Zombie Hayride

by Kyler Doss

  Zander opened the door to his room in order to go downstairs and rescue him. But that wasn't the situation at all.

  Standing outside the threshold to his room was Kit.

  All Zander could do at first was to notice him better than what he had ever seen of him on the hayride. Kit had black hair. He wore black glasses. He was thin.

  "Hi," Zander said.

  "Sorry to do this."

  "No, come in."

  Zander gave him the chair to the desk.

  There was a knock on the door, followed by Aunt Lily's voice. She came in with two plates that she put on the desk. Each plate had two large pieces of cherry pie.

  "I thought you boys might like something to eat."

  "Cool," Zander said.

  "Thank you," Kit said.

  Aunt Lily made for the door but she had definitely sized up the situation that was a total mystery to Zander. She had an advantage, though, because she would already have asked Kit a bunch of questions downstairs.

  He was a keeper because he was polite.

  Zander had other concerns.

  "I hope you like pie," he said.

  "Cherry. I love cherry pie."

  Zander helped set a place for Kit. A fork and knife, a nicely folded napkin. He took the other plate for himself and leaned against the wall next to his desk.

  "Bon appetit," he said.

  "Thanks. You too."

  The pie was so good that you could eat it without thinking about why a stranger was sitting in your room and also eating it. Cherry was better than apple. Or that's how Zander felt about it. And it looked like Kit had told the truth about what pie he liked.

  "Your aunt is nice," he said.

  "She's from here."

  "I know."

  Zander didn't know what they were going to talk about but at least they were talking.

  "I'm not from here," he said.

  "Your aunt was telling me."

  She had probably told him all sorts of things. About York, for instance. She might have thrown in something about Eric, too. If only Zander knew what.

  "Did you grow up here?" he said.

  "Yeah. I'm a high school junior. Like Eric."

  "Oh."

  There was the subject Zander was waiting for. But he didn't know what to do with it.

  "I'll be a freshman next year."

  Kit was on his second piece of pie. So was Zander.

  There might not be a need to ask big questions. Zander could just check with Aunt Lily in the morning. She would have gone straight for that information before Kit got upstairs, the stuff like who he liked and for how long and what they had done.

  Maybe Kit had told her about Zander and York. After all, he was there on the hayride with them.

  "The hayrides are almost over," he said.

  Zander put his fork on his plate. "Why don't they do it for Christmas?"

  "It's on account of the harvest."

  "I guess I like it."

  That was about as far as Zander wanted to go.

  "I don't like it that much," Kit said.

  "I thought you did."

  The next words must have been farther than Kit wanted to go. He put his fork on the plate and touched the napkin to his mouth.

  Zander watched him. He wanted to get him to talk somehow.

  Kit pushed his plate away. "I should go now."

  "You don't have to."

  "I've done some kissing." Kit got up. "York."

  "Oh."

  "I'm sorry."

  Zander sat on the bed. He didn't know how he felt.

  Kit started for the door.

  "No," Zander said.

  Kit stopped, and faced him.

  "When the hayrides are done," Zander said, "I can't kiss anybody anyhow."

  "You can't?"

  "No."

  Zander stretched out on the bed. He closed his eyes and didn't know if anything was happening in the room.

  "We usually have apple pie," Kit said. "It's not as good as cherry."

  Pies were something worth thinking about.

  "Are you inviting me?"

  "Yeah."

  Kit left.

  And Zander had things to think about. Only he didn't want to. He wanted to sleep. Everything else was too complicated.

  He didn't know who he liked and who he hated. He could skip the remaining hayrides. And then he wouldn't have to worry about anything. Those other guys could go on the last rides and they could kiss anybody they wanted. Zander didn't care. They didn't want him anyway. They wouldn't know he was gone.

  HE GOT out in the morning by supplying the answer to one question downstairs, the fact that Kit liked the pie. And they wanted Kit to come back. Zander could have said he had a standing invite over to Kit's for apple pie. He didn't see the need to mention it.

  He wasn't looking for anyone to talk to during the day and he didn't find anyone. But he thought about all of them. What's more, he liked all of them. Sure, he was mad at York but it was just a game, the kissing game. Halloween was the end of it and that was only one day away.

  When sundown was coming up, Zander decided to skip the whole evening. There was no one to kiss and there wasn't much fun in moving along at 6 miles per hour. He could help Eric with the music but that was just a game, too. Eric didn't need the help. He was very good on the harmonica and the voice was his own. He really didn't need anybody at all because if he would have needed them, then he would have kissed somebody by now. It just didn't matter to him.

  By the time it got plenty dark outside, Zander took to wondering what Kit was doing. Like if he was on the hayride tonight or not. Or if they were serving apple pie.

  Finding out where he lived was the easiest thing in the world. Just ask Aunt Lily. She gave a description of where you turn and what landmarks you look for, including "where the old gas station used to be."

  Zander had no clue about things that used to be. He was struggling enough with the here and now. There was no guarantee Kit was at home. It didn't matter. You could just turn around and go back but at least you would have left a message with them to tell Kit that you had stopped by.

