EAT SLAY LOVE

by Jesse Petersen

  “Shut up,” I whispered.

  “Promise me that you’ll kill me if I ever become a threat to you.”

  I bit my lip. This was a conversation a million couples all over the Badlands had probably had by now. The ones who answered the question wrong were dead (er, undead). But it was one thing to have a vague “what if” scenario conversation and it was quite another to be asked to swear an oath to a man while holding his zombie-scarred hand in yours.

  “Promise me,” he repeated.

  I looked into his eyes. Green, not red, still. They were filled with desperation. Fear for me. Fear of himself. And I knew I might very well be lying to him when I nodded.

  “Yes, I promise.”

  He looked at me funny. Like he sort of knew I was lying. Or that I’d at least hesitate before I did what I’d said I’d do. But he didn’t get a chance to press me on the subject like he seemed to want to do because in that moment we both saw something that totally distracted us.

  In the distance, across the parking lot that led to the hospital, was a flash of color and movement. My eyes widened as I recognized what it was.

  Nicole and McCray, racing from the hospital grounds toward us. And behind them… a mob of at least ten slobbering zombies.

  Money can’t buy happiness, but killing shit helps.

  Shit!” Dave said as he bolted to his feet. “Hand me the gun.”

  “I’m empty, remember?” I popped open the chamber so he could see.

  “Fuck!” he muttered before he sprinted up the slanted roof and dove through the open window back into the house.

  I stayed where I was. What? Someone had to be the lookout so we didn’t lose them!

  But being lookout really sucked because all I could do was watch in helpless horror as Nicole practically dragged McCray toward the potential safety of the houses. The zombies were on their tails, and their reaching dead fingers were pretty much ready to grab McCray’s ragged leather jacket with every swipe. If he slowed down at all… if he missed a step (and since he was staggering, that was a pretty good bet)… he was toast and Nicole might go right down with him. The zombies would swarm and that would be it.

  Though I guess, in retrospect, if Nicole got zombiefied, Dave and I wouldn’t have a problem with her suspicious little mind anymore. But that wasn’t how we rolled. I didn’t want the girl dead. Or living dead.

  “Hurry up!” I called into the house in the hopes Dave would hear me. “They’re getting closer.”

  The sound of my voice must have carried across what was left of the hospital parking lot and the yard because Nicole jerked her gaze toward me. Her face softened with relief as she found me on the roof and sprinted harder in my direction.

  I heard her voice, broken by the distance and the sound of zombie moans, but I’m pretty sure she was saying, “Come… hurry… asshole!”

  “Hurry, hurry,” I whispered, though I had no idea what exactly would happen if the two of them actually reached me. It wasn’t like I had a ladder to get them up onto the roof and so far no weapons to… I don’t know, save their asses from certain walking death.

  So why didn’t I yell for Nicole? Um, loud noises attract zombies (have you not been paying attention?) and I didn’t want to bring any more of them scrambling toward our new friends and making this already wretched situation even more precarious.

  “Sarah!”

  I spun around and found Dave in the window. He was holding out a rifle for me in one hand and had another for himself. He also had a box of shells. Only half full, but still twenty or twenty-five shots was nothing to sneeze at.

  At the sight of the guns, I almost sobbed with relief, but bit it back. We still had to, you know, save Nicole and McCray before I could really relax and we could start congratulating ourselves.

  I snatched the rifle from Dave’s hand. It was the kind you’d hunt with, and I was going to do some goddamned hunting ASAP. Actually, at some point, I was willing to bet we’d start doing taxidermy on zombie heads and hanging them in the living room, but for now it wasn’t the time to think about the specifics of post-apocalyptic décor.

  I dropped on my ass onto the roof and used my knee as a way to settle my shaking hands before I took aim at the first zombie. He was right behind McCray and still dressed in what was left of doctor’s scrubs. In fact, several of the chasing zombies were in some kind of medical-related rags. Apparently the hospital hadn’t been all that empty after all.

  I stared through the site. The first two zombies were actually side by side, so if I lined up my shot just right, I might be able to drop them both and save some ammo. Carefully I aimed, took a deep breath, and fired.

  Bull’s-eye!

  As the bullet zinged through one skull and then the other, both zombies dropped like sandbags in a pile. Better yet, the two zombies behind them tripped over the fresh corpses and went sprawling head over feet in a humorous display of legs and arms, which slowed them down considerably.

  Unfortunately, the other six in hot pursuit had enough time to react and went around the pile-up, groaning and grunting as they continued their jog for dinner. To make matters worse, the two zombies who had fallen over their dead dragged themselves up almost immediately and were soon back in the mob.

  I do have to say that at least one of them had broken his arm in the fall. Even from this distance, I could see his elbow was now turned at a terrible, unnatural angle. But he didn’t care. Zombies never care about little subjects like shattered bones. They’re all about the big picture. And the big picture is always BRRRAAAAINS.

  In some way, you have to admire their single-mindedness, I guess. In another way… fuck, that’s messed up. I mean, you should care if you break a bone. You should care!

  “The sliding glass door is unlocked,” Dave called down once Nicole and McCray had entered the edge of the yard where Dave and I had gone not an hour before.

