Zombie Zora

by R.G. Richards

I looked out into the darkness of the night. We failed again and wound back at our original starting point. Zombies are massing outside. It is good that our house sets away from others, because several houses are now on fire from the bombs they threw.

  Brittany and I waited for the boys to return from their mission to remove the dead zombie from our presence. They would open the window and climb on the roof with the zombie and carefully tie him to the chimney to hold him in place. It was a hard job and I’m glad I took no part in it. Brittany and I had kitchen duty and prepared our evening dinner.

  The zombie screams no longer bothered us or I should say more precisely no longer shook us with fear. They were more of an early warning system to let us know danger was coming and if we didn’t spring into action, we would die.

  We listened to their noise from the kitchen table while waiting on the boys to join us. The mood was somber and there wasn’t much that needed saying. I enjoyed the silence, after a while, Brittany didn’t.

  “Zee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I mean about Thompson.”

  “Why are you guys so fixated on Thompson? He was a jerk and I feel fine about it.”

  “Jones told me that he spied on us while we washed in the river. Maybe he did it every time.”

  “So?”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “I’m fine. Thompson was a jerk, he is dead, good riddance.”

  The look she gave me let me know she wasn’t going to drop it and didn’t like my answers. What was there to say that hadn’t been said? His watching us should creep me out, especially her, I mean she was practically naked. At least I kept my top on. For some reason, I can’t get worked up about it.

  I keep coming back to it’s the end of the world and everything has changed. It is ridiculous to have the same hang-ups I had as when the world was normal. Everything has changed. I have changed. I’m nineteen years old in a zombie-infested world. Every day I wake has the potential of being the last day of my life. I accept that in my head, but have trouble putting it into words. Stated simply, to survive the change in life, I have to change or get left behind. I am doing my best to make that change, it is difficult.

  “What?”

  “Zee. I know there is something or there was something between the two of you. I think you should recognize it. It will help you to get past it and get stronger.”

  “I’m strong enough.”

  “Zee!”

  “What do you want from me, Brittany?”

  “Talk to me, Zee. Just talk to me. Tell me how you feel about the man.”

  I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Closing my eyes always helped me focus. This time it let me down. “Thompson was a jerk, end of discussion.”

  “Zee!”

  “Stop!” I know I let her down and I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t talk about it, not even to her, my blood brother. She could never understand my feelings for Thompson and I couldn’t explain them in a way to make her understand. It wasn’t love, I doubt that seriously. It was a connection that we made. Someway, somehow, he got to me, pass my defenses to my inner core. He was in before I could shut the gate and keep him out. I can’t describe how it happened. It would make absolutely no sense unless it happened to her, too.

  Brittany looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes. I so desperately wanted to let her in and tell her, I just couldn’t. I bowed my head and racked my brain for something to cheer her up and bring peace between us. Fortunately, the boys returned.

  “We did it,” said Jones. “We hoisted him up like a flag and tied him to the chimney. He’ll be there until he rots and falls to pieces.”

  “Yeah,” said Charley. “Can you picture a zombie standing on the sidewalk and suddenly manna falls from heaven? Outrageous!”

  “I can picture that,” said Brittany. “They will probably think it’s a big gumball machine in the sky.”

  They chuckled. I pleasantly smiled.

  “Can you guys take the table and everything upstairs?” asked Brittany. “I’ll lock up and meet you in our room.”

  “Fine by me,” replied Charley. He got on one end of the table and strained to lift it. “Whoa! I guess I’m gonna need a hand with this load.”

  Jones came to his rescue. “Back up ladies and watch a man work. One, two, three, up!”

  The boys made groaning noises as they carried the card table out of the room and up to ours. I helped Brittany gather our bags. Every time I looked at her, her head was down, avoiding me. I had hurt her feelings by not talking about mine. I’m a girl, isn’t talking about our feelings part of the job description? Maybe they forgot to give me the “share-your-feelings” manual in the nursery.

  My mother always claimed I was left on her doorstep by aliens. I’m the kind of person whose sense of humor changes with the wind. Usually when she said those words to me, I cringed and took them the wrong way, though she smiled the whole time. Maybe I needed to discover myself. I was definitely something.

  Brittany and I made two trips up the stairs: the first was to carry our bags. The second was to lock up. I trusted her to do it, I wanted to stay with her and if I couldn’t express my feelings, maybe by being with her she would get the message. Yes, guilt reared its ugly head.

  Back in our room, setting up was a snap. It consisted of throwing a cover over the table and placing napkin plates in each position. When done, I went to the window to check on our zombie friends, leaving the rest to Chef Brittany.

