What Came After

by Nord, K. C.

  Moose and I were both hot and thirsty, so we stopped at the barn to get a cold drink of water from the pump outside when he started whining and looking inside. I readied my shotgun and cautiously stepped inside the cool darkness. Inside everything seemed to be undisturbed, and the dog was silent at my side, but I noticed that he was looking alertly up at the hayloft.

  I groaned inwardly, looking at the steep stairwell leading up into the hayloft. Heights just weren't my thing, and I can't imagine why a zombie would be up there in the first place, but it would have to be checked out just in case. I was almost to the top when Moose, from his position on the barn floor below, let out a loud howl. Almost immediately afterward, I heard a shuffling noise coming from the loft.

  Moving quickly, I readied my shotgun just in time to fire off a quick shot when the zombie reached the top of the stairs. The body toppled forward, and I tried to duck out of the way, but unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. In the confusion I dropped my shotgun, which discharged another blast when it hit the floor, but, luckily the shot missed Moose, who was still down there, barking his head off. I tried to grab the railing, but lost my balance when the zombie hit me, and ended up falling several feet down the stairs, where I was brought to a painful halt by my long braid catching on a splintered portion on the side of the stairs.

  The pain in my scalp brought tears to my eyes that obscured my vision as I rapidly blinked to clear them. I tried to reach up and free my hair but couldn't quite reach it when a sudden movement at the top of the stairs brought my head up.

  "Oh crap!" I breathed; there was another zombie up there. I reached for my handgun before remembering that it was still back at the house with Lucas. The shotgun was only a few feet away on the barn floor, but it might have been a mile because my braid was caught so tightly I couldn't pull it loose. At this point, the zombie hadn't yet noticed me on the stairs and was instead looking down at Moose, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before it saw me on the stairs.

  Only a few seconds had passed, but time almost seemed to slow down to a crawl as the thoughts flashed through my mind. At most, I had only a few seconds left before I became dinner for that zombie, so I had to move fast. Unobtrusively, I reached down with my right hand and slid my knife from its holster on my leg, and quickly started sawing through the braid.

  It was at that moment that Moose sprang into action. Still barking furiously, he ran up the stairs and planted himself between the zombie and me.

  Completely ignoring the pup who had grabbed onto its pant leg and stubbornly refused to let go. The zombie at the top of the stairs uttered an inhuman shriek and tottered there for a moment, desperately trying to reach me before its pants ripped, and it plunged to the floor. Then seemingly dazed, it sat quietly for a moment, still ignoring Moose, who was now snarling and barking frantically in its face.

  Quickly I dropped to the floor and grabbed my shotgun, automatically firing as I rolled, hitting the now recovered zombie in the center of its forehead and putting an end to its undead life once and for all.

  "What the hell happened here?" Grandma's voice rang out from the open doorway, where Mary joined her, no doubt both were attracted by the sound of gunshots.

  I shrugged, "nothing much, Moose, and I found a couple of Z's hiding in the barn, but we managed to take care of them."

  "Well, that seems to be the last of them," Mary remarked and picked up Moose's leash from where it was trailing behind him.

  "This guy deserves a big steak," I said and patted him on the head when he leaned adoringly against my side.

  CHAPTER SIX

  We'd been on the road for about three hours now, and Moose was happily sleeping on his doggie bed in the back of the pickup. He'd stood with his head through the sliding glass window between Lucas and me for a while, but after a bit, he'd settled down with the little brown teddy bear that Mary had given him. I still couldn't believe that he was mine, but right after breakfast, as we stood around outside saying our goodbyes, she'd handed me his leash.

  "I know that the three of you are perfectly able to take care of yourselves, but I'd feel much if you had Moose with you. He's still pretty young and needs more training, but you won't find a more loyal companion," she stated when Grandma started to protest. "Besides, he's already bonded with Kaylee, and it would be a shame to break them up."

  So now I had a dog of my own, which was something that I'd always wanted. Because of their specialized training, Mary's dogs were usually close to two years old before they were ready for adoption. This meant that Moose and I would have to learn things together as we go. But, as Mary said, that's not always a bad thing. And because we would be learning together, our bond would be even stronger than usual.

  I turned around in my seat and turned on the radio and started flipping through the channels hoping to find a live station when I came across the station with the whiny DJ Trevor. Only this time, he wasn't whining; instead, he was talking excitedly about trying to make things work with his girlfriend Stephanie, sure she was still a zombie, but that shouldn't stand in the way of true love, should it?

  Incredulously, I stared at Grandma. "Is this guy for real?"

  She laughed and shook her head, "it must be a joke. Nobody could be that naive."

  I reached out to change the channel, but fascinated in spite of myself, stopped as Trevor's voice droned on.

  "I really think that we might be able to make it work this time. Stephanie was such a great girlfriend. Oh, I know that we need to figure out what to do about her craving for human flesh, but no obstacle should stand in your way when you love someone. But we'll discuss this more on our next break."

  Intrigued, I sat back in my seat and waited for the next break, "I don't know, Grandma, he sounds serious to me."

