Zombie Zora

by R. G. Richards

  I thought on what Brittany had said earlier about living life with reckless abandon. Perhaps, she chose tonight to let me know and fully commit. Perhaps, she chose long ago.

  I sat and zoned out. I thought of Thompson and how I felt about him and then I took an honest look at Charley. I tried to be scientific and stack the good and the bad and admit to painful truths. I liked Thompson and I liked how I felt when he touched me. He made me feel special and I liked it. I think I fought for his memory for those reasons.

  Taking a rational look at Charley, I will admit he is attractive and tall. His chest was a sculpture, a dream come true, and his blue eyes were dazzling. I didn’t know if feelings for him betrayed feelings for Thompson. I refused to consider or delve deeper into my psyche. I was content to only skim the surface and admit I liked the man.

  The last thing to do was to think about tomorrow and what if we died making our way to the camp. How did I want to die? What did I want to be my last thought? What would be my last perfect memory before dying? I had already come up with the answer. Brittany’s soft sigh reinforced it for me. For the rest of the night, Zora was dead. It was the only way I could think of to make the change. Tonight, I will live in the moment and tomorrow would take care of itself.

  I got to my feet and walked to the closet. Inside, I found Charley lying on the floor on a pile of clothes. The closet was big and spacious, the size of the smallest bedroom in the house. He turned and looked at me. I read his apology in his face and smiled. Charley returned my smile. I pulled my shirt over my head and closed the door. To my surprise, the door creaked open a bit and candlelight flickered in the room. I gazed into his eyes and found something there I hadn’t expected to find. I lay on top of him and I kissed him. I shut out the world, forgot all my hang-ups, and I lived in the moment. Thompson, I’m dancing.

  Chapter 19

  Someone kicked my foot. “Hey!” I opened my eyes to bright sunlight. I lie at the bottom of a pile of clothes on Charley, I slept on his chest. When my eyes focused, Brittany and Jones were standing in the door with wide grins plastered beneath their lying faces.

  “We don’t talk about the night,” said Jones.

  “Get up for breakfast,” beamed Brittany, “we leave in an hour, so don’t waste our precious time.”

  “What?”

  Jones reached down and grabbed Charley. “Come on buddy, we have to check our perimeter and make plans.” Jones pulled Charley away from me and they left the room together. I lie on the floor, looking at Brittany’s smirk-filled face. Was she delighted to have seen a naked Charley go by? Had Jones been delighted at seeing my unvarnished backside? I looked at her again. Was she delighted her scheme had worked?

  “What is going on?”

  “It’s almost noon. We are going to eat and hit the road. I told Jones to get Charley so there wouldn’t be any awkward small talk.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So?”

  “So?”

  Brittany looked disappointed with me. She reached down and held up my bag. Tossing it to me, she said, “get dressed, today is the day.” With that, she turned and left. Zora was back and Brittany didn’t like her.

  I quickly dressed and ran to the window for a look. Zombies left during the night and only a handful remained, aimlessly walking up and down the street. At the table, Brittany had our meal ready to go. She watched me come to the table and I read her expression easily enough. I ignored it.

  “What’s for breakfast?”

  First a look, then a head shaking, her only retort. “Sardines and crackers for the journey.”

  Brittany hadn’t opened any of the tins and chewed on a cracker while she stared out into space. I needed to kill time so I took a moment to read the label on my can of sardines, checking its caloric chart. It amused me and made me think of when it was that I last performed such a check. If nothing else, zombies were women’s natural diet partner. No woman in her right mind wonders how fat she is anymore, except in terms of how fast she can run away from flesh-eating monsters. Body image issues are a thing of the past, good riddance.

  Jones and Charley came back from their perimeter check and joined us at the table. Naturally, Charley sat next to me and Jones next to Brittany. Charley said a quick prayer for our safety and we began to eat.

  I cautiously observed them all while trying to figure out my place in Charley’s life. I don’t mean to say I was planning on a white house with picket fence and the standard two kids with dogs. It was more like: What do I say to him? Do I thank him? Do I pretend it never happened? Do I not talk about it? Does he want me to? He sat next to me, is that significant? I never read men my whole short life and other than Charley, I had a boyfriend for approximately three days——long enough for him to get the goods and get out of Dodge. Yes, that’s me, no-experience Zora.

  Before the end came, I had met a nice guy. We dated off and on for three months without a deep commitment. He never made a move on me and I liked him for it, however it did make me wonder if he maybe had a little sugar in his tank. That’s my mom’s way of putting it; she hated saying the words, gay or homosexual. It doesn’t matter now. Zombies ate him as he came through the door to rescue me. He was simple and expressed his feelings. Charley, on the other hand, said very little.

  Perhaps his being next to me, it could be his words, couldn’t it? I decided I would not push it and keep silent. We kept silent and ate. After breakfast, Jones placed a map on the table. “We’re here and this is where we need to go.”

  “Are we going by road?”

  “No.” Jones pointed away from the road. “We have encountered zombies near the road at every turn. We will cut across the fields and travel away from them. It will take longer, but may be a safer route. Look guys, if one of us doesn’t make it, the rest have to continue and make it to safety. If we run into zombies and one of us is surrounded, the rest do not help, we keep moving. Do you understand?”

