Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie

by Verstraete, CA

  “You okay?” I asked my cousin, noting the uneasiness on her face.

  She tried to act brave and gave a sappy grin, making a show of holding her gun at the ready. (I wasn’t fooled.) “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Really. I’d hoped we were done for today.”

  “Don’t we wish,” I yelled.

  The things surged forward. The air filled with screeches when someone hit one of the shuffling targets. Flesh split as the pellets from Carm’s gun or mine found their mark. Carm grimaced, but to her credit, kept shooting. I wrinkled my nose, almost wishing my sense of smell would disappear again, at least while we were doing this.

  On a whim, I grabbed the paintball gun and shot at a slower Z. To my surprise, the thing began to shriek and writhe after the ball hit. It fell a minute later, the chemical eating through its rotted skin, leaving a paint-ringed hole. Maybe the stuff still worked sometimes? Not enough, though. In horror, I watched the thing struggle to its knees. It flopped over after Gabe took a final shot and threw me a puzzled look.

  An old lady Z in a ratty housecoat, the puffs of hair left on half of her head still sporting pink curlers, her mouth ringed with blood like she’d missed while applying her lipstick, limped toward us from the opposite direction.

  She stumbled along, taking mincing steps in dirty pink slippers. A small plastic handbag dangled from a chain around her arm. I watched her progress, unable to shake the thought of somebody’s grandma heading to a tea party before she went missing.

  Carm’s poke at my arm barely registered, my focus solely on Grandma Z shuffling along. “Bec? You good?” my cousin asked.

  I shook my head, but didn’t trust myself to answer. My eyes blurred and got a little moist. I’d never expected this sudden stab of emotion. Up until now the Zs hadn’t bothered me, but this little old lady was different. She could’ve been anybody’s charming little grandma who unfortunately had somehow become infected.

  I couldn’t do it. Not this time.

  As if she sensed my hesitation, Grandma Z gave another little growl and reached for me with chubby hands, her fingers pocked with rot, bits of bone sticking out. I stared at her and screamed when Carm pushed me aside. “Bec, watch out!”

  Carm pumped her gun, the paintballs hitting the senior Z full in the face. She made mewing sounds like a baby and grabbed at her dripping flesh.

  It was too much for me. I averted my gaze. The sight of her agony and the reality of her body falling to pieces bothered me like it never had before.

  My anger churning, I scrambled to my feet. With a scream, I sprayed the oncoming Zs with a stream of pellets, followed by the paintballs. The creatures shrieked and fell in a gory, disgusting mass of decay and despair.

  “Hey, Bec, cool!” Jimmy called out. “Got any more of those around?”

  I turned and met his gaze, my face set, eyes angry. Without thinking, I aimed the gun in his direction. A second later, another Z entered my line of vision. The shock on Jimmy’s face jolted me out of my trance. I yelled and waved him aside at the same time. “Jimmy, move-MOVE! Look out!” Almost in slow motion I watched the thing fall down, a hole appearing in its forehead, as I pulled the trigger.

  Time seemed to stand still in those precious few seconds he stood in the way. I finally let out a breath of relief as Goth Girl pushed him aside at the last minute.

  Jimmy glared and sputtered in anger as he got up off the ground. “What the—? What were you trying to do, Bec, huh? What were you thinking?”

  “Yeah, what were you trying to do?” Goth Girl screamed and swore at me. “What’s wrong with you? You’re so jealous, so now you try to kill us?”

  Gabe jumped in and shielded me from Zoey’s angry threats while I stood stunned, unable to move, unable to answer.

  My mind tried to process what had happened, what I’d almost done. I was drained, unable to accept I’d almost killed a person who wasn’t a full Z, but someone like me.

  The battle wound down, with all the Zs truly dead and no new ones in sight. I remained almost catatonic, giving no response to Zoey’s continued curses and threats.

  Jimmy’s rants didn’t rouse me, either, as he stomped to the house and came back a few minutes later with his and Zoey’s bags.

  I stared at the back of Jimmy’s car with sad eyes when he and Goth Girl took off although part of me wanted to dance a jig. Maybe I’d feel better when I got over this horrible feeling and tried to figure out how to cope with what I was turning into.

