Friggin Zombies

by N. C. Reed

  Regardless of who said it, I liked to be able to move, come whatever. And Big Baby made sure I could move.

  I checked all the fluid levels first, making sure she was ready to rock. I hadn't run her in a good while, and I was particular about that. I had too much time and money invested to let something silly or stupid mess her up. She was a little sluggish to start, but that was normal when she hadn't been run in a while. I let her idle for a few minutes and soon enough she was ready to go. I pulled out of the barn, stopping long enough to close the door again, then pulled around front.

  Connie was in the kitchen when I went inside, already done up for another day as Doctor Hottie. And damn she was hot. I mean great balls of fire get the water hose hot. I've said that before, haven't I? Sorry. Anyway, she smiled at me when I walked inside.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning,” I replied, getting my EDC bag. I looked through it briefly out of habit and then went to the closet and got my three day bag to put in the Blazer. I had decided it was just stupid to keep using the van if I had to be in town. I might really need to get home no matter what, and Big Baby would make sure I did. No matter what.

  “You about ready to head in?” I asked, and Connie nodded.

  “Can we stop somewhere and get breakfast?” she asked.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I nodded, and looked at my watch. Forty-seven hours and ten minutes left. Today was Thursday. The food we'd ordered might get here on Friday, or Saturday. I had paid extra to make sure mine was here in seventy-two hours and Connie had done the same. It was an extra expense, but. . .I figured if I didn't have it by then, I might not get it. If I didn't need it, then I'd just be poorer. A lot poorer. But I could always eat the stuff.

  “I usually cook but I've been busy this morning,” I told my new roommate. “What time do you have to be at your office?”

  “By eight fifteen,” she replied, looking at her own watch. “Plenty of time to get a bite and pick up my car. If we start now,” she added, looking up at me.

  “We're good,” I nodded. “I already unloaded everything.”

  “I saw my stuff in the living room,” she nodded. “I'll get it squared away tonight when I get back.” I shrugged that off.

  “Leave it there, or in the spare room if you want, until we see what happens. You may not have to unpack everything.” I opened the door, holding it open for her. No sense in wasting a good opportunity by not being a gentleman, you know? Bad, Drake. Very bad. She smirked as she walked by. Busted again. Still made me smile.

  She made it about two steps outside before jerking to a stop. I reached for my pistol but then I realized that she had just noticed Big Baby.

  “What in the hell is that?” she asked, and the little tone of awe and surprise made me smile just a little.

  “That is Big Baby,” I informed her grandly. “She will make sure we can get around, no matter what happens. I'm taking her in this morning for an oil change and to fill up her tanks.”

  “Tanks?” Connie asked, moving again. “Plural?”

  “Well, she burns a lot of gas,” I shrugged. “So, yeah. Three tanks.”

  “How much does it cost you to fill this monster up?” she wanted to know, using the hand strap and the step ladder to get inside.

  “Nowadays, around two hundred dollars, give or take,” I answered. “It's not like I drive it much, though. Like I said, Big Baby's here in case of emergency. If things are turning bad, we can get around a lot easier than using the van or your car.”

  “And run over anything that doesn't move aside,” Connie added. Maybe a bit tart, I thought.

  “Now you're getting it!” I enthused, to which she replied with a snort.

  We made it to town in good order and got us some breakfast. I dropped Connie at her apartment to get her car, where she was glad to see her roommate's car.

  “I need to go and talk to her,” Connie said, opening the door. “I don't have much time, but she needs to know what might be happening.” She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at me. “Want to meet her?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. I had time. And I honestly would have done pretty much anything she asked me to. What can I say?

  Connie's roommate was named Rita. Rita Thomas. Redhead, freckles, cute. Nothing like Connie, but not in any way unattractive.

  Rita scoffed at Connie at first, but Connie kept on hammering at her with facts, using my tablet and her own laptop to show Rita the business. In ten minutes, Rita's tune had changed completely.

  “Got room for me too?” she asked, looking at me hopefully. She seemed like one of those people who are just naturally bubbly. I hated that in a person, especially early in the morning. But. . .any friend of Doctor Hottie and all that, right? Right.

