by M. D. Massey
Oopsy, think I just pissed-off LuLu. That’s just flippin’ great. But Scarlett wasn’t as concerned with LuLu’s rant as she was with what LuLu had meant. She had no idea everyone turned into a creeper when they died. Did that mean the virus was airborne? That explained Miss Purlie’s suicide. And she, herself, Miss flipping Pollyanna, felt a sudden wave of despair.
The dining room went quiet again as if everyone was preoccupied with their fears of mortality as humans and immortality as creepers. Except for Paxton, who blatantly eyed Scarlett while he slurped spoonfuls of noodles, making her extremely uncomfortable and increasingly angry.
“So, what did you do back in the real world?” Paxton’s intense eyes locked onto hers, unrelenting. Such a simple question, but it gave her the heebie-jeebies, or was it the way he raked her over, probing every inch of her. She wanted to ignore the cocky jerk, but she had to answer him. All eyes were upon her, eager with anticipation, except for LuLu who continued to stare into her bowl.
“Actually, I’m a school teacher,” Scarlett started to explain.
“Hot damn, Paxton, we got ourselves a bona fide school teacher,” Nate cooed.
“That’s very do-able—” Paxton’s smile felt more like the cold-jagged-steel of a knife blade pressing against her throat.
If her cheeks reddened, it most certainly wasn’t from embarrassment; she was absolutely furious. Jeez, what the hell’s wrong with these two? The Stockton Boys are absolute creeps. Is that why Ella wasn’t in the dining room? Scarlett had noticed earlier the way Nate had leered at poor Ella. I can probably handle them as long as I keep my cool. Still, I better watch it while I’m here, she decided. She certainly didn’t trust either of them.
She had thought the hotel would be a great place to hang out until things returned to normal. That was until Nate and Paxton had joined them for that extremely uncomfortable lunch. Not to mention, she had unwittingly managed to make a frenemy of LuLu. Also very strange, was the fact that no one (not even her for that matter) had mentioned anything about their families. She found it disturbing.
Had everyone given up? I still have hope. Giving up is like accepting this new creeper-infested world. If she was destined to turn into a soulless creeper, then really—like LuLu said—what was the flipping point? That meant the meaning of life or death no longer held any validity and was merely an eternal curse. No, Scarlett refused to buy into the belief it was pointless and hopeless. Help will come soon—it has to.
After lunch, Scarlett helped Ella with the dishes. It seemed like they expected Ella to do all the cooking and all the clean-up. Poor thing, maybe she should stay and help sort things out. Ella needed someone to look out for her. I can teach her assertiveness and build her self-confidence. After all, I did attend a two-day self-esteem seminar last summer.
“Ella, thank you so much for that fantastic lunch,” Scarlett complimented and began rinsing the bowls.
Ella gave a quick, timid smile and shooed Scarlett out of the kitchen like a pesky fly. “Oh, I want to help you. I can’t believe those jerks, those—those imbeciles—bullies, expect you to do all the work. We’ll just see about that!” Scarlett huffed.
Ella giggled.
It made Scarlett think for a second. “Sorry, I do get a bit miffed when it comes to jerks.” (She was thinking about her ex-fiancé—what’s his name?)
Then Scarlett realized Ella had laughed, which meant her vocal cords were probably fine. Ella most likely refused to speak due to trauma, probably something horrid she had endured these past few months. Nobody could blame her for that, and she hoped Ella’s wounds would heal in time. It looked like Justin was helping her. It was quite apparent he had a thing for Ella, and Ella didn’t seem to mind so much. However, it was also obvious Ella was afraid of Nate and Paxton.
On a hunch, Scarlett tried signing, “Thank you for lunch.” Unfortunately, it had been a while since she had taken the sign language class, so she ended up only signing, “Thank you.” Ella didn’t respond. It looks like Ella hasn’t been mute for long, or surely, she’d know how to sign.
Justin barged into the kitchen. “LuLu wants to see you. She’s ready to show you your room,” he said breathlessly like he had just run a marathon.
