Sex in the Time of Zombies

by William Todd Rose

  “She’s not dead, damn it!”

  Spittle flew from Owen’s snarled lips and his jaw quivered with the force of the words.

  “She tough and she’s strong and and she’s noble and there’s not a rotter this side of China that could take her down. She’s there, in Tuscon, and she’s waiting for me so you just shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

  In retrospect, Tanny should have hightailed it off that river bank right then and there. Instead, he found himself speaking to Owen in even, measured tones and quickly offering the blond man a smoke from the crumpled pack he pulled from his breast pocket. Everyone these days had lost the ones they loved most. The Earth had been turned into a planet of orphans and refugees; as a result people clung to hope wherever they could find it. If the belief that his girlfriend was out there somewhere, fighting through the hordes of the dead like some movie heroine, kept the man motivated enough to ensure his own survival then so be it. Taking that from him would be like withholding food from a starving man. And it just wasn’t within Tanny’s character to be so cruel.

  “You’re right, kid, I don’t know her. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I bet you’re right. I bet she watches for you everyday.”

  Owen had stared at his companion and chewed on his bottom lip; he seemed torn, as if he secretly suspected that Tanny were somehow making fun of him but desperately wanted to believe otherwise. His kicked at a pile of pebbles with his foot and adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulders, immediately running his fingers through his hair afterward.

  “You… your really think so?”

  Tanny smiled and lit a cigarette of his own when Owen finally refused the offer with a shake of his head.

  “Sure, kid… that’s the power of love, right? When you get to Tuscon, she’ll come running into your arms. It’ll be just like in the movies, you’ll see.”

  Owen’s face had brightened and that far-away expression passed over his face again; Tanny could see the tension psychically leave his companion’s body: the droop of the shoulders, the way his chest seemed to deflate a little, how his eyes were no longer narrow slits….

  “Yeah,” Owen said dreamily, “I bet you’re right, Tanny. We’ll have us a little adobe house with some cactus in the yard with enough guns and food to see us through. And maybe you and your brother can come visit us someday. Yeah… that’d be pretty cool, too.”

  The rest of the afternoon had been filled with the usual small talk: places they’d been, people they’d met, and little snippets of news they’d garnered along the way. Tanny had kept expecting Owen to apologize for his earlier outburst, but it was almost as if the exchange had never taken place; allusions to it didn’t even cause so much of a flicker of recognition to register on Owen’s face, so eventually Tanny had stopped fishing for redress. If Owen was man enough to be able to just let it go, then he would be too….

  Throughout the afternoon dark clouds had been amassing in the eastern sky like a pack of nebulous rotters closing in on prey. By the time the sun had nearly completed it descent, they had devoured nearly every speck of blue and they flickered with distant lightning. The wind had picked up as well and the boughs of pine trees swayed as their needles whispered the secret language of nature.

  “Looks like rain.” Owen had said as he surveyed the sky with one hand cupped over his eyes. “Smells like it too.”

  “Think it’s gonna be a corker, kid. I don’t like the way those clouds look.”

  They’d decided to head up into the hills, reasoning that the thick cover of leaves would shelter them from the brunt of the storm. There would be less risk of the undead as well. The corpses tended to throng toward places more likely to harbor the living: cities and towns, railways, old roadside attractions that were slowly crumbling from the twin forces of time and neglect. Perhaps it was instinct; or even the last vestiges of memory in minds that had lost practically every shred of humanity when their souls had fled the bodies. Whatever the reason, as long as the wilderness didn’t jut up against an interstate or some abandoned resort, the chances were greater of seeing a bear out there than a rotter.

  The hillside turned out to be steeper than it looked and conversation had quickly been replaced by labored breathing and grunts. At several points, the pair had to press themselves against the side of the hill with their arms and legs splayed wide as they searched for roots and rocks to use as handholds. Avalanches of dirt tumbled from feet that scrambled for purchase and, despite the cool breeze that rippled their clothing, both men soon found that sweat had plastered their shirts to their backs like a second skin.

