Zombie Playlist: A Rock Zombie Romance

by Kirsty Dallas

  After a few long moments, I pushed open the door the rest of the way and just stood watching the empty space. Familiar pale grey walls greeted me, along with a small, cracked leather sectional that Noah told me recently came from a thrift store. They had to sell their beautiful big one because Pastor Asshole sucked their bank account dry. I would have replaced the sofa had I known they’d sold it, but there was no way mom or dad were going to tell me. Taking slow, cautious steps, I walked into the living room, my heart aching at the pictures that lined the walls. Not one of them was of me and truth be told, it stung.

  I tightened the grip on my driver when a subtle bump sounded from somewhere behind me. My heart raced so hard and fast I thought it might burst right through my chest cavity, and I couldn’t get a proper breath of air into my lungs, fear strangling me. Turning, I shook my head in denial as the vaguely familiar form of my mother lurched forward. Her eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, the ugly webbing of hemorrhaged veins that I’d witnessed on Cullen covered her face and arms, her eyes deep red and pooling with blood. The long, low snarl that reverberated up her chest and out of her gaping mouth was feral and beast-like, reminding me this wasn’t my mother anymore. There was no room for personal emotions in an apocalypse, it would only impede my survival. She reached for me, her eyes empty of recognition.

  “Mom,” I whispered with a wavering voice.

  She didn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t, but some small part of me couldn’t help but hope. As her fingers grazed my arm, scratching to find purchase, I stumbled out of her reach. Closing my eyes, I swung my club. The metal clanged loudly, and the squelching of my mother’s decomposing head made my legs feel weak as nausea threatened my churning stomach. The hit sent her sprawling to the ground, but with quick, jerky movements she got back to her feet. Her head was bent at an odd angle as she continued to scramble towards me, gaining that inhuman speed I’d witnesses in Cullen and sending my heart into an erratic panic.

  “Fuck!” I spat out, swinging the club again.

  This time the bone in her neck snapped, and my mom collapsed to the ground and didn’t get back up.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  My free hand clenched and unclenched, reaching for the back pocket of my jean shorts where my sacred cigarettes rested. Tears slipped over my lashes and ugly sobs tore through my throat. I’d never been particularly close to my mom. We’d often fought, and as her beliefs became more fervent and her views on my lifestyle more appalled, we’d drifted so far apart, there was entire oceans and continents between us. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop the thick vines of guilt and remorse from suffocating my heart as I watched her still body bleed out to the carpet beneath my feet. My hands shook like a withdrawing junkie as I wrestled to pull a cigarette free. A loud bang from the far wall in the kitchen drew a garbled scream from my throat and I jumped a clear foot off the ground. Groaning and thumping came from behind the door that separated the house from the attached garage. Even though the voice was warped and more animal than human, I recognized it immediately.

  “Dad?”

  More scraping and growling came from behind the door, and I took a tentative step backwards. Where was Noah? Had she succumbed to the Red Rage too? Had she been reduced to the same mindless savagery as our parents? Part of me ached to know, but another part of me, a weak part somewhere deep inside wanted to run and pretend none of this was happening. Another loud blow on the garage door made me flinch, and I turned on my heels before I chickened out swiftly making my way down the short hallway. Reaching Noah’s door, I hesitated a moment, pressing my ear to the wood. The room beyond was silent.

  “Noah?” I whispered, dreading the response I might get.

  Her name hung in faded wooden letters across her door, a picture of Dumbo holding a heart shaped balloon in his trunk below it. She was too old for the motif, but our parents refused to allow any posters of modern day pop stars to grace her walls, something Noah had begged for on more than one occasion. Dumbo had been Noah’s favorite book when she was little. She fucking adored that saggy little bastard. My hand rose to the tattoo that mirrored the picture on the door, right behind my ear. I’d gotten it for Noah. She said she was sick of all the boring black ink that adorned my body, she wanted me to get something with color, something for her. The paunchy grey elephant with the heart shaped, pink balloon was one of my favorite tattoos.

