Zombie Invasion

by R. G. Richards

  April sat on a couch across from the man she didn’t like. She went to her. Long gone was the thrill of her sash and tiara. Mother would help her, she knew it. April took a long drink from the towering glass she held. Brittany walked up.

  “Momma, that man keeps staring at me.” The little girl brazenly pointed at the old man across from them.

  “No, he’s not baby.”

  “Yes, he is momma. He is staring at me and smiling, momma.”

  “Look at me, baby.”

  “Okay.”

  “Am I your momma?”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does momma ever lie to you?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, you listen to momma when momma says that man and all the others are looking at you because you are pretty.”

  “Okay.” Her response more mouse than lion.

  “You do believe you are pretty don’t you?”

  She searched her mother’s eyes for confirmation. Her mother’s pleading look told her to answer in the affirmative. “Yes, momma.”

  “Good, baby. Now the nice man wants to take pictures of you in your tiara. He is going to recommend more pageants for you to compete in. You are going to win lots of pageants.”

  The girl gave the man a second look. She didn’t like his smile. If it meant more contests, she could ignore him. Winning was fun.

  “Okay, momma.”

  “Fabulous!”

  April rose with care and guided her daughter to a door next to the man. Brittany held her mother’s hand tightly as they passed. The door opened and they went inside. Moments later the man joined them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera.

  “Let’s get started, Beautiful.”

  April sat on a couch, leaving Brittany standing before the man. The man put the camera to his face and clicked the shudder button. Emotions flooded the little girl. Joy came from the pushing of the button and the flashing of the light. She felt like royalty. Fear came as she watched the man lick his lips and wink at her.

  The pageant took place in an old school building. A janitor came in to clean. The man with the camera was furious and argued but the tall black man would not leave. He said he would not disturb them, but he had a job to do or he would get fired. The photographer relented and went back to taking pictures. Every so often he would attempt to touch Brittany to move her into a pose he wanted. The janitor would make a loud sound as if clearing his throat and the man would stop. He did more grunting than sweeping. Eventually, the man snapped his last photograph in frustration and left, muttering under his breath, threatening to have the janitor fired.

  The old janitor took it all in and when the man left, he turned and winked at the little girl. She felt happy, wonderful. She waved at the man before her mother dragged her out. She mumbled something about privacy that the little girl didn’t understand.

  Chapter Three: Zora

  Zora Baker rose from her bed. She would like to say that she woke naturally; however, the screaming baby next to her would disprove that. She yawned and stretched. The crib next to her bed held her baby brother, Simon. Simon screamed and screamed, a newborn, barely six months old. His lungs are huge.

  The young girl sighed. She looked at him with disdain. Another dream smashed to pieces by this little whiner. She should get up, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him while he yelled. A blank expression shone on her face. The screaming attracted a teenager wearing an apron. She looked at the screaming child and then over at the stone-faced girl.

  “Zoraphena! Hey! Dumbo! Turd face! Snap out of it!” Beth Ann shook her younger sister at her shoulder.

  “What?” Zora asked.

  “You zoned out again. Quiet him down before he wakes up everybody.”

  “Whatever,” said Zora.

  Zora got up in her pajamas. She rocked the crib slowly. Simon continued to cry. She yawned and rocked faster and faster, his little body bounced from side to side. Before long, he quieted.

  “About time.”

  Zora’s bureau held clothes for her and little Simon. She made her selections and placed them on her bed. First, she would need to change him. Lord knows what surprises she would find in his diaper, the crankier he became the nastier the surprise. Once, she opened his diaper to find what looked to be liquid cow patties. The green-filled diaper chaffed his skin and had her worried she might get blamed and receive a spanking. She spent the entire day in a nervous bind.

