Call Me Zombie: Volume I: Rose

by Jasmina Kuenzli

  He holds the hand not holding the bandage out in a classic ‘I’m not armed’ gesture. “I’m Levi,” he says. “I got separated from my unit, and I ended up in here, looking for supplies, and my head hurts.” The words come out of his mouth in a jumbled rush, the way kids talk when they try to tell you a story. “And I don’t know where they are and then I came in here but I heard something I think it was you but I thought it was zombies so I was gonna shoot them but then you yelled and— “

  “Whoa. Slow down.” I look him up and down. I thought soldiers had to be eighteen, but he seems younger. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen, ma’am.”

  Malia snorts.

  “Honest,” he pleads. “Just help me find my way back to camp, and I’ll leave you alone.

  “Right. You ‘just got lost.’ Malia rolls her eyes. “And you just happened to hole up in one of the safest possible areas, which happened to be miraculously clear of any zombies.”

  “What the Hell’s your problem?” he stands up straighter, his free hand dropping to his side in a clenched fist.

  “I’m just trying to stay alive, same as you,” Malia’s mouth twists into a sneer. “And I wouldn’t go for that gun, if I were you.”

  Levi takes a step back, eyes narrowed, holding out his free hand with his palm open. “I’m fighting for the rest of humanity. You’re hiding in the woods and going out for supplies, and sometimes you take pity on others who are too god damn paranoid or afraid to man up and serve their county like they’re supposed to, and you get to call yourself a hero?”

  Malia raises her knife. “Wanna be taught something about survival, you buzz-cut bastard?”

  All sense of childlike astonishment is gone from Levi now. A muscle twitches in his cheek, and he clenches his jaw. “I just want to get back to base. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll be out of your way.”

  Malia growls, tenses up, and I know she’s seconds from launching herself at him, acting on whatever instinct has her so spooked.

  “I can wrap your head wound before you go back,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, determinedly not looking at Malia.

  He smiles at me, eyes brightening in a face that bears no hint of frustration or anger, a crimson mask with white, gleaming teeth. “Thanks. That would help.

  I move toward him again, stepping between him and Malia. Once he is out of her line of fire, he sinks to the floor as though he can’t hold himself up anymore. I kneel next to him, inspecting the gash in his forehead. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Dried blood stains the front of his uniform, too much and too old to come from the head wound.

  “It’s not my blood.” He tries to glance down, but he turns a pale sickly color and clutches at my arm. “Ran into some trouble before we got separated.”

  I lean him back against the wall, trying to be gentle, even though my eyes dart around the room. I nod at Malia to look in the hallway, in case whatever ‘trouble’ he ran into still lingers, was perhaps awakened by our loud banter in the hallway. “When?”

  “Last night. We were running recon in town, trying to see if the zombies had cleared out, or died maybe. It’s been really quiet and we thought we’d check it out.”

  “So were they gone?” I start sponging away the blood around the wound. Underneath the blood, his skin is a sickly gray color.

  He laughs weakly. “They came in from all sides. We tried to shoot at them, but there were too many. They kept coming, and I— “He looks down, but not before I see it. Shame.

  “You ran,” Malia says flatly. She’s walked up to us while I was talking to him, and now she crouches in front of us, forcing him to look at her. Her face is stern, and hard, her lips set in a single line. “You ran and left your unit and your friends, because you’re just trying to survive, right?”

  “Someone had to go back and tell them what happened,” he mumbles.

  “Right.” She bites off the syllable like it tastes bad. “And of course they would choose you. Since you’re clearly so valuable to them.”

  He doesn’t even defend himself, just stares at the ground. His shoulders shake, and I realize he’s crying. I put a hand on his shoulder, but he throws it off.

  I glare at Malia. “He was trying to stay alive. What would any of us have done?”

  “I would have stayed and fought. I would not have let them turn me into a sniveling coward who runs at the first sign of pain.” She glares right back at me, and I know the words are directed more at me than him. It hits me like a blow to the chest.

