Zombie Zora

by R. G. Richards

  We didn’t have a knife or cut our fingers or anything like that, but we became blood brothers, we bonded for life. Our tears were our blood. We got out of the water to grab something to eat. I felt better after our cry and can only imagine that she did as well. We didn’t talk at all. We dressed and quietly made our way back to the others. I for one, felt embarrassed. I never made eye contact with her, but I was there for her one hundred percent.

  “It’s about time,” said Jones. He was coming toward us. “I thought maybe you fell in.” I knew his infamous wink came next. I braced for it, and like clockwork, there it was.

  “We obviously have more to clean,” said Brittany. “Judging by your size, I’ll keep a seat warm for ya.”

  “Yeah,” I joined in. “Two and half minutes oughta do it, little soldier.”

  We chuckled

  Jones laughed. “Watch your mouth, I’m still in charge of you dickwads.”

  We stood at attention and saluted as he went by. “Aye, aye, Captain.” Brittany threw him a bar of soap and then we went to the picnic table they setup for our breakfast.

  “Hey, Thompson,” I said. I thought I should try to be nicer. Maybe I was wrong about his involvement. I was a sucker for second chances.

  “Hey, Baker, Dushell. How are you ladies doing on this fine day?” his grin was borderline sinister.

  “Still alive,” said Brittany.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Thompson was something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. He gave me the creeps. Not on a sexual basis, the way guys would leer and try to look down your shirt and then pretend they weren’t when you caught them in the act. No, it was something else that ate at me. Playing the nice card didn’t help, not one bit. It would take time, but I would find answers, eventually.

  Brittany and I sat together and ate. We couldn’t have privacy, Thompson leered. I kicked Brittany under the table and she kicked me back. I wanted her to ask him to stop it, she was bolder than I. I’ve seen her subtlety hit guys like a brick wall.

  Without her backing, I decided to eat quickly. Perhaps we could make an early start and get closer to Simon.

  True to form, Jones came back in roughly ten minutes. We had finished our breakfast of fried SPAM and green beans and occupied ourselves with lady tasks. Brittany raked through my stringy, wet, brown hair and braided it for me. I looked forward to tackling those beautiful blond locks of hers.

  I followed the manual and packed the essentials. Brittany skimped on them to have room for a hairbrush, comb, and two packs of rubber bands and ties. From here on out, we will coordinate. I doubt if the guys did the same, they were weary of each other. Before Jones came back, Thompson sat and blatantly stared while we groomed ourselves. Now that Jones was here, he moved off and I saw him watching us less. It gave me a small chill to see him put his hand near his groin and rub. Thank god for Jones.

  We took a little longer on our hair, then joined Jones to plan our next move. Jones held a map. He looked around and then rolled his eyes.

  “Thompson,” shouted Jones, “get over here.” Jones had a state map of Missouri and had drawn with a red marker our route. “All right, folks. Our destination is a small town in northern Arkansas named Cherokee Village. We won’t be in the town; our camp is on the outskirts, to the west.”

  “Is that Camp Brandt?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s where they took my brother, right?”

  “Yeah, Baker. That’s where they took him. When we get there, we will be part of a collaborative force. I don’t know if we will stay together after that. My guess is that we will all get new leaders and new assignments. I hate new team members. I will try to keep us together, but I don’t know what is going to happen when we get there.”

  “Where are we?” Brittany asked.

  Jones pointed on the map. “We are outside Mark Twain National Forest. That’s not saying much, seeing is how I count seven of them on this map. What a crazy state. My best guess, considering the road . . . well, I say we are here.”

  “Siloam Springs?” I read the name he pointed to.

  Jones consulted his compass for a moment. “Yeah. We go east to US 60/63 and follow it south. I want to-”

  “Wait,” Brittany interrupted. She pointed further down on the map. “Let’s make a major stop here, in West Plains. I know the area. They have one of those super Walmarts there. A lot of the area should be empty, too.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “They evacuated to the west coast, before you joined.”