“After I finish with the dishes,” Scarlett insisted.
“Hey, I always help Ella with the dishes. That’s my job,” Justin said as if it were his favorite part of the day. Justin wiggled his eyebrows knowingly to Ella as if they had a little secret. Ella turned away, flushing.
“I see.” Scarlett wiggled her eyebrows in response. “I’ll help out with your phone project later,” Scarlett promised and left the kitchen. I thought I caught those two flirting. Scarlett smiled.
LuLu stood in the lobby. “Follow me,” she demanded in a rather terse tone. They took the stairs to the third floor. “We only use the third-floor suites for our living quarters. Safer up here and the rooms are much bigger.”
“Here’s your key, room 306.” LuLu handed her a silver key. Scarlett expected the traditional electronic card key and was surprised by the actual metal key.
“Yeah, Dean installed regular doorknobs with actual locks and keys on several of the rooms,” LuLu answered in response to Scarlett’s surprised expression.
LuLu escorted her into the room. “See, you even have a balcony facing the back. There aren’t as many of those monsters back here. They tend to congregate on the main road in front of the hotel.” LuLu pointed to the engagement ring Scarlett wore on her left ring finger. “So, you engaged? When’s the Big Day?” LuLu’s snarkish tone revealed her insincerity.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, yes—engaged.” Scarlett hadn’t meant to lie; she didn’t even know why she had. It would have been just as easy to say, No, I’m not engaged, and it’s none of your flippin’ business.
“Good luck—on that,” LuLu said with hesitation.
“So, the gals’ rooms are on this end, and the guys’ rooms are at the other end of the hall. Lunch is at noon, and dinner’s at six o'clock sharp. If you’re a morning person, we’ve got more boxes of cereal than Tony the Tiger. Dean’s always up early. Ella’s usually up early too if you want a cup of hot tea or oatmeal. Me, let’s just say—I’m not a morning person,” LuLu said, sounding somewhat congenial.
“What about laundry? And showers?” Scarlett asked.
“Conserve as much electricity and hot water as you can. This place is running on generators. Dean’s liable to have a conniption fit if you use too much power. The rule is three-minute hot showers. I doubt anyone here really follows that rule,” LuLu admitted. “I do the laundry around here. That’s one of my Resident Housekeeper duties,” she practically warned as if Scarlett wanted to take the job from her. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Dean will come up with a list of duties for you as well. You’re good to go, kiddo. See ya at dinner.” LuLu left without a smile or a welcome.
Scarlett plopped onto the bed, bouncing up and down, checking the springs for comfortableness as if it mattered. She felt completely alone in the blandly furnished room. Guess the hotel had to save money somewhere. She glanced around the room and frowned. Jeez, what is it with hotels these days—such ugly furniture and stupid pictures. There must be some Ugly Hotel Furniture Law, requiring hotels to buy their furnishings from the same place. Hmm, uglyhotelfurnishings.com, she thought dryly. If the Internet still worked, she would have Googled it just for kicks to see if such a website existed.
Really, you don’t have any right to complain, she chastised. She was safe and warm and with people. Why doesn’t this feel right? And why hadn’t she taken off the flipping engagement ring months ago? Scarlett twirled the ring nervously around her finger. She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready. The ring stood for everything that might have been—her perfect happily-ever-after life. She refused to accept this new world . . .
16
Scarlett and Ella had spent the last couple of weeks helping Justin with his “CFO” project, Call for Others. After a phone had been charged to abou
t ten percent, Ella made a list of the stored contact phone numbers. Scarlett and Justin had the tedious task of calling each number. Justin had made a recording to save time, but it seemed too automated for the occasion—end of the world and all that. So, Scarlett and Justin left live messages.
Scarlett preferred to keep her messages short and to the point: “Hello, if you’re getting this message, we’re looking for other survivors or help. So, if you know of a FEMA shelter, or if you want to join our small group, please give us a call at one of the following numbers . . .”
