Zombie Zora

Thompson brushed past me. I know it was his attempt to prove his superiority to me. One day I would get to put him in his place and it would feel good. He briefly eyed the man before going to the dead zombie. He bent down and did something I couldn’t see. Moments later he rose. “This corpse is at least a day old. His story makes sense.”

  “How do you know?”

  He glowered. “I know!”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him. I passed my gun to Brittany and went to see if I could free the man. Remembering my hammer, I took it out.

  “No, no!” He shouted. “Hit that chain.” He pointed to the center chain bolted to the floor.

  “Whatever,” I said. Even though he wasn’t in any danger, he turned his head as I slammed the hammer down. I freed the chain and he bolted past me and up the stairs without a word.

  “That’s gratitude for ya.”

  Brittany echoed my sentiments.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  We went back upstairs. With the door shut tight, the smell died. It surprised me to see our guest there. I figured he wouldn’t slow down until he hit the border. “You have a name?” It wasn’t a bark, at least I didn’t think it was.

  “Charley Penwright.”

  The gall of these people. Like Ruthie, he went through my pack and chowed down on one of my cans of pork-n-beans. I looked mortified. Then I thought, where’s Ruthie and Katy?

  “Uh-hem,” said Jones.

  Jones was standing in the hallway. To his left was Ruthie and behind her, wrapped around her leg was Katy.

  “Hey.”

  “I see I missed the party.” Jones’ gaze fixed solely on me.

  I shuddered, I had done it again. “I see they found you.”

  “Yeah,” he snarled, “they did.”

  Before I could utter my pitiful sorry, he turned to the man on the couch.

  “Charley Penwright,” he said without looking up. He was nearly through wolfing down my beans.

  Jones looked at him, but directed his words toward me. “Is chow ready?”

  “Sorry.” I nodded to Brittany and we both went back to the kitchen. We rifled through the cabinets, they were bare. The only bright spot was that we found a pack of unopened children’s birthday paper plates. I found a rag and wiped down the table. Brittany collected our bags from the living room while I opened the blinds to catch the last of the sun’s light.

  Brittany had helped in a way I would later discover had been profound. She carried napkins in her pack; most of our canned goods were in mine. I opened the remaining beans and counted our growing number of mouths. Jones, Dushell, Thompson, me, Tom, Ruthie, Katy, and Don. No wait, I counted again, something felt wrong. I counted eight people and sat up eight plates. We had two cans of green beans, one can of spinach, four cans of pork-n-beans we got from our zombie couple, and in Jones’ pack, I found two beers. We wouldn’t need the beers so I left them in his pack and took out a can opener. I was ready, but saw no way to divide the meal.

  Brittany called them to the table. This would have to sustain us until we got to the store in the morning. I wasn’t optimistic about what we would find. Still, there had to be something at the store we could use.

  Everyone gathered around the table and stood next to a plate. It should have just been us— the guy we rescued had already polished off my can of beans.

  Jones looked at what we had done and scowled. I have no doubt if we were back in camp we would be on latrine duty for a month. The meal looked dismal. It hit me. “Wait a minute.” I raced out of the room and with a few hurried breaths, I opened the basement door. I ran to the back cell, gathered my find, and raced back to the kitchen with my bounty.

  I opened a bag of jerky and put a couple pieces on each plate. It dressed them up better, making me feel better. Brittany provided the cups and I poured from a jug of water. “It’s buffet style.” I explained. I passed the first can of green beans with a plastic spoon to Jones on my left.

  “Wait,” said Tom, or was it Charley. It was definitely the guy from the basement. “Anyone want to say a quick prayer?” That impressed me.

  “I will,” said Ruthie. They bowed their heads, she said a prayer. I didn’t listen to her words. I watched the faces of my new family. The former prisoner had his head bowed, impressive.

  Ruthie finished and Jones handed her the can of beans. She put heaping spoonfuls in two plates for her and Katy, then passed the can to Thompson. The cans rotated in the same fashion in silence. The partials were placed in the center of the table and we dug in.

  Like most, I went first to the beef jerky; I was dying to take a bite. It felt heavenly. I missed it and ice cream. Some stayed at the table and the rest retired to the living room. I saw Jones heading to the living room and followed. He detoured to a bedroom and so did I.

  “What is it, Private Baker?”

  “Are we back to formality?”

  “What do you want, Zee Zee?” that wasn’t much better. I could feel his hostility even though he was speaking softly.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “What do you want?” Jones spoke low, but the words had a bite to them.

  Here goes nothing. “It happened so fast there wasn’t time to get you.” His eyes rolled. “There wasn’t,” I pleaded.

