Friggin Zombies (6 page)

I put on some beans and mixed up a pan of cornbread. Connie put some bacon on the griddle and then watched over the bread and beans while I started frying some diced potatoes. Simple food, but very good and filling. Surprisingly, I heard not one word of admonishment from the medical professional about healthy eating. Either she was hungry or she liked southern cooking as much as I did.

Rita looked askance at the meal when it was on the table. I'd made some tea, and when she found out I used saccharin to sweeten it she refused to drink it. 'Okay by me', I'd assured her. More for me.

She didn't like the water, it tasted funny. That wasn't possible I told her, since all my drinking water was run through a filter. One of the best available in fact. I used it to cook with, too. What tasted funny was that she was used to drinking treated water that still tasted like chemicals. I explained all that, and of course that just made her more angry still. Finally I just ignored her and ate.

Dreaming all the while about how nice it would be to shoot her in the head. I wasn't going to of course, but I really,
really
wanted to. Connie knew it, I guess, since she kept rubbing her knee against mine under the table. That was distracting me.

It also made me wonder if that's
all
she wanted to do, or if maybe, just
maybe
, she liked me back a little. I mean, you know, as more than just a friend or fellow survivor.
Oh
, how I wanted to believe that.

When we'd finished eating Connie smiled sweetly and asked if I minded doing the dishes. I told her I didn't, I was used to doing them anyway. She nodded and rose, asking Rita to come with her. The two went outside while I worked to clear my kitchen.

I suppose it's an oxymoron for most women, but despite the fact that I'm a man I kept a clean house. And my kitchen was kept even cleaner. I had a thing about germs, and keeping a clean house, especially the kitchen and bathrooms, was the best way I'd found to make sure that I didn't pick up anything that I couldn't wash off with Dial.

As I washed I was sure I heard raised female voices once or twice, but I chose to ignore it. Whatever was going on was between them was their business. Once I was finished I headed to the small fourth bedroom and put away the new re-loading supplies I'd gotten. I kept an old stand-up refrigerator for that, using air-dry to keep the moisture out. Pretty good powder safe if you can find one with a lock on it. I stored all the components in there then locked it back. Next I unpacked the new ammunition I'd bought, storing it in the small closet which I'd converted to what was essentially a walk-in gun safe and ammo storage area.

I was actually pretty happy with that, just to brag a little. The wooden door was still there, but it was only a cover. Inside the door was quarter-inch steel plate hung on very sturdy hinges. Three locks secured that steel door, which opened out rather than in. It had taken some tricky work to recess that door so that the wooden door could stay as camouflage. 

Inside the closet, the same quarter-inch plate lined the walls, ceiling, and floor, welded together and then braced in the corners. A hand made gun rack dominated the long wall, with solid shelves over that to hold accessories and equipment. Oxygen absorbing elements were all over, keeping the closet moisture free as well.

It wasn't as fancy as some but it worked. It was secure, controlled, and perfect for me. Once I'd finished putting the ammo away, I checked the magazines I kept loaded. The dates were still okay (you don't leave a magazine loaded forever since it will weaken the spring. I dated mags when I loaded them with one of those small price stickers. After six weeks, I emptied them and loaded others) so I left them alone except for three, which I took to go with a Ruger Mini-14 I took from the rack. I picked up a bag for the rifle as well and then shut the door, locking it once more.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Why a Mini-14? Why not an AR platform. Well, there are a few reasons, actually, but the main one was simple. While a Mini-14 might not be quite as accurate as an AR, or as sexy, it would shoot any ammo that you could get into it, whereas an AR is balky about what ammo it would feed. I don't like balky. I like dependable. And my Ruger, or Rugers since there's more than one, were dependable.

Anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt to start putting a rifle in the vehicle when I was going into town. Hopefully if something happened here it was still a good ways off, but I didn't know that. Better to have and not need, right? I stored the bag with the rifle and mags in the hall closet, available for me to grab on my way out.