  Dozens of tiny cuts and abrasions stung his hands and Tanny had begun to think that he wouldn’t make it, that his heart would burst on the side of this bastard of a mountain and he’d become just another stiff wandering around in Graveyard Earth. His muscles trembled and felt as if inquisitors had stretched him across the rack before piling invisible rocks onto his back. The pressure seemed to press the air from his lungs and, at that moment, he would have confessed to kissing the arse of Satan on a moonlit night, to boiling children in a wicked brew, and blighting the crops of neighboring farms with pestilence: anything to find a modicum of relief from the burning ache the radiated from his chest and shoulders.

  But the ground had leveled off shortly thereafter and the two collapsed against the trunks of trees that had stood on this mountain long before either of their ancestors had worked up the courage to tame this wild land. They huffed and panted, sucking in great lungfuls of air that had the musty scent of old vegetation as distant thunder rumbled through the hills and valleys.

  “You know, kid,” Tanny panted, “this looks like a fine spot to me. What d’ya say?”

  It took longer for them to catch their breath than it did for the clearing to be transformed into a full-fledged campsite. Owen pitched the tent with the skill of a man who probably could have completed the task in complete darkness. While he hammered the pegs into the moss covered ground, Tanny began dragging fallen limbs and branches from the surrounding forest and arranged them in an almost pyramidal shape. Dry leaves, scraps of bark, and small twigs were shoved through the gaps in the wood and made good company for the flame of his disposable lighter.

  From his backpack, he removed two tin cans whose sides looked blackened and scorched. The cans had jagged holes punched through either side and Tanny threaded lengths of wire through them and then twisted the ends together. The overall effect was that the man had just fashioned a couple of miniature pails and he poured water into them like a scientist carefully measuring his flasks. Once each had been filled to his liking, he recapped his canteen and hung the pair of cans from two forked branches that had been thrust into the earth.

  “Hey,” Owen had called, “that’s pretty damn smart.”

  The cans dangled over the crackling tongues of flame and soon had wisps of steam curling from them as the water roiled and bubbled within. Into each can, Tanny shook a measured amount of macaroni and stirred it every few minutes with a small piece of wood.

  After half a dozen repetitions of this, he wrapped an old shirt around his hands and slowly drained the water off into a small bowl, into which he tossed a couple of teabags.

  Owen offered a couple of Slim Jims from his own stash and the two snapped the meat sticks into little logs which were summarily stirred into the pale and bloated pasta. The men ate directly from the cans, tilting them back and allowing the food to practically slide down their throats. When the meal was over, Tanny poured the now-steeped tea into each can and the two clinked them together as if they were sharing a snort of brandy at the gentleman’s club.

  “Kind of starchy,” Tanny said apologetically, “but I’m not about to waste a drop of that water.”

  By this time, shadows had crept through the forest and seemed to parry and thrust with the flickering glow of the fire. Beyond the clearing was only a ring of darkness that struggled to conquer their oasis of light like an invading cancer.

  “Think that st
orm might blow over after all.” Tanny observed. “Looks like its moving off to the south. Shame, though. Was hoping to maybe collect a little rain by morning.”

  Owen grunted a reply as he rifled through his own pack and Tanny’s brow furrowed as he watched the objects his companion pulled from it. First was a tea candle no bigger than a fifty cent piece; but this was quickly followed by a slender stick of incense that tinted the air with the scent of strawberries. Next, he removed a manilla envelope and then busied himself with pulling out handfuls of small stones.

  Who the hell carries a bunch of rocks around all day? What the fuck?

  Tanny’s gaze shifted from the envelope to Owen, who appeared to be building some sort of miniature wall out of the little pieces of granite and quartz.

  “Hey, kid, what’cha doing?”

  Owen was so engrossed in his work that Tanny’s voice didn’t seem to register in the least bit. His glasses had begun to slip down the bridge of his nose and he took a moment to push them back up with the tip of his finger before setting back to work.