  “You want to replace me?” he looked at me wildly, that hurt worse than the insult.

  “No, I don’t even like the army, you know that.”

  “Really, well how come every time I look around I see you in the middle of something you have no business being in?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t play innocent with me.”

  “I’m not,” I strained to keep my voice down.

  “Whatever, Zee Zee.”

  “Don’t call me that!” I roared and then immediately regretted it.

  Jones looked as if he loathed me. His fists were balled and I could see him restraining himself, I prayed it continued. He moved back and forth on the balls of his feet. Still, he stayed in his place and didn’t advance toward me.

  “I’m going to be . . . ,” he said softly, “may I have some privacy?”

  “Sure.”

  I left the room, dejected. I had to find a way to repair our relationship. Jones was a great guy. He deserved better.

  “Zora,” said little Katy. She ran to me and hugged me around my legs; her head barely came to my waste. I looked down at her and had no idea what to say. “Here, want some?”

  I looked into her little hand, it held a thin piece of jerky. “No, Sweetie. That’s yours. You need to eat it so you can grow up big and strong.” It sounded stupid saying it, but that’s all I had.

  “It’s not mine, it’s Charley’s. He didn’t want it and gave it to me. I ate mine first. Then I had beans, two kinds, and then I—”

  “Wait. Charley, that’s the guy from downstairs?”

  “Yes.”

  “He gave you his food?”

  “Yes.”

  I saw him on the couch looking at us. I left Katy and stood in front of him. “You gave her your food? Why?”

  Charley looked whimsical. “I thought that would have been obvious.”

  I bristled. “Oh.”

  “I ate jerky for two days. Every man likes a little variety in his diet.” He looked me head to toe, grinning.

  I clenched my fist in anger. I wanted nothing more than to slap him and wipe the smug look from his face. Instead, I retreated to the kitchen.

  “What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Brittany asked.

  I picked up a towel to help her clean. “Nothing.” My sigh turned into a yawn.

  “Did Jones make out any sleeping arrangements?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, don’t you think you need to check? Me, I’m good. I had a stray thought about the rest.”

  “Fine. Damn!”

  I left the kitchen in a huff and didn’t stop until I was face to face with Jones. Dushell did that on purpose, some blood
brother she turned out to be. “Did you make out sleeping assignments?”

  Jones stared out the window into the dark. “There are two bedrooms. The other is the biggest; assign it to the mother and daughter. You and Dushell will stay with them. I will take this one and the rest have the living room.”

  “All right.” I waited for him to dismiss me.

  Jones never turned around to face me, so after a minute, I left. I gathered Brittany, Ruthie and Katy in the large bedroom. They got the bed. Brittany and I would rotate guard duty and sleep on the floor. Jones didn’t command it; I acted as if he had. I stayed in the room most of the time, then walked throughout the house, except for the basement.

  I woke Brittany during the night, so I could sleep. In the morning, we would descend on the store and I wanted to be fresh.

  Sounds of a scuffle woke me. I slept next to my gun. I grabbed it and ran to the living room, zombies were attacking. No, it wasn’t zombies. I saw a scuffle between the men and Brittany. She was trying to hold Jones back.

  Jones kicked Thompson. Thompson was on the floor, in a ball, holding himself. Don and Charley were there too. Don assisted Brittany in restraining Jones, while Charley was free to kick a covered Thompson.

  “What the hell?” I raced over.

  With the screaming and shouting, I couldn’t make heads or tails as to what was going on. We shouted, shoved, and tugged. Finally, I took charge and walloped Charley. Then with a little persuasion, I got the others to stop.

  “What happened?” I yelled.

  “That fucker,” Jones shouted, red-faced, “I caught him at your bedroom door, leering.”

  The thought of it gave me the chills. I knew I didn’t like Thompson for a reason. I looked at him, he didn’t deny it. Thompson’s face was bloody and he lay on the floor with his usual smirk.

  “Well?” I asked.

  Thompson grinned and shrugged. “It’s the end of the world as we know it,” he tried singing.

  “You motherfucker!” Jones tried to get to him again. It took all of us to hold him back.

  “You don’t deny it?”

  The man only shrugged. “Live a little, while you have the chance.” He cleared his throat. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Party like it’s 1999.” Thompson’s laughter chilled me to the bone. The man had lost it.

  I acted. “The basement. Lock his ass in the basement.”

  Don and Charley released Jones. Brittany opened the door, releasing the foul stench of death. I looked at Thompson, he deserved it. The men grabbed Thompson and hauled him to the basement. Personally, I hoped they would throw him down the stairs and crack his head wide open.