  “Yes,” I told her. “Pack what you need to take with you, and I'll come back by and pick you up if you want. Or you can follow me out there,” I added. “Either way.”

  “I'll need my car,” Rita said thoughtfully. “I'll have work to do if this doesn't happen. You know it sounds crazy, right?” she looked at me doubtfully.

  “I do,” was all I said.

  “Well, no sense takin' chances, I always say,” she bubbled again. Ugh. Too early for that, even if the world was ending. “I'll get to work. Luckily I got the weekend off, so I'm good. It's my long weekend, since I was on call yesterday. I'm a home health care nurse,” she added. Bubbly. Again. I shot a glance at Connie, who was hiding a grin. Almost an apologetic grin, I noticed. When Rita turned to get a pen, Connie mouthed 'sorry' to me behind her friend's back. I just waved it off. If it got me in good with my goddess of medicine, then I'd make do. Bubbly or not.

  “Here's my number!” Rita grinned, handing over a business card with her cell phone added to the back. “Give me a call when you head this way and I'll be waiting.”

  “Oh-kay,” I sort of drug it out, and I swear Connie snickered just a little. It's really lucky for her she's my dream woman, or I'd have been very put out by that. A little. Some. Okay, you got me. I probably would have let a bear crap on me if it made Connie Kane look at me favorably. Know what I mean?

  Anyway, I left Bubbly Red Rita to pack and headed for Chuck's garage. Chuck was a buddy. We road trails together some, and he had done a lot of work on Baby for me. Anytime it was something outside my skill set, I took it to Chuck.

  Chuck happened to be free when I drove up and went right to work on Baby's fluid and filter check. We talked about odd and end stuff while he checked her over. He didn't mention the stuff in Europe and I didn't bring it up either. I liked Chuck, I really did. But he was straight red-neck. If I had told him he would have laughed me out of his garage, and by sundown the entire city would have thought I was nutty as a fruitcake. That was a complication I didn't need. Just did. Not. Need. So when Chuck was done, I paid him, gave him a little extra for beer since I wouldn't be out this weekend, and said good-bye.

  Haven't seen Chuck since, I'm sorry to say. He was a pretty good guy. Thinking about all this makes me feel bad once in a while. I mean, I know that no one would have listened, you know? I could have yelled it from the courthouse steps and no one would have cared other than I might be disturbing them with the noise. So what do I have to feel guilty about?

  Technically nothing. Nice word, technically. Means 'according to the rules, by letter of the law rather than spirit', and about a half-dozen other things all designed to make people who didn't do 'the right thing' feel better about themselves.

  But seriously, what could I do? I wasn't even sure that 'it' was going to happen. I just had a really bad feeling based on a few minutes of amateur video that was no longer on the web, a few odd news stories that seemed to be falling into a predictable pattern, and a healthy dose of fear. No proof to show anyone and no way to substantiate a single thing I thought was going to happen.

  What would you have done if someone had come up to you and said, ‘Hey, man. Like, I don't wanna start a panic or nothin' but. . .zombies are real, dude, and they'
re coming!' Right. You'd have laughed right in their face, and told 'em to stop screwing' with ya.

  Or called the cops. Either way.

  It's easy to step back and tell yourself, ‘Hey, they can look for things just like I can. If they aren't ready, it's their problem’. Sounds good up to a point and it even makes sense. When did it become my obligation to do the watching and digging and looking for everyone else? I could have stayed at home drinking beer. . .well, I had stayed at home and drunk beer, but not to excess, all right? I was doing research.

  I was watching news reports, videos, anything I could find that would tell me what was going on. If I can spend the time to keep up on stuff I need to know, so can other people. Problem is, most everyone depends on the 'goobermint' to tell them what's wrong and what to do about it. I mean, let's face it; the people in Dee Sea can't do the job they were sent there for in the first place, and you want to depend on them to give you timely information about a problem that could bring about a zombie apocalypse and perhaps the end-of-the-world?

