She smiled. “That’s Pinky. She saved my life.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. Of course, she’d saved me, too, but I didn’t consider it necessary to mention that.
Penny walked toward me and leaned down to stroke my chin. I closed my eyes and purred in kind.
Her parents edged closer to us.
“She’s a friendly cat,” Penny assured them.
Suddenly protective of my fierce, antisocial reputation, I opened my eyes and sneered at the two adult humans. “Yeah, I’m a friendly cat,” I hissed. “But you better not touch me.”
They immediately stopped walking toward us. I think they got the message.
Penny’s parents glanced at their daughter with a perplexed expression on their faces, as if they couldn’t possibly comprehend her view of the world.
I feel your pain, kid.
“That’s right,” I chirped. “I’m a zombie-slaying cat, and I just saved…”
I tapered off at the sound of a commotion on the other side of the hill, back the way Penny and I had come. A cacophony of loud moaning that could only mean one thing: A whole mess of zombies had caught a whiff of our tasty flesh.
Hastily, I darted toward the hilltop and gazed downward. Sure enough, a horde of zombies was headed our way.
“Christ,” Penny’s dad muttered from behind me. “There must be thirty of them!”
“What should we do, Chris?” Penny’s mom asked.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “but I know we can’t go back that way.” He gestured behind him with his thumb, the direction they’d apparently come from and the logical way to run. “There were even more down there.”
Fan-freaking-tastic. Zombies behind us and zombies below us. This is getting tiresome!
“Sorry, folks,” I meowed. “Psycho-kitty mode is on empty.”
But Penny and her parents weren’t listening to me. They were too busy looking terrified and helpless.
I admit, I wasn’t happy about the situation, but I wasn’t ready to die either—especially before finding my parents.
I gazed down at the mix of mini-zombies and adult zombies currently trekking up the steep hill toward us, then I glanced down at my paws, where a small pile of round stones lay.
“I have an idea,” I hollered.
Thankfully, Penny and her parents noticed me then.
To demonstrate my plan, I knocked a few stones down the hill with my front left paw—the one I typically favor for my destructive or protective tendencies. That seemingly insignificant action caused more stones to slide downward, eventually becoming a sizable series of rocks colliding into the zombies below. I even managed to hit one of the tinier monsters in the head with a particularly bouncy stone.
Penny’s dad witnessed the minor avalanche and then gazed back at me, a quizzical look on his face.
I merely nodded.
With a grin, he rolled a much larger rock up the hill and heaved it over the side. When the makeshift weapon managed to topple two zombies and smoosh their skulls against the ground, Penny and her mom cheered, then promptly followed his example.
A few moments later, Penny and her parents had created an impressive avalanche. The original boulders slammed into bigger ones, which, in turn, whacked into even more. Soon, the zombie squad below was completely squished—just like a French Quarter cockroach under my dad’s shoe.
When the dust cleared, not one zombie was moving. The bottom of the hill resembled an exploded meat grinder—or so I imagined, based on all the gross horror movies my parents had subjected me to.
Yep, it’s a mess. One I won’t be cleaning up. But, yay, my plan worked!
I glanced up at Penny and her parents, hoping to receive looks of approval.
Instead, Penny’s dad just shook his head, his face filled with amusement. “What a weird cat.”
“Hey,” I yowled, “who are you calling weird?”
But good ol’ Penny gave me the praise I’d sought. Kneeling beside me, she gently scratched my chin. “She’s the smartest cat in the whole, wide world.”
I purred. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, kid.”
Despite my fondness for the little pink-loving girl, I knew it was time to part. Time to seek out and reunite with my own parents. Hopefully, Penny’s folks would stay close to their daughter, and she’d never be in mortal danger again.
Course, in this screwed-up zombie world, I have my doubts.
With a shrug, I headed over the hilltop. But Penny’s voice halted me.
“You can come with us, you know.”
“Uh, Penny,” her dad said. “Maybe we should talk about that.”
“She’s wearing a collar, sweetie,” her mom added. “She probably belongs to someone else.”
I almost objected to her phrasing, but the fact was… I did belong to my momma and my dad. Had ever since the day they brought me home. And I never wanted to live without them.
I looked at Penny’s sad face and sighed.
“You’ve gotta find your parents, don’t you, Pinky?”
A simple chirp was the only answer required.
“I understand,” she said, clearly disappointed.
Then, she removed the pink ribbon from the stuffed cat. I knew what was coming, but I decided not to fight it. The poor kid had been through a lot.
As expected, Penny tied the ribbon around my neck, then pulled away with a satisfied smile on her face. I tucked my chin and gazed at the lopsided bow.
