“I know, right? Thank you.” She was glad he thought so. Finally someone believed her, and more than that, understood her. “That’s not what this is about. I mean, Jamie’s hot. Anyone would be lucky to hook up with her. It’s not that I wouldn’t have done it, under other circumstances. Maybe.”
“You’ve never talked about women before.” His voice was gentle, chiding.
“I don’t know what came over me. I just, I couldn’t help myself. You know when you’re really attracted to someone, and you know it’s a bad idea, but you can’t help yourself? When they’re so funny and clever and sexy that you just want to lean in and see what it feels like to kiss them? Or they make a move, and you’re so startled, even though you suspected it might happen and maybe even wanted it to happen, that you don’t say no?” She found a package of hand-warmers in the mess. They were still bendy: still good. She set them aside. “It was kind of like that.”
“I know exactly. Your IQ drops like forty points when you’re around them. And then you come across them again, weeks or months after things went bad, and you have no idea what you saw in them in the first place. Except that they’d had good timing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started to fall for some dumb closeted twink, just because of the way he looked at me. You can smell how desperately horny they are, and sometimes, just being wanted is enough.”
“Touché, my sweet closeted bro.” She worried about Jacob being safe. Getting his heart broken, or, worse, getting some sexually transmitted infection from an ill-advised tumble. Everything snapped into place then. Jacob had explained why she was being so stupid. Hooking up with Jamie, and Michael. Leaving the next day to see Walter. He’d explained the women fucking in the bathroom. Jamie kissing her last night. If she really was infected, that meant she wasn’t entirely responsible for her bad decisions. It was the zombie bug spreading itself. It didn’t make her feel much better.
“You’ve heard of Cupid’s Disease?” he asked. “It sounds just like that.”
“Um, no.”
“There’s this article by A.R. Luria, or maybe it’s Oliver Sacks, I get them confused. Anyway, this old woman comes into the doc’s office saying that she’s suddenly gotten really flirty and jokey. Like, her friends are complaining about it. And she thinks it’s syphilis because she worked in a brothel when she was a teenager and had it, and it went away and now decades later it’s coming back. The doc thinks about it and agrees and says he’ll treat it, and it turns out she’s right and it is syphilis. But see, the thing is that the woman likes who she is now. She doesn’t want to go back to who she was before. But fortunately for her the damage is done. The part of her brain that controlled her inhibitions was gone. So she gets treated and goes home. My point is that—”
“This is what’s happening,” Kate said. “But it’s not syphilis. I think it’s transmitted by saliva. Did I say that part?”
“Oh, no.” He was a smart cookie. He understood. “Are you sure?”
“I haven’t kissed anyone. Not since Jamie. And, um, I think I would have noticed if she’d been bitten. She did get kissed by this homeless-looking guy, that must have been how this all started. I don’t know how long it takes, if I am infected. Jamie took a few hours, and it’s already been almost a day.”
He burst into tears. She knew that sound.
“Jacob—” She felt terrible. “Jake. Hey, here’s a dumb question. Any zombies there? Anything weird on the news? You’d have said something already, I’m sure, and not just let me flap on about it.”
“No.”
“Hey, suck it up, baby brother. Listen, I don’t have much time.” She hated being short with him.
He sniffed, reining himself in. Having a good cry was one of his hobbies.
“I tried telling Mom and Dad, at least some of it. They aren’t very good at listening. Promise me you’ll be safe. Get yourself a whip. Or anything that can make a whip noise. An iPhone or whatever. There’s whip apps. I’m serious. Take Erik with you, and go home. Be ready to go to the basement. If you can get a gun, that’s probably not a bad idea. I’m guessing you’ll hear about this on the news soon. Then you’ll know what to do.”
“I guess so,” he said. He blew his nose. Trust Jacob to have a tissue, even at the gym. Or maybe just a towel.
“I’m not trying to out you, but you know that now might be a good time to tell them. There’s lots of other stuff to talk about. And you could just Netflix some movies for a few days, until all of this blows over. For all I know, it’s localized to the Bay Area.”
“It won’t stay there. What about Erik’s family? What about all our friends? I can’t just not tell them.”
