“BARRY,” she hissed at him.
“Oh, fuck!” he cried as Sunshine thrashed out.
Lena was no damsel in distress and took a heavy swing at Sunshine’s jawline. Her fist collided hard with Sunshine’s clammy skin. He fell to the side easily, and adrenaline coursed through Lena’s veins. He swung his head back around almost immediately. He tried to push closer to Lena and Barry, but Sunshine was wedged into the small space by his restraining seat belt.
Sunshine flailed in every direction, his strong fists damaging everything they came across. His enormous mass of flesh pushed in every way, causing a commotion with the surrounding passengers.
“Hey, pal, quit pushing my seat,” the man directly in front of Sunshine shouted back. He didn’t even bother to turn around and look at Sunshine.
The man in front of him was a muscular man with short, tidy hair smothered in strongly scented gel. His jersey was loose and showed off some impressively thick chest hair. The sight of it repulsed Lena, but she said nothing to annoy the man more. She had to fight Sunshine who was enough of a threat.
The man sitting behind Sunshine spoke up now. “Dude, quit moving the seat. I’m trying to watch the zombie fuss, dude.”
Who uses the term “dude” anymore? Lena wondered as she did her best to stay out of Sunshine’s battering range. She tried to steal a look back at Dude without him noticing. She wasn’t surprised to find a long, blonde-haired guy with a baggy red and blue checked shirt sitting there.
He had a badly shaved mustache, and his goatee was the stuff of nightmares. He chewed on his lip and fiddled with a large high school ring on his left ring finger. Lena didn’t like to judge, but it seemed unrealistic the man was married with his high school ring.
“Hey lady, stop looking at me, will ya? The zombie show is on,” he shot at her.
If only he realized a real zombie was kicking around in front of him. Sunshine kicked again, and the muscular man in front of him sat up away from the seat.
“Hey, Sunshine!” Lena called to him, and the zombie directed his full attention at the Special Forces operative.
Lena had trained in hand-to-hand combat. She had attended a camp with The United States Air Force, specializing in training military personnel with hand-to-hand fighting skills. She had discovered her love for martial arts at that camp and had spent many hours training and bettering her combat skills just in case situations arose—situations like the one in front of her… kind of. They’d never talked about fighting zombies before.
She planted her feet firmly and took a few deep breaths. Sunshine was writhing in his seat. He was like an overgrown baby in its high chair, kicking up a fuss and trying so hard to fight back. Lena inhaled before swinging her fists at Sunshine again.
Her fist struck Sunshine heavily in the jaw, and she did so repeatedly. A crunching sound came from where her fist struck the bone of his lower jaw. The bone sounded like it was made of unbreakable steel. In her past training, Lena had cracked wooden planks clean in two with just her bare hands, but nothing seemed to damage the seemingly invincible zombie.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy…” Barry repeated to himself. He was flabbergasted at both Lena’s strength and Sunshine’s perseverance.
The onlookers across the aisle had turned a ghostly shade at the sight of Lena protecting them against the raging bull of a zombie.
Barry was flat against the window. He tried to disappear into the framework to provide as much space as possible so Lena would have plenty of space to kick ass. She kept throwing her fists at Sunshine, but it had little effect.
Lena gritted her teeth. She grew physically tired, and her knuckles ached. No damage showed on Sunshine. Her efforts seemed wasted. This was her longest fight. Lena’s stamina was waning fast. Her muscles burned, and the sweat made her V-neck shirt cling to her skin.
She dropped her fists and pushed back into Barry, slightly exhausted. Sunshine still flung his arms wildly like a windmill—a quick, aggressive windmill. He hadn’t figured out he was still stuck in his seat by a seatbelt, but it was better for him to be strapped down. As Lena watched his barbaric attempts, she caught her breath and wiped the dripping sweat from her face.
“Here, this will help more than your hands,” Barry whispered as he offered her a packet of tissues.
“Thanks, Barry. I think I’ll need more than tissues, but they’ll help for sure.” Lena graciously thanked him while pulling one free from the little plastic packet. The inanimate plastic clung to the tissue as if reluctant to let Lena pull it from its grasps.