  We looked at one another. We understood, but didn’t want to say it or promise it.

  “If I’m surrounded and can’t get away,” said Brittany, “I don’t want to be eaten or turned. I want all of you to promise me right now you won’t let it happen. Promise me you will shoot me and spare me the horror.”

  “Britt?”

  “Promise me, Zee.”

  “I promise.”

  “And you, Charley.”

  Charley looked sad, but reluctantly agreed. “I promise.”

  Brittany turned to the man beside her, saving him for last.” Jones?”

  Jones grinned. “You don’t have to ask, I’ll gladly put a hole in your head.”

  “Make it count,” she smirked, “right between the eyes.”

  “No doubt,” said Jones. He looked longingly into her eyes and caressed the back of her hand for a brief second.

  “Are you expecting zombies?” I asked more to break up the uncomfortable moment than for a reply. They were making me sick. I could throw caution to the wind for a moment only; embarrassment embedded itself into my core being and would require an exorcism for removal.

  “Don and Ruthie were not on the road,” said Jones.

  Remembering Thompson’s words, I blurted, “the zombies we find in the country will be stronger and take longer to take down. That will increase our chances of someone getting hurt. Wouldn’t it be better to stick closer to the roads?”

  “How is that better?” he asked.

  “The city zombies will be easier to kill than the country zombies.”

  “What?” asked Brittany, unaware of the new term I coined.

  “The newest zombies will be in the country. They will be stronger and take longer to kill because they have recently turned. I would rather fight a dozen weak ones than one strong one. There is a greater chance of us getting killed with the country zombies and I don’t know about you, but I got somewhere I need to be.”

  Jones’ face soured. I saw the blood rushing to his face, once again regret filled me. I had a bad habit of
challenging my commanding officer. Back at camp, it was cute, here in the real world, it wasn’t. His fist clenched, closing around the map. I hoped the others were looking elsewhere and didn’t see what I saw. When he spoke, I knew it would be sharp and edgy.

  He swallowed hard. “Baker, follow orders and let me worry about our route.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That’s the army, follow orders, good or bad. I wish I can remember how that story went about the soldiers who marched to their death, that’s how I feel. We packed and gathered by the front door to make our escape.

  We discarded the contents of one of the duffel bags and Jones stuffed it with small pillows from around the house. It was odd. I wanted to ask about them, I couldn’t, I had reached my daily allotment for challenges. I told myself he is our leader and he knows best. Jones was good and so far, our lives were safe in his hands. Now was not the time for a mutiny. Besides, the one lesson I learned from him was to look at the big picture, he always did.

  Jones left first, followed by Brittany, Charley, and once again I guarded our rear. This time I would be sure to shut the door in case we needed to retreat. I kicked myself. Zombies aren’t intelligent and can’t read. If I had been thinking, I would have left a note on the door alerting anyone who passed by that the house was a safe zone. Literally a safe zone, I had never felt safer than in this place. Instead of a note, I shut the door, checked it, and then blew it a kiss as I hurried to catch my team.

  Jones led us along a similar route as the last and I glanced at the burned houses, their embers still aglow. Over the rise we went. So far, the stray zombies we saw were moving opposite us and we stayed behind buildings until they passed. We came to a small hill and at the top, saw a small shack in the distance.

  The others made their way to it while I defended our six. Jones whistled to me. I journeyed to the shack. They hadn’t gone in, they lay flat on the ground, looking ahead. Below us, zombies were rummaging around an overturned truck, I counted six of them. I checked our left and right, no other zombies were present. I lay on the ground and low crawled to my team.

  Charley looked at them through Jones’ binoculars. Something delighted him, he chuckled lightly to himself.

  “What?”

  “That truck might run,” said Charley. “There is no lower carriage damage. Maybe zombies flipped it over to get at the people.”

  “Batons only,” said Jones. “We take them out and take a look. It’s worth it if we can get the truck running. Baker, you stay with our bags and watch our six.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Follow orders and watch our six.”

  Venom filled his words. The sweet lovable friend left with the morning meal. I should have known. It was my fault as usual. I needed to learn the core lesson, the number one lesson a soldier must learn: never question your superior. I lay the fault at the army’s feet, they knew what they were getting when I signed up. Jones didn’t have to be mean about it.

  I watched them perform a move I had seen many times. With batons high, they began their descent to the truck. Brittany was last to leave. She turned and without words, smiled at me. Her magical smile was like the sun falling on a darkened land, it warmed me throughout. A second look at my crawling friend revealed a curiosity; she didn’t crawl with a baton. Instead, she moved along the ground with her zombie crushing lead pipe.

  The truck was half a mile away, tilted on its side in what looked like a ravine. Together they crept to the truck and in a furry, beat the zombies to death. I saw Charley go around the front and fear welled in me. I was concerned with his safety. The emotion took me by surprise and I could only connect it with last night’s activities. I couldn’t be concerned about this man, I had plans and he wasn’t part of them.

