Zombie School

standing. “Let’s go.”

 

  My head was swimming. The confrontation with the Stiffs had drained me, and I needed some brain food badly. I felt unsteady, and sometimes I would trip over my feet. Then I would become aware again of what I was doing and be able to refocus. I was like an exhausted human trying desperately to stay awake. My mind kept dozing off. Morgan said I became sort of blank-faced then. My eyes were opened, but they were empty, and I would just stare ahead unblinking, dead to the world.

  Morgan herself was getting drowsy and she started to complain of hunger pains. We had been walking all night, only stopping occasionally for Morgan to clean herself of any blood or alternate to a clean piece of fabric. There wasn’t much of my shirt left.

  “I need something to eat,” she said, as dawn neared.

  “No you don’t,” I said. “You can go longer without eating.”

  “I don’t think I can make it.”

  I gave her a cross look. I probably only had a day left before I started to skid. The activity from being chased by the Stiffs had put me in much worse shape and I already had gone at least twelve hours without any brains. The recommended amount of brain morsels a day without vigorous activity was one – with activity, two. I couldn’t afford anymore Stiff attacks.

  “Can we at least rest?” she asked me.

  “The sun will be up soon,” I said. “That means dawn of the dead.”

  “I need some water,” she said.

  I sighed. “Fine.” At the next clearing we stopped and I let her drink two handfuls of water and sleep for two hours while I kept watch. I had to concentrate to keep from zoning out, and when I felt like I couldn’t keep my mind from dazing anymore, I awoke her and we started again.

  We traveled all day, moving quietly through the forest, avoiding Stiffs as much as possible. For the most part we didn’t draw much attention to ourselves.

  “Isn’t this forest ever going to end?” I begged.

  “My father said it was one of the few undeveloped areas around. This river that ran through here before it dried up used to carry the sewer water out of the city.”

  “That’s nice,” I said, finding it difficult to grasp her words.

  By evening my brain was mush. I could barely think straight, and I was answering Morgan’s questions with elongated “mmmmmhmmmms” and “huhhhh-uhhhhs.” She kept feeding me questions to keep me alert. I told her it would help keep me from skidding. Shortly after the sun set, it started to drizzle, dusting us in water. Within a half hour it had turned to a heavy pour, and both of us began to feel miserable. Morgan huddled up in the coat I had brought her, putting up the hood, and I flipped up my helmet to block the cascade from drenching me.

  “We need to rest,” she said.

  “I can’t,” I sputtered. “If I stop moving my brain will really veg out.”

  “Oh my God, look!”

  I rotated slowly in place, my body swaying slightly as I did, and looked to where Morgan had skipped off to. She stood at a post, her hands pressed to the surface, staring down at it.

  “What is it?” I asked slowly.

  “This is the marker for the trail going along the Westwood Canal. That means we’re close,” she said. “The forest isn’t that much farther out, and our camp is probably only a few hours from there.”

  “Great,” I said, neither gratitude nor relief in my voice. I didn’t have the energy for emotions.

  “When we get near our camp you should go ahead first,” she said without looking back.

  “Isn’t it guarded?” I asked uncertainly.

  “No,” she said simply.

  “How do you prevent attacks?”

  She shrugged, looking sideways without looking at me. “Zombies don’t go in the camp. It will be safer if you go first.”

  “Why?”

  “Well ...” she said hesitantly. “The camp is safe, but sometimes zombies go near it. You should go first to make sure it’s safe, then I can follow. The center of camp is secure, so we don’t really guard it.”

  “You sure?” I asked idly.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “It’ll be fine. Anyway, once we’re inside I can show you where we keep the bodies and you can try to wait out a death, I guess. But you can’t kill anyone, even if they’re sick. Or I’ll have you killed. Okay?”

  “Sure,” I mumbled. I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t think I had the energy to kill anything anyway.

  Morgan nodded once. “Come on! We’re almost home free!” Then she spun around and dashed ahead of me into the brush, disappearing behind a cascade of rain.

  “Morgan,” I said flatly. “Wait for me.” I walked with labored steps after her, finding the energy it would take to even attempt to run excruciating.

  My feet dragged over loose twigs and leaves and I felt like I was going to collapse from exhaustion. A high, piercing shriek drilled into my head and snapped me into consciousness. “Morgan,” I spoke in a breathless tone.

