Zombie Playlist: A Rock Zombie Romance

by Kirsty Dallas

  The fight seemed to drain from her body, her shoulders sagged, and her scowl turned to disappointment. I probably should have been happy I’d won this round, but there was no satisfaction in seeing my sister’s defeat.

  “You want me to go first?”

  “You don’t need to go,” she said sulkily.

  “I might as well because I’m going to need to sooner or later.”

  Striding towards her, I scooped up the toilet paper and wrapped my arms around her for a brief hug.

  “This won’t be forever, I promise you, okay?”

  Noah nodded, and I ducked behind a tree and did my business before waiting by the SUV for Noah to do hers. She wasn’t happy about it, but I could see how much more comfortable she was as she climbed into the car and kicked her feet up on the dash.

  “You ready to roll?” I asked her as I checked my rearview mirror. The road was clear as far as I could see in either direction.

  “Ready to roll,” she confirmed.

  As I pulled back onto the highway, I hoped like hell there was another gas station coming up. My phone was no longer connecting to the internet, so I couldn’t Google how far to the next station. Walking to Nan and Pop’s would be a nightmare and would extend our trip from days to possibly weeks. Even as those thoughts crossed my mind, there was no way I was turning around and going back. Being two lone females in this world scared me, and I wasn’t about to put myself in a perilous situation if there was even the slightest chance there would be another gas station up the road. One without a rabid pump guy and dirty bikers.

  ***

  As the sun sank over the horizon, a blanket of silence settled upon us. Apart from the occasional crickets chirp, it was uncomfortably silent. Darkness was quick to devour the light, yet the half moon was bright enough to create shadows and allow me to see all the way around the car without obstruction. We’d found a gas station in Morgantown that seemed relatively abandoned. The building had been locked up tight, but a rock through the front window gained me entry easily enough. I probably should have felt bad about the vandalism, but I didn’t. Surviving in this world meant losing your conscience, and apparently, I did so with ease. Blind luck had me stumbling across the switch that started the pumps, and I filled up the SUV. I also loaded up with cigarettes. I’d been happy as a pig in mud over the gas, but when I tossed those cartons of cigarettes into a plastic bag I’d actually done a little dance. We also took the time to raid the fridge for coke and grabbed some more food. At this stage we didn’t really need the extra supplies, but it wouldn’t take long before everything was gone. Deciding to find somewhere more remote to sleep for the night, I drove us just outside of Morgantown and left the asphalt, taking the SUV over dirt and grass, through a wire fence which scratched the car with an angry hiss, and came to a standstill behind a small rise of dirt. It would be difficult to spot the dark vehicle so far off the road during the night. While some people might gravitate towards homes and buildings in an apocalypse, I found myself wanting to keep everything and everyone at a distance. Safety for me came in the form of seclusion.

  My fingers strummed lazily over the strings of my beauty, Maybelle, my Blueridge Historic Slope-Shoulder acoustic guitar. And yes, I did say Maybelle. A moniker bestowed on her the moment my credit card was scanned, named after the guitar legend, Maybelle “Mother” Carter. Me and Maybelle … we had some history. Together we’d made music that could make you weep, and at other times smile. We’d plucked out songs that meant the world to me, and sometimes songs that meant the world to others. She was my best friend, someone who never judged, and was always there to lift me when I needed it, or like tonight, to comfort me when the silence became too much. Reclined in the driver’s seat, I glanced at Noah who was trying to get comfortable across the back seat, her head lying on her pillow and a blanket pulled up around her chin. She looked so fucking scared.

  “You okay, Boo?” I whispered.

  “I wish I was at home,” she confessed.

  “Me too.”

  If my phone still had any charge left in it, I would have let her play a few games to ease her worried mind, but the battery died half an hour ago and I didn’t have a car charger. Even though I hadn’t been able to make a call on it for twenty-four hours now, the device had felt something like a safety blanket. Having it was a link to real life because this hell that had been forced upon me felt like more of a nightmare than real. Perhaps tonight I’d fall asleep and in the morning I’d wake in the five-star hotel I’d been binge drinking and power smoking in for the past two weeks with one hell of a hangover.

