Call Me Zombie: Volume I: Rose

by Jasmina Kuenzli

  The others always say they have nightmares, but no one is ever awake when I feel the suffocating weight of murder descend on me like a heavy blanket in the middle of the night.

  I can’t ignore it today. I can’t sleep.

  “Well, for one, you’re not sleeping.” Perce gestures to the roof surrounding us.

  “No one here sleeps either.”

  “There’s a difference between choosing not to sleep because you’ve got shit to do and not being able to sleep,”

  I snort. “And which are you?”

  “Both. And so is Malia. That girl has more on her shoulders than the president, and she’s handling it better than he would.”

  “Then why aren’t you talking to her?”

  “She knows this guy; I don’t know if you met him. Freakishly white blonde hair, beautiful eyes, dreamy expression…”

  “Well why don’t you talk to someone else then?” I explode, my voice resounding out over the roof. “Why don’t you go play Dr. Phil to someone else, Perce, because I’m fine and I don’t want to talk to you. So just leave me alone!”

  Perce gets up. “Fine. You don’t want me here, that’s fine.”

  “Good.” I know I’m being a bitch, but I don’t care. I can feel the panic starting again, and Levi’s face hovering at the corners of my vision, and Perce is bringing the whole thing back, the whole event, but if I stay here and focus on the trees I can get away from it, I can watch the breakdown and the pain like it’s happening to someone else, I can be strong enough to smile for real the next time it happens, I can get away from the girl who feels compassion for soulless black eyes, the girl who will die because she can’t pull the trigger.

  The girl who feels like the only difference between herself and the guy at the end of the barrel is an ever-narrowing time gap.

  I need him to leave.

  He walks to the attic window, and I turn my gaze back to the sky, wondering if it might be easier to float away from all of this, to let someone else deal with the guilt and the blood and dirt, and the fact that I still find myself wondering what the Hell I’m still doing alive most of the time.

  “I care about you.” I don’t react, don’t move, don’t do anything but feel the knot in my stomach turn and eat at me, a wave starting from my toes and rising upward, the sky ever-present, and so ridiculously far away.

  “I care about you. I meant every word I said when I ran after you two weeks ago. I know that you think I’m lying, but I’ve never lied to you.”

  He rushes on, and I can’t stop my ears up enough to shut him out. The sky gets farther away.

  “There are people you meet who matter, and people you meet who don’t, and you matter to me. I can’t explain it better than that; I can’t tell you I’m in love with you because I’m not, but you matter to me. And I want to help you.”

  I shake my head, but my eyes blur, the stars lines of white in the clear sky, the moon a white disc. I swallow, hard, willing the burning to go away.

  “I can’t,” I choke out, and I didn’t want to say it, admit that I’m drowning, falling, hurting, but it’s there.

  And Perce is taking long steps toward me, his nonchalance gone, his anger fizzled out, and one hand is pulling me up, pulling me off this roof I’m stuck to, unclenching my muscles enough to fall into him. I bury my face in his chest and close my eyes, and he holds on to me as tightly as I’ve ever been held, so tightly that it hurts. He shudders against me.

  I pull my face out of his chest and look at him, and I say it before I can stop myself, the thing I’m not supposed to say, the hurt I’m not supposed to feel, because it can’t go anywhere but in. Violently, nauseatingly, in.

  “I didn’t want to kill him. He was still a person.”

  “I know.”

  Perce pulls away from me and looks up at the sky, the moonlight bathing his face in an unearthly glow. He forces the words out. “The first one I killed, I tried to help. I was with Mason, driving back from school, when we saw them on the road, jogging down it. They looked completely normal. Asked us for directions.”

  “How did you know they were— “

  “I got closer, and I could see it. The bite marks on his arm, the way he kept looking from one of us to the other. He looked like—like a junkie, you know? All jittery, jumpy, and shit. Kept glancing all over. Mason and I just thought he was high. Then his eyes went black, and—he was gone.”

  He swallows, tries to speak again, stops.

