by Theo Vigo
Margaret: Ready?
Abe gurgles and the training begins with a leaning in of her torso.
All evening Margaret pushes, not only what Abe's face can take, but her own endurance as well. Time after time, and again, Abe swipes for both her and the hare, but the persistent teen remains just as stubborn. She switches up her swinging arm every thirty hits or so to balance out the stress, but by the time the sun has half left the sky, both of Margaret's arms feel like they are about to fall off. She can barely even hold up the six-pound carcass. She grunts in tenacity with every movement she makes; raising the rabbit, lowering it, leaning it, dodging Abe, punishing him, repeat. Her breaths are long and drawn-out.
Her opposition is just as beat, in more ways than one. The sweet smell of her still plagues every undead cell in his body, and her vicinity makes it worse, driving his cravings even higher. It compels him to move, to attain it. That is his purpose, to assimilate. It may be true that he is moving at a slug's pace, and he may only be able to hear a high-pitched buzzing from all the knocks to the head, but he must reach, and his eyes never fail to return to their original place, staring Margaret dead in hers. Any chance he had of catching her had evaporated hours back, for anyone with a reaction time under three seconds could dodge his attempts at this point, but it doesn't matter. Who knows? If he keeps trying, he might get lucky again. So he must keep reaching. He must have brains… but having another rabbit might not be so bad either.
Margaret: (heaving) Abe, you idiot. Maybe there really isn't anything going on in that head of yours after all,.. stupid zombie.
She pants while Abe continues on with his unending low growl.
Margaret: This is it. This is the last time. I'm exhausted, and I think I'm beginning to smell worse than you.
She sniffs at her armpit and pulls away thusly from the musky odor she encounters, but Abe remains unresponsive.
Margaret: All right…
One more time, Margaret tiredly raises her left arm and dangles the hare carcass in Abe's airspace, and one more time Abe lazily tries to grab it out of her hand. She doesn't let him.
Margaret: Okay. That's good. And now…
One more time, she leans the top of her torso into Abe's airspace and waits. Everything is as usual. She stares at him with her regular, stern glare that penetrates his eyes, focused and ready to pull back when that expected arm comes floating up to attack her. She even has her club already half raised by her side, ready to administer Abe's punishment blow, but something is off this time. Usually, she would already have had to dodge Abe's attempt at eating her face. She would have seen that now familiar movement in her peripheral coming from the right, but this time there is a delay. Even so, Margaret remains focused, keeping still, and holding eye contact with Abe's dead grey pupils. But still, she neither sees, nor senses an arm coming toward her, no need to withdraw herself.
Suddenly, his low growl jumps in volume, but only for a split second, making Margaret flinch. She even breaks eye contact for half a second, checking quickly to the right to see if his arm has moved, but nothing, it was simply a growl and a slight readjustment of his body. Abe's left arm remains where it is, and Margaret is in disbelief. Her head has now been within Abe's reach for over ten seconds. She even begins to feel her abdomen tighten, and then begin to tremble from staying bent over so long. She feels she must be dreaming. She couldn't have possibly trained a zombie, could she have?
Margaret: Umm… o-kaaaay…
Hesitantly, Margaret begins to pull her head back and out of Abe's range.
Margaret: You dying on me, Abe?
Abe doesn't answer, merely continues purring and staring at his trainer, who looks back at him with questioning eyes. She thinks to herself, could it be possible the zombie has finally taken too many blows to the head? Perhaps, but there is only one way to find out.
Margaret: Well, if you aren't dying, you really deserve this.
She brings the dead hare up in front of Abe's face and waits for the result. She can hardly believe it when Abe's disgusting hand comes up and snatches the rabbit out of hers. The speed of it is shocking. It makes her jump back a bit. She hadn't realized he had that much spirit left. The hare immediately goes into his mouth, and he rips out a large chunk of guts and innards. This time, Margaret doesn't seem to take notice of the gruesome display of Abe gorging on the furry animal. Instead, a smile dawns on her face as she watches him eat it.