  “What do you think God looks like?” Noah asked, her question surprising the hell out of me.

  “No idea,” was my impulsive reply, but then I put a little more thought into it. “I bet He’s the complete opposite of what everyone expects. Like, He’s probably a ranga, and totally ripped like some badass Adonis.”

  “Shy,” Noah snapped. “You can’t talk about Him that way.”

  “Heck Noah, you were the one who started it,” I grumbled, defensively. Her question had Joan Osborne’s iconic song One Of Us become lodged in my brain like a clingy ear worm. Wanting to knock the tune out of my mind, I suggested a game.

  “What to play story time?”

  On a deep sigh, Noah said, “sure”.

  “I’ll start. Once upon a time there was a guy named Alfred. He was butt ugly with bucked teeth which poked out from under a big, hairy moustache. His nose was more like a parrots beak and he had a mole on his chin! It wasn’t a cute mole either, it had nasty hairs growing out of it.”

  Noah snorted loudly. “Alfred? That’s a terrible name.”

  “Hey!” I said in mock anger. “Next time you can start and make up the name, in the meantime, this is my story, so deal with it.”

  Noah chuckled, it was her turn to add to the story.

  “Okay, okay. Ummm Alfred was an acrobat in the circus. He wore a leotard with a cape, and he loved flying high through the air.”

  I groaned. “Boo, you aren’t turning Alfred into Dumbo, are you?”

  “No way!”

  “The leotard part makes me want to throw up a little.” Noah laughed, loudly. “My turn. Alfred was an ugly S.O.B who had an ugly mole and wore an ugly leotard. And he loved the circus, but do you know what he loved more than that?”

  “What?” Noah asked while still trying to force down her laughter.

  “MoonPies!”

  “I love MoonPies!” Noah exclaimed.

  “I know you do. Your turn.”

  “Alfred loved MoonPies sooo much. His favorites were chocolate and salted caramel, and he loved the biscuit, but most of all he loved the marshmallow middle.”

  “Oh yeah, the marshmallow is the bomb, baby,” I practically swooned. “Alfred loved MoonPies so much, one day he decided to steal some from the concession stand right before a show.”

  “Oh, Oh, Oh,” Noah began, really getting in to the swing of the story. “So, he put on his leotard and cape, and snuck around the back of the concession stand just after the sun set.”

  I smiled at her giggles and for a moment, I could pretend that the world wasn’t broken, and we were simply two sisters goofing around.

  “Miss Dorothy owned the concession stand,” I continued. “She had big, curly hair, like Dolly Parton, except it was bright pink instead of blonde, and she had massive boobs like Dolly and a big booty. She loved wearing tight clothes that showed off her humungous boobs.”

  Noah was killing herself laughing, so much so there was no chance she could continue the story, so I took the liberty of finishing.

  “Because of her big booty and boobs, she couldn’t move around the stand properly without bumping into things, and she often got stuck between the ice cream machine and the wall. So when she noticed Alfred stealing her MoonPies, she tried to run after him but got jammed tight and could only yell and curse as he escaped with his treasure.” Noah snorted in the mi
ddle of her laughter, which in turn made me laugh and snort. “Alfred ate the entire batch of MoonPies, starting with his least favorite, the strawberry, then moving on to the vanilla, then caramel and finally finishing with chocolate. His stomach was so full he looked like he’d eaten a watermelon. He looked weird with his stick legs and huge belly. By the time Alfred finished eating all the chocolalty, marshmallowy goodness, it was his turn to fly in the circus tent. Wobbling under the weight of his bloated tummy, he only just made it up the ladder to the platform he would swing from. Holding the metal swing in his hands, he launched himself into the air, and just as the crowd gasped at his acrobatic prowess, his leotard split exposing his bottom to the entire audience bellow.”

  Tears ran down Noah’s face, her laughter coming in wheezing fits. “What happened then?” she managed to squeeze out.

