Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow

by Connie Vines

  Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow

  Sassy & Fun Fantasy Series,

  Novella 1

  By Connie Vines

  ISBN: 978-1-77145-306-6

  Copyright 2014 by Connie Vines

  Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2014

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

  ***

  Dedication

  In loving memory to three wonderfully talented writers, mentors, and dear friends: Bev Watson, Rita Rainville, and Charlotte “Carter/ Mclay/Moore” Lobb. For all the good times we shared during the monthly OCC/ RWA meetings. And for cheering from the side-lines when I received my very first “red rose”! Ladies, you would have loved this series.

  Chapter One

  “You and Elvis have done a great job on this house,” Meredith said as her older sister led the way downstairs toward the kitchen where the tour began. “Sorry I couldn’t get over, until now, but I’ve been sort of… well, busy.” Slipping her Juicy Couture tortoise-shell framed sunglasses into a bright pink case, Meredith crammed them into her black Coach handbag. She hoped her sister didn’t ask her to define busy. Becoming a zombie, and dealing with the entire raised from the dead issue over the past six months, was not a topic easily plunked into casual conversation.

  Pippa waved the comment aside. “I’m glad you like it. We had such fun decorating. Of course, we couldn’t do it all at once, but it’s more satisfying putting it together treasure by treasure.”

  Meredith glanced from Pippa’s impish features and short spiky black hair to the perimeter of the room. Taking in every detail and nuance of Pippa’s decorating talent, she let her gaze rest on a collection of figurines by fantasy artist Jasmine Beckett-Griffith crouching at the top of the ebony stained cabinets. A black arch-top fireplace mounted against the wall, flames flowing from a bed of clear river stones, and HOME SWEET HOME embroidered on a sampler with a tiny vine of blood-red roses tangling though out the letters completed the focal point of the room.

  Even though Meredith was on the best relations with her sister, she couldn’t help but feel a sharp nip of jealousy. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d had her own happy home. Unfortunately, she’d filed for divorce from Viktor and then there’d been that bizarre little accident where she’d ended up dead, and then undead.

  While Pippa’s two kids, Ethan and Emma, played in the living room, to the accompaniment of 1960s rock-and-roll musical on TV, Meredith sat in the kitchen with her sister, fiddling with the end of the tea bag that dangled from the rim of her China cup.

  Since her sister was contemplating the contents of a tin filled with Danish cookies, Meredith found herself cataloging the events that led up her ‘accident’.

  A charter member of the SoCal Arts Association, she’d been participating in the annual Zombie Walk Festival in Long Beach when it ‘happened’. Crowds always made her uncomfortable, but this particular event was to raise money, so she was obligated to attend. And, it only went to reason; this year’s participation broke all past records.

  Twelve-thousand gleeful ghouls stormed Long Beach’s renovated Promenade. The crowd became so large that it spilled out over Pine Avenue for an all-out downtown invasion. Meredith didn’t recall much about the accident, nor who or what, reanimated her. She remembered over-hearing a security officer informing a pungent-smelling zombie that he couldn’t purchase an alcoholic beverage (apparently he didn’t match up with his photo ID). Within moments, a shoving match between the two men ensured, quickly escalating into zombie chaos: shouting, running and chomping.

  Chomping?

  At the time, Meredith thought it was all part of the festivities, perhaps a little odd and definitely crazy. Just like the cornstarch-based zombie-vomit and fake blood, everyone had globbed and smeared on themselves; but hey, it was an Arts event. Even after finding herself wedged in the center of the zombie mob, lunging and bumping along until they were in sight of the pier, Meredith wasn’t overly concerned.

  In hindsight, perhaps she should have been extremely concerned. Because the next thing Meredith knew, she was in a zipped body bag, feeling entirely not like herself.

  No. She wasn’t going to dwell on the past. Again. She’d just keep muddling on with her life and try to focus on the bright spots.

  Pippa and her family were a definite bright spot in her life.

  “I wish you would let me help with dinner,” Meredith said, pulling herself back into the present. “I feel guilty just sitting here doing nothing while you do all the work.” Being a vegan, Meredith found her transition of zombie-hood, particularly exigent. Brains, human or otherwise, had never been on her menu—now, protein, in fowl or bovine form was a requirement of her reanimated state. Difficult though it was, she had to come to terms with the change. After discovering an underground support group who met monthly in a banquet room of a coffee shop near the I-10, she was thankful she didn’t required human protein like most of the other Zombies. However, consuming tofu with herbal tea (her lunch before reanimation), she discovered, had unfortunate, and unexpected, side effects.

  Pippa, turning from the stove with the pecan pie captured between two oven mitts, shook her head. “Meri, don’t even think about helping me with the meal. When Elvis’s mom and dad decided to take a paddleboat cruise up the Mississippi, I thought I wouldn’t have anybody but my own offspring to fuss over on Thanksgiving Day. You just sit there and relax.”

  “I really appreciate the invitation,” Meredith said, glancing out the window to catch a Monarch butterfly pick its way along a lipstick red hibiscus blossom. “Cooking turkey for one just isn’t my style.”

