. I'm not supposed to be chased down by my neighbor, who normally hobbles along slowly as he walks his schnauzers. When I first pulled on to my street and Frank literally ran up to my car, I thought his wife was dying or something, and maybe he needed me to call 911. It was dark. And I had never seen anyone sprint like that - certainly not Frank. But when I rolled down my passenger window to ask him if everything's okay, he lunged for me and made this awful growling sound. I floored the gas pedal, Frank fell to the ground, and I drove to the end of our street. When I got out of my car to run inside, he was hot on my heels. What the hell?! 
 
 I slammed the front door closed, barely locking the deadbolt before Frank's body thudded against it with stunning force, before he started frantically jiggling the handle. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I stumbled backward and tripped over 4 of our friend's pairs of shoes. My 75-year-old neighbor's face appeared at the dark window, and I screamed again. And that's when I finally saw his bloodshot eyes, dark crimson circles under his eyes, deep scratches and distinct bite marks on his bloody neck, and Frank's mouth was dripping with foamy, bloody saliva. He hammered on the window with his hands. 
 
 I heard laughter coming from the basement. Game night! My husband and his friends were supposed to be playing with the new PlayStation VR headset he got for Christmas. I sprinted to the basement stairs, and nearly tripped as I ran to the entertainment room in the basement where the laughter is coming from. They're playing the Resident Evil 7 demo. The guys laughed again as some terrifying creature attacked the VR character, and our friend wearing the headset shouted and laughed at whatever surprise had just happened on-screen. 
 
 I took one second to catch my breath before I shouted `` SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH FRANK!! He chased my car, down on the street corn r, and I thought he needed help, but he ATTACKED ME! Sprinted after my car, all the way home!!!! I think he's a zombie or something! What do we do?? We do n't have guns in the house --'' 
 
 Smiles faded as everyone looked at me, then slowly shifted their gaze back to the VR game. Mario picked up another piece of pizza. My husband walked over and whispered, `` Frank chased your car down the street...? That guy is slower than DSL internet.'' His friends chuckle. `` That's a funny prank and all, but honey, we're kind of busy here.'' 
 
 Our friend squealed and swiped at the creepy lady on the screen as everyone on the couch laughed. I hate horror games. I hate suspense. I hate all that shit. And now that it's LITERALLY HAPPENING 20 FEET FROM THIS VERY SPOT, I'm about to lose it. Frank continued to slam his fists into the glass. 
 
 `` I'm SERIOUS!! Listen! Can you hear that?? That's Frank at the window and he wants to kill me! He had bite marks and scratches on his neck, bloodshot eyes, and he was foaming at the mouth! I THINK THIS IS THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Stop playing the game and come LOOK --'' 
 
 Sounds from the game made Frank's attempts to break the window seem like sound effects on our surround sound. ``.We're having a lot of fun here, but this joke you're playing is kind of lame.'' 
 
 Something happened in the game and everyone laughed at our terrified friend. My husband went to sit by his friends again. My husband had his phone out, probably recording the game demo and reactions to upload to his YouTube channel. 
 
 `` I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!!'' They laughed at me. They freaking LAUGHED AT ME. 
 
 I tried to think. We do n't have guns. The axe is in the garage. And we have the large block of knives on our kitchen counter. I'm a girl with pathetic upper-arm strength, and what I really need is our tall zombie-enthusiast buddy Trevor to handle it, but he's deeply invested in this VR game. `` DAMN IT TREVOR, THIS IS YOUR DREAM COME TRUE. THERE IS LITERALLY A ZOMBIE TRYING TO BREAK IN UPSTAIRS!!!'' 
 
 They snickered at how `` convincing'' I was being and went back to their game. My husband gave me a stern look. Apparently I was going to need to handle this myself. I thought of our sleeping children two floors up. Oh, God. The pounding had stopped. Did he leave? Were we safe? Is he now attacking a neighbor taking out their trash? I dialed 911 on my cell as I sprinted upstairs, toward the knife block, and grabbed the cleaver. 
 
 My tired son stood at the top of the stairs to the second floor, rubbing his eyes. ``... Mom?'' 
 
 Sounds of laughter echoed up the stairway from the basement. A rush of cold January air blew in, as the back door thudded open against the wall. My heart stopped, and the air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. Frank stood in the doorway, illuminated by the flood light in our back yard, as I dropped my phone to the floor.