“What’s all this ballyhoo?” a posh, upper-classed gentleman asked, shriveling his upper lip at the scene.
He had a crisp suit on. There wasn’t a single crease in his Van Heusen shirt, and his Eaton crested blazer was starched to perfection. His designer glasses perched smartly on the bridge of his nose, and he craned his neck over the seats proudly. He fitted the better-than-you stereotype perfectly.
“There’s a zombie on the plane!” the man in the Hawaiian shirt screamed.
“It’s like in my game, mum!” An excited teenager gaped at the real-life zombie.
“Levi! Stay back!” The tired woman grabbed the young man by the shirt sleeves just in time.
“We’re all going to die!” a nervous foreigner whined.
Hawaiian Shirt pushed and kicked his way to the aisle. “Get me the fuck off this plane!” He rushed to the back of the plane but was met with a hurtling drink cart.
“Keep clear of the aisle!” Emily called as Hawaiian Shirt jumped into the closest seat to avoid being flattened.
“I have an idea,” Barry muttered, ignoring the chaotic hustle erupting around him. He nudged Lena off him, and she sprung back into a defensive stance towards Sunshine. Lena was ready to swing punches if needed. “What is it?” she asked.
“Watch and follow,” he said.
Sunshine growled loudly, and a baby in the row behind them wailed because the noise was so alarming. It shot right through Lena’s eardrums, and nothing the mother could do would quiet the child down. Sunshine reacted to the noise by swinging out again. His spit flew, and Lena had to dodge it as she fought back.
Barry leaned over the row of chairs in front of him. “Hey folks, can you please kindly move? We have a little zombie problem back here.”
They looked at Barry for a moment, and he rolled his eyes, gesturing toward Lena and Sunshine. The men’s faces went white, and they jumped quickly into the aisle.
Barry slid his computer over the seat and grabbed his backpack before climbing over the seat.
Lena stepped over to where Barry’s old seat was. “Oh, my God. You’re a genius!” The inviting smell of him still lingered in the air.
Sunshine still flung his balled-up fists at Lena, but the space between them had grown, and his spit covered fists couldn’t reach her anymore. She wiped her sore knuckles on the hem of her shirt. Sunshine rock back and forth. He was like a desperate toddler, waiting for his mother to shovel more food in his mouth. His stale coffee and egg breath slowly crept across the row.
“Oh, God the smell is awful,” Lena commented.
“I even showered this morning!” Barry replied light-heartedly.
Lena smiled. “I doubt Sunshine did.”
Lena grabbed her iPad and passed it over the barricading seats to Barry. He leaned forward and grabbed the device, gently resting it on the seats. She took a look at the empty wine glass, wishing she could have another before swinging her right leg over the seats.
She flipped over with ease and landed almost flawlessly in the row in front. Sunshine was still trapped in his aisle seat, but now he had no one to flail at.
“How did you manage that?” Barry asked, stunned. “I looked like an emperor penguin sliding into the ocean while rolling over those seats, and then you do the exact same thing and make it look so damn easy.”
“Practice,” Lena replied.
The look on Barry’s face was priceless. He stood there f
or a moment, his mouth hanging open. His shirt was badly creased, and his eyeglasses had fallen to the edge of his nose.
“Have you… you know…?” Barry stuttered out.
“Have I what?” she asked.
The men from Row 58 stood in the alley. They were tall men with muscles the size of Texas. Each of them had matching jerseys on. Lena assumed they were on the same sports team. Their macho man side had fallen away at the sight of the sluggish but powerful zombie in front of them. The annoyed man who had sat in front of Sunshine now hid sheepishly behind his other two friends from Row 58.
“Is he dangerous?” one of them asked.
Other people questioned Lena. “Why are his eyes like that?”
“Is he one of them?”
“Are we safe?”
