Anna and the Apocalypse

by Katharine Turner

  The legless zombie reached the ball pit and snarled loudly, alerting the others to the treats inside. They were under attack. Gnarled hands with skinned knuckles and missing fingernails scratched at the blue plastic, trying to get inside, trying to turn it over, desperate to feed. Anna and John pressed themselves against the ground, clinging to the edge of the ball pit, their fingers cramping with the pressure of holding on. Suddenly the hot, wet lump on top of Steph’s head lifted, all at once. She straightened her neck for just a second, eyes wide with fear, before the old woman’s body crashed down onto the top of the ball pit, blood oozing in every direction.

  Everyone screamed.

  Blood ran down the sides of the pit, turning the bright blue a dark, miserable red.

  “It got worse,” Steph whispered. “I apologize. Blood is worse than piss.”

  A loud thunk outside sent another body crashing into the ball pit as the gang collapsed into a pile, facedown against the floor, waiting for the inevitable.

  They’re turning on each other, Anna thought to herself, covering her head with her hands. They’re fighting over who gets to eat us.

  Another thud. And then another. Angry roars filled the air and then … laughter?

  “Guys?” John turned his head to meet Anna’s terrified gaze. “I think there’s someone out there.”

  With a gulp, Anna gingerly lifted the plastic by an inch.

  “Argh!” she screamed, face-to-face with the legless zombie. It opened its mouth and Anna could see the rotting flesh stuck between its teeth. She jerked back, nowhere to go, nowhere to run, but the zombie did not move. It stayed exactly where it was, snapping its jaws at her. A foot planted itself in its back, holding it in place.

  “What the…?” Anna muttered as someone flipped over the ball pit, leaving them exposed. A baseball bat crashed down into the legless zombie’s head, smashing its skull into bloody smithereens.

  “Well, that was disgusting,” Steph muttered, wiping brains out of her hair.

  Standing tall, his foot still planted in the back of the double-dead pensioner, was Nick. He smirked, flipping the baseball bat onto his shoulder.

  “All right, losers?”

  17

  “IF YOU WERE planning to go outside, you really should have taken some muscle,” Nick said, hoisting Anna up to her feet. “Oh, hi, John.”

  Of all the people not to have been eaten by zombies. John glowered as he climbed up to his feet.

  “You’re still here,” Steph said, dusting herself off. Nick didn’t even offer to help her up. “I thought your big army dad woulda pulled in a favor and shipped you out.”

  “Don’t talk about my fucking dad!” Nick yelled, pointing his baseball bat at her. Steph raised her eyebrows. That escalated quickly.

  “Show some respect,” Nick said, pushing his dark brown curls away from his face. Somehow, the blood splattered across his face made his eyes even bluer than usual, John noted. Why couldn’t he have had the decency to just die?

  “Says the guy who just murdered a bunch of grandparents,” Steph replied before leaning over to whisper to Chris. “We should be filming. Get that on camera, bit of human interest.”

  Chris nodded, turned on his phone, and began filming the massacre, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. Anna was exhausted, anxious, and emotionally conflicted. She was happy to find another survivor but not entirely ecstatic to find out it was her ex-hookup. She surveyed the quiet misery that surrounded them, wondering who else could still be out there.

  The silence didn’t last long. Nick’s horrendous friends crashed into the parking lot, hooting and yelling, each of them pushing shopping carts that were packed full to the brim.

  John clocked the contents. Food, yes, that was sensible. Toilet paper, couldn’t argue with that. And in the next cart, dozens of game consoles and video games.

  “Oh, you’ve been looting,” he said with measured surprise. “How lovely.”

  But Nick didn’t react. Something was wrong.

  “Nick,” Anna said, lowering her voice. “Where’s your dad?”

  “He went off to the base,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Trying to save all your arses.”

  She followed his gaze over to a pile of dead soldiers nearby.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wondering if he knew any of them. No one looked familiar to her, but Nick had grown up on that base.

  “Whatever,” he replied. “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t fine.