  “Come on Boo, it’s me, Shy.”

  A soft noise had me still as I strained to hear over the thumping of my heart.

  “Open up, Noah, we gotta get gone, we’re going on a road trip.” I actually stopped breathing, my body strung tight as I prepared myself for the worst. If our parents had succumbed to the virus there seemed no way Noah could have dodged it.

  “Shy?”

  The air I’d been holding in rushed out of my lungs, and those pesky tears began to fall again. Stupid useless tears. Survive now, cry later. It was my new motto. Brushing away the wet tracks from my face, I smiled.

  “Yeah Boo, it’s me, open up. We need to pack a bag and get gone.”

  The door unlocked, and I stepped back as it creaked open. Familiar upswept eyes framed in chunky black spectacle frames greeted me. There was no webbed veins bleeding into her skin, no mindless staring, no animalistic groaning. She was fucking smiling.

  “What are you wearing?” Noah asked, all innocent curiosity.

  Tugging my scarf down from my face, I shifted my helmet.

  “You don’t like it?” I replied, my voice shaking with emotion.

  At that, Noah laughed, tilting her head back, and the flat features of her face, a common physical trait of Down Syndrome, filled with laughter. I loved that sound, I lived for that sound, now more so than ever before. Stepping into the room, I wrapped her in a hug, squeezing her tight. She smelled like Impulse Very Pink, her favorite deodorant, thickly sweet and slightly musky. Noah rocked me from side to side, much like I used to do to her when she was little.

  “Shy?”

  “Yeah, Boo.”

  “I need to pee.” Only then did I realize her rocking from side to side was her need to pee dance. “Dad said I couldn’t come out, I had to stay in my room and pray, but I really need to pee, bad.”

  Reluctantly, I let her go and peered down the hallway. From this far down you couldn’t make out Mom’s body. The place looked normal, no rotting corpses or zombie fathers. Reaching for Noah’s hand, I gripped it and dragged her forward.

  “Okay, come on.”

  She followed me across the hall. When the growling of our father reached her ears, she abruptly stopped, her face draining of color.

  “What’s that Shy?”

  “I think its Mrs. McNalley’s pit bull.” Panic flared in Noah’s eyes. “It’s okay, it’s locked in the garage, it can’t get you.”

  Mrs. McNalley was the neighbor across the road, and it wasn’t only Noah who was terrified of the dog, it was most of the neighborhood. With hesitant steps, she followed me into the bathroom.

  “How did it get in there?” She asked as I closed the door behind us.

  “No idea, hurry up and pee. I’m going to grab your toothbrush and stuff.”

  Reaching for the tiny vanity, I noticed Noah had paused, looking worriedly between me and the toilet.

  “Come on, Boo, this is no time to be shy. I changed your diapers, remember?” When she still didn’t move, I rolled my eyes and turned my back. “Hurry, I don’t want to leave you alone while that dog is out in the garage.”

  That got her moving. While I cleaned out the bathroom vanity of anything that might be useful, the hairs of the back of my neck prickled. Like Spiderman had his spidey senses, I guess I now had zombie senses. I didn’t like being in the tiny room and unable to see what was happening outside. The thought of getting away from this house and on the road was pushing me to move faster. I just knew shit was gonna get harder before it got better…if it did get better at all.

  Track Two
: Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bad Moon Rising

  CHAPTER 2

  Once back in Noah’s room, we began packing her bag. Noah tried valiantly to put every little non-essential item she could find in there which had me trying unsuccessfully to argue the necessity of such items. Her stubborn tenacity was strong and fierce, I should have known better than to argue with her.

  “We might end up having to hike quite a ways, if your pack is too heavy you won’t be able to keep up with me.”

  “I’m not leaving it,” she demanded, shoving the bible back into her overflowing bag.

  “Why do you need it anyway, you know the whole damn thing off by heart.”

  Noah’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at me.

  “If it stays, so do I.”

  “Fine, whatever, put it in, just hurry it up. We need to go.”