  Quickly, she changed Simon and prayed to god for no surprises this time. He didn’t hear her prayer. Zora stared down at the lumps of coal stranded together by a creepy red goo and cringed. Though nothing moved, if she were asked, she would swear it did. Her face turned into a mope. “My god, Simon. Why today? Why me?” This would be the first of eight diapers she would change today. Looking at the mess didn’t bode well for the rest of her day.

  Zora cleaned her brother and readied herself. Next stop, breakfast in the kitchen. Simon’s little hands waved about as his sister wheeled him and his stroller into the kitchen. Instead of pulling out her chair, she wheeled him beside her chair and put a pacifier in his mouth. If only she could sit and eat. There was no time.

  “Where have you been?” barked Beth Ann.

  “Changing Simon,” said Zora. “You keep feeding him that crap and you will be the one changing his diapers.”

  Beth Ann laughed. “Yeah, turd face.”

  Teasing Zora came naturally for Beth Ann. Every older sister teases the younger. Having ten years on the child added to the pleasure. Each day Beth Ann made it her mission to torture Zora. Usually she chose a new and better demeaning name, but as of late, the big-nosed girl had been sticking with a relatively short list. Zora found her best defense was to not engage. If she did, it would get three times worse. She chose to ignore her, though her blood rose tenfold.

  “I mean it,” Zora stomped her foot and tried looking menacing.

  “You are such a baby. Look normal or I’ll fix your face that way permanently.” Beth Ann laughed. “What’s the big deal anyway? They all did it to me when you were a baby. I’m just returning the favor.” She gave a coy smile. “You should have seen the mess in your diapers.”

  Zora blushed.

  “Oh yeah,” teased Beth Ann. “Johnny and Sammy were the worse. They fed you this stuff they made behind the barn and the next morning . . . whew! You stunk up the whole house.”

  Zora took offense at her laughing. “I was a baby, I wasn’t responsible. You should have been mad at them, not me.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Beth Ann shoved a loaf of bread in her chest. “Start making toast and don’t let the sausages burn while I’m in the bathroom.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know. Figure it out and stop bothering me, pee brain.”

  Beth Ann stormed off for the bathroom. Zora looked at Simon to make sure he was all right and then set the loaf of bread on the counter. She took the toaster from beneath the island counter and sat a silver tray next to it. She opened the loaf of bread and counted out four pieces. Zora placed them in the four slots and pushed down a lever on the toaster’s side. It was now time to count.

  “All right, Simon can’t eat so that leaves him out. Okay, Anna, Abigail, me, big-nose Beth Ann, momma and daddy. That’s six. Two pieces each makes twelve.”

  Zora counted out eight more pieces and put the tie back on the rest of the loaf. She put it in the bread box and went to the refrigerator. She scanned intently. Whatever Beth Ann fed Simon was there. She would find it and destroy it. She finished her sweep and began another. This time she moved items about to find her elusive prize. There, in the bottom tray, she found a dark bottle of liquid with no label. That had to be it, it was well hidden. She grinned. She opened it and put some on her finger for a taste. Her face contorted into a scorn, Castor oil. That could be it. That or something similar.


  Unsure and afraid, she would keep an eye on it throughout the day. With a pencil from her pocket, she drew a line at the level of the contents and placed it back where she found it. If Beth Ann used the bottle, she would know.

  “What are you doing, troll?” asked Beth Ann.

  Zora quickly shut the door. “Nothing.”

  “Well get your little ‘nothing’ behind over her and finish the toast.”

  The four pieces of toast popped up as she trudged back to the counter. Zora placed them on the tray and put four new pieces in the toaster. She watched her sister watching her. Before long, Beth Ann turned back to the stove and tended to her sausages. Zora stared at her sister’s back, wishing her eyeballs were lasers.

  Simon cried.

  Zora let him cry while she put in her last pieces of bread.

  “Turd face,” said Beth Ann, “shut him up before he wakes Mom. I’ve got enough to deal with. Make the table when you’re done.” Beth Ann pulled out a carton of eggs and cracked them into a large bowl.