I’ll wear it for now, but not for long. I’m not exactly a froufrou kind of gal.
“Still,” I purred, “thanks, kid.”
Then, after licking her cheek with my sandpaper tongue—you know, giving her a kitty kiss—I trotted down the hill. Naturally, I did my best to avoid the gory mess we’d made.
Just past the bloody corpses, I paused and gazed back toward the hilltop. Gripping her mom with one hand, Penny waved at me with the other. Her parents glanced at her, then down at me, and waved as well.
With a small nod, I turned away, flicked my tail up, and showed them my butthole. My customary sign of appreciation.
Chapter
7
Though I still wasn’t sure where to look for my parents, I figured returning to the scene of the kidnapping was a good place to start. If I had to, I’d even be willing to follow the car tracks across the torture litter. I just wanted my family back.
I retraced my steps through the forest, taking the trail all the way back to our campsite. I had to dodge a few uniformed zombie kids as I headed back to the van, but luckily, I didn’t encounter any other undead mobs.
During the entire return trip, I felt both elated and worried. I so wanted to see my momma and my dad again, but I was also terrified that the little gore-covered monsters I’d seen might’ve already eaten them—or that the weird dude who’d taken them away had imprisoned them somewhere.
A kitty’s imagination can run quite wild, especially during a zombie apocalypse.
As I neared the campsite, though, I heard my parents’ voices. My heart raced with excitement.
They’re still alive!
They hadn’t been devoured by the little pus-sacks—and they’d apparently escaped the clutches of the chubby ranger. I was gonna see my momma and my daddy again.
OK, sometimes, I do call him Daddy. So, sue me.
Anyway… I was so thrilled, I could barely stand it. I quickened my pace. Suddenly, the campsite came into view—and so did everyone else. Even spotting the dumb woman made me purr with glee.
Dad and that Casey kid (once again conscious) were loading guns and other supplies into the back of our van. The station wagon, meanwhile, was toast, steam and fluids spewing from the hood, at least one tire utterly flat. I wondered what had happened to it, but not enough to care.
As I approached the van, Dad and Casey spotted me.
“Where do you suppose she’s been?” the kid asked.
I stopped and gazed up at him and my dad. “What’s the h
aps, fellas,” I meowed.
When Dad noticed the pink ribbon around my neck, his brow crinkled in confusion. “That’s new.”
Then, without explanation, I bypassed the two of them and jumped back inside the van. I hopped over the pile of guns, gulped down some water, and settled down on a discarded blanket behind my momma’s seat—a well-deserved nap in my immediate future.
A moment later, I heard a couple gunshots, everybody clambered into the van in a panic, and the shortwave crackled to life. Dad had a weird conversation with my uncle John, and then the back doors slammed shut. Clearly, more zombie kids were headed our way, and it was time to hit the road.
As Dad sped outta there, I heard Momma ask, “Joe, where did Azazel get that pink ribbon?”
“No idea,” he replied.
“Call me Pinky,” I purred as I drifted into dreamland.
Actually, don’t call me Pinky… I won’t answer to it. But I’ll always treasure my little friend Penny and our crazy adventure in the wilds of Homochitto National Forest. I might even cherish the stupid ribbon, too.
Hopefully, though, that was the end of my zombie-slaying days.
But you never can tell.
Anyway… nite, all. Stay safe out there among the pus-sacks.
Survive the Zombie Chaos
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Escape from the Big Easy: Zombie Chaos Book 1 is on sale for $.99!
***
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About the Authors
D.L. Martone is the joint pen name of husband-wife duo Daniel and Laura Martone. Part-time residents of New Orleans and northern Michigan, the Martones travel the country in their mobile writing studio, a cozy RV dubbed Serenity. As you might have guessed, they’re huge fans of Firefly, which is why they remodeled the interior of their travel trailer to resemble Captain Reynolds’ beloved spaceship. Together, they enjoy writing space opera, fantasy LitRPG/GameLit, urban fantasy, cozy mysteries, and, of course, post-apocalyptic zombie tales.
Acknowledgments
We appreciate the support from our friends, families, and fellow writers—and the inspiration gleaned from various zombie flicks and TV shows, especially Shaun of the Dead, The Walking Dead, and George Romero’s Dead movies—as well as our fellow fans of such stories.
Of course, we couldn’t have started this series—or finished this story—without the love and support of each other and our beloved kitty, Ruby Azazel.
Lastly, we’re grateful to you, our fellow survivors, for joining Joe and his family on their harrowing journey through zombie-filled America.
Zombie Chaos Box Set | Books 1-4 Page 71