  "I would like to give him a piece of my mind because a boy that dumb is lucky to be alive," she remarked dryly.

  Grandma was never shy about giving her opinion, I thought with a small smile and stretched out in my seat to try and get more comfortable. As grandmas went, you couldn't find a better one than her. She was always there for us no matter what, and I wouldn't trade her for anything.

  "WHAT THE HELL!"

  Startled, I jerked out of a deep sleep when Grandma slammed on the brakes. Putting up one arm in reflex to keep from smashing my face on the dash, I looked up in time to see a terrified man run across the road in front of the pickup and disappear into the trees.

  "What is going on," I breathed and was even more shocked to see a female zombie wearing a blue dress run across the road behind him. The whole scene was so ridiculous I didn't know whether to laugh or to shoot her.

  "Nothing good from the looks of things," Grandma said and pulled off the road beside an old radio station before grabbing a couple of guns from the gun rack and handing me one.

  "Stay with the pickup," she ordered Lucas.

  And I ran to get Moose. He was an excellent tracker, and I knew that we would need the extra help once we got into the heavily wooded forest.

  Once I let him off the lead, Moose let out one loud bark and took off like a shot into the forest. There was no way that we could keep up with his speed, but his barking helped give us a general idea of where he was. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, we came to a camping area beside a creek.

  Moose, who had apparently lost all interest in tracking the zombie, was playing in the water. Frantically splashing and jumping around while making funny little snorting sounds. And the man who had earlier ran in front of our pickup was quietly sitting at a picnic table watching him play.

  Grandma laughed and rolled her eyes when she saw him playing in the water. "You probably better put a lead on him before he takes off after a rabbit."

  "Well, he is pretty young," I said with a smile and followed her over to talk to the man at the picnic table. Whom it just happened to turn out was the DJ Trevor that we'd heard on the radio earlier.

  "So, where is Stephanie?" I asked curiously. "When you ran acros
s the road, she was right behind you."

  He shrugged his shoulders, "I lost her out there in the trees. But she's never all that far away. Zombies tend to stay around the things and places that were important to them during their lifetime."

  "I'm sorry for your loss," Grandma said.

  " But that's the thing, she's not really gone, is she," he stated sadly.

  "But the things that made her the person that you knew and loved are gone," I said in quiet sympathy.

  " Maybe, but I hope not," He said with a tired sigh and stood up. " Why don't we finish this conversation back at my house. It will be dark soon, and the last thing that any of us will want is to be caught out here in the woods at night."

  GRATEFUL THAT WE'D tried to help him, Trevor invited us to stay the night in the radio station that he'd converted into a surprisingly cozy home. After we were all settled in, Grandma heated up some of her freeze-dried goulash that turned out to be almost as good as my mom's homemade goulash for dinner. And afterward, Trevor served some homemade sugar cookies that his mom had made for him.

  "So what's the deal with Stephanie," Grandma asked curiously.

  Trevor sighed and put down his half-eaten cookie, "I know that you'll probably think that I'm crazy just like everyone else, but I just can't give up on her."

  "How long has she been a zombie?"

  "It's been about a month since she first turned, but lately, I've started to notice a difference. It's just small things, but sometimes I get the idea that she can sometimes understand me."

  "From what we saw earlier, she didn't seem any different from any other zombie," I pointed out.

  Trevor got up and paced around the room, "That did look bad, I know, but she is getting better. I know it."

  "You can't just leave her running around out there like that," Grandma said. "Somebody is going to get hurt, and the next time that you run into her, she just might kill you."

  He stopped and brushed back a lock of unruly brown hair, " I know. But I do have a plan, and I'm hoping that you'll help me with it."

  "What is it?"

  It's probably better if I show you," he said and opened a door on the left side of the lobby where we were sitting.

  We stepped inside and looked around in surprise. The room had been turned into a small caged apartment complete with a bed and a comfortable chair in one corner as well as a plush rug on the floor in front of the bed.

  "Are you sure that this is what Stephanie would want?" I asked.

  "Probably not," he replied. "But I have to try, and if it doesn't work out," his voice trailed off for a moment. "Then, other arrangements will have to be made."

  I have to admit that when I first heard Trevor talking on the radio, the whole thing just seemed like a big joke. But, after meeting him, I could see how much he loved Stephanie. I still thought that he was fooling himself about her getting better, but I felt for him, and looking at Grandma, I could see that she felt the same way.

  "Ok, this goes against my better judgment, but we'll help you get her into the cage. But before we do so, you have to promise me that once she's in there, you will never let your guard down and put yourself in harm's way." Grandma said sternly.

  " I promise," he said with a relieved smile. "And I think that things are going to be a lot safer with her in there."

  Grandma patted him on the back, "that is why we're going to help you."

  THE NEXT MORNING AFTER breakfast, we started making plans. As soon as Stephanie showed up, Trevor planned to lure her into the room; and escape by the cell's back door while we locked the front door behind her. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. For some reason, Stephanie wouldn't approach the open door of the radio station. Instead, she just stood there several hundred yards away in the tree line.

