Published: 2025-10-08

Lorenzo López was prepared to leave the TV studio when the producer stopped him. “Lorenzo, do you have a minute?” The producer said.

Lorenzo sighed; his shift had just ended, and he was eager to leave. “Sure, what is it?”
“It’s Tom. He cannot get here; the road is blocked. You’ll have to cover for him.”
“What?” Lorenzo was insulted, “I to cover the 11:00 PM spot? Forget it.”
“There’s no one else to do it, and you’re already here.”
“I said no. It’s already past 9 o’clock and I promised my kids to take them treat or tricking.”

Lorenzo put on his coat and started walking towards the door. The producer followed him.

“Mr. López, we try to accommodate you as much as possible, but this lack of solidarity is unacceptable.”

Lorenzo turned around to face the man, “Sue me.” He said and continued walking.

“I cannot do that, Mr. López, but I can fire you.”

Lorenzo halted, clenching his fist as he took a deep breath. He turned around and, with a forced smile, said, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, but I would. I’m here to do my job, Mr. López, and part of that is enforcing employees’ contracts.”

Lorenzo stared at the man, his eyes burning with hate, and with a smile said “Of course, you’re right.” “Thanks, Lorenzo. Take a break, we start prep at 10:30 PM.”

The renowned news anchor Lorenzo López, relegated from the top spot in the evening news to a schedule only housewives with insomnia and men tormented by erectile dysfunction watched. He felt humiliated.

Lorenzo took his cellphone out, flipped it open, and inputted a number he knew by heart. He hesitated before pressing the dial button, “Should I?” He thought. He clicked his tongue and pressed the green button, a dial tone followed.

“Hello?” Said a woman at the other end of the line.
“Hi, sweetie. How are you?”
“Lorenzo? Where are you?”
“I won’t make it tonight; something came up at work.”

There was nothing but silence on the line for a few seconds.

“You’re still there?” Lorenzo said.
“You’re with your wife, aren’t you?”
“No, I told you, something came up at work and—”
“I’m tired of living like this, Lorenzo, I just can’t do it anymore.”
“Babe, calm down, I’m stuck at work, there’s—”
“Don’t call me again, Lorenzo.”

She hung up. “Fuck!” Lorenzo thought.

It was 9:23 PM, it would be an hour before prep and Lorenzo wouldn’t be free until after midnight, his day couldn’t be worse. He locked himself up in a dressing room and turned the TV on. “How good is the 9:00 PM news cast?” He asked himself while tuning in.

“…I guess we’ll have to add that to the long list of Viagra side effects,” The news anchor said. “In other news, Halloween has arrived to the new millennium, thousands of kids across the nation walk the streets dressed as fairies and monsters asking for candy. Reporter Pedro De La Cruz is live from New Town. Go ahead, Pedro.” “Thanks, Rebbeca. I find myself in New Town Park and as you can see, kids carrying buckets of candy can be seen all around, and not only kids, but also teenagers and even adults got in the fun of dressing in costume. From vampires, to werewolves, zombies, all monsters are here in—”

A man jumped over the reporter, knocking him down.

“Gee, I didn’t know this network could be this sensationalist.” Lorenzo said.

The reporter’s screams pierced through the speakers. The camera fell; the cameraman ran while screaming. “This bit has gone too far.” Lorenzo said. What they thought was a man in costume dragged his face in front of the camera, holding the severed head of Pedro De La Cruz in his mouth. “Holy shit, this ain’t no bit!” Lorenzo said.

Lorenzo felt a jolt of electricity cruise through his body; it brought him to his feet. He left the room and found himself in the middle of a TV station overcome by chaos. People ran up and down the hallway, a deafening beep filled the room. Lorenzo turned to the TV; it now displayed a stand-by screen. He ran towards the set.

A small crowd surrounded the producer. Everyone from the cleaning crew to the camera and microphone operators wanted answers. Lorenzo pushed through the crowd and made his way to the producer.

“What’s happening here?” He said.
“I don’t know, Lorenzo, I know as much as everybody here. OK?”

The producer was stuttering, his breath had become agitated, his hand trembled. He was having a panic attack. Lorenzo opened his hand as wide as he could and swung it the producer’s face direction with all his might. The producer fell to the ground; people gasped.

“Let’s all calm the fuck down.” Lorenzo said while extending his hand to the producer.

The producer got to his feet. “Thank you.” He said. Lorenzo nodded.

“Now, do we know what happened to the reporter?” Lorenzo asked.
“He was attacked by some kind of madman.” Rebecca, who still sat at her desk, said.
“Let’s try calling him. He might be OK.”
“Are you blind? His head was torn up.”
“Let’s call him.”
“We did. No response.” The producer said.
“What about his cameraman?” Lorenzo asked.
“No response either.”

The room fell silent. Lorenzo had run out of ideas.

“It’s zombies.” Said one of the cameramen.

Everyone turned their heads to him. Lorenzo approached him, “Excuse me?” He said.

“Look,” the cameraman said as he replayed the footage received from Pedro De La Cruz “they didn’t only attacked Pedro. You can see them running in the background even before Pedro gets attacked.”

Everyone gathered in front of the monitor to examine the footage. Other figures like the one that attacked Pedro could certainly be seen running in the background.

“Zombies? Everyone, let’s please calm down. This is most likely an elaborate hoax run by teenagers. There’s no such thing as zombies.” Lorenzo said.
“Mmm, Mr. López? I think the hoax has reached us.” Said a man who stood near a window.
“What?” Lorenzo said as he walked to the window, “Everyone, let’s please calm down. Everything is fine. There’s not such a thing as— holy shit they’re here!”

The image behind the window was horrific; a horde of zombies walked towards the station.

“Block doors and windows; use whatever you can. Nobody leaves this building. Move it, now! And roll the cameras.” Lorenzo said.
“What?” Rebecca said.
“People have a right to know.”
“Are you kidding? We just saw one of our men killed on live television, and you want to keep us transmitting? Forget it.”

Lorenzo walked up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You have to do it, Rebecca, this is your spot.” “I can’t… I’m frightened.”
“We all are, but we are news anchors, and this is what we do.”

Rebecca looked Lorenzo in the eye. For a minute, he was not the stock-up, egotistic, pseudo-celebrity he believed himself to be, but a decent journalist, a mentor even.

She took a deep breath and said, “Roll the cameras.”

“Good evening, citizens of New Town. Tonight, we face an enemy more powerful than communism or mesothelioma. Tonight we face zombies. Tonight, your political affiliation of skin sensitivity doesn’t matter. Lock up your doors and hug your children. This too shall pass…”

THE END.