  Nicole didn’t acknowledge what he said, but she bolted straight for the door. McCray still staggered behind her, but he was making good time, especially for someone who I suspected was totally high—and not on believing or a feeling or whatever that old song said. Though I had no idea what exactly he could be high on. It didn’t seem like there were that many choices left in the wreck of a hospital.

  I shook my head. This was not the time to go all day dreamy about a rocker’s poison of choice. If we wanted the two of them to get into the house, we were going to have to kill some zombies.

  Dave fired off his first shot as Nicole vaulted onto the cement pad at the back sliding door and yanked. They were underneath the roofline now, but I heard the door fling back on its track and then swing shut again. And yet I didn’t hear it close.

  “Mother fucker!” Nicole’s voice came from below, slightly muffled but not enough to give me any illusion that she and McCray were safe.

  “I’ll keep sniping from up here,” Dave said as he took another shot and dropped another zombie. “Go down there and help them if you can.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I fired off one last shot and didn’t even wait to watch the zombie drop before I crawled up the roof and dove headfirst back inside.

  I’ll admit what I did next was kind of silly. I rolled. You know, that movie thing where the hero or heroine does a summersault dive into a room. That’s the thing I did. It ended up with me on my ass with a rather painful thud. Reaching back, I rubbed my abused tailbone before I checked behind me to be sure Dave hadn’t seen.

  He was busy with other things. You know, zombies and all. Thank goodness. I hated to look stupid.

  I scrambled to my feet and rushed out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. The sounds of grunts and fighting were getting louder with each step; by the time I jumped past the last three stairs to the landing, it was more than clear that the zombies were storming our little fortress.

  I careened around the corner past the kitchen and into the living room area to find Nicole smashing a zombie in the head with a folding chair. Very WWE. Me
anwhile, McCray was kicking at another one from a precarious perch on the back of the couch. Several more were wedged in the partly open door, too stupid to come in one at a time or… I don’t know, push the door open.

  Lucky for us.

  I braced against the wall and fired off the rifle. The zombie attacking McCray’s head exploded like a firework; McCray blinked over at me in confusion and foggy disbelief.

  “Hello, love.”

  I shook my head as I popped another shell in the chamber. “Shut the door, McCray!”

  He blinked again and this time shot his gaze over at the pile-up at the door.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said and then he strolled, I’m serious, he strolled over to the door, nonchalant as can be.

  Once he was out of my line of site, I fired into the crowd of undead at the door. I hit more than one of the moaning beasts and a few collapsed on the others. McCray started kicking at the corpses, driving back the injured and pushing the dead clear until he finally managed to get the door shut.

  “Lock it, asshole!” Nicole wailed as she swung the back of the folding chair (which was already coated in sludge and blood) against the temple of her attacking zombie.

  His poor head was already half bashed in and this last blow dropped him out of my sight behind the couch. Nicole stomped downward—I assume on what was left of him—and then sighed in exasperation.

  “Some help you are, dickhead!” she said as she came around the couch and smacked McCray across the arm. Hard.

  “No need to resort to violence,” he said as he backed away, rubbing his arm.

  “But this is your fault. I said, don’t go into the room with all the zombies, but did you listen? No! You had to go check for your stupid drugs!”

  McCray shrugged. “Rather die happy than not!”

  I ignored their childish pissing and moaning. I was too distracted by what was at the sliding glass door. The zombies we hadn’t killed were still clawing at the glass, leaving it smudged with goo and mung and blood as their teeth and fingers scraped along the thin barrier between us.

  Worse than that, there were more coming. Across the yard behind them. From the parking lot in the distance and the other yards. They had heard us shooting. They had heard the hungry moans.

  And yet Nicole kept slapping at McCray and he kept whining about it like our lives weren’t in pretty much mortal danger.

  “Okay, I don’t mean to be a stick-in-the-mud and interrupt your little issue,” I snapped as I stepped between them like a referee. Or a babysitter. “But there are like ten zombies outside the door and I can already see more coming thanks to all the gunfire and other noise we’re making. So for the love of everything holy, can we focus?”

  I motioned wildly to the horrifying scene outside, and Nicole and McCray finally looked out the window. McCray bolted backward like he’d never seen a horde before and Nicole’s face paled.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered, her hand lifting to her neck.

  I thought I’d gotten through to them, really I did. But that moment faded as soon as Nicole smacked McCray again.

  “See? All your fault!”

  “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” I all but screamed, and the two of them straightened up like they were getting yelled at by their mom or something. “We have to go up, get David, and figure out how to get out of here! NOW!”

  I guess my grown-up “teacher” voice must have worked because the two of them stopped smacking at each other and fussing and both of them nodded.

  “Yeah, sorry,” McCray muttered.

  “Sorry,” Nicole added, her cheeks coloring dark red, though I’m not sure if it was from continued anger at McCray or embarrassment at her childish behavior. I’m afraid it was probably the first, but I didn’t have time to deal with it.

  “Grab anything that can be used as a weapon, keep an eye out for more ammo, and let’s go,” I ground out through clenched teeth as I headed for the stairs.

  “Right, just one minute,” McCray said.