  This went on for several hours, during which Trevor even went outside to try and lure her in, but she just stood there unmoving. Frustrated, he came back inside, where we stayed out of sight to not confuse the issue by giving her too many targets.

  "This is odd, even for Stephanie."

  Grandma frowned, "I've never seen a zombie behave that way before. She's acting more like a wild animal that knows we're trying to trap it."

  "I know that I'm right about her getting better, and this has to be a good sign," Trevor exclaimed.

  "Something has definitely changed with her, but it's still a little early to say if it's good or not," Grandma stated.

  "The question is, how are we going to get her into the cell?" Trevor asked, pacing around the room.

  "Um, I don't think that's going to be a problem," I said and gestured to the doorway where Stephanie was now standing.

  Trevor's eyes widened, and he froze in place with a deer in the headlights look.

  "Hurry up and get to the cell." I hissed but fell silent when this only served to draw Stephanie's attention to me. Luckily Trevor managed to collect himself.

  " H-h-hey Stephanie, there's something that I would like to show you," he called, stuttering slightly from nervousness and drawing her attention back to him as he started to slowly walk into the cell.

  Transfixed, I watched as she slowly followed him inside, she certainly looked like a zombie with the pallid skin and gaunt features. But, still, there was something different about Stephanie. It took me a minute, but I realized that she didn't have the same vacant expression as the other zombies. She looked more confused than anything else. Her behavior was completely different for one thing, she was acting calmer, and from the deliberate way that she was moving, it looked like she was more aware than the typical zombie. She just stood there watching quietly without any aggressiveness as Trevor darted out the cell's back door and quickly locked it behind him.

  "I'm sorry that I have to lock you in here, Stephanie, but I think that you'll see that it's for the best. Maybe later, if you feel like it, we can have a cold glass of root beer and talk for a while." He apologized to the zombie, who stared silently at him.

  "Has she shown any interest in anything besides human flesh?" I asked curiously.

  "No, not really," he answered with a sigh. "Root Beer was her favorite drink, and I keep thinking that one of these times she's going to want one."

  He looked at Grandma with a pleading look, "After all of this, do you just think that I'm fooling myself by thinking that she might get better?"

  Grandma was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, I was surprised by her words. " I don't think that you should give up hope just yet. In all of my years of hunting zombies, I've never seen one behave like Stephanie. With that being said, I would hate to give you false hope, so the best that I can do is bring up your case with Celeste and see what she advises."

  "O-oh, thank you so much," he stammered, surprising her with a spontaneous hug.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Celeste lived in a large old white house with two towering oak trees in the front yard. The house was beautiful if a little scary looking with its peeling paint, and a line of gargoyles along the rooftop casting shadows across the yard as the sun was just starting to go below the horizon. I had been looking forward to visiting New Orleans, so it was a bit of a disappointment to find that she lived outside of the city.

  New Orleans was one of the few cities that successfully fended off the zombie attack back in 2022. Initially, they had lost close to eighty-five percent of their population before they had managed to mount a strategic defense and take back their home from the diseased zombies.

  I'd heard that because of everything that they'd gone through, New Orleanians tended to be a strong, close-knit group of people who looked out for each other. And I was curious about how they were so successful in repelling the zombie invasion when so many others weren't. I also hoped to learn more about the people and New Orleans culture while we were there, but the most important thing was, of course, to find a cure for Lucas.

  Once we had everything unloaded, Celeste herself welcomed us inside, and even though we'd never met before, she was the t
ype of person who immediately put you at ease with her warmth and kindness. She showed us to our rooms and then invited us back downstairs for a simple dinner with her and her 19-year-old niece Norah who was also staying there.

  Celeste informed us that Mondays are always busy days with household chores, and the tradition is to serve red beans and rice, which can be left to simmer all day on the stove. With this, she also served cornbread and collard greens that were simmered in a seasoned broth. She also warned us that collard greens were an acquired taste.

  I love trying new things and couldn't wait to try some of the local food. The red beans and rice were delicious, but I couldn't stomach the collard greens. To me, you might as well have been eating leaves, which is what I said when everyone laughed at the look of disgust on my face when I took my first bite of them.

  "If you think collard greens are bad, you should try Aunt Celeste's fried okra," Norah said with a teasing smile.

  "Just for that, I'm making fried okra for dinner tomorrow night," Celeste said with a laugh.

  I smiled and took a sip of my sweet tea; Celeste and her niece had been so welcoming that it felt like we were having dinner with family instead of relative strangers. Hopefully, she would be able to help Lucas, and our lives would finally get back to normal.

  I looked over at Norah and frowned a little. I would swear that she had blue eyes, but now they looked dark, almost black. Maybe I was just imagining things. I thought as she continued to eat without saying anything.

  Suddenly she put her fork down and looked at Grandma with an eerily calm expression, "Erica, you have to help Riley; she needs you." With that, she picked up her fork and started eating again.

  "Norah, what did you mean by saying Riley needs me?" Grandma asked with a puzzled expression.