As I closed the door Connie and Rita came walking back in. Rita had been crying it looked like and I was almost sure that one side of her face was redder than the other. She mumbled something that might have been 'excuse me' as she moved past, heading straight to the room she was using and closing the door. I looked at Connie, who was smiling. It was a little cold I thought, that smile.

“I think Rita will be fine in the morning,” she said very business like. Like a doctor who had treated a patient. “She's not coping as well as I'd thought, apparently. She's seeing now that this isn't some kind of game. She needs a night to sleep on it, that's all.” With that Connie went to her own room, likewise closing the door behind her.

How 'bout that, huh? No good night. No 'thanks for supper, Drake'. No nothing.

Women, man. Almost as hard to figure as zombies sometimes.

CHAPTER FIVE

I was up the next morning by four-thirty. I'm usually an early riser, and once I'm awake that's it. I'm awake and I won't be able to go back to sleep. I envy those who can, since I almost always want to and I just can't.

Up, through the shower and with coffee perking, I fired up my computer and started surfing for news. While the story still hadn't broken containment, I had been right about the number of villages that were 'temporarily' cut off in Europe. People were starting to demand answers that the EU and it's member governments didn't want to give. Questions like why the roads were still blocked when in some cases the rock slide had happened over a week prior. Like why are the communications still down? In the modern era of digital communications there was no real reason, technically anyway, why the communication issues hadn't been cleared up. These were just the most pressing of the two questions now being asked not only by the people but the press as well.

Government officials were stammering and stuttering but not really answering the questions. That would work only so long before people started asking in a more determined way. Already three people had been 'detained' for trying to hike into one isolated town to check on family members. Like as not they would have disappeared but for the fact that one of them had the presence of mind to record the conversation live while uploading it to a cloud server. It was still streaming over YouTube and several other channels when the plug had been pulled. The damage was done, however, and the three had been taken into custody and detained in a very high profile way. If something happened to the two women and one man, questions would be asked. Lawyers were already working to have them released, and experts were saying there was no way to hold them much longer without creating a crisis.

Not my problem I admitted, but it did mean that control was slipping away from the authorities. I wished I could be listening in on conversations inside my own government, just to know what was being said and decided. I didn't figure they had any real answers either but knowing what they planned to do might have made it easier on me.

Other than the three detainees and some sporadic protests over the situation in general there were no new videos out of Europe. On the one hand I wanted to see more of what was happening but on the other hand the first video had been scary enough. I couldn't decide if the absence of more was a blessing or a curse.

On a whim I decided to check the message boards that I frequented on occasion. Much as I had expected, talk and rumor were rampant among the world's dedicated survival community. There were slips of news reports, most of which I'd already seen, along with a few eyewitness accounts and 'friend of a friend' type warnings and alerts, but no hard evidence. No one who had a copy of the Spain video was willing to put it up on the web for fear it would lead to a 'scrubbing' such as the one in Europe. Couldn't blame 'em for that. Most were willing to e-mail people they knew a copy so it was still getting around, just not in the open.

There were constant topics of advice. What to stock, what to buy now, what to try and scavenge later, the kind of people you wanted to surround yourself with. Most of it was sound advice. The ones that made me laugh though were the threads on
'how to combat the undead menace'
or
'dealing with zombies in a SHTF scenario'
and a dozen more just like them.

Seriously? Who's a friggin' expert on zombie combat? No one, that's who. What a load of horse shit!
'When approaching someone you know who may be infected, call them by name to see if they respond'
. Really? Hell, I was gonna do that anyway.
'If attacked, remember that the zombie can only be killed by a massive head wound that will render the re-animated brain activity to non-responsive'
. Who the hell talks like that? And where did they get that little gem of knowledge?

From movies, that's where. They took the shit from a movie and then dressed it up with some four dollar words, cleaned up the sentence structure, then threw it on the 'net. Here we were, possibly facing the Zombie Apocalypse End-of-the-world as we know it, and we're getting advice from George Romero fans? Shaking my head in sadness I left the forums behind, moving on to US news that might hint that the infections had spread to us.

