The Undead Situation (23 page)

I sat up and looked in the direction of Blaze’s voice. There was no light to make out definite shapes, but I could sense her position.

“Can’t sleep,” I muttered and crawled onto the couch.

In the darkness I bumped into her. She was laying down, but I heard her move until she was upright. I sat next to her.

“How about I talk you to sleep? You’ll be under in no time.”

“I suppose.”

“Get comfortable,” she said, feeling for me and guiding me into a reclined position. My legs dangled off the edge of the couch while my head rested in her lap. I don’t know where she got it from, but a moment later a pill pressed against my lips. I opened and dry-swallowed it, not bothering to question what it was.

“What do you feel like hearing?”

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy thinking about the comfort of the sofa and the warmth of Blaze’s body. Hesitant fingers found my hair and stroked it. We were caught up in intimacy once again, and I wasn’t going to stop it.

“How about the story of your life?” I wasn’t entirely serious, but she decided to do just that and start from the beginning.

“My dad was a marine. When my mom was twenty she got pregnant, and my dad figured he could only have sons. He was just that much of a man. He wanted a boy who could carry on the family name, be a marine, and do him proud. But, as you can see, he didn’t get a boy. It’s funny, too, because he had an illegitimate daughter, my half-sister, during their marriage. He should’ve known he might get another one.”

I knew where this was going. I made an m-hmm noise, and she continued.

“My father still treated me like a boy and pretended I was one. I did baseball instead of ballet. I had toy guns instead of dollies.” There was a whisper of venom in her voice.

“When I was eight, my mom had a boy—his name was Beau—and my father was beyond pleased. About thirteen years later, it was evident Beau had no interest in being the man my father planned he’d be. I was twenty-one and had no prospects except for the military. So I signed up.

“I can’t tell you how many letters I received from my father and mother. Mom didn’t care that Beau was gay, but dad sure did. ‘Fucking faggot’ he’d call him. ‘A disgrace to the family.’ All my father had was me, a girl who lived like a man. No matter how much of a man I was, it didn’t matter.”

“You mean he didn’t even acknowledge what you did for him? That you were serving because of him?”

Blaze went silent then said, “He did in the end. Just a few months before all this zombie-shit started happening, I went to see him in the nursing home. I’d been in the marines for about seven years, not like he knew. I told him I just got back from Iraq and was finished. I wasn’t serving anymore. I told him I’d done it all for him because I wanted to make him proud.

“He said to me, ‘Bea, you’ve made me proud since the day you were born.’”

“Did you believe him?”

I felt her body move, so I figured she shrugged. “I guess I do. It would give me closure if I did, wouldn’t it?”

“It would, but only if you really believe it. Otherwise you’d be tricking yourself.” Then I changed the subject. “Where’s your brother? Do you know?”

“No. Probably dead, like everyone else.”

I caught onto her hesitance. “What? Do you think he’s alive?”

“When we were young, we used to visit an island in the Puget Sound off the coast of Samish Island. Beau and I joked about how it would be the first place we went if something bad happened because it’s so isolated,” she said.

“You think he’s there?”

“I don’t know.”

After that, she built a wall and sealed off any more conversation of her family. Instead, she told me about being in the military and her brief stint in college.

I was interested in her story, but my eyelids were heavy and her hands on me was soothing. Just as she finished a story about a chicken and a mess hall, I fell fast asleep.

Two things woke me up: the absence of rain and a banging noise. Disoriented from the sleeping pill Blaze gave me, I opened my eyes and tried to remember where I was.

The noise was coming from my right. I propped myself up on the bed and looked at the closed window. Minimal morning light filtered through the closed blinds. A lone shadowy figure stood behind the window. It was the source of the noise.

As I continued to watch, a hand touched the glass and slid down. It was the impact of flesh against the window that woke me.

Just one of them
, I thought.
Not a big deal
.

Blaze was still asleep, so I took the moment to steal a long look at her. She was in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under her. There was just enough light to make out the gentle slope of her nose and the scar down her cheek. She was beautiful in an unconventional way. Or maybe just to me?

Crazy thoughts. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and removed myself from the couch. Blaze coughed and rustled, signs of her awakening.

“There’s a Z out there.”

She sniffed and wiped a sleeve against her nose. “Just one?”

I shrugged.

“There’s rarely just one, Sinclair.”

“Well, go take a look.”

Blaze strolled over to the window and inched open a blind. Her face dropped into a frown. She sniffed again.

“If I told you I was right, would you be crushed?”

“Crushed is an understatement.” I groaned, bringing my hands up to cover my face. “How many are there?”

“More than we can handle. They’re surrounding the car.”

Giving in, I looked out, and stopped counting after twenty. Some of the Zs had McDonald’s uniforms on, which explained why they were here. They must’ve seen us last night and made their way over. Anyone who lacked life would’ve seen them migrating and joined the club. But this many?

I noticed figures coming from the forest. What lie in or far from it was beyond me. But there were undead straggling from its shady depths, onto the concrete driveway our getaway car was on.

“We still need to put gas in the car,” I said. “As you can see, there are major preventatives going on.”

“Just one,” Blaze said as she rifled around. She pulled out a cigarette and brought it to her lips. “They’re out there. That’s the only problem. If they leave, we don’t have an issue.”

One flick of a lighter and an inhale later, smoke billowed from her nostrils. She grinned.

“Ah, cigarettes. The breakfast of champions,” I jabbed. “I take it you have a plan?”

“Affirmative. By the looks of it, they’re all slows. I’ll run out and lead them away. When the coast is clear, you exit and take out any stragglers. Fill the tank up. Turn the car on, fire two shots, and I’ll be on my way.”