The businessman from across the aisle had retreated to where the toilets were at the back of the plane. He had untied his tie, and it now draped unevenly around his thick neck. He hastily smacked the buttons on his phone. He was more focused on the phone screen than the zombie a few rows away.
Other passengers had defiantly piled out of their seats and were backing away from Lena and Sunshine. Lena knelt on the seat directly in front of him, and she looked deeply into his dilated eyes. A few scared passengers had joined the businessman at the back of the plane. More and more people crowded in the back, out of reach.
“What are you?” Lena asked Sunshine.
Grunt.
“How did this happen?”
Snarl.
“How do we defeat you?”
Groan.
“That sounds like a conversation with my development team,” Barry joked. “They’d be so sleepy in those meetings. I thought they were…” His voice trailed off.
“You thought they were your zombies?” Lena finished for him.
Barry nodded.
Sunshine continued thrashing in every direction. The passengers had dispersed far away from his ferocious swings. He was still belted firmly in his seat, and no one rushed to free him from his prison.
He shook the seat Lena knelt on, and she leaped off and stepped away from him. In all the enemies she had come face to face with, nothing could compare to the overweight, hollow-eyed figure spilling out of the aisle seat.
“So much for no zombies on the plane,” Barry said, defeated.
“At least it’s just one zombie on the plane,” Lena tried to reassure Barry.
Barry nodded, and they looked at Sunshine who spat at the seat. The news footage wasn’t just on the TVs anymore. It happened right before their eyes. The news footage was in Row 59, Seat C.
Barry’s game had come to life.
Chapter Ten
The long ring tone kept going, but no one answered. Harry could hear the comical grunts from behind him. He pedaled as fast as possible, trying to put as much distance between him and the zombie.
“Hey, this is George. I’m probably eating a Walnut Whip or destroying a garden gnome, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Mmm-Bye!”
Harry hit the end button, cursing George for not answering at a time like this. He scrolled through his contacts and hit Oliver’s name. Maybe he would pick up instead. The ringtone was longer than George’s, and Harry waited with bated breath.
“Come on, Oliver. I know you have your phone on you,” he said to the phone as it continued to ring.
After an eternity of the ringing, a loud, high-pitched screaming came from the phone. “HARRY!” Oliver cried.
At any other time, Harry would have laughed at his friend’s misfortune, but today was different. He was concerned for Oliver. He really liked his friends, and the thought of either of them being eaten by a zombie-filled Harry with terror.
“Oliver! Oliver, you there?” he asked.
“HARRY!” the scream came again, and Harry pushed his legs faster.
“OLIVER. Where are you?” He tried to get Oliver to talk sense.
“There’s a zombie. I am not even kidding either—like it is a real zombie! A zombie, Harry! I promise it’s real. Like no lies this time. It’s real, AND IT’S CHASING ME.”
“Oliver calm down!”
“HARRY IT IS CHASING ME!” he wailed.
“OLIVER!” Harry screamed. “I know!”
Harry sighed and stole a glance behind him. The group of zombies was a good few meters away from him, but they were still chasing him with persistence.
He wondered how they could see with their black, dilated eyes. No life seemed to be left in them. Maybe the zombies used a different sense to chase their victims.
Maybe they’re like the ones on Dwindling Fire, he thought to himself. Sometimes Harry and his friends begged George’s parents to let them watch the ten p.m. showing of the popular zombie show on TV.
They loved the way the zombies were clever. They could think and didn’t just lumber around and bite random people. They’d plan it all out and have a reasonable scheme for their evil doings. The best part about the show was the fighter, a tall, handsome, and strong man named Daines. He was the typical ex-military, go-getter fighter, but he knew how to beat the clever zombies. Daines would distract them with different things or lure them into traps. He was the hero, and the three friends loved him.
Sometimes Harry, George, and Oliver would play a Dwindling Fire game in the park when there was no more Pokémon to catch. Oliver was usually Daines, and that always annoyed George who had the biggest man crush on Daines imaginable.
Harry had always imagined himself as Daines. He figured he was the hero of the three. If anything serious were to happen, Harry would be the one to figure the way out. Harry chewed at his lip, trying to think of a way to get Oliver to listen to him.