  “That’s right,” said Thompson. His validation of my friend meant nothing.

  “Zombies are everywhere,” I said. “They couldn’t have gotten all the people out. I know from experience, when they call for evacuations, not all the people believe it and leave. How many zombies can we expect to find?”

  Jones sighed. “We will stay close to the road, but not on it. If we avoid population centers, we lower our risk. We will stop there if we can and then we cross into Arkansas and find our camp. It’s a lot of miles for us to walk. Personally, I’m counting on finding a car with gas.”

  “You and me both,” I added. I looked at the distance trying to calculate it in my head. “Is that thirty miles?”

  “No,” said Jones. “That’s thirty minutes, if we had a car. We are going to veer off and cut across here. By car, it’s around twenty miles. By foot, it may be well over an hour or more, depending on what blocks our path.”

  Jones folded his map and put it in his pocket. I was wearing jeans and a thick long sleeve shirt. I admired his uniform at that moment. I could use places to put stuff and had very few. My blue jeans only had back pockets. If I found anything useful along the way, I could stuff it in my army boots. They were the only other thing besides my tags, that proved I was US property, that and my M16.

  “Let’s move out.” Barked Jones.

  We threw our bags over our shoulders and sat out on our journey. South was the direction of travel for our small party. I had no sense of direction, as far as I could tell, neither did the others. We hadn’t taken ten steps before stopping and waiting for Jones to allow his trusty compass to guide us to the Promised Land.

  Staying in the trees was not difficult, they were everywhere. We meandered along and only lost sight of the road twice before stopping for a break. We sat in a clearing and polished off the last of the SPAM.

  We were gambling that we could make it to town and find more of the tasty treats, perhaps other meats as well. I was longing for salmon or tuna. I had gotten my hopes up that they would catch some fish. The pond was empty. Jones said it must have been in the process of being transformed into a hatchery.

  The plan was to walk until midday. After lunch, we would travel more and rest near West Plains. Obstacles lay in our path and we adjusted our route three times before making it one third of the way to our destination. We wanted full sunlight to ravage the place when we got there. Plus, we needed to be at full strength for the zombies. As we got ready to continue walking, a shot rang out, then another.

  We moved instantly. Someone, a human was in trouble. We left our route and turned west into the direction of the shots. Louder and louder the zombie growls became. We ran through an open field with no time to enjoy the feel of the grass beneath us. Running barefoot through grass was one of my best idiosyncrasies. But there was no time for it, I ran like the rest, dropping my pack to move faster.

  Through a clearing and then through more trees, we made it. We ran smack into the thing we chased, zombies. They were old and moving slow, circling. It didn’t matter because they had the numbers on their side.

  In the middle were three people. A woman had a metal baseball bat, dripping with green slime. Another woman had a hammer in each hand. A man carried the only weapon, a nine millimeter. Four dead zombies lay at their feet.

  We stopped to appraise the situation. The zombies were not charging, something was wrong. They instead went around them in a slow circle.
One ventured forward and the woman with the bat ran at it and whacked it. Its head went flying and the rest of its body fell. Green goo came out of it, some flying and landing on zombies, the rest oozing into the soil where it lay.

  Another zombie attacked. The woman with hammers acted. She went up side its head with both hammers. The exploding head sprayed her with green blood.

  Several advanced. The man aimed and they fell. But what I feared would happen, happened. The man was out of ammunition and somehow they knew it. Every zombie advanced.

  The small group went wild, yelling and hitting.

  “Thompson, Brittany, get in there,” shouted Jones.

  Thompson and Brittany ran in. They had no bullets, so they swung empty guns. I took a knee beside Jones and we aimed and fired. “Protect our group first,” shouted Jones.

  “Right,” I shouted. I looked for Brittany. She bashed them left and right. One came behind her and I fired. Its brains exploded. She had a second to react before slamming her already bent rifle onto another zombie’s skull. She waved and went back to work.