  “Well, as you can imagine, the sight of Alfred’s butt wasn’t a pretty one, and the ringmaster was most displeased. He called Alfred to his office and told him he had to choose between the circus and MoonPies.”

  “What did he choose?”

  “What do you think?”

  Noah thought long and hard about it before looking my way with a wolfish grin.

  “He chose to marry Miss Dorothy and leave the circus, so she could make him MoonPies for the rest of his life.”

  “Amen,” I said with a grin.

  “Amen,” Noah echoed through her laughter.

  When she finally settled down and became quiet again, she released another soft sigh.

  “I wish we had MoonPies.”

  “Me too, Boo.”

  After a short silence, I began singing Bubba Likes MoonPie.

  “MoonPies, MoonPies, MoonPies…”

  That started Noah’s laughter, again, and when I finished, the silence felt like a suffocating weight I needed to pummel my way out of. I’d always been that girl who had to fill the silence. That girl who couldn’t stand to be left alone with her own thoughts. My mind was constantly tangled in a crazy, chaotic whirlpool and only the sound of music ever truly quieted it. It was late though, and we had a big day ahead of us tomorrow.

  “Night Boo,” I whispered.

  “Night Shy,” Noah replied.

  Whispering her nightly prayer that I couldn’t quite make out, she eventually became quiet. Before long her soft snorts and deep breathing told me she was fast asleep. I wished I could fall into sweet oblivion with the same ease, but instead, I remained wide awake and gazing into the dark shadows of the unknown. Images of death plagued my thoughts and fear of an uncertain future spiked my anxiety higher and higher. Eventually, as the night slowly shifted into the early hours of morning, I fell into a fitful sleep.

  Track Five: Halsey, Gasoline

  CHAPTER 5

  By the time we woke next day, the sun was higher in the sky then I would have liked, the stifling heat already beginning to build. Scattered white clouds were being herded toward the west, the spacious expanse of blue occupying most of the sky. There would be no reprieve from the heat today. Though I wasn’t a believer in a higher power or a mighty God, I did send out a silent thank you to whoever had bestowed us with the good fortune to have a vehicle packed with supplies and a full tank of gas.

  Noah was eating a banana while she fiddled with the radio, trying to pick up a signal. She wasn’t having much luck. Today I’d convinced her to replace her black jeans for khaki cargo shorts. Like me Noah would live in jeans if she could, however the fact of the matter was, it was the middle of summer and we were headed deeper into New Mexico, where the dry heat just seemed to grow in intensity with each mile under our tires. Noah was also wearing a grey shirt that read “being a princess is exhausting”, her usual rainbow Doc Martins, and my soldier’s helmet sitting over her dirty blonde hair. A red bandana hung loosely around her neck. I’d left Long Beach in a pair of cut off denim shorts, but in my hasty effort to pack and get out, I’d only thrown a few pairs of skinny jeans into my backpack along with several shirts, tank tops, and plenty of fresh, unpractical underwear. In one of the tote bags I’d filled at my parents’ home, I’d found scissors. Before we hit the road, I hacked to pieces one pair of jeans and fashioned them into shorts. It was too hot for jeans and though they offered me a layer of protection between my flesh and the infected, I just wanted to be comfortable for a little while.

  “We need a map,” I thought out loud as Noah continued to play around with the radio.

  “I know the way,” Noah replied with confidence.

  “I’m sure you do, Boo, but I want a map in case we need to get off the highway.”

  She grunted what I assumed was her agreement before flopping back in her seat, disappointed that she’d been unable to pick up a radio station. She’d woken in a funky mood this morning, and while I couldn’t blame her due to the Resident Evil movie we were trapped in, her mood was like a toxic tang on the air, brushing against my skin and making me twitchy and anxious. It had always been like this with Noah, as if my emotions fed off hers. Right now she was pissy, which meant I was pissy, hence why I felt like kicking someone’s puppy…not that I would actually kick someone’s puppy, I just had pent up frustration with no outlet. And I when I felt bitchy, and restless, I did what I did best, I smoked.