  None of us cared about the smell or the darkness, we got him to his new home in record time. Charley bolted the door and we left him there to rot. I could hear him banging on the door as we left. He was laughing, maybe he had snapped.

  “You can’t leave me here. You will be back. You need me! You will be back. You need-”

  Brittany slammed the door shut, cutting him off. Thank god. “What a creep.”

  I turned to Jones to question him. “Are you positive?”

  Jones looked at me as if I were crazy. He gritted his teeth. “He was peeking through the door and one of his hands was in his pants. You tell me!”

  “Sorry.”

  I hate to admit it and never would, but I felt better. I had my answer to the elusive Thompson. It couldn’t have been us, Brittany and I; we had been with him all this time. It must be Katy. Thompson is a pedophile. That was the missing piece. I felt relief, knowing I wasn’t his target. Then I thought of Katy. I was a bigger jackass than Thompson. How could I put my welfare above a helpless child’s?

  I wanted to go back and kick him myself. One thing I will say for Thompson, he was right, we did need him. I had a feeling he held back on what he told us. I couldn’t see us leaving him there in the morning, yet I had no solution. The morning would take care of itself, I thought. Jones is the boss; it’s his job to figure these things out.

  “Britt? Where were you?” I asked.

  Brittany’s face contorted. “I was on the front porch. Well, actually, I went around the back to check our perimeter. While I was there, I had to use the bathroom. He must have gone to the door at that time.”

  My friend’s voice was low and full of remorse. I regretted asking the question.

  “Let’s get some shuteye,” said Jones. “We got a lot of traveling in the morning.”

  “What about Thompson?” I asked. “Are we leaving him here?”

  “Damn straight,” said Charley. “We do him like they did me. We leave him a jug of water and some jerky. Somebody might come along and set him free.”

  “Somebody might come along and eat him, too.” I countered.

  “So what,” Charley said, his words venomous. “Do you get what he would have done to you, to that girl? He deserves no mercy, not one ounce!”

  Charley was right, but it infuriated me. “Who made you god? If I remember correctly, you were the one chained to a wall in need of rescue not ten hours ago.”

  “Shh,” said Brittany. “They maybe sound sleepers, but you two are going to wake the dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Charley.

  “Me, too,” I said. I wasn’t mad at him or Thompson. I knew what I was doing.

  Every one sat in the living room. Brittany and I didn’t go back to our room and neither did Jones. For a while, no one spoke. To liven things up a bit, Brittany engaged everyone in a game of charades.

  We were starting to unwind, when we heard this low groaning sound, coming from the bedroom. It grew louder. Zombies. “Ruthie! Katy!”

  Jones was the closest to the door. He ran to it to save them. When he opened the door, we saw them. They were not being attacked by zombies, they were zombies. They howled and staggered out of the room toward us. Jones jumped out of the way of Ruthie’s grasp and fell back. Ruthie bent down to bite him and he kicked her and knocked her back.

  I didn’t get a chance to see anymore, the little zombie, Katy, was on the move. She ran at me. Her red eyes fixed with hunger. I had no time to get to my gun and had removed my hammer to sleep. I punched her on the side of her head, knocking her back.

  She leaped to her feet and came at me again. The surprising thing was that the flesh on one of her legs was missing completely. I had time to register that fact before the next attack. This time, I kicked her in her stomach— it was hard forgetting she wasn’t a sweet innocent child. At first I took it easy on her. Then I realized it is either her or me and I had plans to live another day. Fired up by thoughts of rejoining Simon, I looked for a weapon. My quick scan gave me nothing.

  I ran into the kitchen to grab a chair, I could break it over her back. The chairs were wooden and once broken, I could use the pieces as weapons. Katy was quick. She was on me and grabbed me around my waist ready to bite me in my back. I fell forward and swung at her at the same time, knocking her loose. I sprang to my feet and ran around the table. She howled and lunged at me and I whacked her. She fell back and came again. With nothing more to think to do, I held up the chair to give myself more time to think. I needed a strategy fast. Before I could think of one, Charley came to my rescue. He had my gun and readied to whack her from behind with it. With his strength, it took two strong whacks and she was out. I closed my eyes and waited. I didn’t want to see, but I heard the final whack that flew bits of brains all over me. I wiped the goup away and opened my eyes.

  “Thanks.”

  He grinned. “No problem.”

  That was all I could manage. If not for Charley, I might have lost my life. I was one of our best marksmen. With a gun, I am an all-powerful death machine. Without one, I resort to the stupid girl syndrome. I’m surprised I didn’t fall down and twist an ankle. Thank god I’m not blond.

  Chapter Eight