  Nah. That's too much trust to place in the hands of self-centered, self-important morons. I'll take care of myself, thanks.

  Look, all I'm saying is that there was nothing I could have done any differently about folks like Chuck. They wouldn't have believed me. Would have ridiculed me and probably tried to have me arrested for observation. That's a real thing, you know. And I didn't have time for that. So, do I jeopardize my own safety and survival trying to help people who would just turn things around on me?

  Well, I didn't. So sue me.

  Anyway. . .with all that done I ran by the Lowe's one last time, picking up five more gas cans. Last five they had, in fact. I filled them and Big Baby, adding fuel stabilizer all around. The bill was something else for something like ninety gallons of gas. If it hadn't been for the end-of-the-world thing, there's no way I would have been spending that kind of money. Later on I'd be glad I did, but at the time it was just a throw of the dice.

  I took a look at my well worn lists and realized that except for a few little odd and ends I was done. I picked up six new deep cycle marine batteries for the new PV cells I had gotten the day before. Another hefty chuck of money, but a good investment. Case of motor oil for Baby and at least one bottle of every fluid she needed. More fuel treatment, just in case. By the time I left the parts house, the manager was inviting me to his son's graduation from college. You know, since I was paying for it and everything.

  Finally I couldn't put it off any longer. I pulled out my cell and called Bubbly Red Rita and listened as she bubbled to me that she was ready to go. Sighing in regret for the weakness I felt any time I was in Connie Kane's presence, I drove back to their apartment. Rita was ready all right. With what looked like everything she owned, ever.

  “What the hell?” I asked, looking around the crowded living room. “Connie didn't have near this much, and you don't have a single gun case in the bunch! You can't possibly need all this stuff!”

  “Well, I had to get my grandmother's dishes, and my Aunt Mary's bowl and picture and wash stand, it's antique you know, and then I can't leave my photos behind, and I've got. . . .” She droned on and on, just one long, never ending, migraine inducing sentence. I seriously thought about putting two in her head and driving away. If I hadn't been absolutely positive that it would have ended any chance I had of making it with Doctor Hottie, I would have.

  Well, I would have left her anyway.

  “Look, you can't take all this shit,” I settled for saying instead. “Didn't Connie tell you just the essentials? Clothes, weapons, food, personals. Books and stuff are cool, but. . .you won't need your grandmother's dishes if this happens. And if it doesn't you'll be back here in a few days at most. Now you need to go through all this and decide what you've got to have, and that's all that's making the trip! I don't have room for all this stuff in my truck anyway,” I finished.

  “Oh, well, I figured we'd just make two trips!” Bubbly, bubbly, bubbly. So very easy. Just a quick draw, double tap, close the door. . . .

  “I'm not making two trips,” I managed to reply calmly. “I have other stuff that needs doing today and I also need to be around the house since we're expecting a delivery. Two of them in fact. I'm making one trip and not planning on another one. I'm certainly not burning ten bucks worth of gas to come and get a wash stand, antique or not. Period.”

  I swear, she looked like she was going to cry. Her bottom lip even trembled a bit. At this point, I admit it. I was starting to think that even my beautiful doctor was not worth this. And I assure you that Connie Kane was a woman I would have done damn near anything I was capable of to make a good impression on.

  “But I need my things,” she almost moaned. “I can't leave them!”

  “Yes, you can,” I assured her. “Look, we won't have room for all of this stuff anyway, once we've got everything else inside the house. You've got to prioritize, Rita. Clothes, toiletries, food, weapons, things like that. Things you will need to survive if all this comes to pass, understand? Your grandma's dishes and that other stuff will not help you when the shit hits the fan. And if it doesn't then you'll be back here surrounded by your things in a few days.” I paused, frustrated. I could tell by the look on her face that Rita wasn't getting it. And wasn't going to give in.

  “Look around you,” I tried another track. “See all the stuff Connie left? She gets it. She only brought what she'll need if everything goes to hell in a grocery basket. You want pictures, bring a picture album with the most important ones. That's all you really need. You don't need dishes, you don't need bowls and pictures, you don't need dolls,” I pointed to the pile of dolls she had ready to go.