Margaret: Heh.. heh-heh-heh… Umm… Good.. boy?
At this time in the evening the sun has almost fully retired for the day, but Margaret is invigorated with a new wave of energy. The darkness would have her go to sleep, but her fatigue has vanished at having possibly conquered her goal. She must be sure that the training has worked, so she sets her oil lamp to a low burn in front of Abe, and stands in her spot once more. Abe watches her every movement, all the while chowing down on the hare like a furry, bloody granny smith. Margaret takes a deep breath, and braces herself.
Margaret: Okay, Abe. It's just me, now.
Cautiously, the curious girl lifts her left hand, and starts it toward Abe's face. The zombie doesn't take notice of it, or maybe he does, nevertheless, his eyes never leave Margaret's steady gaze. Now, her fingers are no more than an inch away from his face, so close to it that one would expect to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Half an inch later and Margaret discovers why she felt no warmth. Running her fingers along Abe's cheek, she finds that there is no heat radiating from his undead body at all. Abe's skin is cold and dry, completely the opposite of the warm and gooey that she expected.
She is absolutely fascinated, but it isn't just the fact that she is touching Abe's face without him attacking her or that she seems to actually have been successful in training him; it's everything in one. Looking into Abe's eyes and caressing his cheek, she feels a certain sense of completeness that she hasn't felt since this whole nightmare started for her. Even during the past week, while her parents were still alive, she hadn't felt this thrilling sort of serenity; security, and she is lost in it, dancing on the inside but perfectly calm on the outside. She chuckles to herself, a little bit of the excitement escaping out her belly, and stays lost in Abe's grotesque majesty for the rest of the night.
<><><>
When she awakes the next morning, the room is bright with the glaring of the sun through the cabin's front windows. If her eyes had a sound effect to accompany them, they would probably sound like a pair of old door hinges as they creaked slowly open, or a pair of grumpy old men, griping at the daylight. They open up to Margaret's first sight of the day, and the thing brings the smile from the night before, back to her face. She sees Abe stuck in the doorway, and the rabbit she had rewarded him last night, now, in a bloody clump on the floor. She remembers that it was probably less than five hours ago that she had been caressing the side of his face without any fear of being bitten. She smiles about it, yes, but she wonders, is it still possible today? Is Abe still trained? She would find out after a quick breakfast.
The girl allows herself a larger meal this morning, slightly because she feels like she deserves it, but more so because she is extremely famished. She'd barely been eating two meals a day, and those two meals were hardly fit for a toddler, so this morning she feels it is okay to scarf down a can of noodle soup and the rest of the first loaf of bread, which consists of about four more slices. She takes the slices of bread and dips them into the lukewarm soup. For her, it's like gourmet cuisine, the best thing she has tasted in weeks, perhaps months because of her current perspective. She can't wait to try the bread in the Spaghettios. Sadly, she would have to wait until her next meal.
All throughout this breakfast, Margaret says nothing to Abe. She just sits, and the two of them watch each other, as if locked in some sort of psychic battle. Maybe the girl doesn't want to jinx things by saying something stupid, but even now as she washes her food down with a bottle of water, she says nothing. When she finishes chugging, she gets to her feet, ties her
hair back, grabs the second of the four hares she had caught the day before, and limps her way over to Abe. She may appear unsure on the outside, but Margaret must have some deeply rooted faith in the process, for she either forgets or neglects to grab her whooping stick.