  I kicked myself for getting involved in the first place. Why did I ever listen to Brittany and Thompson? I was the only person who had my best interests at heart. I couldn’t afford distractions and would never call it by any other name than that. Distractions were dangerous and if not nipped in the bud, could get you killed.

  Then it came. From behind me a soft groaning sound filtered down to me. There was no time to cringe, no time for fear. I turned as a zombie was bending toward me, mouth fully open and salivating. I kicked up as hard as I could, knocking the zombie back. A quick check of its eyes revealed a small red ring around the outer edge of his eyeball. He was new, a country zombie. I had been right all along. Jones should have listened to me.

  For a split second, I was distracted by my gloating. I had already planned the victory speech I would deliver to Jones, face to face. The zombie came at me again and I scrambled to get to my feet. Fighting wasn’t what I wanted to do. I preferred a bullet through the head from a distance away.

  I stood defenseless, unable to get to my pack and a weapon. Unable to get to any of the packs standing behind the zombie. I lunged at it. The strategy had worked in the past, why change now? Careful not to fall into its clutches, I pushed it backward while gripping its arms. As it howled and fell backward, I managed to stay upright and readied for my next assault. With the zombie on the ground, I reared back and kicked as hard as I could. My boot went through its skull in one try. The difficult part was extricating my foot from the mess of its head.

  I should have turned my head and not looked, I didn’t. Green slime covered my boot. More tapioca styled, green-tinted, zombie brains made my boot a heavy, stinky mess. It smelled like a cesspool. I shook it off as fast as I could. The sight and smell equally made me sick to my stomach. If not for my friends being in mortal danger, I would have fallen to the ground, vomiting.

  There was no time to think about poor little me. I scanned the area for more zombies, I saw none. He must have been a stray. I hurried to my bag and pulled out my sawed-off shotgun. I cocked it. I would be ready for the next one and blow its head clean off its shoulders. Any part of it that remained would get my steel-toed combat boots.

  A whistle let me know Jones was calling. I looked to him and he waved me down. Brittany was coming toward me, I waited for her.

  “I’ll help you take the bags down,” she said.

  “What are we, a butler service?”

  “You and me both, it’s the army.”

  “Yeah, more like this man’s army.”

  We chuckled and moved toward the others. Before I could stop them, strange words flew out of my mouth. “How’s Charley?”

  Brittany waited a moment to answer. Did she know she was torturing me? “He went to check the battery. If it’s good, we will turn the truck back over.”

  I wanted to thank her for not teasing me. I was having trouble defining what Charley and I were.

  Brittany stopped and gave me a surprised look. “What’s on your boot?” she looked behind us and searched for a moment. In her face I saw recognition. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  It took a moment for her to pose the next question. “Did it bite or scratch you?”

  “No, and I will be happy to submit to a test. We are going to have to do it by nightfall anyway.”

  Without another word, Brittany marched on. She tried to stay a step ahead of me. I met her challenge and stayed with her. Then I saw it, I saw her expression from the side of her face. She was worried about me. It was more than worry, the lines running across her forehead were thought lines. I wondered if she was planning my funeral, or better yet, was she planning my execution. We made the pledge to take out one another, would she stick to the pack?

  “Britt?”

  Brittany stopped. She wouldn’t turn and face me so I walked in front of her to meet her face to face. “I’m fine, I swear. The zombie never laid a hand on me and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Don’t tell them. It’s hurting you and I don’t want them hurt as well. Promise me you want say anything.”

  “Whatever.”

  Brittany sped up this time and reached the truck before I could say another word.
She carried three bags and managed a sprint athletes would find envious.

  “Charley, does it work?” Brittany blurted.

  He and Jones had been in deep conversation. “No.”

  “Looks like we are going to have to hoof-it,” said Jones.

  “What about the inside? Did anyone check for anything useful?”

  “Nothing worth taking,” said Jones. “Not here or in the shack. Let’s move out.”

  We began walking again. We were moving away from the road, keeping an eye on it to our left. Our way remained clear for the next hour. We were going deeper and deeper into the country and fears crept up in me. This was dangerous. These country zombies would be strong and the goal was to kill them without weapons. It made me question why we went to the police station in the first place. Guns were our friend, not the enemy. My M16 was my best friend, faithful for life.

  Up ahead, trouble. We saw a small camper RV with a small truck next to it. I would have preferred we kept going; they made a b-line toward it.

  They stopped behind trees and waited for me to catch up. Four zombies acted as a guard for the property. They moved as a unit back and forth in front of the camper. Something seemed odd about the little group, their different sizes and heights, and their movements sent up a red flag. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I needed to get closer to them to figure it out.

  “Baker?”

  I hid behind a tree I felt large enough to hide me. The others had done the same and now my leader called. I stuck my head out; thank god zombies didn’t shoot guns. “Sir?”

  He waved me to him. It must have been a universal signal because we came as a group to him.

  “Baker,” whispered Jones. “Let’s test your skill.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My response, automatic, beaten into me by my comrades. I watched as he opened the duffel he packed the pillows inside. He held up a small one with the picture of the sun on it. The pillow was light green and showed a fiery sun radiating out to the world. I looked at him with confusion. He smiled.