  I was dangerous.

  Maybe I needed to piss Carm off, get her good and mad so she’d stay away from me. The idea only escalated my feelings of worthlessness.

  Our host’s yells cut my brooding short. “Why are all you standin’ around when there’s work to be done? Never mind them. Glad to see ’em go. More trouble I don’t need. You boys come ’n help me get these bodies in the fire before the other ones get here. I don’t aim on havin’ these things lying around here stinkin’ all night.”

  His yells and Carm’s sharp poke in the ribs snapped me out of my stupor. “You sleepin?” he asked. “You two take their stuff upstairs. They can use the room next to mine.”

  Before he went to work, Jesse handed us a few bags and said he’d get the bigger stuff, later if they needed it. Gabe threw a wink my way and flexed his muscles as he went to help. “You and me need to talk. I have something to tell you.”

  I bet you do.

  I shook my head, trying not to show too much interest, and picked up another bag. No reason to encourage him. I already knew it simply couldn’t—wouldn’t—work.

  Still, Carm was right, he was really good-looking—which would make it much harder for me to keep ignoring him.

  Chapter Twenty

  The bags inside and the bonfires smoking outside, the guys came in, everyone marching on Mr. Jensen’s orders to the back room where they changed out of their smelly clothes and washed off the grime.

  Mr. Jensen came back to the kitchen mumbling about his house turning into a hotel before he went to watch TV with a parting shot about some food in the fridge. “Thank God only half of you are eatin’,” he griped, and grabbed a bag of potato chips on the way out.

  After our laughter, the room quieted as we got acquainted, or in Carm’s case, reacquainted. She soon was whispering with Jesse, leaving me to cope with Gabe.

  He gave me a conspiratorial glance. “Want to hear one of my jokes?”

  My disinterest didn’t stop him.

  “Okay, here’s one for you—what do you call a girl on a date who doesn’t want to eat?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

  I shrugged.

  “A zombie.” He laughed. “C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t think that’s funny? Hey, I’m just trying to lighten things up. I’ve got plenty more, want to hear?”

  “Cute, but I don’t think being like this,” I pointed to myself, “is funny. Not at all.” He motioned at me and leaned in to whisper. His minty breath hit the side of my face. “It is what it is, you know? We have to make the best of it. I wouldn’t worry about it, there’s nothing that’ll make you look bad. Nothin’ at all.” He winked. “Hey, anything you need, I’ll be glad to help. Any way I can.”

  I got up and shoved in my chair. “Carm? I’ll be in our room. We need more ammo stuff.”

  From what I could see, Gabe was closer to “normal” than me. No weird gait, no straying eye, no dark spots and splotchy skin. His complexion had a nice even tone. Okay, he had a tint like a dusky tan with a little ash mixed in, but he pretty much resembled any other guy, well, before the virus anyway. Even better. Funny how most of the guys I’d seen at school hadn’t fared well after being infected. On the surface, Gabe was one of the lucky ones, kind of, if you considered being part Z lucky.

  Taking a quick peek in the mirror, I played with my Rapunzelish locks, which were still full, but I expected would need trimming soon if I kept losing hair strands like I had. The makeup evened out my skin tone and most of the time, like now at least, I didn’t ha
ve to worry about my eyes.

  Oh, who was I kidding? What in the world would he see in me, especially with my bad attitude these days? He’d be better off with some “normal” girl, someone unlike me.

  Disgusted, I threw myself on the bed. I jumped when the sound of shotgun blasts and whoops from the guys down the hall drifted my way.

  A minute later, my cousin came in and plopped herself on the bed next to me. “So, is this a private pity party or is anyone invited?”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the wall. “What do you have to feel bad about? It looks like you and Jesse are hitting it off.”

  “Hmm, yeah, we’re good, but what about Gabe? You know, he likes you.”

  I squirmed a little and tried to change the subject. “He’s okay. Carm, I can’t deal with him right now. What’ll happen when our moms get here?”