Now in front of Abe, she raises the rabbit, and the zombie instantly claws at it like a good boy. Margaret withdraws it, doesn't let him have it yet. She must first see if the second, and frankly, more important part of the training has been remembered. She braces herself with a conscious breath, then slowly moves her head forward. No hand comes clawing at her face, and she can still hardly believe it. She waits for a moment, and Abe still does nothing. She sputters a short giggle of delight, pulls her head away, then raises the rabbit back up. Abe responds appropriately and takes the hare away from her. This time Margaret lets him have it, and her giggle becomes a chuckle, which becomes a boisterous laugh. She laughs almost hysterically and hoots loudly at her accomplishment, leaping and skipping around the best she can with her bad ankle. She had done it! She has trained a zombie, and it had only taken her a little over two days! She lets out one more piercing and victorious, "Wooooooohoooooo!", forgetting how important it is to be discreet in this new world, then finally starts to settle herself down.
<><><>
In the deep woods, two walking ghouls hear a faint sound in the distance and are drawn to it.
<><><>
Back in the cabin, Margaret pants as she usually does after a long training session, but this time she breathes deeply due to the adrenaline rushing through her. Plus, the jumping around didn't really help.
Margaret: Oh, wow!
Abe finishes the hare quickly. He isn't as starved as he had been before, so he eats the good parts and drops the skin to the floor. Excitedly, Margaret grabs the second last hare and brings it back over to the deserving beast. Just for kicks, she pokes her head in toward Abe and then out again. And then in again and out again. Then repeats it one more time. She giggles, seeing that Abe still won't swing for her, then offers him the hare, which he gladly receives.
Margaret: Oh, wow-wow-wow. You CAN learn. I did it… I actually did it.
She extends her left hand and gently caresses Abe's face again while he eats. She is reminded of how cold it is, but she loves it. She rubs him on the crown of his head like a mutt, ruining his already ruined hairdo, gives him a pat and turns to get the last hair.
Margaret: I might as well give this one to you too.
She grabs it, brings it over to Abe and hangs it on the broken door within his reach.
Margaret: You can have it when you're ready. I'm going to go out and get you more treats cause you've really made me proud of you… and myself.
She limps backwards toward her bag, finding it incredibly difficult to take her eyes off of the phenomenon that is happening before her. She only realizes she's reached her bag when she stumbles over it, and then takes her eyes away from Abe, but only momentarily so she doesn't stab herself while taking her knife out of it. She gets it and continues moving backward in awe, all the way up to the door, where she opens it and hesitantly exits the cabin.
On this, her third hunting trip, Margaret has become a pro, and it definitely helps that she is still riding off of the rush of accomplishing a goal she thought was quite possibly impossible to achieve. She leaps from behind a lush of bushes and plunges her blade into the first hare; then again, she springs from behind another bush and bags herself a second hare. The third time is a charm as well, as she stabs her blade into another woodland creature. This one's squeal sounds higher pitched than the others. When Margaret becomes five furry dead animals strong and satisfied, she starts making her way back to the cabin, hot, sweaty and ready for a rest.
Still lost in thoughts about all that has happened, she doesn't notice when she walks by the two zombies that heard her cheers of celebration from earlier. They had gotten closer by following the trail of the sound, but now they have Margaret in their sights and her strong scent tantalizing their flesh fetish. They notice her trudging by from about thirty-five to fifty feet away and begin following her at their moderate pace.
When she gets back to the cabin, Margaret enters, happy to be home. She walks right in, swinging around her prizes for Abe, some by their long ears and a different looking one by its tail. In her aloofness, she forgets to close the door behind her.
Margaret: I'm back, Abe! I hope you like squirrel!
She holds up the animals and reveals one of them to be a black squirrel, then limps over to Abe and drops all of his food at his feet. Abe has already finished eating both of the rabbits Margaret had left with him, so she picks up a fresh one and offers it to him.
Margaret: You want?
He takes it right away and begins eating. Margaret laughs at his eagerness.
Margaret: Oh, ho ho ho… So cool.
She makes her way to the sink and washes her hands off under some warm water. When she finishes, she turns off the taps and flings the water off of her hands as she limps back to observe Abe eating. Again, she either doesn't remember to close the front door or chooses to ignore it, but she definitely doesn't notice the two zombies that are seconds away from entering through it. She casually limps up to Abe, still trying to air dry her hands and rubbing the water into her soiled skin.
