Life is strange. One day, you're hanging out at home, playing with your children, listening to them laugh and chatter in ways only excitable youth can, your wife hovering over you, a brilliant smile on her face, and the next, you're listening to your best friend trying to stutter out something about zombies. It's hard to take him seriously, you think maybe he's snuck something- though you didn't think he was much for that sort of thing, at least not before a match that one of you two were involved in, but whatever. Things have been tense and stressful lately, maybe you can't fully blame him.

But then you're standing by the ring and you're watching in shock and disbelief as you realize he wasn't lying, there truly are zombies ambling slowly towards you, coming from all sides- the ramp, over the barricade walls, under the ring maybe. It's horrifying, you don't know where to go, what to do, but the zombies seem to be stymied by the ring, and once you're inside, it's with some semblance of safety. Maybe.

Morrison is on the outside and you look to him just in time to see him glance around at the monsters surrounding him and then he's gone- over the barricade wall, gone. It disturbs you, you call out to him in disbelief, but but you can't blame him for leaving, not really.

You try to focus on the match at hand, but it's hard, especially whenever you get forced out of the ring and find yourself surrounded by these mindless creatures who probably want to eat your brain or whatever. You and Priest actually work together, sometimes, to take them out long enough to get back into the ring, but it doesn't matter. Whether you're fighting to win this match, or just to survive, there's a spreading horror dawning on you that it's a losing game.

For a second you have hope- John reappears, and he's fighting the damn things off with parkour! He takes out at least three but then he takes a minute too long trying to gain his balance on the barricade wall for another swing at those remaining when undead fingers grip his leg and draw him down, overpowering his struggles to hold onto the wall, to not fall into the mass of zombies below, and all you can do is watch as he's torn away, screaming for help.

You shiver. There's no chance of making it out of this. Your legs feel weird, loose, you can barely walk, and you've just watched your best friend possibly get killed by zombies. Losing to Priest after that is something you barely manage to register. He's up on the turnbuckle above you, celebrating his win, when the ring starts to vibrate with movement- and you just know.

When the world fades away to nothing but heavy weight pressing down on your chest, your arms, your legs, when you can hear nothing but toxic breaths and guttural groans, it's not as terrifying as you'd expect. I accept my fate, you succumb to it, deciding that maybe, at the very least, you will reunite with your best friend on the other side of this.

-x

"Mike?" There's a quiet voice at his elbow. He groans and looks away, feels a soft, familiar touch on his forearm. "Mike, please open your eyes. You're worrying us."

He could never deny that voice anything, so he pries his eyes open and blinks a few times to clear his vision, exhaling slowly as he takes in the beautiful worry on the face of his wife. "AJ," he forces out, and she smiles, stroking his hand.

"You had a panic attack in the ring," she says slowly, gauging his reaction to this. When he only blinks, she continues. "The zombies, they... I don't know, lost interest at some point. I think they didn't like something about how you tasted, because they left you and John both alone after awhile. We're not sure where they went to, they just... seem to have disappeared."

"John?"

"He's fine," she says soothingly. "He's at the arena for Raw."

Mike squints up at her. "How... how long have I been unconscious?"

She glances at the clock, sighs. "It's been off and on for about sixteen hours now."

He gapes at her. "What? How?" He's never slept that long, ever. And there's something about how her lip pulls between her teeth as she bites it. She's worried about something. "AJ, what's wrong?" When she still barely looks at him, he lifts her hand and kisses it. "Tell me, sweetheart. Please."

She exhales. Stares him straight in the eye and tells him. "You didn't have a panic attack because of the zombies." She ghosts her hand down his chest and exhales. "Mike, you had a panic attack because... because you knew. You could tell something was wrong." She searches his face and when he still doesn't say anything, she shakes her head softly. "Honey, you torn your knee up. We're not sure if it's partial or total, but it's your ACL and it's... it's going to take awhile. Ok?"

He's never been injured. Old, reliable Miz, always there, ready and willing to do what needs to be done. Wrestle? Hell yeah. Host MizTV? Yep. Star in reality TV or any other questionable movie script you feel needs a little extra oomph? Mike Mizanin is your man! "No, no," He says, laughing in pained disbelief. "That's... that's not possible." But the longer he stares at her, the more he remembers. How shaky each step felt, how he couldn't get his feet under him properly, how even before the zombies got their hands on him, he knew something bad had happened. "AJ, please."

She cradles his face. Stares deep into his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mike," she whispers tenderly, stroking her fingers along his jaw.

He breaks, tears dripping down her fingers as she tries to sooth him.

-x

John dedicates his match that night to Mike, and then ends up losing in another Lumberjack match- this time actual lumberjacks, not zombies- and really, that's just Mike's life in a nutshell anymore.