  “What about Mom and Dad?”

  I’d been waiting for her question and now it was here I wasn’t sure what to say. Glancing around Noah’s room I hoped to find some inspiration for the lie I was about to weave. I took in all the small details that made this small, cozy space hers. The bedspread was a rainbow of colors which had faded with time, a fluffy matching rainbow cushion sat against her pillows. Beside her bed was a small white table, a metallic lamp with the Eiffel Tower etched into its shade. On her dresser sat a small, white frame with a picture of us both being complete idiots, along with the ticket stubs from the Taylor Swift concert I took her to that night. Mom and Dad threw a fit, but it had been a birthday gift. The way her face lit up when she found them in her card basically meant there was no way they were going to take them away from her. I probably should have passed it by them first, but I knew they’d have said no. Her mirror was aging around the edges, chipped, and rusted. Noah had used brightly colored chiffon scarfs to try and decorate it and hide the blemishes. It was then my eyes landed on the Red Cross badge she’d earned at Girl Scouts a few years ago.

  “They’re already in hospital. That’s why I’m here, dad called me and said I had to look after you until they’re better.” The lie spilled from my lips too easily, and Noah nodded. It had become important to me to always be truthful with Noah, it was something she demanded from me. Our parents would lie and distort the truth in a heartbeat if they thought it would save Noah’s feelings. She hated that. It was important to her that she was treated like everyone else and always knew the good, the bad and the downright ugly. I gave her that, always … until now.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Nan and Pop’s.”

  The thought came to me while sitting and staring at the depressing and never-ending news back in Long Beach. It had been seven years since I’d last visited them on their property in Elmendorf, Texas. They were farmers through and through. Their picturesque farm sat on a little over two hundred acres of land. Part of the San Antonio River crossed the north end of their property. They had cattle, horses, chickens, goats, dogs…hell, they even had guinea pigs. While their farm ran off town power, they also had solar panels on the roof of their two-story home, a solar hot water system, and two working wells. They had land which could be completely self-sufficient if need be. They were the perfect apocalyptic salvation.

  “Okily dokily,” Noah said easily, dragging her backpack over her shoulders.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her. Her pack was huge and filled to bursting point. She was dressed in black jeans, a bright yellow Little Mix tee shirt, rainbow-colored Doc Martens, and at least half-a-dozen woven friendship bracelets. We couldn’t be more opposite.

  “Let’s get gone!” she said, charging towards the door.

  “Hold on!” I yelled, grabbing her pack and yanking her back inside her room. The pissed off look she gave me was impressive. “Remember the dog?” Her anger disappeared, and her mouth dropped open. “I know how much you hate dogs, especially that one, so I’m gonna lead you out of here, and you’re gonna keep your eyes closed.”

  She promptly squeezed them shut. Pulling the helmet off my head, I secured it over Noah’s.

  “Do I look okay?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “You look badass!”

  “Shy, you cursed.”

  “Sorry Boo, you know me.”

  Noah’s features softened, and her smile was sublime. “Yeah Shy, I know you.”

  Taking her warm hand in mine, I led her out of her room and down the short hallway. Dad growled from the garage, and Noah flinched.

  “It’s okay, it can’t get in here,” I murmured, soothingly.

  Carefully, I maneuvered her around our mother’s lifeless corpse and towards the front door. Once outside, I stopped beside our parent’s SUV.

  “Shit,” I hissed in a panic. “I need to get the keys.”

  Not wanting to leave Noah out in the open, exposed and alone, I turned around and dragged her with me back towards the house.

  “Keep your eyes closed, Boo.”

  She nodded emphatically, and I pulled my bandana back over my nose and stepped inside. As I pushed Noah’s back up against the wall right beside the front door, her nose scrunched up.

  “What’s that smell?”

  Fuckety fuck. Lie, lie, lie. I wracked my brain for a believable story.