Scarlett had to laugh when she overheard Justin. His messages usually sounded as crazy as he was. “Hello, citizens of Zombieland, USA! No, we don’t know each other. We liberated this cell phone from someone, uh, let’s just say someone less fortunate. We’re looking for help, the government, military, or survivors. We’re hangin’ out in cow town, otherwise known as Vacaville, here in not-so-sunny California. So, like, call me.”
The Stockton Boys thought the CFO project was a waste of time. They spent most of their days searching the city for fuel and spent their nights on the mysterious second floor of the hotel getting aimlessly drunk. Dean didn’t seem to mind Paxton and Nate’s reckless behavior as long as they brought in a steady supply of fuel for the generators and vehicles.
LuLu spent most of the time recovering from the night before and making it quite clear to Scarlett that she was the Resident Housekeeper and alpha female during the day (and perhaps the resident slut by night), spending most of her evenings with Paxton and Nate. Scarlett made it a point to avoid the second floor and warned Ella as well.
Scarlett spent most of her time working on the CFO Project or working out in the gym. After much prodding, Dean had finally assigned Scarlett as the group’s official “First Aider.” After all, being an elementary school teacher, she had undergone CPR training and knew the basics—the very basics. Dean had given her the okay to scrounge the uninhabited rooms for first-aid supplies.
She had informed Dean of their inadequate medical supplies, advising she needed to go on a house-to-house hunt for items such as antibiotics and antiseptics. To her surprise, he had forbidden her from leaving the hotel, promising he’d look for the supplies when he was out and about.
The monotonous life at the hotel continued. Every morning like clockwork, Dean ate his predawn breakfast in the dining room and then disappeared to the semi overlooking the interstate. Scarlett was starting to think he just wanted to get away from all of them. And that was another thing that bugged her. Lately, Dean seemed to be avoiding her. She had tried discussing the group’s future plans countless times. He’d always say something like, “Sure thing, after I do this or that . . .” She was becoming increasingly frustrated, bored, useless, and ever so lonely.
After another restless night, Scarlett paced her room like a prisoner. Sure, the safety of the hotel was comforting; however, she needed to practice her sneaking skills (or rather her bravery skills) she had so painstakingly acquired. Her skills withered away while banished to the hotel like a teenager placed on restriction by an overly-protective parent.
And although she enjoyed watching Ella and Justin’s flirtatious relationship bloom before her eyes, in a way, it only made her lonelier. The tension inside of her escalated. She couldn’t stay trapped in the hotel for the rest of her life. Scarlett was in dire need of a friend, so when she spotted LuLu lugging a stuffed laundry bag over her shoulder, she decided to see if she could make peace with her.
“Hey LuLu, need help?”
“Got it covered,” LuLu quipped.
“You know, LuLu, I could really go for a cup of hot coffee. How about you?” Scarlett tagged along like an anxious puppy.
“I sure miss the stuff.” LuLu sighed while sorting the laundry. “We’ve been out of coffee for months.”
“Well, coffee shouldn’t be that hard to find. I mean, almost every household drinks—used to drink coffee. Why don’t you take a ride with me? Justin told me there’s a housing subdivision nearby,” Scarlett said encouragingly.
LuLu crossed her arms and stared at Scarlett as if she had just said something completely taboo.
“You don’t have to do anything, just be my backup,” Scarlett promised.
“You know the rules. Dean would have a heart attack. And don’t think I can’t smell a rat. You, with your cute dimples and your sweet voice, trying to weasel your way to the top.” LuLu gave her a long, hard look. “Don’t you be messin’ with my men either.” The hatred in LuLu’s eyes flashed.
Scarlett didn’t know quite how to respond. She hadn’t realized how much LuLu hated her. Sure, LuLu had never been very friendly, but the stressful survival mode had everyone on edge. Scarlett did an about-face. And she stormed out of the laundry room, fuming.
She happened to find Justin in the lobby taking a break from the CFO project. “Justin, what are you up to?” Scarlett snapped, attempting to blow-off her anger.
“You know, stuff,” he rattled off.
“You got a few minutes?” Scarlett barely smiled, self-conscious of her dimples after LuLu’s nasty remark.