  “No,” I say, my voice wavering slightly, still looking at Malia. “You are not a coward.” I pull him to his feet. “You just wanted to live, and you didn’t know what to do. “

  Malia snorts and goes to stand by the opposite wall. When she gets there, she leans against it and crosses her arms.

  I turn back to Levi. He’s stumbling forward, shuffling steps. I step under an arm and support him with my weight. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Malia abandons her pose and slides past us, jogging down the corridor and out of sight, disappearing into the sunlight.

  “Sorry about this,” he says, coughing a little.

  “Don’t be,” I say. “She’s just,” I try to explain, but even after all this time, I don’t know much about Malia, don’t have an explanation for her love for Mason and extreme sports, her hatred of soldiers, her distrust of Levi.

  “I think she went through something with the military. Before all of this started.”

  Levi nods, slowly. “Wanna know something funny? I was anti-war all the way until this whole thing started.” He almost trips, and I help him up.

  “I think it’s easier to fight now,” he continues, slightly out of breath. “Then, I hated it because the enemy never really seemed like an enemy, you know? Like the government was telling us one thing but the people were telling us another, and we’re all human, aren’t we? It just didn’t make sense. But now— “

  “Now we know who the bad guys are.” We walk through the door into the waiting room.

  He stops, swaying slightly. “Yeah,” his mouth is practically against my neck. He smells awful, like sweat and blood and stale food. His breath is hot against my neck, and it suddenly feels like he’s crushing me.

  “Just a little farther,” I say, guiding him out the door, onto the glass-sprinkled grass. Our boots crunch on it in unison, and it’s loud enough that I don’t hear Malia and Lisa in front of me, who are speaking to one another urgently, Malia’s dark head mingling with Lisa’s red hair, expressions grim and serious.

  Once we get to a patch of grass without glass, I lower him gently to the ground. Before I can put him down and talk to Malia and Lisa, he pulls me down to his ear. His eyes are wide and scared, and his breathing is shallow. “What’s your name?”

  “Rose.” I say it without thinking.

  He looks at me like I am the only source of his salvation. It’s terrifying.

  He smiles hesitantly, and his eyes seem to glow. “Rose,” he whispers, and for a moment, his skin looks healthier, and he looks young and innocent, a child with blood on his face and in his hair, trying to be grown up but still just a kid, and I can’t help but touch his cheek with my fingers.

  “Please don’t let them hurt me.”

  “I won’t let them hurt you,” I say. “They’re the good guys,” I don’t know why I’m talking to him like this, like he’s just a little kid, except that it seems appropriate somehow.

  He shakes his head, and his lower lip trembles. “No, you don’t understand. You have to promise me! Promise you won’t let them hurt me!” His voice rises at the end, and he looks pale again.

  “They’re not going to hurt you, Levi!” I say, trying to keep my voice down. Malia and Lisa are looking over at us, identical scowls on their faces. Jeffrey and the others stand around under a tree to benefit from the shade, watching us silently. Jeffrey is expressionless, focused on the two of us. His hand is curled around the handle of his knife.
/>
  I glare at them, daring them to make a move. Levi grabs my hand, almost crushing it, and I look down to see him staring at Malia and Lisa, who are taking long, determined strides toward us. As she walks, Lisa takes out her bow and knocks an arrow, keeping it pointed at the ground.

  “Don’t move,” I say, stepping in front of Levi and facing them. He inhales sharply.

  “Come on, Rogue,” Malia says, sounding almost like her annoyed and confident self again. “We just want to talk to him.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Right.”

  Lisa rolls her eyes, “Just a precaution, okay? Things aren’t always what they seem with these military guys.”

  “He can barely stand. I think you’re safe.”

  ` “It’s not me who’s turning their back to him,” Lisa says.

  “What is wrong with you both? We’ve taken in like a dozen people this past week alone, and you never walked up to them with a bow to make sure they had good intentions!”

  “Look, Rogue,” Malia’s voice holds an edge it’s never had before. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just trust us, okay?”