  I pulled my legs forward, forcing myself to run as much as I could. My legs locked as I did, like I was limping, but my pace quickened as I dove into the brush and pushed forward with uneven steps. I broke into a small clearing to find Morgan with her back pressed to the ground and a Stiff on top of her, pinning her shoulders down. I tried to move to protect her, but my feet didn’t respond, as if trapped in quicksand.

  The Stiff snarled and thrust its head into her chest, ripping into Morgan’s flesh and tearing a bloody chunk of skin out of the left side of her shoulder. Morgan screamed in agony and I stood motionless as the Stiff devoured her flesh, and fresh blood stained the dirt beneath them.

  29. LIFE AND DEATH

  “No!” I uttered, my voice strained and weak.

  I forced myself to move. I dragged myself toward Morgan and, bending down, I wrapped my arms around the Stiff and threw it back with all my strength. The Stiff’s body was flung through the air, sailing through the thicket behind, consumed by leaves and branches and brush. I kneeled down, gazing carefully at Morgan as blood bubbled from her shoulder and made the color of the dirt burn beneath her. Her head was thrust back, her mouth open, and she was breathing hard.

  I pressed my hands into her shoulder, leaning on it as hard as I could. The groans of Stiffs rose around me. Her blood was redolent.

  I gazed down at my blood-stained hands and licked my lips. It took all my effort to prevent myself from biting into the wound myself.

  “We can’t stay here,” I said harshly. Blood was churning up over my hands like a geyser.

  Morgan’s face was frigid and her eyes were round and full of fear. “I’m going to die,” she wheezed.

  “It’s not that bad,” I huffed. “If we can stop the bleeding ...”

  “We can’t stop the bleeding,” she mumbled.

  “It’s not that deep,” I uttered, my words blending together.

  Leaves rustled. I turned to see Stiffs emerging from the brush, stepping through into the clearing. One, then two, three, four, five ... more and more began piling in.

  “We have to go,” I said.

  “I can’t,” Morgan said lightly.

  “Put your hands here,” I said, grabbing her wrists and pushing her hands onto the area the Stiff had bitten into. It wasn’t a big wound and it hadn’t punctured anything vital. If we could get to the human safe zone she could survive.

  I drew in a deep breath, inflating my lifeless lungs, summoning all of my remaining strength. I slipped my arms under Morgan’s body and stood, my legs buckling under the weight briefly before I forced myself erect. I groaned. It felt like I was lifting a full-capacity bus. I stumbled forward, forcing myself to make long strides. I began moving more quickly, pumping my legs as fast as they would go, and I dashed through the clearing, swerving between the bodies of two Stiffs and receding into the brush.

  I don’t remember much of what happened then. It’s all a giant blur of rain and leaves and snarls and darkness now. When I emerged from the forest my vision was shaky a
nd little colored specks were flitting before my eyes. The creek bed, now slowly filling with water from the rain, extended before us a few yards away. Empty streets, littered with abandoned cars, surrounded us. A small wooden bridge extended over the river ahead. I made my way toward it, stepping carefully down the slope. I paused as I reached the ridge of the river and glanced back. Through the torrents of rain I could see the Stiffs emerging from the forest and spreading out in a disorderly fashion. I leaped into the base of the river, splashing down on two feet and sprawling forward. I dragged Morgan under the bridge and rested her against the side of the dirt wall.

  Her hands were still pressed to her shoulder, watery streams of blood washing over them. I collapsed next to her, pulling off the hood of my safety gear and dropping my head against the wall behind me. I was exhausted and felt like if I tried to move anymore, my entire body would fall to pieces.

  “The rain’s diluting the scent f’your blood,” I wheezed, my words bleeding together. “The Stiffs won’t be’ble to track us.”

  Morgan didn’t reply. She curled in close and leaned off to the side. Drawing as much energy as I could, I slowly peeled off the top layer of my safety gear and pulled off my shirt, revealing my pale blue chest. I ripped the fabric apart, then bent over Morgan and began tying it around her, wrapping her wound and cinching it to help stop the bleeding.

  “Later tonight, when the rain stops, we’ll move’n to’th’ safe zone,” I said wearily.

  “We have to follow the river,” she said quietly.

  “S’it safe?” I asked