“What’s—up?” Justin asked cautiously.
“Grab your gear. I need a cup of coffee. Now!” Scarlett raved.
“Uh, sure, we are so out-of-here.” He dashed to the conference room, returning with his backpack, a crowbar, a bat, and a small handgun. “Are you PMSing or something?” Justin asked timidly.
“I’m tired of being trapped in here,” she retorted, practicing a fatal swing with the steel bat Justin had just given her.
“We can’t let Dean see us,” Justin fretted.
“Do you always follow his rules?” Scarlett asked a bit caustically.
He gave one of his silly up-to-no-good smirks. “Heck no. How do you think I got all those cell phones? Even went to Best Buy a few times for supplies.”
“I see.” Scarlett nodded with approval.
“Before Dean got so super grumpy, I used to ride with the Stockton Boys. Those dudes are freakin’ cray-cray. They actually drive around herding Zs for fun—Z-smashing.”
“Ugh, what?” Scarlett wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Ya know, zombie smashing or more like zombie four-wheeling.”
“Dean did mention something about that, but I thought he was exaggerating. Very disturbing.” Scarlett grimaced. “Dean called it pest control.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Let’s go out the back door. We can’t let LuLu see us. She might rat us out,” Justin said.
“What’s up with her? I’m getting the feeling she hates me.”
“Don’t worry. She’s always like that. Just moody, I guess,” Justin said.
Justin and Scarlett snuck their way to the hotel’s gated entrance. They crouched behind a tall stack of tires Dean had collected and scanned the area in silence.
“Any creepers?” she asked.
“How many times do I gotta tell you, woman? They’re zombies,” Justin teased.
“What do you think—take the car or walk?” she asked.
“Walk it. The Starbucks is down the street.”
Scarlett hadn’t realized there was a Starbucks in the area. Of course, isn’t there a Starbucks on every corner? She was instantly relieved, for it was much better than a house-to-house search. She was already starting to panic in the security of the parking lot. How did I use to do this? Had she lost her nerve?
Once they were on the main street, fear gnawed away at her. She had gotten lazy these past few weeks hidden away in the hotel. A part of her wanted to run right back up the stairs to the refuge of her boring and safe room. But, she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was more than just a cup of coffee. She needed to face her fears and keep up her survival instincts if she planned to survive until they found the rest of civilization.
They made their way down Orange Drive all the while Scarlett’s heart throbbed. Was she ready for this? What would she do if she came face to face with a creeper?
“Your three
o’clock,” Justin whispered, pointing to a small pack ambling to the road.
Scarlett gasped when she spotted the pack of scabby-flesh-covered creepers juddering about.
“Do you want to go back? It’s okay you know,” Justin started.
“Justin, are you wimping out on me?” she scolded.
“Who, me? Not a chance.”
They waited a few minutes, hiding behind a burnt-out vehicle until the pack wandered across the street to a Chevron gas station.
“Okay, we’re good to go,” Justin said as if Scarlett needed prompting.
Scarlett was grateful to find the Starbucks’ glass door wide open, which meant they didn’t have to waste time figuring out how to break in; however, at the same time, it was a bit unnerving. Anything or things could be lurking inside.
“Okay, so, I think I should go in first since I’m the guy—” Justin started lecturing.
“Whatever,” Scarlett mumbled and strutted past him, leaving Justin behind in amazement. The expression on his face was priceless.
A creeper lurched from behind the register’s counter, inches away from Justin’s back. She clenched the metal bat tightly, knocking it down with the first swing. Justin jumped up in bewilderment. He finished the thing off with the zombie-slayer knife he bragged about so much. It was a quick, fatal move, and Justin didn’t even flinch.
“Wow, I sorta like this side of you. I bet women’s survival chances are much better when they’re PMSing,” Justin said, giving one of his trademark smirks.
“Hey, watch it,” Scarlett teased. “Anymore?” she whispered.
“They’d be all over us by now,” he said, but they waited in silence another minute.
“Jeez, what happened in here?” she exclaimed.