Blaze taking the lead on this didn’t sit well with me, but she wanted to and I wouldn’t stop her. Instead, I nodded and took out my handgun. I cursed myself for not bringing in a better weapon.

I guess, though, only one bullet was needed to kill a zombie. One shot, one kill. Caliber and speed didn’t matter.

“Good luck,” I said as she unlocked the door.

“I don’t need luck,” she said as she flung the door open and ran into the midst of some shocked undead.

Even though I wanted to watch, I slammed the door shut and locked it, back pressed against the solid metal of it.

Outside the familiar, eager moans started up. Blaze’s running faded away, and after a few minutes, all the other noises also.

I checked the window and, sure enough, the slows had cleared into the forest. If I didn’t take the opportunity to fill the car now, I might not get another. The idea of being holed up in the garage didn’t appeal to me one bit.

Taking the inexorable chance, I dashed from the office and into the drizzly morning. Crisp air filled my lungs as I closed the short distance between myself and the Mustang. Once I arrived, I set to work filling the tank. Gasoline glugged, and the noise was far too loud for my tastes.

The staccato sound of bullets echoed from the forest. Birds took to the air, fluttering in panic as they escaped.

There was no reason to worry. Blaze could handle herself, and a few rounds didn’t mean anything. She probably killed some of them. No need to worry.

Moments later the tank was filled. Pickle came out of nowhere and sat primly on the passenger’s seat. Her white fur looked matted and dirty, but other than that her psychological well being seemed just fine. She stared at me through the window, but I turned away as I started the car and fired two rounds.

Time went by. Another round was fired somewhere in the forest. It could’ve been my ears playing tricks, but I could’ve sworn I heard a yell as well. If I waited, it could result in Blaze’s death. I deviated from our plan.

“Why me?” I grabbed a more formidable weapon from the backseat.

Generic shotgun in hand, I left the Mustang and started for the forest. A few slows hung around the edges of the trees. Predictably, their heads turned when they caught sound and sight of me. They’re bodies lurched forward and their hands rose.

I ran straight into the trees, branches slapping my face until I broke into a small clearing. Noises were everywhere: twigs breaking and moving, zombies groaning. But none of the noises indicated where Blaze had gone.

Running around aimlessly in the forest seemed like a terrible idea, and that’s because it was. My body was tense and the situation was dour. Blaze could be at the Mustang now, while I traveled deeper into the woods to find her. One bad call would unravel all the progress we’d made.

“Can’t get me up here, you fucking cocksuckers!”

Ah. A mouth like that belonged to one woman in particular—Blaze Wright.

I followed her voice (which continued to insult the Zs) and found her not too far away. Using a thick bramble of bushes and a dead log as cover, I peered over its edge to assess the situation.

A score of zombies were gathered around a tree, looking up hungrily at my homicidal partner in crime. Blaze was lax, smoking a cigarette and peering up into the sky. She wedged herself between the thick branches of an oak, assault rifle slung carelessly over one shoulder.

Even if she heard my two shots, she couldn’t have escape from the tree. The look on her face showed resignation. Didn’t she know I’d come looking for her? Or did she have a plan?

“One, two, three, four! Who do you love?” she shouted down to the Zs, then cupped her hand to her ear dramatically. “The Marine Corps. That’s right.”

It was all very amusing, but I had to get the undead away and her down. A few months ago I would’ve left her, but when you fall in love, things change.

Love?

My mouth dropped open. Where did that come from? Love? The lack of sleep, food, and sanity must’ve been getting to me because love wasn’t in my vocabulary when it came to a woman. Especially one I’d only known for a few days.

I erased every thought from my mind and dove out of the bushes, gun up, and a scream in my throat. That was one way to get things off your mind—risk your life boldly. Excuse me, unwisely.

Zombies turned, eyeing their newer and easier target. The closest one to me was a fat woman with thoroughly charred skin. Glistening shards of glass protruded from the right side of her face and neck. Most of her scalp was gone, revealing skull. A burned and ragged sundress completed her ghastly appearance.

I pulled the trigger and blew her out of existence. Thick brain matter exploded onto the man behind her. He looked normal, except his head was covered in slimy, rotted brain. His mouth opened and a distended tongue slopped out, licking at the old blood.

Gross.

I wanted Blaze to jump down once I’d lured the zombies away, but there was no time to verbalize the plan. Blaze was smart and I trusted she could figure it out for herself, so I spun around and jumped off the log, heading back into the forest.

A few glances behind me confirmed the zombies followed. I broke into a fast walk, because running was unnecessary. As long as they were behind me and I wasn’t cut off, I could lead them around for a lifetime.

Rain dripped from leaves and pine needles, splashing onto my exposed skin as I led them along. All the combined scents of a forest washed out the usual smells of decay and apocalypse. (The scent of apocalypse, I discovered, was a mélange of oily smoke, rotted tissue, and general destruction. If dictionaries were ever revised, I was going to loan a hand in redefining the word.)

More rounds rang throughout the forest, this time from the direction of the auto shop. I took the cue as Blaze’s signal for me to come out. Turning my attention from the slows, I became a runner.

Black and chipped teeth were at my eye-level, framed by blistered lips. The deceased corpse in front of me was over my height of 6’1.” Intimidating would’ve described him as a living human, but paled in comparison to what he was now.

His hands shot out for my neck and he pulled me close to his putrid mouth. My shotgun pressed between us, its hilt stabbing into my chest and into his abdomen. I pulled the trigger, not seeking damage but a lapse in his concentration. He grunted and stumbled back, his hands lessening their grip. I took advantage and pumped the shotgun before delivering a buck shot straight into his head. His body cracked branches when it fell.