  Pippa did a double take at Meredith’s statement, but didn’t comment. Instead, she said, “You’re welcome to come for Christmas dinner too, you know.”

  “Thanks Pippa, but Christmas is out. I have to finish the new book by February so I’m driving up to Forest Falls tomorrow. I’ll be staying there for a month or so.”

  “Christmas at the cabin,” Pippa mused. “That sounds nice. Are you sure you want to be up there all by yourself?”

  “I’m not hiding,” Meredith replied.

  “I know. You’re healing. . .” She left the words: and licking your wounds, unspoken. “I just don’t want you to be lonely.”

  “I won’t be,” Meredith reassured her. “I’m taking Gertie with me.”

  Pippa laughed indulgently and shook her head. “A hamster doesn’t count.”

  “Don’t say that when Gertie’s within ear shot. She follows me all around the house in her exercise ball. We’re BFFs.”

  “Well, I’m glad you could join us for Thanksgiving,” Pippa said.

  ***

  As Meredith surveyed the beautifully decorated dinner table, irony struck her right between the eyes. A lot had happened in the six months or so (being reanimated unexpectedly), and then there were all the hidden expenses. Body moisturizers, specialty make-up loaded with anti-decay properties, hydrating beverages, bimonthly injections—to keep the virus semi-dormant so that she didn’t partake in some zombie flash-mob; or worst, (morph into a Hannibal Lector type wearing red stilettos, roaming the suburbs). While she still had a lot to be thankful for, it was difficult adjusting to the major changes in her life.

  Her career, however, was something Meredith gave her stamp of approval. After seven years as a struggling advertising/blog writer, she’d finally gotten her big break. Not only wa
s her book The Isis Factor published but also was a huge success!

  There were book signings, press parties, interviews, and even an e-Book launching cruise. Not bad, for a girl who worked her way through college waiting tables and writing nonfiction articles on spec.

  The Luxor Papers, published a few months later, had been an even greater success. Who would have ever thought that Meredith Misso, author of quirky short stories and nonfiction articles, would’ve found her niche in the Steampunk market. “I really wish you’d reconsider and spend Christmas with us,” Pippa said later. As she and Meredith took turns rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher. “I don’t like the thought of you all alone in that cabin during the holidays.”

  Meredith smiled, touched by her sister’s concern. Same old Pippa. It was reassuring that one part of her life hadn’t changed. “Don’t worry about me,” Meredith told her, readjusting her thick plastic gloves. “I’ll be just fine. Being alone is what every writer hopes for—a writer’s mantra, in fact. Without interruptions, I can finish the book and maybe even start the next one.”

  “Glad to see you’ve lost none of your ambition,” Pippa remarked, fitting a casserole dish on the top rack of the dishwasher. I can’t even imagine wanting to work right up until Christmas.”

  Meredith shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s just a day like any other,” she said.

  “Have you thought about calling Viktor?”

  “No way, Pippa,” she snapped, yanking off her plastic gloves and placing then on the edge of the sink.

  “Touched a raw nerve, did I?”

  Meredith looked down at her manicured fingertips, a small, sad sigh escaping her pale lips. “It’s over. The divorce will be final soon, and that will be that. Hopefully, I’ll never have to deal with Doctor Viktor again.”

  “I always thought Viktor was kind of sweet. You know reserved, serious—”

  “Arrogant,” Meredith added.

  “Not to mention smart,” Pippa countered, with a wink.

  “That’s because you didn’t have to live with him, Pippa. Trust me, there’s nothing more irritating than a guy who knows everything from who flew the first paper airplane to what Genghis Khan had for breakfast the day he invaded Transylvania!” Yes, Genghis Khan really did invade Transylvania. Meredith triple checked.

  “He couldn’t—”

  “Pip—”

  “I guess he could be,” she back peddled. “But he sure is good looking.”

  Meredith gave a nod of agreement. There was no arguing there. Viktor was the most attractive and, unquestionably, the sexiest man she’d ever known.

  Pippa watched her sister’s expression soften as she gave Meredith a questioning look. “So, who’s vying to replace your professor?”

  “Nobody,” Meredith answered emphatically. “For the time being,” she grinned, “and you can quote me on this. I’m done with men.”

  Pippa, with her natural talent for meddling, shook her head. “Meri, I don’t know what to do about you! Only 32 years old, and you don’t look a day over 25. You should be out having fun!”

  Meredith resisted the urge to finger comb her caramel-highlighted ‘surfer-girl’ hair. Viktor had said she was his angel. That was why she’d been blessed with her shining halo of golden hair, his reminder to keep on a heavenly, albeit rather boring, path. She’d laughed, but she melted into his embrace, his deep slightly accented baritone a loving rumble against her ear. The beginning in their relationship was magical. Then everything seemed to change. . .

  “You’ve got this marvelous career and money and everything that you could possibly want,” Pippa continued, jarring Meredith out of her thoughts, “and there’s nobody in your life to share with.”

  “You mean I should have a couple of kids by now,” Meredith responded. That was so not going to happen.

  “You need a man to have kids, little sister.”

  She almost said: Zombies can’t reproduce, but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she managed a convincing comeback. “Well, right now I’m not in the marriage market. Believe it or not, I’m perfectly happy just the way I am.”