After forty-five minutes of surfing I was pretty certain that nothing in the morning headlines indicated that the sickness had reached our shores yet. Of course that could change five minutes after I logged off, but I couldn't just sit here and monitor the web. I had work to do and errands to run, like it or not. I turned the computer off and got up. So many idiots and so few subjects for them to discuss this morning.

I spent the next half-hour making breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage. As I cooked the eggs I realized that chickens should be on that list. Which meant I had to build a hen house, and lay in a supply of feed. And corn to stretch the feed.

It never ends
, I thought to myself as I scratched a note on the bottom of the new list Connie and I had agreed on last night. I needed to get this done today if at all possible. I wondered how much help Bubbly Red Rita would be today, and decided probably not much. It also hit me that I'd have to leave her alone in my house if she didn't go anywhere and that was something I didn't want to do. I decided right there that I wasn't going to. She would have to go with me or go help Connie at the clinic. She wasn't staying here. She could always go to her own place for the day, I figured. Whatever she decided, she wasn't staying here without me around. That was just not gonna happen.

As I finished setting the table, Connie came around the corner and my breath caught for a second. Clearly she'd forgotten where she was since she was still in her sleep wear. Why was that a problem? Well, technically it wasn't. It was just that a string shoulder tank top and very brief, uh, briefs, really stood out on her. And other things stood out on her, too. I had to spin back around to the stove to keep her from seeing my reaction. She probably wouldn't have noticed since she was still half-asleep. She sat down, yawning, and looked at the table.

“Wow, Drake, you sure know how to spoil a girl,” she smiled sleepily.

“Hey, nothing too good for my favorite roomie ever,” I managed not to stutter a single time. Proud of me? Thank you.

“I'm not really a morning person, as you can probably tell,” she admitted, taking the offered cup of coffee gratefully. “Thank you.”

“You're quite welcome,” I assured her, valiantly trying not to stare at all that cleavage, along with the very thin fabric covering, almost, her erect nipples. Oh man, was it hot in that kitchen? I must have left the stove on.

She noticed me trying not to notice and laughed a little.

“Are you uncomfortable?” she teased.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just trying to retain my gentleman upbringing, that's all,” I looked her right in the face when I spoke, too. Damn, I am just
that good
, that's all.

“It's all right,” she laughed again. “Like you said, we're roommates. You'll see me like this sooner or later.”

“I'm in no way complaining my Queen,” I bowed humbly, and was rewarded with a peel of laughter as she lightly slapped my shoulder.

“Stop that, I'm too grumpy this early to laugh!”

“As you wish, your mightiness,” I bowed again, then thought about how much that sounded like 'nightdress', which of course she wasn't wearing. I'm telling you, I was beginning to think I wasn't going to make it to the Zompocalypse with all this. . .damn. Just
damn.

And of course Rita came in just then ruining the whole damn thing. If I didn't already hate her, that would have done it right there. She was dressed frumpy and her hair was sticking out all over, so I assumed she's actually just awakened. She sat down at the table and started fixing a plate without so much as a 'thank you' or 'may I?' Rude bitch.

She was definitely going to be zombie bait if the need arose. Absolutely.

*****

Once breakfast was finished, me doing the dishes while Connie got ready for work and Rita apparently went back to bed, I took up my list and got ready to go. I walked down the hall to Rita's room and knocked on the door.

“What is it?” I heard the muffled answer.

“We're about to leave, Rita,” I said evenly. “Are you about ready to go?” There was the sound of someone getting out of bed and stalking to the door, which opened abruptly.

“Go where?” she demanded crossly.

“Well, you can go with me to gather this new list of seed and garden needs and a few other odd and ends, or you can probably tag along with Connie to the clinic if you'd rather.”

“I'll just stay here,” she rolled her eyes, and started to shut the door. I caught it, and her eyes widened perceptibly.

