Zombie Queen

by Mary Martel

  Leaves rustle behind us in the brush only seconds before arms wrap around Sam’s shoulders and he’s yanked to the ground. Act first, think later. Before I’ve even turned to his attacker, I’ve got the knife from my belt in my hand and shove it through the hard bone of a skull as I move.

  Kicking the disgusting creature off him, I check him over for injuries. “Did he bite or scratch you?”

  Sam shakes his head, and then his eyes latch on to a spot over my shoulder. No words are needed. We must’ve caused a commotion, and our time’s up. Grabbing a fistful of Sam’s gray shirt, I jerk him to his feet before taking off through the trees. Leaves and sticks crackle underneath my boots, and I can hear more than one set of thundering footsteps behind mine. Hopefully at least one of them belongs to Sam.

  Somehow in our panic, we’ve gotten turned around, and I spill out onto Main Street directly beside the gas station. We’re sprinting towards the middle of town, and my store, when Sam grabs onto my arms and squeezes hard enough to pull me to a stop. “There’s a ladder in the alley between the bar and Gold’s. Take it up to the roof and lay low. I’m going to draw them off.”

  I don’t even have time to argue before he shoves me into a crack between the wall and a dumpster. From my hiding spot, I have a good viewpoint. Oxygen whooshes in and out of my lungs in an attempt to slow my heartbeat.

  Back in the day of living and not running for our lives, I definitely would’ve had a crush on Sam. A dark-colored beanie covers his head, leaving only a small portion of blonde hair sticking out around the edges. Even though his face is more square than round, his baby blue eyes are romance novel worthy and make up for it. Plus, the puberty years have been good to him. His jawline and around his mouth are covered in rough dark blonde stubble. Not to mention, he’s a lot stockier than I remember. Other guys at school never picked on him because he’s always had those farm boy muscles that look like he can body slam someone with the flick of his wrist, but this is different. His shirt is tight against broad shoulders and even more so around his upper arms.

  Idiot. If he’s been stalking me, then he should know we’ve got more problems than the living morons right now. He needs to be wearing something more to cover his arms. At least his legs are protected. I doubt any human teeth could chew through those tan thick cotton farmer pants.

  Movement across the street catches my eye, and I watch as a guy emerges from the same trees we were in moments ago. He’s tall and skinny but lithe and definitely fast. Sam barreled down the opposite side of the street after he hid me. I know he’s trying to be seen, but my heart still leaps into my chest when the stranger’s face lights up at spotting him.

  Shit. I’m not a fucking coward anymore. I refuse to sit here like a sitting duck while they capture Sam for nothing. I’ve got to get to that roof, so I can see what’s going on. When I’m sure Sam’s led him off the main road, I crawl out of my hiding spot. Without checking twice, I take off towards the spot Sam promised the ladder would be.

  Mistake numero uno. Always be aware of your surroundings. I’m halfway to the alley when the SUV comes roaring down the road. The toe of my boot catches on a rise in the sidewalk, and it tweaks my ankle as I fall. Mistake numero dos. Never fall in the getaway. My knees catch the brunt of my weight and sting like a mothertrucker. Silver lining, I don’t stab myself with my sword on the way down, but it does go bouncing against the storefront with a clang. Fuck it. Collateral battle losses. I jump back to my feet, favoring my now aching ankle. At least it’s not broken. I hobble the last ten feet to my destination. I’ve just rounded the corner as I hear doors slam behind me. Seconds. It’s going to literally come down to a fight of seconds. That is my thought process as I make the turn into the alley and come to a dead stop. My precious ladder is pulled up just far enough to where I don’t think I’ll be able to reach it, even if my ankle wasn’t fucked and I could jump like a basketball player. That’s not even the most troublesome thing in this situation. No, that would be the undead fuckfaces pressing against the chain-link fence halfway down the open space. There are more than thirty of them. At least I know where they all went now. Mistake numero tres. Never trust anyone! Sam set me up. He had to have known I couldn’t reach that stupid ladder and would be blocked in by the stinking meat sacks.

