Note: This story was one of the entries we received as part of our Summer Short Story Competition. We felt the story deserved a special mention for its unique interpretation of the topic, “To the Lighthouse”.

“Please work,” I thought as I desperately tried to fix my bicycle, but in vain. One of the brakes was broken, and I couldn’t fix it. “Ayana!” Lucia called, “Dinner’s ready!” Even if the world were ending and we were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, she’d still be obsessed with cooking. I leisurely walked to the small grass clearing where Lucia and James, my two best friends, sat, roasting fish on an old barbecue that we found lying around.

I checked my phone—the date was 9/9/2097. It’s only been three days since a scientist found a way to make a dead human body come back to life, but not without consequences. All the humans that come back are zombies, and there’s no way to differentiate them from normal humans except for their eyes, which are red and swollen. The most haunting part about them is that they are contagious, so you need to be very careful.

The only place where the zombies cannot enter is a lighthouse off the coast of California, 12 miles from here. We’ve got to get there by tomorrow, which is in about 12 hours. Once we get there, we need to get a vial of a liquid that the scientist made for emergencies like this and dump it in the sea. Starting now. All three of us quickly ate our dinners and started looking for safe hideouts. Since Lucia was old enough to drive, we started with a car that we found along the way, an old 2027 Fiat.

It was old and rickety, but since it was an electric car, it was quiet enough to not be noticed unless we were seen. James and I took some time to cover the old car with dry leaves and some sand for camouflage. Luckily, we soon got to the lighthouse, which, to our despair, was surrounded by zombies, all desperately trying to get inside. The only way in was a single, small door, not even as tall as Lucia. Since I was the youngest, James was 14, and I was 13- the only one small enough to slip through the horde of zombies, I had to do this on my own. I rubbed my eyes as hard as I could to make them swollen, then ran up to the lighthouse, muttering “To the lighthouse!” under my breath. Up close, they looked even worse.

I slipped through the huge crowd, trying to feel for the button that triggered the door to open. Finally, I found it and pushed it as hard as I could, silently opening a door that only I saw, slightly to my left. I quickly slipped inside and pressed another button with the word ”CLOSE ” on it. I had only half an hour more; I needed to do this fast. On a large white round table, a single beaker of purple liquid sat closed with a saucer, labeled emergency. I took it, opened the door, and ran outside to pour it. As soon as I got outside, I spilled the liquid on the soft earth, drenching it.

Immediately, all the zombies just fell down, dead again. James and Lucia came running to me, and we all laughed in relief. We’d survived the apocalypse! All because of three words: to the lighthouse!