  Before she could press him any further, Anna heard the familiar rumble of groaning from across the parking lot. They’d waited too long. One by one, a huge group of zombies had come shambling down the ramp. Anna turned to look for another way out, but they were trapped.

  “Is that enough to count as a horde?” Chris asked, still filming.

  “Shit!” John grabbed the edge of the ball pit. “Everyone, get back under.”

  “Hiding is for pussies, John Boy,” Nick replied, spinning the baseball bat in his hand. He turned to face the oncoming threat, a smile stretching across his face. “We’re hunters.”

  He nodded over at his friends, Jake, Tibbsy, and Graham, each one bigger and stupider than the last. They reached into their carts, ripping open packaging and tearing into boxes, looking for a weapon.

  “Is it me,” Steph said, sidling up to Anna, “or are they excited about fighting zombies?”

  Anna nodded as Graham pulled out a toilet seat and grinned.

  “They’re idiots,” she reasoned. “So yeah, they probably are.”

  Anna, Steph, John, and Chris pressed together, back-to-back-to-back-to-back, looking for a way to escape. Chris stepped forward and held up his phone, ready to film, but Steph pulled him away, shaking her head.

  “We gotta stay safe, buddy,” she said, keeping him locked in to the group.

  Alone, Nick strode out ahead, one hand holding his bloody bat, the other balled up into a fist.

  “Time for a hero,” he said, steeling himself for the onslaught.

  Jake, Tibbsy, and Graham fell in behind him. Jake twirled a control from an Xbox like a lasso, Tibbsy clutched a handful of kitchen knives as though they were Wolverine’s claws, while Graham had his arms full of watermelons.

  “He carried a watermelon,” Steph commented as the zombies came closer.

  “He’s a bloody idiot,” Anna whispered as the group backed away.

  “It’s not that difficult if you’ve got the balls to fight,” Nick shouted back, taking a fighting stance. “You’ve just got to follow the rules. Rule one, stay focused.”

  He pulled back his bat and prepared to strike. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, Anna realized who he was about to attack. It was the local girls’ soccer team.

  “As if little girls aren’t scary enough already,” Chris muttered. “The under-fourteens’ Undead Eleven.”

  “Rule number two,” Nick shouted over the unnatural screeching. “Use your imagination. Have some fun.”

  “Jesus Christ, do we have to listen to this?” John asked. “I’d rather let them eat my brains.”

  Nick made eye contact with the closest zombie and grinned. Without a second thought, he pulled back his bat and smashed it straight through the girl’s skull.

  “If it wasn’t for me, you’d already be dead,” Nick called back, pointing his baseball bat at John. “While you were busy hiding, I’ve been kicking zombie ass for twenty-four hours straight.”

  Unimpressed, John gave Nick the finger.

  Tibbsy and Jake were just as busy. Jake smashed up anyone who came within a three-foot radius, while Tibbsy clobbered the goalkeeper with his games controller. Graham stood still, clutching his giant fruit, seemingly with no idea of what was going on.

  “I’m a soldier now,” Nick shouted. Whether he was trying to impress someone or convince himself, Anna wasn’t sure. “This is war; I’m a soldier at war.”

  “No,” Anna muttered, a bit conflicted between his willingness to protect her and his
demeaning, chauvinistic attitude. “Your dad’s a soldier. You’re a posturing, full-of-it dickhead. There’s a difference.”

  For a brief second, all the zombies were down. Nick and his gang climbed on top of a burned-out car and shared a celebratory high five, cheering their success. But Anna knew better than to assume it was over.

  “Come on,” she said, nodding at Steph and Chris, then tugging on John’s hand. The four of them ran for it at full speed.

  Watching them go, Nick hopped off the car, jogging after Anna.

  “It’s all a big game,” he shouted as the fleeing foursome stopped in their tracks. More zombies incoming. “I’m here to get the high score.”

  He pulled back his swinging arm, then froze.

  It was soldiers. Undead soldiers, still in their fatigues, blood running down their faces.