  I broke cardinal rules, so my time must be coming to an end. This girl is not going down without a fight, meaning I will take one of them with me.

  Unleashing my second sword with a schnick sound, I brace my feet apart defensively just as three men step around the corner, blocking my only way out. The one who was hanging on the back of their vehicle looks as big as a damn gorilla. His sweaty bald head gleams in the sunlight and a pair of aviator sunglasses hides his eyes. He stands statue-still as his other two companions take a step towards me.

  I step back before thinking about the rotting corpses at my back. Though how I could forget them while their stench and moans fill the small space is a mystery. Maybe because my brain perceives them as the lesser threat at the moment.

  The guy in front reaches for me out of what appears to be reflex before dropping his hand back down. “Look, we don’t want to hurt you.”

  It’s easy to see why he’s the front man. Despite the muscles, he’s got a soft face that matches his voice. Wavy dirty blond locks are pushed back and move as the wind cuts through the buildings. Unfortunately, it’s moving the wrong way and brings the foul stench of the undead barreling towards my nose. I have to fight hard to keep the bile down.

  “We just want to help,” he tries again. “You saved Dex’s life the other night, and we’re just trying to return the favor.”

  “I don’t need your help,” I grind out. My voice seems to send the hoard behind me into a tizzy, because their moans increase in volume.

  Pretty boy glances over his shoulder to his other companion. I’ve avoided this one’s gaze. His dark auburn hair flows down to the top of his collar, and his facial hair is thicker than any of the others. A few bracelets and a watch line his wrists. As my eyes meet his amber ones, they narrow in a dare, and one side of his lips turns up. He looks wild, and if I’m being honest with myself, terrifying. Only, not the flesh-eating or scary, rapey dude kind of way. One look says he’s as romance novel worthy as Sam’s eyes.

  Shit. Sam.

  “They’re about to rip that goddamn fence down, Russ,” gorilla man says, his voice as gravelly as it would appear to be. “Just grab her, Kemp, so we can get the hell out of here.”

  His words spur the wild man into action, and I take another step back, getting ready to slice whatever part of him off that I have to. Too close to the fence I soon realize as a hand grasps the excess material on the arm of my jacket and pulls me off balance. The disgusting fucker ripped the flesh off his bones, fitting it through the small fence hole to get to me. Absolutely no shame.

  The wild man grabs my other arm, yanking me gently away from the fence. He could’ve just saved my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go with them.

  Jerking my elbow back and bringing my knee up at the same time, I clock the wild man right in the gonads. He drops like a hundred and fifty pound bag of potatoes as I hobble-hustle over to the ladder. Gorilla man was right about the fence breaking, but I’ve got to take my chances. There’s no way I’m getting out of the front of this alley with him blocking the way.

  I do a quick flip with my sword, grabbing the razor-sharp edge, and use the handle to hook the bottom rung of the ladder. Blood drips freely down my arm as my palm screams in pain.

  All of this happens in a matter of seconds, so neither of the other two have even had a chance to move since I kicked the wild man and rushed to the wall. Then everything happens all at once. The ladder drops with a loud clang as one of the bolts holding the fence gives way. It’s not enough to let the hoard through, but it is enough to snap the other two into action. The talker grabs wild man under his arms and drags him back towards where they came from while the gorilla makes a mad dash for me.
In my haste to get as high as I can, away from him, I miss the loose corner at the top of the ladder. When his fingers close around my ankle, and I rear back to kick him, the cursed contraption comes loose completely.

  A shrill scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. At this angle, I’m going to topple over backwards straight into the hoard. Gorilla man wraps both hands around the edges and uses his foot to push off from the wall in the opposite direction. He doesn’t let go as we both go crashing to the concrete. There’s a loud crack before my head explodes in pain then I black out.