“That's not an option,” I told her flatly. “You're not staying here while I'm away. This is my home and I don't want anyone inside it while I'm gone. I'll be activating the alarm anyway and it would go off every time you moved.”

“Well, just leave it off!” she snapped. “I'm not going anywhere!”

“You're either going with me, with Connie, or going home, Rita,” I told her evenly. “And those are your options. You aren't staying here alone in my house. Not. Going. To happen.” She looked at me goggle eyed for a minute, then her eyes narrowed in anger.

“I didn't want to come here in the first place!” she all but yelled.

“Then you shouldn't have,” I shrugged. “Get your things together and I'll help you get moved back to your apartment. Shouldn't take us long. Maybe two hours or so.”

“I'm not moving back this morning!”

“Then you can load your things in your car and sit in a parking lot,” I told her, my own temper coming to a boil. “So far all you've done is whine and complain about everything without lifting a hand to do anything. You haven't offered to cook a meal, wash a dish, take out the trash, pick up items we need to be prepared, nothing. You've contributed nothing to this effort but problems and complaints and I'm sick and tired of it, understand? Now, you know your options. Pick one and let's be about it.” I walked away at that point, too mad to keep talking to her.

Connie had stepped out of her room as my voice had raised and shot me a raised eyebrow look. I shrugged.

“She's not staying here while I'm away. I don't trust her as far as I can bowl her. She can go with me, with you, or home, and right now I'd prefer home so much that I'll help her move. I'm not trying to be difficult, but she's not contributing anything to the effort to start with. Leaving her here with my house is a non-starter. That's just the way it is. I'm sorry,” I added, since I figured it might damage my relationship with the good doctor. If it did, it did. Connie just shook her head.

“Let me get dressed and I'll talk to her,” she offered. “She'll do one of them, I promise. And I'm the one who's sorry, since I brought this on you. I really thought I knew her better,” she apologized.

“It's all right,” I sighed. “If she'll pull her weight and lose the attitude, I don't mind her staying. But the way she is right now, I'd rather she go even if it means you being mad at me and going too. I really don't want that, though,” I said truthfully. She smiled softly.

“I'm staying right here,” she informed me solidly. “Rita can do as she pleases, but I'm not going anywhere. If she moves back to the apartment, I might talk to you about making this permanent if I can keep this wonderful bedroom.”

“Any room you want,” was all I could manage before my tongue refused to work anymore. Permanent? Well, that was just, just. . .
awesome!

I admit I might have whistled a little as I went to hitch up the trailer to my van for the trip into town. Just a little, mind you.

I wasn't out the door before the arguing started.

*****

Maybe twenty minutes later, Not-so-Bubbly Red Rita came stomping out of the house with an armload of her things, stalking to her car where she literally threw them inside. I watched her go back for more as Connie came out with another arm load.

“I take it she's going back?” I asked, and Connie nodded.

“Yes and I'm grateful for it,” she huffed. “Stupid bitch. Thinks that she should be able to just lay around and have us take care of her. Damn, how did I get her so wrong?”

“Sometimes it happens,” I shrugged philosophically. “What are you going to do?”

“I've already called the office,” she replied. “I don't have an appointment until ten. If you don't mind, we'll just go to my apartment and get the rest of my things loaded on the trailer. I'm not staying with her and I'm not about to leave my things there for her to chuck out into the parking lot. I've already called the manager and told him I'll keep paying the balance of the lease until it's open, but I won't be in residence.” She looked up at me, eyes dark with concern.

“Are you sure this is okay, Drake?” she asked seriously. “I mean, me staying here? It's a big deal, and once I'm committed then I have to stay here until that lease is paid. It's too high for me to afford another place that's not in the ghetto.”

“I'm
positive
it's okay,” I nodded, fighting off a grin. “So long as you let me take you to dinner, and maybe a movie. Just in case the world as we know it does come crashing down at some point, I'd really like to be able to say I dated you at least once,” I admitted and didn't even blush when I said it. She laughed lightly.