  Pippa’s expression shouted she seriously doubted that, but she allowed the topic to rest. “If you say so,” she replied good-naturedly. “How about second cup of coffee to go with a slice of pecan pie?”

  “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it,” Meredith agreed.

  ***

  Forest Falls, a town of one thousand year-round residents, was seventy-five miles due east from Los Angeles, in San Bernardino County. Valley of the Falls Road was the main road, surrounded by the San Gorgonio Mountains and the gateway to the wilderness area. Forest Falls boasted the highest point in Southern California. Furthermore, known as “Little Yosemite,” ninety inches of snow were common in the upper canyon.

  It was a second home to Meredith, who had been coming up every year since she was a little girl. Her parents owned a cabin outside of town. Five years ago, when she and Viktor got married, it had been their wedding gift to the couple.

  As Meredith negotiated the sharp turns in Mill Creek Road, she tried to remember the last time she’d been up here. Two years, at least. No, two-and-a-half. She and Viktor had driven up for a week while the kitchen at the Ganesha Hills house was renovated.

  She’d just finished writing her first novel, the one that hadn’t sold, and Viktor had been on leave from the Claremont Colleges. A week of renovations stretched to three weeks. It was the last time she could remember the two of them being completely happy together.

  After their return to the house, things started to go wrong. What had caused the problem, even Meredith couldn’t say. Oh sure, she condensed into a few easy remarks to Pippa, something about Viktor being a-know-it-all, but it was really just an abbreviated version. The truth behind their breakup was much more complicated, and much more heartbreaking.

  Glancing at the highway sign indicating the Big Bear Lake turnoff was to the right; Meredith drove another three miles to the Forest Falls exit.

  Competition, she realized. There was no other explanation for what had happened between her and Viktor. Even though she was quick to blame him, it wasn’t all Viktor’s fault. She was just as guilty, and just as much to blame.

  While she was busy writing The Isis Factor, he’d been hard at work on his own book about the Ottoman Empire. Although their subjects were worlds apart, it should have been a time for sharing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Viktor threw acerbic darts about romance novels, in general, and her failure to comprehend the basic laws of physics when he looked over her Steampunk stories. She retaliated with barbs about antiquated college professors who didn’t understand the public’s taste in literature or the impact of pop culture on society’s future.

  It started as a joke, a kind of verbal fencing that was only half-serious and which they both enjoyed. However, soon the remarks degenerated into nasty little jibes. Jibes that neither bothered to take back, nor apologize for making.

  Meredith had known, even then, the trouble between them was jealousy, pure and simple; except nothing between them was very simple. Somewhere along the line they had become competitors instead of teammates, rivals instead of lovers.

  What happened to the idealistic young couple who had met on a blind date, six years ago? A girlfriend of Pippa’s had fixed them up, saying that she knew they’d be perfect for each other. They were both so smart, so focused, so determined to be successful. From the moment Meredith and Viktor had met, it was as if there had never been anyone else.

  After a light Peruvian meal at Inca Trails and viewing the musical, Phantom of the Opera, at the Gardner Spring Auditorium on Euclid Avenue in downtown Ontario, she and Viktor stopped by the college to retrieve papers he’d needed for a lecture he was giving the next day. They’d ended up talking until morning, which they’d only discovered when students began straggling in for classes.

  In those days, she had still been working part time, writing advertising blurbs for a local
agency. This allowed her to spend the remainder of the time on her blog and short stories.

  Back then, Viktor had been enthusiastic over her work, eagerly reading every line she wrote and offering gentle, yet insightful criticism. She’d always been equally involved in his first literary effort, volunteering to do some of the footwork. She’d spent hours at the College of Theology, fact checking and even more hours at the Pomona Library reading the blurry Microfiche on an old-school reader device. They loved each other, and they loved their work.

  Life was perfect.

  Chapter Two

  It was starting to get dark—it was nearly Winter Solstice after all, and Meredith flicked on the headlights of her Land Rover, illuminating the narrow road that skirted the few buildings that made up the town of Forest Falls. There was still snow on the ground and the vehicle bounced down the asphalt road from one pothole to the next.

  She’d left a note on her iPhone last week, and now Siri was reminding her to stock up on foodstuff tomorrow at the Elkhorn General Store. The chicken, liverwurst sandwiches and thermos of coffee she’d packed would do for dinner tonight, but Meredith didn’t want to be snowed in without supplies. Meredith had her injection last week and an EpiPen that promised to be reliable in case of emergencies, in her handbag.

  Beside her in the seat, Gertie sat upright, twitching her nose, unconcerned inside the protection of her metal carrier. Meredith pushed a gloved finger through the wire mesh to adjust the water bottle. She’d heard one of the other patients in the doctor’s office (yes, she had discovered she was part of a subculture) talking about having her pet ‘turned’ (zombiefied). Glancing at the cute, pouchy-cheeked Teddy Bear hamster, Meredith shivered at the very thought or ‘turning’ her pet. Gertie was Gertie, alive, messy, and happy. Meredith still hadn’t adjusted to her new reanimated life, how could anyone even consider doing such a thing to a pet?