  “I think it’s the dog. I don’t think Mrs. McNally has bathed him, and he’s been rolling in something dead.” I winced thinking of our undead father furiously beating away at the door. The “rolling in something dead” wasn’t really that far from the truth.

  “I wonder how he got in our garage,” Noah pondered out loud.

  “Hell knows, let’s just be grateful he’s locked in there and can’t get to us. Wait right here. Don’t move and keep those peepers closed, okay?”

  She gave me a toothy grin and thumbs up, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Running through the living room, I found the keys hanging from their usual hook in the kitchen. Glancing around the space, my gaze landed on the pantry. Food. We needed some of that. Maybe even a lot of that.

  “I’m just gonna grab a few things for the road trip, Boo. You good?”

  I peeked my head around the kitchen wall, trying my best to keep my mother’s lifeless body out of my line of view as I checked on Noah. The helmet had slipped forward, and she was fiddling with the strap under her chin.

  “Roger that,” she said, giving me another thumbs up with her eyes still glued shut.

  Grabbing mom’s canvas tote bags from a wicker basket in the pantry, I filled two bags with whatever canned goods and long-life products I could put my hands on. Canned tuna, corn, asparagus, peas, carrots, peaches and pears, potato chips, crackers, ramen noodles – Noah’s favorite – and peanuts. Then I cleaned out the fridge, before filling a third tote bag with plates, cups, cutlery and a can opener, two of everything. From the linen closet, I took blankets, and from Noah’s room I grabbed two pillows.

  “Come on,” I eventually said, panting with the effort to carry everything. “Grab my arm.”

  Noah’s grabby fingers reached out aimlessly and easily found my elbow which she latched onto with a sturdy grip. I led her back to the SUV and unloaded my arms of the scrounged supplies into the rear.

  “In you go,” I encouraged Noah, helping her tug her backpack off and watching her climb in.

  On my hands and knees, I retrieved my own pack and guitar from under the car, throwing them on the back seat.

  “I’ve just got to grab a couple more bags of stuff. I’m going to lock you in, okay?”

  Noah took a deep breath as if mentally fortifying herself against my departure and nodded. Locking the car behind me, I raced back into the house. It took two trips to fill the car with everything I had pilfered, and finally I was sitting in the driver’s seat, sliding the key into the ignition.

  “Maybe we should go to the hospital and see Mom and Dad.” Noah suggested from beside me.

  “Boo, the hospital is crazy right now. Lots of people are getting sick, and the police are s
aying if you aren’t sick to stay away. The roads are chaos, people are doing wacked shit. We need to get on the road and get to Nan and Pop’s, Dad’s orders.”

  “Shyyyy.” She let out my name on a long, disappointed groan. I knew it was my cursing that she was reprimanding, but hell, she should know better by now.

  “Sorry, Boo. You know me.”

  Noah grinned and echoed her earlier sentiment. “Yeah, Shy, I know you.”

  The trip to Elmendorf had me backtracking toward Long Beach. We’d only been on the I-5 twenty minutes when lone, stagnant cars began to appear on the desolate stretch of highway. Noah watched as we passed each one, her neck craning to see inside each abandoned vehicle as we passed by.

  “Where are the people?” She asked.

  “Dunno Boo.” Yesterday when I’d come along this stretch of road, cars had been everywhere, honking with fury and trying to circumnavigate the traffic jams. It was almost as if someone had hit pause and everything just froze.

  “I don’t like it,” Noah murmured.

  “Me either, Boo.”

  “We should go back.”

  Sighing, I gave the accelerator a push as the highway opened up ahead of us.

  “We can’t go back. We need to get to Nan and Pop’s.”

  “I want to go back. It’s safe at home.”

  “Boo, it’s not safe at home. There are too many people, sick people.”

  “I want to go home!” She demanded, her voice raising an octave.

  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed onto the composure and patience I needed to deal with Noah’s stubborn resolve.

  “Do you trust me, Noah?”

  She glanced my way, pushing her glasses up her nose, her frown deep. Yet in her beautiful green eyes there was definitely trust.