  “I didn’t know they could turn back and forth like that.”

  “That guy was the only one I’ve ever seen. The only one Mason’s seen, too.”

  “So how did Malia know?”

  His side grin reemerges, and I let him hide behind it again. “You’d have to ask her. Me, I don’t ask Malia questions she doesn’t want to answer. Not worth it when you’re not getting laid.”

  I punch him in the shoulder, and he hits me back. A brief wrestling match ensues, and by the end of it, I’m flat on the roof. “Still can’t take me on,” he smirks infuriatingly from above me.

  A few weeks ago, he’d be right, but I’ve learned a lot since then. I wrap a foot around his waist and push him off me, rolling on top of him and pinning him with my arm, across the ground. Leaning down to put as much weight as I can on him.

  And he lifts his head up and kisses me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

  Perce and I haven’t kissed since I first got here.

  And the weeks we’ve spent without kissing seem to build up between us, my lips moving over his, his hands pulling me down onto him. We’re pulling each other tighter and tighter, and the sky dips away again, the stars threatening to pull me into space, but this time I pull back, and now I’m just looking at him beneath me.

  He still has one hand in my hair, the other at the curve of my hip, holding on. His lips are slightly parted in almost surprise, his eyes wide, hair flopping out of his headband where I’ve run my hands through it, and I know that he does not love me, and I don’t think I love him, but he is asking me a question and the only answer I can think of is the one that brings him closer.

  “I’ve been having nightmares,” I say, and he kisses me, rolling on top of me, and the tiles of the roof in my back and his hipbones against mine anchor me as I look at the sky, him blocking it out like a shadow, reaching up to take off his shirt, guiding my hands over his shoulders, the tightness of his stomach that rises and falls with every rapid breath.

  And maybe it’s just another escape, but I’m not thinking about that now, not with his hands running up and down my body, lips moving to my neck, my body responding the way it’s designed to, pulling him down. I don’t have time to think about anything else, and he doesn’t either, we’re both breathing fast and I can feel his heart against mine, and the heat in our limbs and in his eyes means that we’re alive

  .

  ***

  “Hold this,” Mason says, shoving a can in my face. I grip it gingerly, careful not to spill its contents.

  “So,” Mason begins.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

  Mason sighs, but doesn’t press me further. He takes the can from me and pours it into a saucepan, adding pinches of spice here and there, until it’s simmering and giving off a surprisingly good smell. He hands me a spoon. “Try some. “

  The sauce is scalding, but surprisingly thick and delicious. It reminds me of summer barbeques. “This is great.”

  Mason smiles, a slow shy grin that seems at odds with the confidence and mischief he displays whenever he’s in front of everyone, or with Malia. “Thanks.”

  “What else can I help with?”

  He points over his shoulder, to the sink behind us, piled high with dishes.

  “Soap, sponges and steel wool are in the bottom. Go crazy.”

  I hesitate, and he grins, “What? Too good for dish duty?”

  “No, it’s just— “

  Mason steps closer to me, so the others, chopping vege
tables and fruit, putting plates in the sink, won’t overhear. “Look, if you want to avoid everyone, that’s your prerogative. But you’re gonna have to be doing something useful.”

  He’s got the same leader confidence in his voice, and his tone drips condescension.

  I grit my teeth to stop my angry retort, about exactly how much experience I have in dishwashing. An entire summer spent in front of sink or behind a grill, sweating.

  “No, it’s not a problem,” I turn and get back to the dishwasher before he can say anything else, or provoke me into words I might regret.

  The pile of dishes is exactly what I need right now. An excuse, ready-made, not to see any of them. Malia or Lisa or Jeffrey, or—my hands still for a second—Perce.

  I scrub a pot with fervor, willing myself to get lost in work, to forget about last night.

  Had he really come at Malia’s request, or had he come on his own, noticing someone who was emotionally vulnerable and looking for a distraction?

  I care about you. I can’t tell you I’m in love with you…

  Looking at him, lips swollen, eyes wide and bewildered, hair messed, I hadn’t been able to resist him.