  It turned out that's what Zander had to do. They hadn't heard his name before. They also wanted to know how it was spelled.

  When he walked away, he just wanted to keep on going. He wanted to walk out of town like the mindless zombie they had made of him in this place he never wanted to come to. There was nowhere to go except back to his room, which was what he did.

  You could still catch the late hayride but the reasons for not going there hadn't changed. It was just as useless as before. He would go for the last night, Halloween, because it was the last one. But he wouldn't need to spend this particular night down there. He had already learned what he needed to know, that things don't go the way you want them to.

  There was a knock on his bedroom door. He opened it to find Kit standing there with a plate that had a red-and-white cloth over it.

  "I brought you something."

  "I was just at your house."

  "They told me Alexander was there."

  It was the apple pie.

  "I like it already," Zander said, before the first bite. "Where's yours?"

  "Your aunt is bringing me up some cherry."

  It wasn't long before she did. She didn't even ask any questions.

  Eventually they set their forks on their plates and it was time to talk about something or other. The pie was a better topic but all you could do was keep saying how good it was.

  "What about tomorrow?" Zander said.

  "You need to go there."

  "Where?"

  "The zombie hayride."

  Zander got pictures in his head. It didn't sound like the kissing game anymore.

  "What's that?"

  "You know, the hayride goes out there and zombies come from the fields and woods."

  "Oh, man."

  One of Zander's plans was falling apart. It was the one where he shows up for the last night
of the normal hayrides and he gives York a goodbye kiss. And he tells him it's a goodbye kiss, that it's over.

  "Do they have a normal hayride," Zander said, "at first?"

  "No, it's all zombies all night long."

  It was over. He couldn't kiss York. He couldn't kiss anybody else either.

  "Is it fun?"

  "They don't catch anybody."

  "Who?"

  "The zombies."

  It sounded like fun. But it also sounded like it was stealing something from Zander that he wanted. He wanted to tell people that he liked them and he didn't like them. Instead, you would ride around hoping the zombies didn't get you when you knew all along that they weren't going to. So you were playing another make-believe game that was a lot like having a fake boyfriend.

  "Must be the biggest night of the year," he said.

  "No, the junior prom is, for us."

  "Are you gonna go to that?"

  "You almost have to."

  Zander had lots of questions about high school. "Who do you take?"

  "Whoever you want."

  He couldn't think of any other questions about high school.

  "You're going to the zombie hayride," he said, "right?"

  "I'll look for you there." Kit got up from the bed. "Great pie."

  "The apple is really good."

  4

  Kit

  AFTER KIT left, Zander was thinking about what to do. Another walk somewhere, which turned out to be the farm where they ran the hayrides. The lights were still on, the red, blue, and yellow. But the people were no longer around. Maybe York had danced to the instructions of the square dance caller. Maybe Eric had done the blues on the last of the musical hayrides, harmonica riffs and all.

  If Zander had gone there, what would have happened? There was no way to know.

  You could look at a scene when it was over. The lights were big when they were the only thing going. They made the night pay attention to them. Zander didn't have a favorite color because they all did different things.

  He walked home. He hadn't even decided what he was going to be for Halloween. Are you allowed to go trick-or-treating in the 8th grade? He never had to worry about it back home but this time he was only a year away from being a freshman in high school.

  When he got back, Aunt Lily told him someone had come by looking for him, someone named Eric. She said he was a nice boy. There was no message other than to say he had been there.

  You would think that Aunt Lily could have gotten something more out of him than that.

  Zander could either go out looking for him or just go to bed and leave everything for the next day, Halloween. Was Eric going to wear a costume? Is that what he wanted to talk about?

  Some of the big days on the calendar had you wearing costumes. Like the junior prom. But everybody wears the exact same costume to that one. You have to rent it or something. You would never wear it anyplace else, so it wasn't very practical. Was it practical to think about going to the junior prom when you were an 8th-grader? You could see yourself there if you wanted to because you couldn't stop thinking about it if you tried. Those pictures they always take, you would be standing there with somebody and everybody in the picture is happy.

  If a nice boy asks you to go to the prom, you say yes. Then maybe another nice boy comes along and asks you to go with him. And if you like him more, you have to start thinking up a good lie to tell the first boy. It gets really complicated. You're almost better off if nobody wants to take you out.

  Zander had never dated anybody. Only York. If you wanted to date somebody, you had to tell them. But if you were on the hayride, you got to kiss them. And one kiss could say so much.

  It was too bad that all the kissing was done. There was only one left, York.

  ZANDER GOT out of the house in the morning without having to deal with the questions he didn't want to deal with. He couldn't answer them for himself let alone for Aunt Lily. All he could do was show up for Halloween without so much as a costume to protect him from the final night of the kissing game, if there were any kisses left.

  He had to go back home first. Sundown was a little ways off. Besides, someone could have come by with a handwritten note or a message told to Aunt Lily.