  “You’re going to die of cancer,” Noah said sulkily as I lit up another cigarette.

  “If I don’t die of this nasty-ass Red Rage spreading around the world, then yeah, I’ll probably die of cancer.”

  Noah snorted, though it was clearly a sound of exasperation rather than humor, then she turned to watch the passing scenery, as if dismissing me from her very presence. Inhaling my cigarette, I smiled. Even if Noah was cranky and the zombie apocalypse was upon us, I had smokes…lots of freaking smokes.

  After a few hours of uninterrupted driving, I pulled off the highway into the town of Blythe and slowed to a crawl. The streets were eerily quiet, parked cars scattered here and there. I’d never been to Blythe, but I knew it was a large farm town that would usually be brimming with activity at this time of the day. Instead it was unnervingly deserted. Turning into the first gas station I came across, I planted my foot hard on the bread pedal, sending both Noah and I tight into our seatbelts. In front of us were several people slamming their fists against the closed glass door to the building, seemingly in a blind panic.

  “What the fuck?” I whispered.

  “What are they doing, Shy?”

  Looking around, I tried to find the infected source these people might be fleeing from. There was no one else around so I couldn’t understand why they were so wildly panicked. It was then I noticed the people inside the gas station, behind the glass, terror in their wide eyes and fear etched deep into the lines of their faces.

  “Shit,” I hissed. “Wind your window up, Boo.”

  She immediately pressed the button, and I hit the locks, the loud clunk of all the doors engaging somewhat comforting. Nudging the SUV into reverse, I began to back out of the driveway. The people thrashing on the door trying to get in were infected, the familiar webbing of hemorrhaged veins all over their flesh, blood-red eyes, pale skin to the point it was almost grey. As soon as they noticed our car, their laser sharp focus turned in our direction. Moving quickly across the asphalt, they ran at us.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Noah asked, a nervous tremble in her tone.

  “They’re sick.”

  Swinging the car out into the road, I slammed the gear stick into drive and pressed on the accelerator. The infected were quickly lost in the rearview mirror.

  “What about the people inside?” Noah asked after a long silence.

  “They’ll be fine.”

  Noah’s brow settled into a worried frown, a distant pensive look in her eyes as I continued to drive around Blythe, looking for somewhere else that I might find gas and a map, and not a horde of mindless zombies.

  “We should go back and help them,” Noah finally said, and I shot her my
best are you fucking crazy look.

  “No, we shouldn’t.”

  “They must be scared.”

  I grunted as I rolled further down the road, the highway running parallel to us. I hadn’t seen another car driving about other than ours since yesterday afternoon. The streets remained disturbingly empty, in that haunted-fucked-up way. On the news, they’d predicted statistics of the infected being somewhere around 80% of America’s entire population. I wasn’t really surprised that the roads were quiet, it just felt unsettling. With the cluster of infected well behind us, I slowed as we approached another group of shops sitting apart from the others along the road. There was a dated looking hairdressing salon, the signage faded and worn. Beside it was a Chinese restaurant with tacky gold and red curtains covering broken windows, then a dry cleaner, and convenience store. All the shops looked as if they’d been raided, the glass smashed, doors hanging wide open. They also looked quiet, and empty of people, living or dead. Bringing the car to a stop, I checked the rearview mirror for the hundredth time and finding no movement back there I turned my attention to the seemingly unoccupied businesses, my gaze settling on the convenience store. Did they sell maps? Perhaps I’d have better luck at another gas station. We sat for the longest time, and Noah fidgeted nervously, glancing over her shoulder, and checking the road behind us often. The loud growl of my stomach reminded me it was lunch time, and all I’d eaten this morning was an apple. I just wanted to get my hands on a damn map and get the hell out of this town and away from people. Although the street around us appeared empty, there had to be people here somewhere, inside their homes, wandering the streets, infected. Keeping the SUV idling so Noah could stay comfortable in the air-conditioning, I reached for my driver and flung the door open.