  I’d felt like I was anchored to something, like I wasn’t about to fall apart, disappear into tiny pieces and blow away in the wind, or fall off the roof into the terrifying infinite sky.

  I needed him, and he wanted me, and it was just so easy to let go.

  And then he’d kissed me on the cheek and left, and I’d stared at the stars, feeling cold and numb, and the awful encompassing ache of what I’d just done swelled up in me until I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think.

  When the sun rose, I snuck down to the kitchen, but I saw Mason and Malia anyway, sitting next to each other on the couch, laughing. When they saw me, they stopped, and I knew by the pitying look on Malia’s face that she knew, and if she knew, if he’d told her and Mason, he might have told everyone, and the way she was looking at me meant that I’d become what I’d never wanted to be.

  A conquest.

  So I turned and fled into the kitchen, offering to help. Someone smeared in flour told me to make beans, so I’d gotten out a can and opened it when Mason came in, took the can from me, and told me to “Watch the master.”

  I set the pot aside. There are still stains from old meals, but I suspect it’s the cleanest it’s been in years.

  I turn to a cookie sheet that still has pieces of pastry stuck to it, and I start scrubbing again.

  Over and over, until I can’t see anything anymore. Rinse, soap, scrub, rinse, soap, scrub. Over and over.

  And then my hands are searching through filthy water, and the pile is empty, and Mason is grabbing my elbow. “Stop. You’re done for today. Go find Malia.”

  I shake my head. “I’d like to help out in here, if you don’t mind.” I say. “I can do whatever you need. I’ll sweep, mop, --“

  “No. You can’t hide in here forever.”

  “I’m not hiding,” I lie. “I just want to help out as much as I can.”

  Mason rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Come here.” He pulls me after him, into the narrow corridor that leads outside. A single lamp swings over us, and Mason shoves it before facing me. “You’re avoiding everyone because of last night with Perce, right?”

  “Did he tell every single person in this building?” I explode. “Did he just wait until I was done and then get up and start adding another name to his list?”

  “No, actually,” Mason’s eyes flash. “Perce is my best friend, and he might have a reputation, but he doesn’t go brag about things unless the girls tell him to.”

  “They tell him to— “

  “They need some entertainment, with all that’s going on.”

  I remember last night, the memory of Levi haunting me like ghost, his screams echoing in my head, too loud to sleep, too loud to think. The weight of living like this had me suffocating, and Perce had showed up, and for a few hours, I could breathe again.

  “A distraction,” I say bitterly. “I get it.”

  Mason puts his hand on my shoulder, peering into my eyes. “It’s not a bad thing to need to be distracted sometimes, Rogue.”

  “But I— “

  “You felt better, right? And you weren’t thinking about all the shit we have to deal with now, and whether it’s worth it. And now you feel guilty, so you’re going on a teen movie angst-ridden sob fest, and I get that it’s easier than dealing with real problems, but Malia found some more survivors and you’re the best knife fighter we have, and I need you to make sure she makes it back in one piece.”

  “Malia can take care of herself.”

  “Normally, I’d agree with you. But yesterday—the thing with the zombie kid— “he swallows, and I notice the dark shadows under his eyes.

  I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep last night, not the only one who might have needed something to make them stop seeing the same things, over and over.

  I’m not the only one who needed someone to help them feel less like a walking corpse with a ticking time bomb on their head.

  He swipes a hand across his forehead. “She’s not perfect, Rogue. And you— “he takes a breath, then looks at me steadily. “I can tell you know what happens to some people when they give up,” he says, watching me warily.

  I force myself not to show too much surprise, to act like his perception hasn’t thrown me, but it has. I’ve been so careful, doing my best not to flinch whenever I’ve found someone, huddled in a corner next to a busted out window, muttering to themselves. Done my best not to react when yet another person refuses to come with us, nursing a bottle or a pipe or a needle, a wistful cloudiness in their eyes.