Jacob was a better person than she was. “If I were you, I’d tell them to come over. To bring food and drink and blankets and whips. Tell them you’re having an End of the World party, or something. And keep an eye on them. But take my advice with some salt. My friends are all zombies already. Except for Michael and Audrey, and this kid I met, Trevin. I gotta go, hon. Be ready to board up the windows. We’re headed to the Rock. Love you.”
He squeaked. She hung up the phone. She cried then, not caring if Trevin heard.
chapter fourteen
Michael found himself being lectured by Fearless Leader. Darren had stormed into the back room, mustard on the front of his Hawaiian shirt. Michael surmised that he’d been across the street having a sandwich at the café, which was the only reason why he hadn’t been on top of Michael before the announcement was over. Someone must have called him. He was angrier than Michael had ever seen him. He was actually dripping sweat. Jordan and Audrey slunk out of the office.
“—can’t believe you would do something like that. People are freaking out. I’m losing customers. It’s pandemonium out there.”
“Weapons-grade pandemonium, I bet,” Michael said. “Other people are probably buying more stuff, at least.” He thought about just walking out, but he hadn’t been fired yet. That meant he had to stay there and listen. Usually he liked his job. Now he was losing faith that things would ever go back to normal. He understood that the bridge was burning. He might as well cross it.
“I quit, sorry,” he said. He walked past his ex-boss.
Darren grabbed Michael’s collar.
Michael prepared himself to be struck. When it didn’t happen, he shrugged off the other man’s grip. Without a word, he left. His box was still by the back door. His friends weren’t.
“Mike!” Jordan came running up. He was out of breath. “Something’s wrong, dude. Come check it out.”
“Fuck.” Michael hurried after Jordan, slipping his belt off as he ran. He wanted to have something weapon-like in his hands. He wished he had a whip. A whip worked by moving so fast through the air that it created a little sonic boom. Belts didn’t do that. Then he remembered that he could double the belt, and pull both ends together, to make a cracking sound.
Jordan led him to the demo counter. Behind it, Cindy was bracing herself on the counter, her head down and her hair hanging over her face. Sandra, a dark-haired girl, had a hand on her shoulder. “You all right, Cee Cee?” she was saying.
“Get away from her!” Michael said. “Sandra!” A crowd was gathering, customers and crewmembers. Michael fought his way to the front.
He was too late. Cindy embraced Sandra. Sandra patted Cindy’s back, the way you do when you want someone to let go. Cindy put her mouth on Sandra’s neck. Sandra screamed. She fainted.
Cindy watched her fall. Her eyes were white. Blood dripped onto her Hawaiian shirt. Cindy knelt.
Customers and crew were screaming. The crowd backed up, holding their shopping carts. Several people ran away, clutching kids or groceries. There was the clatter of coffee cans falling to the floor. Shouts echoed throughout the building.
Michael grabbed a shopping cart from an old man. There was no time to apologize. He shoved the cart against the double swinging door that separated the demo kitchen from the rest of the store. He got a second cart, took
the toddler out of the kid seat and handed it to the woman who held out her arms. The kid was crying. Everyone was yelling and pointing, as if you might miss the zombie if you weren’t paying attention. Michael rammed the second cart against the first, barricading the walkway to the demo area.
Michael cracked his belt. “Hold still,” he called. “Cindy. Stand up. Let go. Let go.”
She looked at him, angry. Or maybe just hungry. She obeyed, but licked her lips. He was relieved that the whip sound had worked. So it wasn’t the motion of holding it above your head. It had to be the wavelength of the sound.
“Get out, everyone,” he said, looking at the crowd. “Go home. Get yourself a whip, or a belt. The zombies obey simple verbal instructions, if you can make a whip noise like I did. Board up your windows. Watch out.” Some people ran. Others seemed frozen.
“Jordan, listen,” Michael said. “She’s totally safe as long as I’ve got this. You gotta climb over the barricade and secure her hands.”