  Reaching over, Tanny picked the envelope and turned it over in his hands: it was so flat and light that for a moment, he wondered if there was actually anything in it. He’d seen a lot of weird shit since he’d been on the road: people who proclaimed the zombies to be Divine messengers of God, a man who swore this was all just some consensual hallucination brought about by the drugs the government had introduced into the water supply…. But something about the look on Owen’s face made him feel as though those people had been nothing more than eccentric.

  At times, the boy looked as though he were aglow with some sort of inner radiance. Excitement flickered behind those glasses and a smile spread across his face like someone who’d just witnessed something so miraculous, so wonderful, that human language would never be able to capture it in words. But just as quickly as this state of grace descended upon him, so would it be lifted. The muscles in his face seemed to lose their will and his jaw hung open as drool pooled up and glistened on his bottom lip. Simultaneously, the color drained from his face, leaving only a ghostly pallor surrounding eyes that now looked more like two dull marbles. For all intents and purposes, it was like watching one of those damn zombies. Albeit, one who’d been tasked with constructing what was turning out to be a ring of stones.

  Tanny glanced at the envelope again, raised it to his ear, and shook gently. He could hear something move inside: not a rattle or shake, though. More like something sliding around. Paper?

  He placed the envelope on his lap and lit a cigarette as he eyed Owen again. His friend now had a look of terrible determination to him, as if the fate of the world depended entirely upon him placing the next stone in just the right position…

  What the hell was in that thing anyway?

  Exhaling a slow plume of smoke, Tanny allowed the cigarette to hang loosely in his lips. “Damn you and your locked door, Bluebeard.” he mumbled.

  Lifting the envelope, he undid the metal clasp on the back and stole one more look at Owen. The man was oblivious to Tanny, entirely focused on completing his edifice. Tanny tilted the container, shook it slightly, and a piece of paper slid out into his waiting hand.

  It was a glossy eight by ten of a woman with dark, wavy hair that cascaded down to her shoulder blades. She was turned partially away from the camera and looked back over her shoulder with the tip of her index finger resting lightly on her bottom teeth. The corners of her mouth were turned up in the hint of a smile, as if she were privy to some secret information and delighted in teasing the viewer with vague hints and innuendo. Her back was arched slightly, causing shadows to fall along the graceful curve of her spine. Her left forearm blocked her breasts from view, but it was all too easy to imagine them rounding out the front of the bra that snugly hugged her back.

  Tanny’s eyes panned down the picture slowly, drinking in the matching underwear with its raised polka dot nubs and how the panties clung to the curves of that perfect ass like a needy lover. Long, smooth legs flowed effortlessly into a pair of calf-high black boots with silver buckles and heels that you could stake a vampire with. Scrawled across the bottom left hand corner of the photo, in what appeared to be a medium point magic marker were the words Owen, you rock! Beneath the inscription, was what Tanny assumed was a signature; however it was nearly impossible to read, consisting mostly of intricate loops and swirls that merely suggested letters.

  Taking the cigarette in one hand, Tanny pursed his lips and let out a slow whistle as his eyes scanned the picture again.

  “What are you doing?”

  Owen’s voice was as flat as the stones he’d used to for the base of his now completed circle. His eyes however looked just as cold and hard and Tanny felt like a child who’d just been caught sneaking a peak at Dad’s special magazines.

  “Oh hey, kid… I was just… well, I was….”

  He licked his lips and smiled, changing tact mid-sentence.

  “Wow, she’s quite a looker, my man. Who is she?”

  Owen snorted and his brow creased with what appeared to be disapproval.

  “Who is she? Seriously? That’s only Tiffany Shepis, dummy.”

  Tanny took a drag from his cigarette, arched his eyebrows and shrugged, causing his companion to shake his head slowly.

  “Tiffany Shepis? Only the greatest scream queen since Linnea Quigley? Hell, since ever for that matter.”

  His voice trembled with the type of reverence usually reserved for gods and his words spilled out in an excited babble; but there was still something about his eyes that made Tanny feel as though the younger man were peeling back layers of skin with his gaze. He tried to keep the banter light and flowing, as if they were simply two old buddies on a camping trip.