  Emerald

  From my seat on the top step of our back porch, I watch my sister pretending to be a cat as she pounces around our backyard and tries to catch butterflies. A beat of sadness pounds through my heart, and I can’t figure out why. She’s the cutest thing ever. The little meows tumbling from her lips every so often threaten to have me giggling.

  The sound of the backdoor sliding open has my head turning. Mom waltzes out dramatically with two glasses of lemonade and a tiny bowl of milk. Another shot of misery hits me hard enough to have a tear making a track down my face. She’s absolutely beautiful in her old 50’s housewife style dress covered in strawberries and her hair pinned back away from her face.

  She takes the spot next to me on the step before setting the bowl of milk on the next one down and calling out for my sister.

  When her eyes find mine, a soft smile tilts her lips up. “Don’t cry, lady bug. I made you some lemonade, extra sweet. Just the way you like it.”

  “I’m really sad, Mama,” I admit while taking the offered glass from her.

  Blinking a few times, she does a short nod of understanding. “Sometimes there are just things in life that will make you feel that way. Hopefully you’ll keep moments like these bottled up tight for those days. Never let the sadness control you, lady bug.”

  My sister came up to lap at her little bowl while Mama was talking. She now lays her head in my lap and tries to purr, the sound making me and Mama both laugh. Dark clouds slowly roll in, blanketing the warm sunshine, and a chill goes down my spine. I’m not ready to let go yet, but I finally remember why I was so sad. Closing my eyes, I wish for it all to go away. I want to see the sun and the smiling faces of my family again.

  A gurgle comes from my lap before teeth sink into the flesh of my calf. Before I can cry out, a face comes into focus behind my closed lids. It tickles the back of my brain like I’m supposed to know who it is but trying to name him hurts.

  He’s yelling something, and there are other loud voices shouting to be heard over each other. It makes my head hurt even more, so I let the darkness suck me under. Away from the voices. Away from the reanimated corpses of my family. Away from the pain.

  Waking up hurts like a bitch. I’m face down on what feels like an actual mattress, with a real freaking pillow. Maybe I’m dreaming now, and the other place was reality. I’d believe it were it not for the pain splitting my skull in half.

  As I move to sit up, I have to stop and close my eyes to keep from vomiting all over myself. Once I’m sure I’ve got the rolling under control, I peek through very tight lids around the room. It’s confirmed that I’m most certainly laying on a bed with a pillow at the top. My face imprint is still in the middle with a small wet spot left from drool, I’m assuming. I really need to get that under control. With my eyes still roaming and struggling to make out the larger details, I find a small table pressed against the wall next to the bed. On top sits a lamp emitting a soft glow. The pain in my head increases when I look too closely at it trying to discover its power source. So, instead, they drop to the silver tray sitting right beside it.

  There’s an unopened bottle of ibuprofen next to a tall glass of water and a folded piece of paper. It takes what feels like years to reach out and take the small white slip, but I have no trouble reading the neat handwriting on the inside.

  You banged your head pretty hard. You’ll find an unopened bottle of medicine with this note. It’ll serve you well to take two of them and get some rest.

  Doctor Graham

  I let the note slip out of my fingers and drift to the floor as I reach for the glass of water. The moment the cool liquid hits my tongue, I find that I’m parched. There’s just enough sense left in my soggy brain to leave enough to swallow with the medicine. I’d considered not taking it out of stubbornness alone, but I’ll need a clear head to figure out who these people are and what they want with me.

  After popping the seal on the bottle and tossing back two of the tiny brown pills, I guide my body back down onto the bed all while begging the sandman not to give me the same dreams.

  When I wake again, the lamp is off, but there’s enough light leaking in through curtained windows that it’s no longer needed. The same silver tray sits off to the side with the white pill bottle and glass now refilled with water. A dull ache forms at the back of my head as soon as I start trying to move. Checking to make sure the medicine looks the same as it did the last time I took them, I pop another two in my mouth and guzzle down the water. All in all probably not very smart of me, but a girl’s got to do what she’s got to do. Speaking of which, my bladder is almost to the point of spontaneous combustion.