  “Only the toughest are going to survive this,” Nick yelled, signaling for his friends to charge their carts at the soldiers. “Running away isn’t going to help. The best form of defense is attack.”

  The shopping carts crashed into the first wave of zombies, knocking them off their feet. Tibbsy and Jake filled their arms with cans of food and pelted them as hard as they could, knocking the remaining soldiers to the ground, crushing their skulls as they went down. John fought the urge to vomit as bloody gray matter spilled all over the ground around their feet.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said to Anna as Tibbsy traded his cans for a machete. “I can’t watch this.”

  “I think they’re winning,” Anna replied, looking back over her shoulder as John dragged her away.

  “Oh, I know.” John grimaced as they ran. “That’s what’s so upsetting about it.”

  “Where are you running to, Johnny Boy?” Nick asked, manhandling a zombie into a headlock. “Stay and fight like a man!”

  “Fuck. Off,” John muttered, realizing Nick was at least half right. There was nowhere to run. Even if they killed all these zombies, they were everywhere.

  Nick tore off his captive’s head before turning his baseball bat on a whole row of monsters that Tibbsy had lured over with a piece of steak on a string, and with a warrior’s cry, Graham smashed the last soldier zombie’s head clean off his shoulders with his watermelon.

  “That was kind of impressive,” Chris admitted. Steph and Anna gave a half-hearted shrug and immediately turned to leave, strolling past a gore-stained Nick without a word.

  “Come on, boys,” Nick said, flicking a piece of lung off his shoulder. “Can’t let these ladies go off without some real men.”

  “If you see any who are actually capable of getting it up,” Anna called back over her shoulder. “Do let me know.”

  John sniggered and turned to give Nick the finger one more time. Even if they died before the day was out, he’d always have that moment.

  “Ignore her,” Graham said, clapping his friend on the back as the gang disappeared around the corner. “Guess only the bitches survive, right, Nick?”

  Nick shrugged him off with an irritated glance.

  “Shut the fuck up, Graham,” he replied before breaking out into a run and chasing after Anna and her friends.

  18

  MORNING ARRIVED AT the school with a similar sense of chaos and panic. Everyone was packed up and ready to leave, even the parents and families who had been desperate to stay. Everyone could see there was no point in staying put anymore. They were sitting ducks. As soon as the creatures outside found a way inside, they were done for.

  Well, everyone except for one very loud, very insistent assistant principal.

  “We must hold out until help arrives!” he yelled from his position on top of a table. He waved his clipboard in an effort to calm the shouting, but nothing helped. “I’ve made a twelve-point plan and if you would all shut up, I will explain it to you.”

  But the people of Little Haven had made up their minds. The army had been defeated, and no one had come to their rescue. They were ready to take their chances on the outside.

  “The army’s gone, Arthur.” Tony moved to the front of the crowd, the leader of the evacuation. “We’re on our own now, it’s time to go.”

  “We have emergency guidelines for a reason,” Savage argued, his voice teetering close to hysterics. “Just look at my plan and you’ll realize I’m right.”

  Julie slapped the clipboard out of his hands, and Savage gasped as it skidded away across the room, pages of paper flying into the air like doves. The room went silent, all eyes on Savage.

  “If you love this place so much, you’re welcome to stay,” she said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tony. “You’ll be staying here alone.”

  Everyone looked away, ashamed to have listened to him for so long. Slowly they all turned to give Tony their undivided attention.

  “Right, here’s the plan,” Tony started, clapping his hands together.

  Savage felt his face turning red as anger bubbled up in his blood. What was wrong with them? How could they ignore him in favor of this imbecile? This uneducated, oafish handyman? He didn’t even have a real job, just an ornery daughter and a body-odor problem he flatly refused to address.

  “Just listen to me,” he pleaded. But the words stuck in his throat. They were already gone, already turned to Tony. It made no sense, they were literally offering themselves up as sacrifices to stupidity. And all because they didn’t know a superior mind when they saw it. Or worse, they did know and they didn’t care.