  Zombies wandered below us aimlessly. They were gathering in numbers like before. Thompson was right about their low intelligence. If it were me, I would be going house to house searching for food. Not these zombies, they wandered aimlessly, stopping and howling at one another and possibly the air itself. Until we stepped out of our sanctuary, we were invisible. I stopped to think of all the souls around the world in similar hiding places. How long would they wait? We had plenty of food and water and could remain here until they disbursed, possibly weeks if necessary. Were others as fortunate?

  My thoughts wondered back to my brother and the people at the camp. I wondered if they were waiting on us or if they had given up ever seeing us alive again. We were only a few short miles away. Why would these last few miles be so difficult? Roadblock after roadblock after roadblock, it wasn’t fair. Comforting myself with the knowledge that I was alive and safe wasn’t enough. I left the window to see if Brittany needed any help.

  “Have a seat guys, dinner is served.”

  Brittany was all smiles. Tonight would be a treat from the boys’ packs. First, she forced a prayer out of Charley and glowered at me until I took his hand in our little circle. I guess she was getting back at me for not sharing. After the prayer, we sat. Brittany presented the meal and dared any of us to alter it. She had her mojo back.

  Jones and Charley shared a can of peaches. Brittany and I chose pineapples, the juice would be heavenly. Jones set up his butane torch to fire up two cans of Armour Treets. Before he got started, Brittany carved ours in the shape of a turkey and theirs in the shape of a duck. The carved away pieces became their nests. Brittany screamed as if her bird was on fire every time Jones brought the torch near it. She yelled, “run for your life little birdie,” and made her bird gallop across the table like he was in fact running for his life. She was so funny, so animated; I loosened a bit and laughed sparingly with the others. I know she did it all for my benefit, I just couldn’t get as deeply into it as they could. They sat around the table laughing and joking while Jones roasted our birds.

  When finished, Brittany returned to her chef duties and carved the birds. We toasted bottles of water and feasted.

  I looked at them and their laughter was infectious, but not on me, only with one another. The burning flesh brought up memories of the flaming zombies Jones torched earlier. They were once people. I also thought of Thompson being pulled apart and feasted on, Brittany’s carving turn
ed my stomach.

  To keep from embarrassing myself and throwing water on their party, I got up and went to the window to check on the zombies. They were doing nothing new. I went to the door, opened it, and looked downstairs, it was quiet and the alarms were in place. Relax, Zee. Go and have fun like the others.

  If only it were that easy.

  I closed the door and returned to the window. The others finished their dinner and sat at the table playing charades. Jones was up acting like a monkey. The others made several guesses and it never occurred to them to say, Planet of the Apes.

  After a while, we turned in. I shut the curtains, killing the moonlight and darkening the room. One small candle burned as a light source and we took extra care to make sure it didn’t give us away to the zombies. Before leaving the window, I looked out at the burning city and the roaming zombies with dread. Death could sneak up on us and snuff us out at any moment.

  Charley was first on guard duty. He put his rifle over his shoulder and marched like a toy soldier. I could hear giggles from Brittany and Jones beneath the covers. I watched the shadows produced by the candles and lost myself in thoughts of home and family.

  During the night, as I watched Charley, his left hand shook. He was standing against a wall with his gun over his right shoulder. I watched and it shook again. Warning bells went off in my head and I knew what was wrong. All night my body had been telling me not to relax and have fun because something was wrong, danger was near me. This was what I was being warned about.

  My rifle was next to me. I eased my hand to it and unlatched the safety. Only my head showed above the covers so I was safe, Charley couldn’t see what I was doing. With care, I eased the gun up to my head and aimed at him. He was turning into a zombie and I was going to take him out. Always trust your instincts; they will never let you down.

  Brittany must have seen me, she screamed my name. Before Charley could react, I was on him. I raced to him with my gun up in his face. Likewise, he aimed at me with perfect timing. We were having a Mexican standoff.

  “Zee!” Brittany got to her feet and ran next to me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “He’s a zombie, Britt. I saw him turning.”

  “Zee, put the gun down. He is not a zombie, it is only Charley. You were dreaming.”

  Her calmness wasn’t working on me. “I saw it, he is a zombie and I am going to blow his fucking head off!”

  Charley was not afraid, I saw no fear in his eyes and that angered me more. “You better back off or you will be the one with a hole in your head.”

  “You try it, just try it.”

  “Baker!” Jones shouted. He was late to the party, but I could use his support.

  “He is a zombie, Jones. I saw him shaking like Thompson did right before he turned. That son of a bitch has been bitten and didn’t tell any of us.” I held my gun higher.

  “Baker, you back off, soldier. You read me?”

  “He’s a zombie, Jones. Do you hear me? He’s a zombie!”

