By Eliza de la Flor / Copy Editor

My name is Jack Romero and I am no longer the last rabbit standing, but I may be the last one left alive.

My loved ones, my burrow-mates, have returned as shambling shadows of their former selves, hopping haphazardly, groaning for “Romaine … romaaaaaiiiiiine …” I think of them as zombunnies, because I cannot consider them comrades anymore. We have precious little left to eat with the new plants on campus and I do not know what they will turn to when the limited supply runs out.

The campus presents other challenges to my survival. The construction has turned my familiar tunnel system into an ever-changing war-torn maze. As quick as I can find a new route, it is closed off or collapsed. The zombunnies seem dangerously unaware of their surroundings and lack the normal fear of open pits and construction sites, to say nothing of traffic. The reanimated rabbits refuse to stop until they return to campus and I have seen them continue un-phased after losing a paw to an oblivious motorist.

I remain because I need to know the reason. I am the only one who avoided the Great Taking, the sole survivor of the lab procedure that left our community unable to reproduce. The cuts left them as recognizable, but somehow less effective than their former selves.  Soon after the operations, my comrades started getting slower and more complacent and thus were more easily caught and taken to humans’ homes.

I am no longer certain they ever left. I now believe they faced a second procedure, though why I cannot fathom.

Rabbits don’t have big ears for nothing. We hear everything. I know that we were said to be too many, but some felt we should remain on at the school. We were discussed as having a “high impact” on the campus.

If the school could not support the rabbits it already had, it made sense for our numbers to dwindle. Now, though, as I witnessed rabbits returning in the cold, when all would prefer to be safe in their burrows or visiting loved ones, I suspected dark doings. Perhaps someone felt that a Winter with zombunnies was better than an empty campus, despite the cost of cuteness. Whatever the reason, I now face these hoppy horrors with growing dread.