“Dude, this is so not cool,” Jordan said. He turned to look at the mobs that were throwing canned goods into their carts. The front door, open beyond it. As of yet, the only zombie was behind the counter. “Why can’t you do this?” he asked. “You’re the one with experience.” His expression said, “I’m sorry for not believing you before, but I might not forgive you for making me do this, if I manage to live.”
“I have to do what I’m doing. You’re doing great. Just take her hands, hold them behind her back. We have to secure her. Put her in a bathroom. Something with a door that locks.”
Jordan looked at the front door again. Then he climbed over the carts into the demo area. He moved slowly towards Cindy, holding his hands up, as if showing her that he wasn’t armed.
Cindy sized him up, but stayed still. Sandra was lying on the floor mat, bleeding, eyes closed. She didn’t move. Michael was pretty sure she was breathing.
“Take Cindy’s hands, behind her back.” Michael held his belt, ready to snap it.
Jordan held Cindy’s hands behind her back. He touched her as if she would explode at any minute.
“Grab her tight. Don’t be a sissy,” Michael said. He ignored the comments and questions of the remaining crew and customers.
Jordan followed instructions almost as well as the zombie.
Michael went to the door on the other side of the demo area, and gripped the handle. This was where it was going to be dangerous. He tried to think. The bathrooms had locks, but like everything else they locked from the inside. That would still be an improvement over the demo area. Then it occurred to him.
“We’re going to the Box,” he said. He opened the door. Jordan emerged with Cindy, walking her like a convict through the store. Customers and crew followed as they went through the double doors to the employee area.
“What are you people still doing here?” Michael called. “Fucking go home already. Leave. You’ll be next.” A few peeled off, looking embarrassed. There was a thudding sound. The woman with the toddler had grabbed a wine bottle and was trying to break it on the demo counter to make a weapon.
“Next,” Cindy said. She was looking at the toddler. Maybe kids tasted better. Fewer toxins. Softer flesh. Just like lamb.
“No,” Michael said. He looked around. Audrey was nowhere to be seen. Jordan looked ready to piss himself. Time was burning away. The roads would soon be a post-apocalyptic mess. They weren’t going to make it to Alcatraz if they didn’t get a move on. Michael opened the door to the walk-in cooler.
Jordan pushed Cindy inside. Cindy stumbled and fell to her knees among the stacked groceries.
“Sorry!” Jordan called.
They closed the door. The trucks came early in the morning; thankfully, the crew had had time to unload enough stock to make space for a person inside the Box. A few people.
“Now we get Sandra,” Michael said.
“Sandra didn’t do anything,” Jordan said. “You put her in there, and Cindy will eat her. We saw it. We need to get her to the hospital. Both of them.”
“You remember what I said about the hospital,” Michael said.
“It’s one thing to put a zombie in the Box,” Jordan said. “But not Sandra. Not with the zombie.”
“I’ll do it.” Michael handed the belt to Jordan. “Here, just snap it if anything happens. I don’t know if the person who holds the whip has to be the one giving instructions, but you might have to say something. Just like I did. You can do it.” He went into the demo area through the door. Jordan followed.
“Shouldn’t we call the police or something?” a man said. It was the old dude whose cart Michael had taken.
“Be my guest,” Michael said. “Didn’t do a hell of a lot of good when I tried. Personally, I think you should get out of here and go somewhere safe.”
Sandra was lying on the floor. Girls could hold out longer, Michael knew. Who knew how long Cindy had held out? Still, he was afraid. Sandra could turn at any moment. Cindy had been on shift for at least a few hours, probably. And he’d liked Sandra. She seemed cool, was in art college. She did the hand-lettered signs and cashiered. Everyone had to work the register.
He dragged Sandra, his hands under her armpits. She opened her eyes. She fought against him. Blood ran down her neck.
“Mike?” she said. “Help me.”
“Sorry I have to do this,” he said. “I’m really sorry.” He felt awful. He reminded himself of all of the people that would be affected if another zombie were allowed to run loose. How much more quickly it would spread. All of the people, out there, who might be bitten. Mothers and old dudes and cute girls; customers and crew and even people who’d never be caught dead shopping at Trader Joe’s.