  The phone rang while Zora rocked Simon. She listened to the quiet mumblings of Beth Ann. Her tone gave her away, it wasn’t good news. After placing the receiver back on the hook, Beth Ann’s anxious expression said more.

  “That was Kelly, schools out; they will be here by lunchtime.”

  Beth Ann went back to work. Kelly was the middle child of a set of triplets. Like her and Beth Ann, the triplets never got along with each other and ended up going to different colleges. Kelly had a car and she would pick up the others and they would be home soon. Kelly was both fast and reckless behind the wheel. That combination might get them to the house faster if it didn’t get them killed first.

  Zora dreaded their arrival. They teased her nonstop. She considered calling her older brothers and having them come to the house; they loved her and would defend her against the Sirens of Hell. It paid to have older brothers. She stared at the phone contemplating the phone call. Who should she call first? Thomas loved her best, but Paul was closer. Sammy and Johnny are the eldest of her brothers and sisters, born a year apart though they acted like competitive twins. They lived the farthest away with each trying to outproduce the other by way of family. Johnny, the eldest, had four children to date and broke the news last week that Zora may be an auntie again. While Sammy it seems, on purpose, sought out the companionship of a twin sister. They married and right out the gates had a set of twins. Sammy said they plan to have a set of twins every year. And now, Emily, Sammy’s wife, is two months pregnant and showing. Clearly she will have another litter soon.

  To invite them for dinner meant inviting their broods. Their dining-room table was huge. Ten chairs were around the table. That would do for breakfast and lunch, but for dinner, it would be her responsibility to get more chairs and set up a children’s table. She debated whether to call. She needed them, but extra work would fall on her narrow shoulders. Her caretaking duties were exhausting. Mother says it will make her a woman. She only felt tired day and night and grew to hate children. Should she make the call? She stared at the phone against the wall. Picking it up felt right. Still ….

  “Turd face! Dumbo!” Beth Ann shook her.

  “What?”

  “Snap out of it and get the table ready. You better be done when I get back with the others.”

  Zora wondered how twelve pieces of toast were now on her tray. No time to think about it, she rushed to set the dining room table.

  Beth Ann and Zora worked their system for breakfast. Beth Ann was seventeen and next year would be off to college. Zora would take over the cooking duties. This summer she will train under Beth Ann’s tutelage on basic meal preparation. Her mother would cook for dinner and leave her with breakfast and lunch. Thank god for a family of five eaters, she thought. She could handle that small number. Already she made toast, boiled eggs, made sandwiches for lunch, and planned on a hefty amount of cereal for breakfast. She could do it, that is, if the others stayed away.

  Zora ran a hand through her long dark hair, smiling at her plan. She stood next to Beth Ann and passed her a plate. Beth Ann placed eggs, sausage, and toast on the plate and passed it to her right to Abigail, the sister directly under Zora. The plate passed from Abigail to Anna, her younger sister. The next two plates went to empty places reserved for Zora and Beth Ann. Finally, John and Rebecca Baker came into the room. Zora carried a plate to her giant father while Beth Ann carried a plate to their distraught mother.

  No one told Zora what it truly meant, she heard whispered words like distraught, manic depressive, postpartum syndrome and others tossed about. All she knew is that her mother was too weak to stand for long periods and it fell to her and the siblings before her to care for the younger. Sometimes to care for their mother, who never left her bedroom for long periods. Zora didn’t look forward to that or to her yard work with the livestock later today. Chasing chickens and goats was not a fun job. She watched her mother, unsure how she truly felt.