  “Oh, I see… so she was some kind of actress then?”

  “No!”

  Owen’s voice was as sharp as a handgun firing and he paced around the clearing now as he tugged at his left earlobe.

  “No, no, no. not just some actress… the actress. Would you call the Mona Lisa just some painting? Is the Taj Mahal just some building?”

  Tanny chuckled in an attempt to hide the nervous fluttering in his stomach. Subconsciously, he stroked the picture in his hand with the ball of his thumb, tracing the path of her legs over and over.

  “So I take it you were a fan then?”

  He’d meant the question as a joke but Owen turned so quickly that it was almost as if Tanny had just bitch-slapped him across the face. His mouth drew back into a snarl and the campfire reflected in the lenses of his glasses, making it appear as though flames raged within the dark recesses of his skull.

  “Fan? Fan? I am not a fuckin’ fan. Me and Tiffany, we got something beautiful, see? She understands me. She loves me. And they know! They make sure at least once, in every damn film, she’s allowed to send a special message. Just for me. We’ve got this blood oath, see? Me and Tiffany, til the very fucking end. When I get to Tuscon, you’ll see. The ghouls better watch the fuck out because there’s nothing me and Tiff won’t be able to do when we finally meet!”

  The cigarette in Tanny’s mouth had been forgotten and the ash seemed to defy gravity as it curled toward the ground. He could feel the night pressing in around him like a dark cloak and the realization of exactly how isolated they were out here struck him with an almost physical force. Far beyond fluttering, his stomach now churned the half-digested macaroni in raging seas of acid and bile stung the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and glanced down at the picture so he wouldn’t have to feel the heat of Owen’s stare burning into his soul.

  “Yeah, look… kid, I understand. Really, I do. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for a sweet piece of ass like that?”

  Owen sprung across the clearing before Tanny had a chance to regret the words that had blurted from his mouth. The larger man’s body crashed into his Tanny with the force of a boulder hurled by the gods. Tanny’s body flew backwards as Owen’s full weight crushed the air from his lungs and sent t
he cigarette tumbling from his mouth with a whoosh of air.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  Tanny’s fingers clawed at his attacker: grasping, scratching, pulling, and pummeling the man’s chest with hollow thuds. But Owen’s reach was too long and he had a handful of the little man’s red hair clutched in a death grip. He slammed Tanny’s head against the forest floor again and again; the ground that had seemed so soft when they were setting up camp now caused flashes of darkness to explode before Tanny’s eyes. The flashes grew in size and frequency with each burst of pain that radiated from the back of his skull.

  “You don’t talk about her that way! No one talks about her that way!”

  Owen looked more animal than human. As he screamed his lips seemed to shrivel back, revealing pink gums and teeth that were bared like a rabid wolf. His eyelids twitched and fluttered and the muscles in his neck were like twisted cords that had been pulled so tightly that they quivered beneath the strain. Even his voice seemed to rumble like the bastard child of words and a growl.

  “Fuckin’ cock sucker! Piece of shit! She’s too damn good for you!”

  Rings of darkness edged Tanny’s vision and everything not engulfed by the encroaching gloom seemed to waver like an out of focus film. He was vaguely aware of something warm and sticky oozing through his hair but the thump and squish of his head pounding against the ground almost seemed to recede with each repetition. In some distant, fuzzy patch of consciousness Tanny heard his own voice, like the echo of a dream:

  I’m going to die….

  Owen grabbed the man by both ears, twisting them like the grips on a motorcycle, and yanked Tanny up until they were so close that the spiced meat on his breath wafted over his companions face with each breath.

  “You understand, you fuckin’ freak? She’s mine!”

  Releasing one ear, Tanny drove a fist into Tanny’s face and his companion fell backward again as blood gushed from a lip that had split like an overripe tomato. And then Owen was scrambling up his body, his bony knees jabbing painfully into Tanny’s shoulder blades and pinning the man to the ground.