  They hadn't.

  It was all down to how much candy you get from the neighbors or how scared you could get at any haunted house you might find. In this town, they were telling Zander that the hayride would play that role on its last times around.

  October was coming to a close in some kind of total zombie meltdown.

  People were arriving at the farm. The lights were on but the sky kept them faint with its own light. Some of the people had on costumes and some didn't. There was a feeling in the air that people were different because you might not recognize them in full costume. They could be who they were, and somebody else.

  "Zander, I've been looking all over for you."

  Eric was still a few strides away but closing fast. No costume. His cowboy hat, his boots, a shirt with pearl buttons.

  "I just got here," Zander said.

  "Not a minute too soon."

  Something was going on but it wasn't clear what it was.

  "For what?"

  "Follow me."

  Eric took him to a farmhouse shed. The lighting was fairly good inside.

  "What is it?" Zander said.

  Eric put him in a chair and took one for himself a foot or two away. Things were quiet at the same time they felt like they were in motion.

  Eric drew a finger across Zander's forehead.

  "Me and you are gonna be zombies."

  "What?"

  "Look in the mirror."

  Zander did look in the mirror he didn't know was there. A streak of greasepaint was already starting to turn him into a zombie. He liked the idea of being someone different tonight, someone a little dangerous.

  "You too?" he said.

  "Go ahead."

  Zander got some of the paint and raised a finger to Eric's face. He drew it down the side, the left.

  "I hope I did that okay."

  "Don't worry," Eric said, "zombies don't look that good."

  "You do."

  Zander started to realize what he had just told him. Fortunately, Eric was busy with some rags.

  "You can just kind of tie these around you," he said. "It will give you that zombie look."

  "Eric?"

  "Yeah?"

  The first order of the night's business was on Zander's mind.

  "I need to go and kiss York."

  Eric put the next streak of paint to Zander's face, then another.

  Zander tried to look in the mirror but Eric wouldn't let him turn that direction. His hand was warm, the one that held his neck.

  "This way," Eric said, "you can scare him. You know, pretend you're attacking him."

  "Cool."

  Zander settled down, like he was a star getting made up for a Hollywood movie. From what he had heard, it could take hours.

  "How bad does it look?" he said.

  "You look way too good to be a zombie."

  That meant it would take hours.

  Zander got one of the rags and tied it, carefully, around Eric's neck. Eric shifted a little so that Zander could tie it off neatly. They were turning into the zombies they were supposed to play and Zander felt like a natural-born actor.

  "I like this," he said.

  "I went to your house to tell you last night."

  "Oh."

  Zander moved his head the way that Eric wanted him to. The greasepaint felt warm, like it was all over his face.

  "What do we do out there?" he said.

  "Just walk around."

  "Do we eat them?"

  "No."

  Eric lowered his hands.

  "It's all yours," he said.

  He handed over the paint. Then he stared in Zander's face.

  Zander put it on in thin white streaks. The rag protected the shirt collar.

  "Do
we work together out there?" he said.

  Eric was going to make a good zombie. "Yeah, I want to."

  The paint was on but Zander didn't want to stop. He held his hand at the side of Eric's face, no painting motions. His ring finger hooked Eric's ear.

  Nobody moved. Nobody said anything until Zander did.

  "Is there a plan?"

  "I think so."

  Eric put a large cloth piece around Zander's shoulders. The costumes were probably done.

  "Can I look in the mirror?" Zander said.

  "Wait." Eric shifted his chair to face the mirror and helped Zander turn his.

  There they were looking back, their faces in the mirror side by side. A couple of real zombies, they didn't look like who they were. Eric leaned over and Zander leaned against him. They made a movie poster scene you could write the name of the movie across.

  "Okay," Eric said, "that's the junior prom photo."

  Zander thought so, too. "The zombie junior prom."

  Laughter ended the scene. Eric left his hat in the shed.

  When they got outside, the darkness had fallen. The string of lights colored this corner of the farm. Not far off, the wagon was ready for the first group of riders. It looked like always, the bales of hay in their random places for one- or two-person benches.

  Zander didn't see anybody he knew for sure. And some of them were zombies.

  The zombies moved unnaturally for the fields.

  Eric took Zander. "Let your arms hang."

  "Like this?"

  Eric patted him on the back. He took him off in their own direction, away from the other zombies. It was dark and it was far away. It gave them a view of the wagon and the dance floor, the exact way that scary creatures use the black of night.

  "This is great," Zander said.

  "I've never done it before."

  The wagon started to move. It was all so clear. The people on board would be scared out of their wits. You would stagger toward them, arms off rhythm, and the people would take care of the rest, screaming or fainting.

  "Alright," Eric said, "let's move out."

  Zander followed him. As the wagon got closer, the two zombies stayed 10 or 12 yards from the course the wagon was on. That was all they needed to do, just make their presence known, and the less clear they were in the night the more frightening their shapes would be.

  Kit and York were on board. Their shapes, their faces were out in the open, a few lanterns making them known to the zombies.