  My head protests movement, but I’ve got to get the hell out of here. After I pee, yeah, definitely after I pee. Using the bed as a crutch, I make my way over to the open doorway in the corner. There’s another window in here letting in enough light to confirm there aren’t any boogeymen hiding in any of the corners.

  I sit down to do my business, and swear to god, I think I pass out for a few minutes. One second, I’m letting her loose, then the next I’m lifting my chin off my chest without remembering how it got there in the first place.

  Damn. I’m seriously feeling a few hot fries short of a happy meal right now. Mmm, hot fries. Now, those would be worth killing for. Why could we not get fry eating fools instead of flesh eating fuckfaces? That would be an apocalypse worth living right there. We’d all just die from clogged arteries instead of trying to eat each other.

  For whatever reason, my random rambling has actually cleared my head some, or maybe it was freeing my bladder. I shrug and roll my eyes. Finishing up, I find it easier to stand without needing support.

  Okay, first things first, I need to find some kind of weapon. It’s a lucky duck miracle no one has come in to check on me yet. Paranoia speaks up questioning if they need to come check on me. What if there are cameras hidden around the rooms? Shit. Shut up.

  Without bending over and putting my head below my heart, I check the cabinets under the sink for any kind of weapon. There’s nothing there unless I can somehow find a way to turn a toothbrush into a shank like they do in prison. The closest thing I can find is a can of hairspray. Screw it. I’ll spray someone in the eye if I have to. The shit in this can probably causes cancer anyways, so it’ll get them one way or another.

  I leave the lid on the edge of the sink and sneak back out into the room. It’s not hard considering someone removed my boots, making my tread silent across the hardwood floor. I spot them propped beside the door jamb, and I take a second to pull them on and lace them all the way up. Might as well take the time to do it now instead of tripping over untied laces later. My ankle protests as I pull the right one on, and a quick memory flashes through my mind of tripping over the sidewalk. It’s like that one thought opens the floodgates, and I remember everything from before. Sam’s fake attempt at saving me, only to lead me straight into the psychopath’s arms. Me kneeing the wild man in the nuts. Gorilla keeping me from becoming one of the undead.

  He may have saved me, but it’s his fault I almost fell into the pit of death, anyway, that little voice in the back of my head rationalizes. If they would’ve taken no for an answer and left me the hell alone, everything would’ve been just fine.

  Taking a deep breath, I feel more like myself as I come out of the haze of fog surrounding my brain. I mourn the loss of my blades before gripping the can of hairspr
ay tightly.

  Half expecting the door to be locked, I’m truly shocked when it opens without a hitch. That quickly wears off into a defensive mode. I need to get the hell out of dodge and quietly, especially since I can’t go quickly.

  The hallway right outside of my room is lit from both ends, with only a few closed doors between. Harsh breathing echoes around me, and it takes a moment for me to realize it’s coming from my own chest. In through the nose and out through the mouth, just like yoga. I’ve never done yoga, but I think I remember some shit like that. Or is that childbirth?

  A soft cough from behind one of the doors stops my inner ramblings just as I come to the top of a staircase. Balls to the wall now, there’s no turning back. Taking the steps as fast as I dare with my ankle, I’ve made it all the way to the bottom and spotted the front door before I see signs of life. Off to the right is a big kitchen area where the smooth talker from before stands taking some pills out of a couple bottles. Damn it. They’ve probably got other women up there and they’re feeding them drugs to keep them under control. Over my dead body.

  Taking cover behind the closest thing has me rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. I’m pretty sure he’ll notice a strange lump that wasn’t there before sticking out of the curtain. Luck must be on my side for once. Without glancing my way, he carries a tray up the stairs. I don’t know how long I’ve got before he discovers I’m gone, but my heart kicks into overdrive, knowing it’s not long.