Sacrifice

Chapter 4: The Fridge Sacrifice

You ever have one of those days where you just wanna enjoy a nice breakfast, maybe scroll through your phone, pretend the world isn't burning around you? Yeah, same. But apparently, life had other plans.

I had barely finished scraping zombie bits off my pan when—

Grrrrrrrrrrh…

I froze mid-bite, toast halfway to my mouth.

"…No. Absolutely not."

I turned my head slowly, like I was in a bad horror movie and the audience was screaming at me not to. And there it was.

Another zombie.

Fantastic.

It was standing just outside, groaning like a sad, rejected extra from a low-budget apocalypse movie. This one wasn't as messed up as Mr. Gutierrez. No glass shards, no tragic window-related demise. Just some random undead asshole who had probably heard all the noise and decided, "Hey, let's check out the buffet."

I sighed. Not just any sigh. No, this was the deepest, most dramatic sigh known to mankind. The kind of sigh that could power an entire emo band's next album.

I stared at the zombie. It groaned again. I groaned back. This was an actual competition now.

It took a slow, shuffling step forward, bumping against the window frame like a drunk guy who had lost his way home.

Yeah, no. I wasn't dealing with this. Not before I had my coffee.

And that's when my eyes landed on my fridge.

Now, let me explain something here. This wasn't just any fridge. This was a top-tier, stainless steel, double-door, "I blew way too much money on this" fridge. The kind that could survive a natural disaster, keep your ice cream frozen during an economic collapse, and possibly double as a makeshift bomb shelter.

And I was about to shove it against a broken window.

I closed my eyes for a second. "This is it. This is where we are now. Using modern appliances as medieval fortress defenses."

With a heavy heart and heavier arms, I placed my hands against its cool, luxurious surface and gave it a push.

It didn't move.

I pushed again. It budged an inch.

The zombie outside moaned louder, as if taunting me.

"Oh, screw off, buddy, you're literally decomposing," I snapped.

Another shove, and the fridge groaned—physically, not dramatically like me. It skidded across the floor, and I immediately regretted every life choice that had led me to this moment.

"You know how much this thing cost me?!" I gritted my teeth, using my entire body weight to shove it further. "I could've bought a whole gaming setup! A nice one! With a chair that massages your back and makes you feel like a king!"

The fridge scraped against the floor, making an absolutely horrific noise that no human ears should ever be subjected to.

"I could've funded a small country with this money!"

Another push. Almost there.

"But nooooo, I just had to get the fancy model with the temperature-controlled drawers. Because 'oh, what if I need my ice cream at the exact perfect softness level?' WELL, GUESS WHAT, PAST ME—DOESN'T FREAKING MATTER NOW, DOES IT?!"

With one final, dramatic heave, the fridge slammed against the window frame.

I stumbled back, breathing heavily. The zombie bumped against it, pressing its gross, rotting face against the glass like a confused tourist trying to peek inside a museum exhibit.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. "Rest in peace, you expensive bastard. You deserved better."

The fridge hummed in response. Probably out of spite.

I took a moment to admire my handiwork. Was it a stupid solution? Yes. Did it work? Also yes. And honestly, that's the kind of problem-solving that got humanity this far, so I wasn't gonna question it.

Still, I wasn't taking any chances. I grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it against the fridge for extra security. Because let's be honest, if I was going to die, it sure as hell wasn't going to be because my overpriced kitchen appliance failed me.

With my impromptu barricade in place, I dusted off my hands and nodded to myself.

"Alright. Now, what was I doing before all this bullshit?"

Oh, right. I needed some stuff from my storeroom.

With the same level of urgency as a guy heading out to buy milk, I casually strolled toward the stairs, completely unfazed by the zombie groaning against my fridge like an impatient customer waiting for their order.

I hummed a little tune as I climbed. Something lighthearted. Maybe the theme song from a childhood cartoon. The kind of thing that would be wildly inappropriate given the current end of civilization situation.

"We'll be right back."

And with that, I stepped into the storeroom and shut the door behind me.