“Oliver, I know you’re telling the truth.” He calmly spoke into the phone in his hand. Harry swung his arm back, so the camera pointed in the direction of the chasing zombies.
“Oh, my shit! Are they chasing you, too?”
Finally, Oliver listened to him. “Stay calm. They’re not like on dwindling fire. They’re stupid fucks. They just snarl, grunt, and follow the leader like little sheep. You’re going to be okay, man,” Oliver shouted the pep talk at Harry. “Have you got through to George?”
“George? No, he isn’t answering.”
“Shit.”
“Harry, there are more of them.” His voice became higher and more panicky again.
Harry pedaled swiftly around the corner and was face to face with a lone zombie. She had long hair that was tied up on the top of her head. Her clothes were well put together, and she wasn’t moving. She just stood there like a guardian of the street.
Harry slid into an impressive hairpin turn, and a cloud of dust filled the air. He pushed the bike forward with all the energy he could manage. He left the woman standing there motionless in his bike dust.
“Oliver, your house is on Oak Street—that’s closer than George’s. He’s all the way out past the power plant.” Harry flicked the hair out of his eyes and mentally mapped out the route to Oliver house.
“True, and my parents are home.”
“Will they be okay with us coming over?” Harry asked.
“Harry, there are fucking zombies chasing us!” He screamed again.
This time, Harry found amusement at Oliver and his high-pitched squeals. He always boasted about his manly reactions and how he never screamed like a little girl, but here he was, wailing like a banshee.
“Oliver, call George!” Harry said, laughing.
“I’ll try,” He was panting noticeably.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Harry could hear Oliver screaming as he ended the call. Out of all of them, Harry had thought George would be the one screaming. He continued to pedal, engrossed in his thoughts when a voice bought him back to reality.
“Harry!”
He screeched his bike to a speedy halt and scanned the empty street in front of him. At first, he saw no one and thought he was just hearing voices. Then he saw a fa
miliar figure running down the pavement in her pajamas.
“Harry! Help me,” she cried while running towards him.
It was Isabella, a girl from Harry’s class. They had been in school together since year three. She was a gymnast and often went to different competitions. One time in show and tell, Isabella showed off an impressive number of different awards and medals. She proudly showed each one and told a summary of how she had won it.
Harry had always found Isabella pretty. She had long, flowing locks of thick hair. She was slim but muscular, and all the boys would challenge her to arm wrestling competitions, and she’d always win. Some boys would race her in the hallways, and she’d still always win by a long-shot. On sports days, everyone would want Isabella on their team because she could do anything active really well.
Isabella always dressed nicely. In primary school, she would wear cute skirts and blouses. She would carry a handbag with her full of different things that always seemed useless. In junior school, she switched her skirts for skinny jeans, and the tight fabric would show off her impressively shaped legs.
Now that they were in secondary school together, she was still the most popular girl in school. She had recently returned from a gymnastics competition in France.
That is Isabella, but she’s in her sleepwear, Harry thought to himself. She ran towards him, closely followed by a zombie. Of course, there’s a zombie. I have to keep her from being bitten. Harry pushed his bike closer to his friend.
The zombie chasing her was a shorter man, and his black hair was long and greasy. His outfit was a polo shirt with a Knight Frank logo stitched into the material. His pants were baggy and covered in what appeared to be tiny beer mugs. He’d crammed overstuffed slippers onto his large feet, and he kind of jittered as he walked.
“Harry!” she called again.
Harry pulled his bike to a stop. “Here, climb on!”
Isabella jumped onto the bike and wrapped her arms around Harry. His body tensed because he wasn’t used to having a girl hold him.
“Are you going or what?” Isabella asked.
Harry kicked at the ground, pushing his bike back into action. The Knight Frank zombie was far behind them, but others had appeared to join him. A huge mass of storybook monsters followed Harry and Isabella as they sped down the empty street.
Pandemic Z (Book 1): Pandemic Z Page 8