  “This is my school,” Savage said in a small, soft voice to no one.

  They were already gone, mentally out the doors that he had fought so hard to keep them inside of. They would never listen to him again, he realized, watching as Tony talked them through his absurd plan, his suicide mission. They’d never respect him. They never had respected him. The children treated him like a joke, the other teachers left him out, the townspeople ignored him. He had no friends, no family, no lover, not even a pet who would miss him.

  He might as well already be dead.

  “Arthur,” Tony said, reaching a hand up to the other man. “Come with us. You can help organize—”

  “Don’t you condescend to me, you pathetic little man,” he snapped, hissing through his teeth into Tony’s shocked face. “Everything I’ve done for them? And what do I get?”

  He strode away into a corner, arms crossed tightly across his chest, eyes fixed on Tony Shepherd as he rocked back and forth.

  Walking slowly away, Tony turned his attention to Lisa and Bea, while Julie went from group to group, making sure everyone had their things.

  “Are we really going outside?” Lisa asked, physically shaking at the thought.

  “We have to,” Tony said, gently pressing Bea’s hand with his own. Her hands were cold and her face was ashen. Tony didn’t know what to say.

  Lisa looked out at the boarded-up windows, her bottom lip trembling.

  “No one’s coming for us, are they?”

  “Prepare yourself, love,” Tony said. “We might see some very bad things out there.”

  * * *

  The fastest route to the school was through the local shopping center. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a newsstand, a chip shop, the discount store, and the requisite shitty chain coffee shop. Anna almost never came down here unless her dad had a fish and chips craving. Probably no chance of a bag of fish bits now.

  Graham kicked a stray mannequin lying in the street before bending over and dry humping it, much to the delight of his friends.

  “Best lay of his life,” Steph commented, still not altogether delighted by the new additions to their group. Nick’s friends were loud and obnoxious. Loud and obnoxious attracted attention, and attention meant zombies.

  They’d already been here. The storefronts were smashed in, and evidence of carnage lay all over the place. An arm here, a scalp there. A bloody handbag hanging from the bough of a tree. But so far, no more survivors.

  Nick casually raised his baseball bat and smashed a shop sign, l
aughing hysterically as it cracked and then shattered. The thrill of violence without consequences. There was no wonder someone like him was thriving in this situation. Anna kept her distance. How could she ever have been attracted to him? That one night, that one stupid night. She always said she didn’t believe in regrets, but he was really testing her commitment to that life lesson.

  Not far behind, Steph and Chris filmed the wasteland, making notes, capturing content.

  “Do you think they’ll use our stuff on the news?” Chris asked. “My gran would be so proud.”

  Steph smiled weakly. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the newsreaders and his gran were probably already gone. Even though she carried on, following Anna on her quest to find her dad, Steph had already given up. Her parents were dead, her girlfriend was dead, and their chances of survival were not increased by four idiots smashing up everything in sight. They’d be dead before sunrise, she was sure of it.

  At the head of the group, John pushed an empty shopping cart through the plaza. Without a word, Anna caught up to him, jumped in, and folded her knees under her chin so she was facing John. He pushed her along in silence for a moment as they took in the scenes around them.

  “S’weird, isn’t it?” John said, after a while.

  “That’s one word for it,” Anna agreed.

  “I mean, you hear about riots and revolutions and stuff in other countries, but not here, not on our high street. We could die.”

  “Hey!” She was not having that attitude.

  “We could, though!” John said. “Zombies, Anna. They’re real, actual zombies.”

  Anna let out a heavy sigh. Did he think she didn’t know that?

  “But at least you’re not leaving anymore,” John said in a cheery tone. “So at least that’s something.”

  She reached out and put a hand on his. He immediately stopped pushing the cart, wondering if she knew how fast his heart was beating.

  “What does that mean?” Anna asked.

  “It’s different now, isn’t it?” he replied, not loving the look on her face. “You can’t go traveling now. You can’t leave me.”