“Sandra! You OK? Let her up. What are you guys doing?” Audrey hadn’t been there a moment ago. Her work shirt hung almost to her knees, covering the skirt of her vinyl dress. She was chewing something. It crunched. She dropped shards of it onto the floor and brushed her hand on her shirt, leaving a smear of salt and oil.
Michael stopped pulling Sandra along the floor. He didn’t let her go. “Audrey, you know what I’m doing. I’m cleaning up the mess.” Sandra felt so real in his arms. Just heavy enough to be a person. He dragged her through the swinging doors into the employee area. Crew and customers followed.
“I’m not anyone’s mess,” Sandra said. “Is Cindy OK?” She touched the bite on her neck, then looked at her fingers. “I’m bleeding. Oh, God.”
“I mean it, you have to go,” Michael said, trying to look each one of the customers and crewmembers in the eye. “Get the fuck out already! This could happen to any one of you. You have to be ready. This place isn’t safe.” A few crewmembers were still watching. Others were going to their lockers, extracting car keys and sweatshirts, exclaiming to one another. Jordan was looking at one girl, Gracie, as if he had something to say.
“Man, I need you,” Michael said. “Stay with me. Pay attention. Talk to her when we’ve got this done.”
“Fucker,” Audrey said. She hit Michael, hard. “I remember perfectly well, and this is not the right thing to do.”
Startled, he let go of Sandra. Her head made a sound like a ripe melon when it hit the floor. Not that they carried ripe melons. She hadn’t fallen very far. Her face crumpled.
“Sorry,” he called. He looked around, embarrassed. The remaining crewmembers were starting to back away. People he knew and liked, and ought to have warned earlier. Finally they were starting to get that something was really wrong. No one believed until they’d seen the zombies, and maybe not even then. Yet people believed so much stuff that they’d never see. History, for example.
Audrey knelt. “Oh, honey,” she said. She touched Sandra’s cheek.
Michael bit his lip. He had to keep going. Put Sandra in the Box. He knew what would happen otherwise. But for now she was still a person. Still someone he knew and liked. She deserved to be treated as such.
“Oh,” Sandra said. She stiffened. “Oh.” She sat up and touc
hed Audrey’s cheek. Audrey held her hand there. Sandra moved towards Audrey. They embraced, sitting on the floor. They both smelled amazingly good. Michael knew he ought to stop them. But if girls could hold out longer, maybe they weren’t in much danger yet.
“Honey, it’ll be OK,” Audrey said, stroking the other girl’s hair. “We’ll take care of you.” There was such tenderness between them. He’d always wanted to see two girls together. In person, not just in porn. They would be so tender. He thought of Kate and the girl who’d turned into a zombie. It had been so much funnier when he’d thought it was a joke. Makeup. Everyone knew zombies weren’t real. He wished Kate were there. She wouldn’t let him get maudlin.
Sandra moaned in pain. “Something’s. Ow.”
Michael knelt. “Audrey, we gotta go.” He grabbed for her hand.
Audrey screamed.
Sandra’s mouth was on her neck. It had happened fast. In what felt like an instant, Audrey was on the floor. Sandra was on top of her.
Michael grabbed Sandra, yanking her away. Audrey’s neck was bloody. It was too late. Everything he did would always be too late. And now he was going to lose Audrey. The one person he’d saved so far.
Michael held Sandra’s hands in his own, trying to keep her out of biting range. He looked around for Jordan; found him talking to Gracie.
“Jordan, fucking. Snap the belt. I mean, whip.” He didn’t know how much the zombies understood.
Jordan fumbled the belt into position and snapped it. “Stop,” he mumbled. “Stop,” he said clearly.
Sandra held still. She looked peeved.
Audrey was crying. Michael wished she would faint. It would make things easier. Jordan opened the door to the Box. Michael threw Sandra in. He heard her fall. He shut the door. The latch clicked. He would get very drunk, he promised himself. Vomiting ugly drunk. If he managed to live. He would forget all of this.
He went to Audrey. “I’m so sorry,” he said. He kissed Audrey’s hand, avoiding the blood. “I’m so sorry,” he said. There was nothing else to say. He wiped his face on his sleeve.
The Loving Dead Page 18