  I turned to Thompson. He stabbed one in the heart, how stupid can he be? I shot it in the head, hoping he would get the idea. My god, he is supposed to be a smart scientist.

  I heard screams from a woman. The one with the two hammers was dragged off. A large gaping wound was on the side of her neck. She was wildly twisting as two of the zombies had a leg each, dragging her to her doom. They stopped and one of the zombies bit into one of her legs. It was too late, her eyes looked toward me with a distant look in them. I shot her between those sad eyes for mercy’s sake. I could only get one of the two dragging her. The last pulled her body behind trees, no doubt feasting.

  “Aww!” shouted Jones. He ran into the mix with his weapon over his head as if it were a club. Damn, he was out of ammo.

  I wanted to check my magazine. I decided against it. I would protect my team from imminent threat from my position for as long as I could. I checked my scope. I found Brittany, she was giving them hell, good girl. I found Thompson. A zombie advanced on him and like an idiot, he tripped backward and fell. I took aim and waited, waited, waited. As the zombie had his mouth open, diving for dinner, I gave it a gaping hole in its head. I bet he didn’t see that one coming. I looked at the fool again, he looked at me wearing this big grin plastered across his bloody face. “Get up you fool! I’ll be damn if I waste another bullet on you!”

  I got a chance to protect my team with two more rounds, then I heard an empty click. I was out.

  Chapter 6

  I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t think. I ran with a yell loud enough to wake the dead. Like Jones, my bat was over my head, primed and ready. Into the fray I went. I joined Brittany and swung as hard as I could. The zombie I hit was young looking, that is, the person it used to be was young looking. Its head cracked open with my first blow. It howled at me from the ground, I smashed it again to finish it.

  Brittany protected the lone woman. The man screamed her name, Ruth. I went to help clear his way from the three zombies blocking it. I kicked the first as hard as I could in the back of the leg to knock it down, it was tall. I shrieked and let the ax fall, splitting its head open. The man was punching a zombie, so I clubbed the other. I hit it like the last and kicked the remaining one before the man punched his fist all the way through its head.

  “Oh, gross.” I was good until that moment. Watching the man bring his hand back out of the zombie’s skull was unreal. Green slime covered his fist with bits of what looked like tapioca pudding. Gross.

  We got them.

  I took a moment to look at the busted skull of the zombie. I wasn’t alone, Thompson saddled up beside me. He picked up a twig, poked around in the skull, then grasped it with his hands.

  “It’s thinner than it should be. That’s a good sign.” Thompson said.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “They are dying, not the newly made, but the older zombies that have been around for a while. We thought it was part of a strategy.” He wiped his hand, then ran it through his thinning hair.

  “What strategy.” I pressed.

  He shook his head. “I’m gonna have to think on it. I know it’s important though.”

  “All right,” said Jones. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait,” the woman said. “Don?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry, Ruthie. We led the zombies away from her daughter, Katy. She’s back that way, hiding in a tree house.” He pointed west.

  “Sorry,” said Jones. “We were happy to lend a hand, but we are going in the opposite direction.”

  “Matt!” Brittany yelled. I was just as shocked as she.

  “We can’t go off target, Dushell. We are out of ammo.”

  “How far is it?” I asked.

  “Baker!” Jones growled.

  I ignored him and looked to the stranger. “How far?”

  He extended a hand to me. “I’m Don Sparkson, by the way. This is my neighbor, Ruthie Graham.”

  “Nice to meet you. How far?”

  “About a mile from here. We were walking near the road, headed north, when we saw them. We were able to spot the tree house and get Katy in it, before they were aware of us. There wasn’t enough room for us, so we thought we could outrun them and circle back to get her. It didn’t work out the way we wanted.”

  “I’ll go,” I said. Jones' face fell, I knew it would. For the first time in a long while, we were on opposite sides.

  “Me, too.” Brittany said. I loved her and was grateful she backed me, but it meant she was choosing me over Jones.