  They’re always smiling when we leave them. Just like he was, smiling and laughing. And I know where they’re headed, because I’ve been there.

  We have to contend with two types of monsters instead of one.

  “You think there are gonna be Jackals?”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised we’ve avoided them this long.”

  I nod. “Do you think they know about us?”

  “I don’t know. But if they do, this raid today will be the beginning of something really bad. And Malia—she’s not as strong as she looks.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Good.” Mason says. He steps aside, gesturing to the door. “Malia’s out at the archery range.”

  I move to shoulder past him, but he stops me, a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  “Word of advice,” he says. “This is no longer a world of long-term relationships and promises. This is day-to-day. What you and Perce did isn’t something to be ashamed of. Sometimes we just need to hold onto each other. Now go kick some zombie ass.” He steps aside, slapping my ass as I go by.

  It’s so unexpected, so reminiscent of football games and Friday nights and jokes in a locker room, that I’m laughing as I jog into the sunlight.

  I try to ignore the knot of my stomach that he conjured up when he mentioned the Jackals. This raid will be the beginning of something really bad.

  I try not to wonder if his words are the beginning of the end.

  The Jackals

  Malia’s hair catches the sunlight and transforms it, highlighting her strands in gold and red. She’s standing with Lisa, Traina, and a half dozen other people I don’t know, talking rapidly, waving her hands the way she does when she’s trying to explain a strategy.

  “Brent wasn’t sure how many were in there, but it looks like they just got there. We’ve been looking around over there for weeks and haven’t found any survivors. They probably don’t even know they’re right in the Jackal territory. We need to get them out before the Jackals find them.”

  “What about the zombies?” Lisa asks.

  “They’re still mostly hanging around the church. Lot of corpses from when we were there last.” She grins. “But they’ll definitely come if they hear a firefight.”

  “Wait, do we want them to come?” Traina asks.
r />   “Look, I’m not gonna get all weepy if some of the undead finish off the people we’re trying to fight off, is all I’m saying. Maybe they’ll kill each other.”

  “So we’re gonna fight the Jackals?” I ask.

  Malia raises an eyebrow after me. “You’re coming? Thought you might be too tired after last night.”

  “Nah. I feel great, actually,” I force myself to smirk, hoping it doesn’t look like a grimace.

  She smiles. “Excellent. I want details later.”

  Lisa rolls her eyes at me. “The adults were having a conversation here.”

  “Right. Malia blinks, straightens, and she’s Fearless Leader again. “We’re not fighting anyone unless we have to. They could be high on anything, they’ve got weapons, and I don’t want to lose any of you. But if it comes to a fight, we need to kick some lowlife ass, got me?”

  Traina smiles, fingering her bow. “Leave them to me,” she says.

  “Nice thought, babe, but there’s only one of you, so we’re all taking part. Lisa and Jeffrey are gonna run rescue.”

  “Aw, come on,” Jeffrey says, bounding up next to Lisa and slipping an arm around her waist.

  “Sorry, but I think a lot of them are kids, and they respond better to older people. And y’all have that mom-and-dad vibe going.”

  “Sounds like ageism to me,” Lisa says.

  “Yeah, we’re only like, ten years older than you guys.” Jeffrey says, scratching his neck.

  “Mom, Dad, stop being so childish,” Malia snaps. “That’s what’s happening. If you don’t like it, you can stay behind.”

  “Chill, we’ll do it,” Jeffrey says, giving me a wide-eyed look. I shrug in response, but now I’m getting what Mason meant when he told me to look after Malia. She usually never snaps at anyone.

  “Okay, so me, Rogue, Tavi, Traina, Mikey, Soren, and Brent are gonna be watching on lookout. I want archers in the trees—me and Rogue on the ground at the entrances. Cool?”

  We all mumble assent, and Malia smiles her dangerous smile. “Get your weapons and we’ll head out.”

  ***

  After we get back into town, Brent takes the lead, jogging ahead and whispering to Malia as he does so.