  I mean, come on. The world is friggin' ending and she's packing dolls? Are you shitting me?

  “That's the way it has to be,” I told her flatly, crossing my arms in front of me. I was through at that point. She either got it, or she didn't. I was suddenly very sorry that I had agreed to let Bubbly Red Rita come along. And that meant I might end up being sorry I'd asked the doctor, too.

  What was I thinking? That's what ran through my mind for a split second. I could make it on my own. If I was being drug down by the Rita's of the world then I'd end up at the bottom of the food chain, no doubt about it. I wasn't going to let that happen. Damned if I was after all that work to try and get prepared for this.

  “But. . .but my things!” Rita wailed, tears coming to her eyes. I shook my head and turned for the door.

  “I need to be home soon,” I said over my shoulder. “I'm sorry you can't live in the real world with the rest of us, Rita, but I don't have the time to baby you either. You're welcome to come along but there's a limit, and this,” I waved my arm around to cover all that. . .shit, “is beyond it. Pare it down or you're on your own.”

  “But Connie said I could come!”

  And there it was. I had made a huge mistake and I probably couldn't undo it. I turned to look at her.

  “I didn't say you couldn't come,” I told her flatly. “I said you can't bring everything you own. There isn't room, there isn't time. Leave what you don't need to survive here. If things don't go crazy, then it'll save you having to move it all back. If they do go nuts, you won't need them to get by.” I stood there looking at her. She tried the trembling lip again, but there was no way that was working on me. Tears either. Threats would be ne. . .

  “I'll call Connie!” Rita all but screamed. That was the last straw for me, thanks.

  “Go ahead and give her a call,” I told her, turning again. “I'm sure she'll be glad to come back and hide here with you instead of staying where she's safe and comfortable. See ya around, Rita. Nice meeting' ya.” Okay, that part was a lie, but even angry there's no reason we can't be civil, right? Common courtesy.

  I half expected to get a call from Connie on the way home, but it never came. I'd see what she had to say about it later, I guessed. For now, I had work to do.

  *****

  I had just finished wal
king the fence making sure it was in good repair when Connie pulled into the drive followed by another car driven by, you guessed it, Rita. It only took one look to see that she was mad. A sudden irrational need to slap her upside the head overtook me and it was all I could do to fight it off. I had managed not to be mad about her scene earlier in the day but for some reason her pulling into my yard with that pissed off look set me right off.

  Connie got out of her car and headed straight toward me. I braced myself, because I was not going to lose control of my home. Not even for her.

  “I'm sorry,” she said when she got closer. I don't know what I had expected, but that wasn't on the list. “I swear, I had no idea she was so stupid. I really though she had a clue, Drake.”

  “Is she straightened out now?” I asked, managing not to sound pissed off. I mean, hey, if Connie wasn't mad, then I wasn't mad, right? See how quick I can re-prioritize? I'm flexible that way. It's a gift.

  “She only brought the essentials,” Connie nodded. “She's still sulking, but I made her see the sense in it. Honestly, if we hadn't already told her, I'd have left her,” she sighed. I took a long, adoring look at my absolute favorite doctor in the whole world at that. Which she promptly misunderstood.

  “I shouldn't have said that,” she half apologized. “Sorry.”

  “What? Oh, no, no. I. . .it just tickled me to hear you say that. The fact that she was your friend probably kept me from just shooting her, to be honest. Her voice may be the second most annoying sound I've ever heard in my life.”

  “What in the name of all the world is the first?” Connie asked with a laugh.

  “Fingernails on the chalk board,” I told her, and she shivered. Yeah, like you just did when I mentioned it. I know you did it. We all do. Well trust me, Bubbly Red Rita was almost just as bad. Seriously.

  I watched for thirty minutes as the angry woman unpacked her car without asking for my help, shooting me an ugly glance every time she walked by. I refused to help unless she asked. I know, I know, it's petty. I'm shallow that way.