  I turned and watched as he pulled the shade across the sliding glass door.

  “How is that going to help?” Nicole asked blankly.

  He shrugged. “At least we don’t have to look at them. And maybe they’ll forget we’re in here if they can’t see inside.”

  I stared. So McCray was obviously immature, infantile, and, judging by his ridiculously dilated pupils, high as a kite. But that wasn’t actually the worst idea in the world. Zombies did sometimes forget about their prey if they were out of sight, out of mind. It wasn’t like they had super-high-functioning brains or whatever.

  “Um, great,” I said as I turned for the stairs again.

  We bounded up in double time and I turned for the master suite. Nicole motioned to the other bedrooms and I nodded. If she wanted to search for more weapons or ammo, she was my guest. I just hoped she’d find something Dave had overlooked in his hurry to grab a gun and save our new friends.

  McCray followed me, of course, never one to take the initiative to… I don’t know, save himself. From the master bedroom, I heard the occasional pop of gunfire, clear signs that Dave was still taking out a few zombies here and there while he waited to hear if our new friends had been saved from zombie death and dismemberment.

  “Hey,” I said as I popped my head out the open window. “We’re okay.”

  Dave was perched up against one of the furnace vents that jutted out from the roof, using it as a brace so he could aim better. He fired his rifle again before he gave me a half-glance, but it was one of brief relief.

  “Great,” he said with a quick smile. Then he looked down at the gathering crowd below. “Unfortunately, more and more are coming. I think we put out the zombie dinner bell for the whole town. Maybe the whole county.”

  “Yeah, we noticed that,” McCray said with a sarcastic sigh as he pushed past me to climb out onto the roof. As he approached the edge, he wobbled slightly and I tensed as Dave reached out an arm to steady him. “Whoa. Trippy.”

  “Yeah,” Dave grunted, pure annoyance lacing his voice. If McCray wasn’t careful, our entire group was going to hate him as much as Nicole seemed to already. “So I’ve been thinking about a way to get out of this.”

  “Please, I’d love to hear it because I’m having a hard time thinking of one besides ‘hole up here and see if it works out better for us than the family who lived here before,’ ” I said as I stared down at the horde.

  Even to a seasoned zombie hunter like me, it was a terrifying sight. There were probably fifty zombies down below and more straggling up from the parking lot and adjoining yards with every passing moment. Fifty zombies meeting maybe twelve shells left from two rifles equaled dead, and eventually walking dead, humans.

  So seriously, if Dave had a plan, I was way more than willing to hear it at that moment.

  “If I keep shooting, that’s only going to bring the zombies to the back of the house,” he explained, and as if he was punctuating that statement, he fired another shot and took out three zombies at once. Five more replaced them from the yard and proved his point exactly.

  Despite that, I muttered, “Nice.”

  Hey, I was always appreciative of a good zombie kill. You can’t lose sight of these small victories, even in the face of certain death.

  “Thanks.” Dave sent me a brief smile. “Anyway, I’ll keep drawing them to the back by firing.”

  “How’s that going to help us, mate?” McCray snapped, voicing the same question I had on the tip of my tongue (only he voiced it with a British accent, which is always better).

  Dave glared at him. “Well, that will give you guys a chance to escape out the front.”

  I wrinkled my brow, but he kept talking.

  “So you guys will go to a safer building, using quiet kills when needed and trying to attract as little attention as possible. Okay?”

  I stared at him. “Um, no. Totally not okay.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Why? You’re
really asking me why? Um, because that plan leaves us even further from our vehicle, which is back there by the hospital, in the same direction as the zombies you’ll be gathering in the backyard. Not to mention the tiny little problem that it leaves you on the roof with a bunch of fucking zombies surrounding the house.”

  “Well, I’ve got a solution for both those problems,” Dave said as he turned to face me head-on.

  I blinked. I didn’t like his look. Not at all. “What?”

  He was silent, just staring at me, and I hated how calm his expression was, like he was surrendering to something, and I didn’t want to lose him to it, whatever it was.

  “What?” I repeated, this time louder. Loud enough that a few zombie heads swiveled toward me and their groans echoed from below.

  “He’s going to walk through them.”

  I spun around to find Nicole standing at the window. She had a new gun in her hand, a pistol, and another box of ammo for it, as well as a full box of shells for Dave’s rifle. She was staring at my husband, but her expression wasn’t one of smug certainty like I’d figured it would be.

  It was respect. And not even grudging respect. Like full on respect-respect.

  But she couldn’t be right when she said what she said! This was just her fucked-up reporter mind trying to keep pushing at the story, make it more interesting. To try to prove David was… well, whatever she thought he was.

  I spun away from her to look at him. He didn’t look shocked by her suggestion. He didn’t even look scared. He had that same calm, even look on his face that he had when I asked him to clarify his crazy-person plan.

  Except it was pretty clear now that Nicole had just done that for him.

  “No,” I whispered. I could hardly breathe and had to work to drag in air before I continued, “No, David.”

  “Sarah,” he whispered, still so very calm as he reached for my arm.

  I yanked it away. “No! Tell me she’s wrong. Tell me that you don’t actually intend to walk through the zombies.”