  Rebecca stood next to her husband, a somber look on her face. Her husband held a strong arm around her for support while she led them in prayer. Rebecca’s hair wasn’t combed nor was her face washed. She closed her bathrobe. “Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for the food that’s been prepared for our use. Please bless it to strengthen and nourish our bodies and do us the good that we need. Bless that we’ll go about our travels in safety. Bless that John, Samuel, Rebecca Karen, Paul and Thomas will do well in their new lives and their families will grow up strong in you. Bless that Becky, Kelly, Jessie, our triplets of joy, will continue to be successful at college and will make their way back home to Eden to live in peace. Bless that we provide training for all our helpers that they may love you and abide in you. We ask for all these things in the name of Jesus. Thank God for mercy. Thank God for grace. Thank God for our good health. Thank God for our family. Amen.” She quickly sat.

  Everyone said Amen and sat. While they began eating, Zora looked around the huge half-empty table. Soon it would be overflowing with family. She wondered if Karen would come, she didn’t know her oldest sister. Karen left home and never returned. They no longer count her as family, that is, none except for their mother in prayer. Zora thought of the crowds that would gather and it made her uneasy. She dreaded the afternoon and her future. She had to do something, but what?

  Later that day, Zora walked down the road. A man, her father, took the strand of straw out of his mouth and watched her slow steady pace away from the big house toward him. John Baker looked up at the slow sinking sun and squinted before wiping his brow. It seemed to get hotter a lot earlier these days. He pulled off his hat and slapped it against his thigh before replacing it over his short crew cut. He hadn’t shaved in a week, the farm kept him too busy for small pleasantries. He put the straw back in his mouth, grinned, then shook his head.

  The girl pulled a suitcase behind her. It wasn’t an ordinary suitcase, it was one of those carry-on types with handle. The only time the case had ever been used was when one of her sisters had flown to Chicago.

  Zora’s little fingers gripped the handle and she pulled with a scowl on her face. Over her shoulder she gripped a smaller pack. Shoulder-length brown hair dangled beneath her Cardinals’ cap.

  She wore her best sneakers and completed her look with a tracksuit for her long journey. She was ready for whatever challenge awaited her. Her mind was abuzz with different scenarios for where she would go and what she would do. She thought of her skills and how to let people know she was a hard worker. She could be on time, her proof, she hadn’t missed a day of school since Head Start. Always present and on-time, employers would like that, not to mention she could cook and clean. She tugged and walked with confidence, nodding her head at every positive scenario. She could do it.

  “Zoraphena!”

  She stopped. A chill came over her. She knew the voice. She turned to face him. “Daddy.”

  John Baker pulled the straw from his mouth. His honey-brown eyes found hers. She quickly
looked down. “What are you doing, Sweetheart?”

  He sounded softer, she thought. He didn’t know. How could he not? I’ve got a suitcase and I’m walking away from the house. “I’m leaving you, Daddy.”

  “Is that right?” John stood in the doorway of the barn, leaning on a rake. “Come here and tell me all about it.”

  Zora tugged her suitcase from the road to him while he watched her. She didn’t want to look at him, he frightened her. She had a plan and would stick to it. He was reasonable, much more so than mother. Daddy will let you talk, not mom, she would lower the boom and say because I’m your mother and I say so. She stopped in front of him, still looking at her feet.

  John reached down. The strong hand that gripped her chin alarmed her. He was a big man, stout. The cold hand lifted her face. She dared to search his eyes for a clue.

  “So. You’re leaving me?”

  She nodded quickly, a scowl beneath her nose.

  He put his hands on his hips and looked even bigger. “Can I ask why?”

  Zora didn’t expect that. The soft voice, the non-condemning face, he wasn’t mad. The dryness left her mouth and she could speak. “Well, it’s too much,” the young girl said.

  “That’s it?”

  “I’m moving to the big city and working for a rich family. They will give me my own room and I won’t have to take care of babies or animals ever again. I refuse to change another diaper for the rest of my life. I hate kids and I’m leaving.” She sniffled.

  “All right,” said John, “tell me where you are going so we can send you your mail if you get any.”

  Her eyes grew three times larger. She didn’t expect him to be calm. Where was the rage? She was so busy running through her arguments she hadn’t given thought to the simplest of questions. “What?”