  She sat up and stared at me. “What? We’ll go home, that’s what. Maybe the guys can stay at my house or yours for a while. Why, what’s going on?”

  I leaped to my feet and began to pace. What happened outside between me and Jimmy wasn’t something I could share with Carm. Not yet, or at least not for a long time. Of course, this wasn’t my only problem, far from it.

  No way I wanted to worry my cousin, but I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. It was driving me crazy.

  “Bec? C’mon tell me. What’s wrong?”

  Letting out a deep breath, I put my foot on the edge of the bed, pulled up my pants leg, and paused. I was just as nervous about unpeeling the square bandage again—afraid to see what had changed since I last took a peek—as I was about showing her. Carm gave me a silent okay to continue, her face much paler than a second ago.

  My fingers trembling, I slowly pulled the edge of the bandage, my fears confirmed by the gasp my cousin made. I’d started with one of those small round bandages and moved up to a regular size. The pad on my leg now was at least an inch square—and the spot beneath it had already spread almost to the outer edges.

  I stared at the raw pink sore, the edges kind of brown and wrinkly, the center an ugly, peeling mass, and glanced at Carm.

  “Oh, Bec, is it…?”

  She left the rest unsaid. No explanation necessary.

  My only answer was a tepid “yeah” as I patted the bandage back in place and pulled down my pants leg. It’s all I could say.

  I wondered how much more it would spread before I began literally rotting and falling apart. A cold chill slithered up my back.

  “You have to get to the doctor. Now. We better tell Mr. Jensen—”

  The cell phone’s blare cut her off. She grabbed it, eyed the screen, and gazed at me, her face white. “It’s my mom’s number. Something must’ve happened.”

  I tried to get her attention as she yelled into the phone. “Carm? What’s wrong? What is it?”

  Finally, she stopped and stared, too stunned to say anything at first. “Bec, I couldn’t hear! I told her to text. She kept repeating, Chicago airport and some motel. Bec, th-they’re not coming!”

  Now it was my turn to panic. “What? Chicago! I can’t drive that far. I’ve never been on the tollway and we’re almost two hours away. I can’t do it!”

  “Cuz, we have to. We have to get there.” My eyebrows arched at her, my annoyance growing. “Why? What’s the rush? What’d my mom say?”

  “I don’t know. Get your stuff. Let’s go.”

  The way she rushed around and started throwing things in the duffel bag got to me. I didn’t want to sound selfish, but she wasn’t thinking of anyone but herself. And why was my mom being so quiet? That really bothered me. A lot.

  “Didn’t you hear me? What if someone gets a close look at me? Stop. This is crazy! We can’t go. I can’t do it!”

  Gabe broke into our argument. “I’ll drive.”

  I glanced at him in the doorway in disbelief. He leaned against the door frame like nothing was wrong. Know-it-all. I couldn’t believe he’d heard us. Talk about embarrassing.

  My voice icy, I asked, “do you always eavesdrop on people?” When he smiled, I couldn’t help but notice how the dimples in his cheeks deepened. Just great.

  He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “Only when they’re yelling so loud we can hear them down the hall. C’mon, you girls’ll need help. You can’t drive in traffic and watch for Z attacks at the same time. This ain’t Wisconsin driving.”

  His smirk made me want to reach out and choke him. Such arrogance.

  I folded my arms in front of me and fumed, not only because of his answer, but because I knew he was right. “Fine. Ask my cousin if she thinks it’s okay.”

  Carm glared at me and shook her head. She returned to putting her stuff away, this time at a slower, neater pace. “Finish your packing and we’ll say goodbye to Mr. Jensen. We better go.”

  Now the old man peeked in the doorway, his face stern. “Nobody’s goin’ just yet. I talked to your mamas, both of them, at least before the phone fizzled. You’d be better off stayin’ here, but they’re havin’ trouble with their car and I can’t go. Best you wait until mornin’ to leave when it’s light.”

  “Did they say where?” I asked, still confused. “Is my mother all right?”

  His face turned serious. “They’re both fine. Stayin’ at the Motel 6 by O’Hare Airport. I’m goin’ to watch TV, so I hope all the caterwaulin’s done. See you in the mornin’.”