Margaret: Sooo, when you think you're gonna be ready to get let out of there?
While she interrogates Abe on the subject of loyalty, the two stalking walkers enter through the front door. They make their way patiently closer and closer to the unaware girl, who is too preoccupied with her one-sided conversation.
Margaret: I guess I can let you out. You're not gonna turn on me are ya, if I let you out? You're not smarter than you've been letting on, are you, Abe?
Abe says nothing, neglects to warn Margaret about his two undead cohorts, less than a metre behind her. It's as if he, himself, doesn't even notice them. As usual, his eyes never leave hers, both of them evenly enthralled by each other.
Margaret: All right, I'll let you out, but only after you're finished wi-…
Before she can end her sentence, something speaks to her. It isn't actually a voice, and it doesn't speak with words. It's more of a feeling, and it tells her to stop acting like a child and pay attention to her surroundings. It comes from the inside, and as soon as she feels it, the sound of unwelcome feet scraping across the floor behind her, grinds into her eardrums like a jackhammer, so obvious to her now. How could she not have heard them?
Margaret quickly turns around to confront whatever her inner voice had warned her about, but not soon enough. The first of the two zombies just misses her shoulder as she spins. It throws her off balance, and she falls violently back into Abe, so violently that it jerks him out of his snag almost completely.
Margaret frantically uses her hands to push herself off of Abe and the door. She manages to thrust herself past the first zombie but slams right into the second one that stands not far behind it. The extra push she gives Abe in an attempt to escape is just enough to free him completely from his prison. It pushes him stumbling back into the cabin hallway.
Margaret grapples with the second intruder momentarily before her weak ankle collapses under her, sending her falling to the ground near her duffel bag. The second zombie immediately follows suit and lands on top of her. It claws and snaps it's jaws at her face, but she manages to keep it's teeth at bay while stretching her left arm out, trying desperately to reach the big knife she knows is around her bag. She gives the zombie a swift elbow, whipping its head to the right. This gives her a precious gap of time and allows her to successfully get a hold of the knife. She grips tightly the warm plastic handle and drives the cold steel into the zombies temple just as it is about to bring it's jaws back on to it's target, that being Margaret's face. The zombie sputters and twitches its last twitches as Margaret struggles to pull the blade back out of the side of its skull.
She succeeds in withdrawing it and pushes the undead corpse off o
f her, just in time for the next zombie to pounce, but she uses her hands to push herself away from it, so the second attacker lands only on top of her legs. A straight kick to the chin from Margaret's healthy foot sends the ghoul's head flying backward, and Margaret takes that extra time to scuttle backwards on her behind, away from the raging creature. She notices Abe trying to make his way through the hallway doorway as she hurries backward, and she slams her back and head into the still open door of the cabin for her lack of attention. It rams into her spine, and she yelps in pain before slamming it shut in anger. The crawling ghoul regains it's composure after taking Margaret's foot to the face and continues it's crawling pursuit of her. She shuffles backward even further, but with the door now closed, her back meets with a dead end.
The idea of being trapped begins to panic the young girl. It is reminiscent of a dream she can hardly remember, and she feels like there's a boulder in her belly. Not only that, but she can't seem to keep her trembling hands under control. With her back against the door, she has no choice but to get to her feet. It may have been easier if both of her ankles were in working condition, but getting up becomes a task in her panicky impaired state, and midway up the brain stained knife falls out of her right hand.
She tries to pick it up, but the second zombie is already upon her. The half-second it would take her to pick up the knife would definitely get her killed if she took the chance. There's nothing she can do now but try to keep the walker's claws and teeth from penetrating her skin. She fights the creature off, blocking its flailing arms with her own and dodging it's attempts to bite her face by moving her head from left to right accordingly.