  “Trust you?”

  “Something’s not right with this guy.”

  “Don’t let them hurt me!” Levi warns, his voice shaking.

  “You’re gonna be fine,” I call over my shoulder. “They’re not going to hurt you. Are you?” I try to stare them down as best as I can, but my eyes won’t hold theirs.

  “I swear, Rogue. I’m not firing this weapon unless I have no other choice.” Lisa’s fingers tap on the wood.

  Malia takes a step forward. “I’m just gonna talk to him some more, okay?”

  “Fine.” I step aside, turning my body so that I can keep an eye on Lisa and Levi.

  Malia kneels down next to Levi. “So in that whole battle, you didn’t get hurt?”

  “N-No.” Levi stutters.

  She pulls up one of his sleeves and inspects his arm closely. “Because you ran like a little bitch.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but Levi beats me to it. “Because I ran,” Levi confirms, and I’m glad to hear a note of anger in his voice, hardening the line of his jaw.

  Malia’s rolling up the other sleeve now. She helps pull him to his feet and walks around, looking at him all over. “See, the thing is, Levi,” she says. “I just find it super unlikely that you got out of an ambush where everyone else died, and there’s not a scratch on you. You have blood all over you.”

  Levi tries to speak, but he doubles over and holds his stomach. He retches a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

  I go to help him, but Malia holds up a hand. She circles him again, and now she’s touching his body. Her feet lightly kick each of his legs. He sways.

  “I feel like you’re lying about something. About this whole not-being-hurt thing. And I just can’t understand why someone would lie to the people trying to help them.”

  “I’m not lying. I’m fast. They’re not. I got out first. I ran, okay? I broke like a coward and ran.”

  “Yeah,” Malia’s fingers probe Levi’s lower back, and he winces. “What’s this, then?” She takes her fingers away, and they are sticky and wet with some black substance.

  Almost as soon as Malia looks at her fingers, Lisa yells, “Back, Rogue, back!” Her voice is panicky now, irritation gone. Malia grabs the edge of the shirt and pulls, and I hear a ripping sound.

  Then Malia yanks on my hand, hauling me along with her to stand behind Lisa.

  “Rose, please. I can explain!”

  “Turn around right now, or you get an arrow in your brain!”

  “I had to! You don’t understand.” He says, but he turns around, exposing his back to us.

  Exposing the gaping hole where Malia has torn away his uniform, black with patches of white, that wriggle and move. Maggots. Eating him.

  My mind flashes back. The childishness, mixed with rage. The pale, gray pallor of his skin. I want to throw up.

  “You’re a— “

  “Not yet,” he yells. “I’m not turning as fast as they said. I got bit yesterday and nothing’s happened. I’m gonna be fine I must be immune you have to believe me!” His words are running together, like they were when I first met him, and now I recognize the babble for what it is—the beginnings of mind fragmentation. The early stages.

  “You didn’t run away from your unit,” Malia says slowly. “Did you? Look at me!” He turns to face us. I can see tears starting in his green eyes, eyes that looked vivid back in the doctor’s office, but darken in the sunlight—the irises are changing, pupils widening.

  He blinks, and his eyes are black, covering his whole face. His mouth twists, and now he’s crying, desperate, broken sobs. “I didn’t mean to. I was just scared, I thought they were going to kill me, and I was so— “

  “Hungry.” Lisa spits out the word like a curse, raising the bow so that the arrow is aimed between his eyes.

  Levi holds up his hands, and his eyes, his wide, black zombie eyes, find me. “Please, Rose. You promised you wouldn’t let them hurt me.”

  I take a step back, shaking my head. His voice rises to a wail. “PLEASE,” Jeffrey rushes over, and now there is a forest of weapons—swords and knives and bows, all pointed at him. Malia holds up a hand.

  “You killed them!” she accuses.

  “I didn’t mean to, please!”

  Malia presses her gun into my hand. “You need to do it.”

