he dating app had found Sheila a match! She was a woman who over the last year had been so terminally single she was almost convinced she would remain so until death. In her solitude she’d begun to view singleness as a disease, and she was infected—Patient Zero. But 100% compatibility promised the chance of a cure. It was a 100% match!

Sheila burst into frenzied excitement, an action that caused her to drop her phone and choke on a chunk of cookie dough. Sheila had subscribed to the Deluxe Match package. Some would consider the cost outrageous, but she hadn’t been on a date in over a year. Isolation had a way of freeing up funds. She fumbled with her phone and began reading about her match. His name was Gary Stevens, and the similarities between them were astounding: both were bank tellers in their late 30's. Both loved the Hallmark Channel, and their favorite bands were Chumbawamba and 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, because in both of their opinions, Russell Crowe was a god. Originally from Australia, her inebriated parents had named her Sheila. 

Sheila smiled. Maybe, just maybe, this was the one. Her lack of romantic success wasn't because she was unattractive or fat— she carried some, but she held the extra weight well. It was that she picked the worst men.

There had been five total before she’d caught Single's Syndrome—all disastrous. There was Mike, Boyfriend Number 4, who was really in love with all the food in Sheila's fridge. It took her longer than she wanted to admit before realizing he would only go on dates when it coincided with her grocery shopping. Then there was Carter, Boyfriend Number 2, who kept forgetting who she was. She would call or text him and he would genuinely ask: “Who is this?”

She’d lived in a hell of horrible men, and now this—a relationship-less purgatory. Maybe, just maybe, Gary was her godsent paradise.

That’s why the dating app was such a good idea—it chose for her. She’d been right. It made a 100% match.

Gary’s icon lit up, indicating he was using the app. She sent a message, and he responded. She messaged back. This little game continued until they both agreed to meet at a fancy restaurant in town the next night at 7:30pm on the dot. She would know it was him by the flowers he would be holding. They flirted late into the night till she passed out eating a block of cheese.

heila woke to an ice cream truck crashing through her bedroom. Her confusion intensified when a SWAT car rammed into the rear of the ice-cream truck, pushing it further into her house. Before Sheila could do anything, the ice cream truck driver crawled out of the shattered windshield and fell on his back. She noticed he was bloated with greenish-purple skin, and his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears were bleeding. He stood up.

“Hey, what's the idea?” she asked.

He screeched in response and launched himself at her. They went tumbling, and he pushed her down, trying to bite her neck. Right as the ice cream man's teeth were about to bite into her neck, the cop in SWAT gear arrived.

“Die, you son of a bitch!” he screamed. The SWAT guy emptied his assault rifle in precise bursts. The ice cream man's head exploded. Sheila got up.

“Thank you. That guy was all bitey and...weird.”

The cop looked at her with a manic energy.

“Get away from me, Miss!” he yelled, holding the gun up at her. “Did he bite you?”

She raised her hands awkwardly. “No.”

He lowered his gun. “It's over! I'm through. I got bit. I won't turn, I won't.” His eyes were full of fear and insanity.

She tried to calm him down.

“Can I get you an orange juice or something from my fridge? Maybe a band-aid?”

“I'm sorry, ma’am. There’s only one thing I need.”

She thought for a moment. “A towel, perhaps?”

He pulled out his 9mm and shot himself in the head. His body went limp as he joined the ice cream man on her living room floor.

Sheila responded to the situation with a hearty vomit.

After this incident, she decided to check the news on her phone. Every form of social media outlet was flooded with the same thing: zombies! The dead rise! The plague spreads! It's the end of the world!

“Free box of tampons with every $13 purchase of FloFight,” an ad flashed.

“Ooooooh, I could use that. Gosh! What a deal.”

If bitten, the symptoms included bleeding from every orifice and your skin eventually turning purplish-green. These were the signs. She sat on her couch, vexed at her current situation. Yeah, it was a zombie apocalypse and all that...but what really upset her was that her date with Gary was tonight, and chances were it was off. But then, she thought to herself if it really was the end of the world, was there a point in dying single? She got on her phone and messaged him, saying she still wanted to meet. She saw that his status was ‘on’ and he was typing, but before she could read his reply, her screen went blank and the page blipped offline due to a nearby tower exploding, ending all service for the foreseeable future.

Sheila spent the rest of her morning eating ice cream and practicing with a whole SWAT car’s worth of weapons. She really liked the concussion grenades. She thought of Gary and mused about him being a successful assistant banker. Not like Doug, Boyfriend Number 3, who was perpetually unemployed on principle, even though he was quite insistent she work hard and pay for everything, including his rent.

She spent the afternoon fending off her neighbors and their kids—it was only a matter of time before all the infected people came pouring through the hole in her house. After finishing off the third wave of attackers, she’d pretty much cleared out her part of the neighborhood. Then she dolled up and decided to take the armored vehicle. Most of her house collapsed as she left.

The roads were swarming with undead, but it was nothing the SWAT car couldn't handle. Sheila mowed down zombies with ease while driving on the curbs. She fired a grenade launcher out of the driver’s window into the middle of the road, blowing away large pockets of the horde.

The city was another matter, cluttered and congested with abandoned and wrecked cars, making driving any further impossible, so she went on foot. She was used to walking ever since Ralph, Boyfriend Number 5, had pushed her out of a moving vehicle for farting, screaming, “What did you eat, a rotted possum?” He’d gagged and yalled, “Get out of the car!”

“What?” she had asked in surprise.

“Now!” he screamed.

To be fair it was really bad—but she had been the one driving. Sheila remembered limping down the road and finding her car crashed into a tree.

heila was brought back to the present moment as the undead began to scream and rush at her, having seen something alive to sink their teeth into. She emptied both assault rifles in rapid succession. It was down to the shotgun, but it was the dragon’s-breath type. With every pump, Sheila sent flaming zombie parts  splattering everywhere. She pictured Gary as a lover in that moment—imagined the two of them snuggling and kissing. He would respect her, unlike Alvin, Boyfriend Number 1—he had only wanted her for her body...literally. As it turned out, he was trying to sell her organs on the black market. She’d thought he was trying to be inventive with his romantic gesture of an ice bath and roofied margarita.

All the carnage she created attracted the attention of more zombies in the downtown area. The hordes gathered, hundreds in pursuit. Sheila didn't care because now the restaurant was in view.

She went through the back alley, dodging and weaving past grasping hands and snapping jaws till she made it to the door, tossing the last of the grenades into the ally for good measure. It didn't take much effort for her to break down the back entrance and build a makeshift barricade. The restaurant was empty except for a waiter and cook who were huddled together in a corner. Her heart leapt when she saw a man dressed in blue, a flower in his hand, just like he’d said. She stuffed her Glock between her boobs, fluffed her hair, and adjusted her bra.

Rushing over to the table, Sheila stopped short with a gasp. Gary's skin was purplish-green. He turned and stood up slowly. But instead of attacking her, he limped and moaned and pulled out a chair for her.

“Wow, undead and a gentleman.” She thought hard for a moment.

Yeah, he was a zombie, and that would probably put a strain on their relationship...but on the other hand, he had shown up early.

Sheila shrugged and sat in the offered seat. But to be honest, she had dated worse.