  I sat on the bed and watched Carm go talk to Jesse in the hall, glancing away when he leaned in and gave her a kiss. With a sigh, I wondered if this was a good idea, the four of us driving together, Carm and Jesse, me and…

  Gabe cleared his throat, my gaze met his. “Sure you’re okay with this?” he asked. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with me.”

  I shrugged. “No, yes, I mean it’s, sure, it’ll be fine.”

  “Good. We’ll have to be ready. I think it’s worse in the city. More people, more of them. How’s your supply holding up?”

  I shrugged. “We’re low. But I don’t think the stuff really works anymore, well, not all the time.”

  “If it at least stops them, it helps, right? Bring it anyway.”

  My protests over his offer of help went unheard. He picked up the bag, told me to grab the other stuff, and took my hand. I followed after him, still fuming and feeling like a third wheel, as I brought the supplies to the dining room and spread them out on the table. Jesse took a seat and whooped when Gabe stepped into the kitchen and then came back out.

  I burst out laughing. Talk about ridiculous! He was the image of a bad cooking ad dressed in a motorcycle helmet, rubber gloves, and a raincoat, but the extra help did make a difference. Two hours later, the box and bag were filled to the top and we had extras, too.

  The good mood I’d felt with all of us working together faded when my stomach clenched and the first pang hit me. I grunted and gripped the table. “Oh, no. Carm, what’s going on? Why am I feeling like this? How are we going to leave if I get sick again? Carm?”

  She ignored me, simply got up and left the room. A few minutes later she came back, my cooler in one hand, a small blue bag in the other. She motioned to Jesse and set both items on the table.

  “I’m sick of your whining and complaining,” she told me. “You and Gabe should compare notes. Talk. Make it easier on the rest of us. Jesse and I’ll be in the other room.”

  My shock at Carm’s attitude didn’t register with Gabe, who motioned me to pull my chair closer.

  “C’mon, sit next to me.” He flashed a big Cheshire Cat grin. “I don’t bite. Have you been eating enough?”

  With a shrug I did what he asked, curious to see what he’d say. He opened the bag and handed me a small piece of chicken. “You need to eat more, not less.”

  He went on despite my silence and seemingly disinterested shrug. I still didn’t want to encourage him even if he had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Look at me.” His touch was gentle as he reached out and turned my face
slightly so our eyes met. “I saw what happened before between you and Jimmy.”

  This time, I couldn’t hide my reaction. I gasped and glommed onto a spot on the wall, unable to meet his gaze. If I still could blush, my face would’ve been beet red.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” he continued. “How you felt, what you did was normal—for us.”

  Normal? I tried to make sense of it, but came back to the same thing and frowned at him. “How can being so mad and wanting to hurt someone, wanting to kill someone who wasn’t brain-dead like a Z, be normal?” I questioned, my voice hard. “How can you say that?”

  “The doctor or nurses must’ve told you what kind of emotional changes you’d have?” He waited for an answer. When I didn’t say anything he continued, “I know they explained that you’d be scared, then angry and depressed, and finally accept it?”

  Something nagged at the back of my mind. All I could think about was how scared I’d been. I’d put on a brave front, but my insides had been like jelly.

  “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “They talked to me about a lot of things. It was so much to take in. I don’t think I paid attention. All I wanted to do was go home.”

  He gave me a slight smile and held my hand. I tried to pull away but gave up when he gripped my fingers tighter. “They call it the ‘Five Stages of Acceptance.’ It’s like the grieving process. There’s denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I went through it, too. I was so hurt and angry when this happened I wanted to kill someone. When my parents kicked me out, I was in a rage. I went out and dared people to take me out. I beat this one guy up pretty good, put him in the hospital. That’s part of why we had to leave.”

  “Oh,” I whispered, my anger deflated. But I still wasn’t convinced. “Sorry it was so hard for you, but you had more to get mad about than I did. There’s no reason why I acted like that.”

  “Becca, yes, we have to learn to control our anger, it comes in time, but it isn’t all your fault. I know you’re a sweet girl. Trust me.”