  “Go on,” said Jones. It showed in his face, he was ticked off. “We are not the ‘do good society’ we’re the army. You’re going to die for no good reason.” He was probably right.

  “We’re still human, Jones. Let’s not forget that.” I countered.

  Brittany and I watched the others turn to leave, namely Jones and Thompson, while we prepared to do a good deed. Don led the way and we followed.

  “Thank you so much,” Ruthie repeated a number of times.

  I thought about Jones so much that I didn’t acknowledge her pleas of gratitude. Maybe that’s why she thanked us so many times. Brittany walked beside me and brushed her arm against mine. She smiled at me to reassure me. It didn’t work. She knew very well what we had done.

  As we walked, I shook as much zombie blood off my hands as I could. I could never get it all. Still, with determination, I shook my hands relentlessly. I would have stopped if Brittany hadn’t been doing the same.

  We came to a group of trees. Several meters into them, Don pointed to the small tree house. My god, it was small. There was no way Ruthie could have gotten in with her daughter. I know it must have killed her, to leave Katy there and run. I have no kids, but I know from personal experience, it has to take a lot of love for a mother to walk away. Ruthie walked away and knew she may never see her baby again.

  It pained me. Simon flashed across my mind and I quickly shut him out. Not now!

  “Katy! Katy!” Ruthie walked around the tree house, looking up for a response.

  “Give her the code,” said Don.

  Ruthie stopped marching around the base of the tree. “Cinderella will always twirl.” She shouted upward.

  The little door opened. A little head poked out. Her hair was long and stringy, like her mother’s hair. Red, wild, and unmanageable. She craned her neck down and I saw her dirty face, my heart leaped. It was as if we had a chance to win after all. If we kept in mind what we were fighting for, we couldn’t lose.

  “Cinderella doesn’t twirl,” the tiny voice said back.

  Ruthie’s face filled with tears and she held out her hands. “She does in my world. Come here, baby.”

  The little house had a porch. The girl crawled out onto it and looked down at us.

  “They are okay, Katy.” Don reassured her. “We found them up ahead. There are two more of them that we have to catch.”

  She
looked at us cautiously. “Where’s Ann?”

  Don held out his hands. “Jump down, I will catch you.”

  “Where’s Ann?” she repeated, growing concerned.

  “Jump,” said Don.

  The little girl crawled and kind of fell forward. The tree house looked to be fifteen or more feet off the ground and with no limbs to climb, I can only assume they had used a ladder to get her up there.

  Don caught her and handed her to her mother. She latched around Ruthie’s neck immediately. I waved at her from behind Ruthie’s back, she half smiled at me. Smart girl, don’t trust strangers.

  “Hi, I’m Zora. My friends call me, Zee. Who are you?”

  “I’m Katy.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Katy.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Hey, I’m Brittany.”

  “Hey, I’m Katy.”

  “Well, it’s good to meet you, Katy. It’s been a long time since I met someone your age.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We better catch the others, before Jones gets too far ahead.” I suggested.

  “We are ready,” said Don.

  “Let’s go.”

  Brittany led us back. She was out in front and instinctively I slowed to fall to the rear. Directly in front of me was Don and ahead of him, Ruthie carrying Katy. We walked at a quick pace back the way we came. Up ahead was the area of fighting, littered with dozens of dead zombies. I stopped. I heard something. A low zombie growl, no, it was much worse.

  I veered from our path, the others hadn’t heard it and if I were wrong, there would be no need to alarm them. I decided to check it out on my own. With my gun out in front of me, I crept toward it, while keeping an eye on the others ahead of me. I left the open space while they meandered through the corpses. I noticed Katy clinging tighter to her mother’s neck, her face buried in her mother’s hair. I crept toward the outer trees listening to the sound getting louder.

  If I didn’t know better, I would say it was some type of pleasure sound. When I found it, I was right. I saw the zombie who dragged the woman off, the one who had the hammers, Ann. It munched on her, loudly, making what sounded like voracious feasting sounds as it tore pieces of her flesh off.