  “Maybe you’re the zombie,” Charley said as politely as he could. He was trying to infuriate me and he was damn close. “You’re the one who has been off in her own little world tonight. If anybody is changing it’s you. How about it, Jones? Hasn’t she been the weird one tonight?”

  Jones looked at me and wavered, I saw it in his eyes. “I trust Baker with my life. She is part of my team until the day she dies.”

  “Thanks, Jones. Britt?”

  “Nobody is getting shot tonight. Do you both understand me? Nobody is getting shot tonight. Now put the guns down and talk like reasonable people.”

  Neither Charley nor I eased our positions, it was a stalemate. I was right and would not let another zombie get past me.

  Brittany went to Charley and got him to lower his weapon—I trained mine between his beady little eyes. I longed for them to turn red so I could blast him. She turned to me and tried to ease mine down. I resisted and stepped back.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, prove you are not a zombie.” I said to the wide-eyed, potential zombie.

  “No,” said Charley.

  “I’m not going through this again. People lie all the time. You are not getting me killed. Prove you have not been bitten or scratched.” The words did come from me, as alien as they were. I was asking a fully grown man to strip at gunpoint. Would the others ever do something so crazy?

  “Do it!” Jones barked. “Let’s end this now.” He jerked the curtains open and let the moonlight filter into the room and shine its light of purity on all inside.

  “Fine!”

  Charley handed his gun to Brittany. He looked at me with hatred, I didn’t care, I had the truth on my side and was about to prove it. He took off his shirt, kicked off his cowboy boots, removed his socks, and then his pants. He stood before me in his underwear, white boxers. He held up his hands to allow us to examine him. Jones, Brittany, and I scanned every inch of his flesh for traces of scratches and bites.

  Brittany, in an effort to appease me, briefly left and came back with the cloth she used to wipe down our kitchen table. She whispered an apology to Charley and wiped areas of his body covered in dried zombie blood. I kept my gun on him and watched with anticipation. She cleaned a few areas and when no traces were found, he turned around to show his back.

  Again, Brittany saw two places that needed wiping and performed her service. No marks of any kind shone on the man. She looked at me. “He’s clean, Zee.”

  Charley turned around, gloating. It sent me into a frenzy. I boiled with rage.

  “Drop the underwear.”

  Charley’s face contorted, but only for a second. He smirked and dropped them. He then turned around and back, before pulling them up. “Satisfied?” he started putting his clothes back on.

  I wasn’t satisfied, not in the least, but he was clean. Something told me not to let it go.

  “I saw your hand shaking.”

  “It’s from hitting the gun cabinet at the police station. It tingles every once in a while. You could have asked.”

  I lowered my gun.

  “Oh, it’s just me that’s in question?” his arrogance annoyed me. We looked at one another. Then, all eyes turned to me, confusion on every face.

  “All right,” said Jones. “From now on, safety is number one. We drop trou after every hand-to-hand fight. Dushell, you’re next.”

  “What?” said a shocked Brittany.

  “You heard me,” said Jones, looking sorrowful. “Strip.”

  Brittany cast a look at me that would have burned me alive, if possible. “No problem.” She said it more to me than to the others. Her teeth were together, face red with anger. With that, she handed her towel to Charley and glaring at me and me alone, she reached down and unlaced her boots. She kicked them off and took off her socks. Glaring again at me, she took off her pants and threw them on the floor. She then pulled her shirt over her head and threw it in my face.

  I should have known—she wore no bra. She raised her hands above her head and shot me the dirtiest look she could muster. Charley got his reward for my mistake. As Brittany held her pose, he and Jones, he in particular, took great pleasure examining every inch of her beautiful skin. She turned around and they began again. She then turned back and fixed her gaze on me. “Do you want my panties, too?”

  “No.”

  “Whatever.”

  I hope I hadn’t lost her as a friend, this was not what I intended. To ease my guilt, I did the unexpected, “I’m next.” I gave Jones my rifle and while Brittany gathered her tossed items and dressed, I took center stage. Like Brittany, I thought it best to start at my feet and work my way up, thinking it would be less of a peep show that way. I bent over and unlaced and pulled off my boots and socks. My feet hadn’t been free of boots in so long, it felt good. I quickly undid and removed my pants and then my shirt. Unlike my friend, I had made use of our haul from the store and now stood before them i
n a blue, matching bra and panties set. I held up my hands and after confirmation, turned to show my back.

  Jones told me to turn again and then I dressed. He was the last to be examined and I was happy, none of us were bitten or scratched. Brittany glared. Jones looked solemn. And Charley smirked like the asshole he was. One day I’m going to kill him.

  Chapter Eighteen