  I search her eyes, hoping it’s a joke, but I’ve never seen her more serious. Her mouth is set in a line, and she holds my gaze unwaveringly. “I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “Let Lisa— “

  “No. This is your problem. You have to take care of him.” The words are as harsh as sandpaper, grating against my skin, ripping me raw.

  “Maybe he really isn’t turning,” I whisper. His eyes are supposed to be expressionless, supposed to be flat and alien, interested only in food. But there’s depth in the black. I can see it.

  “I can’t do this.”

  She curls my hand around the handle of the weapon. “He ate them. He ate his entire unit. The ones he’s supposed to protecting.”

  Unbidden, the story plays out in my mind’s eye. He crept up on them as they lay sleeping. He tore into them, one after another, muffling their screams with his teeth in their throat.

  I raise the gun and point it between his eyes, like they taught me.

  “Please, Rose,” he says softly, hysterics ended. His voice belies the blackness of his eyes, the redness surrounding them, the blood on his face. He sounds human. But he can’t be.

  “If you were thinking right, you’d want me to do this.”

  And suddenly the eyes aren’t compassionate anymore. His mouth turns into a scowl, and he snarls.

  “Fine,” he hisses. Then he moves, faster that I can believe, and I fire, cool headed and calm, in that icy place where all that matters is the target. He doesn’t stand a chance.

  Then Malia is taking the gun out of my hand and I am looking down at a bloody, huddled mass on the ground. The blood where his head used to be is more black than red, and Malia is patting me on the back, and Lisa is watching with a stony expression, bow shouldered, and I feel like the ground is shifting under me, like there is nothing to hold onto, like I am drifting away and going cold, and I have never been more afraid in my life.

  But Jeffrey and the others are standing around the body now, inspecting it cautiously, and Jeffrey pats me on the back and says, “Great job,” and I smile automatically, willing it to reach my eyes, because I suddenly know that the horror I feel will not go over well with them, no matter that they have taken me in and treated me like family, no matter the mornings of cereal-eating races and archery contests and sparring in the fields. No matter our shared experiences, I am in a place they cannot allow themselves to go, and they will never look at me the same way again if I tell them that shooting Levi didn’t feel like justice, or retribution.
/>   It felt like murder.

  I keep my smile frozen on my face, and I don’t allow myself to speak. I am afraid that if I open my mouth I might cry or scream or throw up. I killed a zombie; I killed one because he would have killed me, and I should be happy and proud, I should not feel sick, I should not want to mourn the dead thing that tried to make me dead too.

  Malia trots home next to me, chattering rapidly about celebrating my first kill, and how happy and proud everyone will be, and Lisa’s next to her, smiling, talking about how far I’ve come, and the trees rise up before me like sentinels as we leave the road again, hemming me in.

  Anchor

  “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Perce plops down next to me.

  “Shouldn’t you?” I’ve been here for the last hour, shoulders hunched, staring out at the trees. I tried to lay back and relax, sleep like I’d planned to, but I can’t do anything but stay the way I am, tense and frozen.

  I haven’t been able to wind down after what happened today, and I’ve been faking it for so long, my hands shake.

  I can’t see anything but black and red, and Levi’s face swimming in front of me, and Jonathan holding a gun to his head; I’m pulling the trigger on the people I was supposed to protect.

  The sky yawns above me like an abyss I can fall into, dizzying, like if I don’t hold on, I’ll fall off the roof and up, up into the sky, into blackness and nothing, floating and freezing endlessly, a perfectly preserved corpse orbiting the Earth.

  But Perce sits next to me anyway, even though my entire body cringes at his company.

  “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “I am!”

  “Malia told you to talk to me.”

  “She’s worried about you.”

  “Why would she be worried about me?” I don’t want Perce to know what’s going on, the nightmare that changed tonight, after I shot a boy named Levi. Levi, with the vivid green eyes that turned black, and the childlike vulnerability. Levi, who invades my thoughts like a demon, taking on the role of my mother, then Jonathan, then Ben, shooting over and over and over.