Zombie Invasion

by R. G. Richards

  She needed time to think.

  “Is that all you are taking with you? That little case and pack? What about your bed and your furniture and the rest of the clothes in your closet? Why, I bet you don’t even have your new snow boots do you?”

  “No.” She hung her head down in defeat. She hadn’t prepared as well as she thought.

  “How about your toys and games, did you pack them?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it seems to me that you would be leaving a lot of things behind. We can’t have that. I guess I am going to have to go with you and help you move. That way you don’t have to come back here ever again.”

  Zora thought about it. It made sense, though she had never heard of someone running away from home and their father helping them move. Was that even possible? She gave it more thought and eyed him. He might be tricking me, she thought. She looked around for her mother, thinking she was coming up behind her and they would catch her in their death grip. Thank god she wasn’t there. She cleared her throat. “Well . . . I guess that would be alright.” She looked up at him, waiting, hoping.

  John Baker stared down at his young daughter. His face showed no hint of what he was thinking. “Columbia Missouri isn’t a bad place to live, but if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. So, Zoraphena,” he said with his strong authoritative voice, “I’d be happy to help you move. Where would you like to go?”

  “Umm . . . I don’t know,” she admitted. “Anywhere but here. I hate this place!”

  “Very well,” he said calmly.

  She hated when he became calm, it meant she would lose her argument. She frowned.

  “Pick a place.”

  His grin gave him away, she thought. She wasn’t going to let him win, not this time. She had packed and everything. “Chicago,” she blurted.

  “Three million people and all of them armed to the teeth. They even have metal detectors in school to keep the kids from cutting your throat while you’re reading in the library or using the bathroom.” He ran his finger across his throat to indicate slashing.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Where do you think Al Capone and organized crime came from? You open up a shop and somebody will knock on your door demanding payment just to exist. You don’t want to go there. No, not there!”

  Determination fueled her. “Los Angeles.”

  “Gang capital of the world.”

  She puffed up with more determination. “New York.”

  “Ah, that’s a good one,” he said. “If the beggars don’t beg you out of every dime, the carjackers will get you. The highest crime wave is in the northeast, little lady.”

  She puffed up again. “Seattle.”

  “Ah, rain capital of the world. It rains every day and night. Their saying, ‘if you don’t like the weather then wait five minutes, it’s bound to change.’”

  She saw a smirk. It angered her and drove her to search for the perfect place. She clutched her suitcase handle tightly. “Dallas.”

  “Redneck cowboys with no common sense. Bulls run wild in the streets. They even have a statue of them downtown.”

  “San Francisco.”

  He smiled and then chuckled.

  “Fine, I’ll find me a place and then I’m gone!”

  There, she had done it! She put her foot down. Zora was happy with herself. That is, until she looked at him and saw something menacing in his dark eyes. The inviting honey-brown color was no longer present.

  “You will leave this house when you turn eighteen and not a day before, like your brothers and sisters before you.” He was tough now, playtime was over. Every word from the booming voice shook her.

  “No!” Somehow she found strength. He wasn’t going to win.

  He shook his head. “You’re seven years old. You want to leave, fine, you go stay with one of your brothers or sisters. Otherwise, you don’t leave this house until you turn eighteen.”

  “I’m not staying with them.” Her eyes burned with fire. “They have a ton of kids and I’m not taking care of anymore kids!” she thundered.

  “Then how in the world are you going to get a job with your rich family?”

  “I can do other things. I can cook, I can clean—”

  “According to the law,” he broke in, this time calmer. “You can only get paid for one job at your age and that is babysitting. When you turn sixteen, you can work at a fast food restaurant, but not before your sixteenth birthday. You didn’t know that did you?”

  Zora sniffled and then fumed. Her little nose squished into a sneer.

  “Now how many years do you have to wait to do something other than babysitting?” His voice was softer, more understanding. She liked him like this. She lowered her head and he could see her counting on her fingers. She didn’t like the results.

  “I forgot my snow boots,” she said. “I might need them if I go somewhere cold. I’m going to need a bigger suitcase anyway.”

  “I know, baby, I know. Come on, let me walk you back to the house and help you unpack. One day next week, you and I will sit down with that big catalog your mother loves and find out how much those big suitcases cost. What do you think? You think they cost a lot?”

  “Maybe.”

  John picked up her suitcase and put an arm around her shoulder. They walked back to the blue two-story house she had come from moments ago.

  “I’m still leaving.”

  “I know, Honey.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know. But, before you ‘do it,’ let an old man give you a small piece of advice. Honey, this is your family. Family loves you no matter what. Those people out there, they will spit on you, try to kill you, steal from you, and anything else you can think of. They are not family. You have blood ties here and that blood bonds you to us. Your family can’t hurt you sweetheart, not like the world. Do what the Bible says and cling to family and home.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  Zora got the most attention from her father, though it wasn’t much. She was one of many children and both parents relied on the older children to care for the younger. She was fifth from the bottom with a heavy cross to bear. She took his free hand and they walked the road to their house.

  “I’m still leaving.”

  Chapter Four: April

  Thursday night was Ladies Night. That meant free drinks for the ladies and any man with enough gumption to don lady wears. April had her fill at her favorite watering hole, Pandemonium. She struck out all night with the guys, but found the drinks an acceptable compromise.

  “Last call,” shouted the bartender.

  April rose and had no choice but to leave with the disgustingly looking, gapped-tooth man next to her. She sighed, “fifty bucks.”

  The man shook his head, “twenty.”

  “Fine, asshole! Let’s go!”

  April got up in a huff. The man smiled and followed. The bartender stood at the door and held it open for his last stubborn clients. April wondered if the bartender’s grin was for her or her friend. The man shook his head as they passed and then slammed the door shut.

  Her friend walked to a black Oldsmobile sedan. He aimed his keys at the car and it beeped. Instead of getting in the driver’s seat, the man climbed into the back seat. April got into the back seat on the other side.

  As she undressed, she thought of her daughter and how beautiful she had become. Once, she was that beautiful and desired by all. Mother Nature played cruel tricks; she gave you the body but no common sense. If only she had known to use them to her advantage earlier in life. She would be tons richer by now. Married to a millionaire and laying out by a swimming pool.

  April remembered her youth and her beauty, items long lost to her. She had to get ahead in the world and give her daughter a better life. Her mother never gave her help and she was determined to be better than her mother. If she still had her looks maybe she could enter a contest herself and spare her daughter. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Beauty is fleeting
, she thought.

  How quickly life turns. Two years ago she and Brittany were in heaven. She had prize money, interviews, and memorabilia. Their rise to the top was fast and furious, but like the discarded sections of a rocket that fell off mid-flight, they crashed. Their high living ended and they returned to the doldrums of debt and obscurity. She was right to take a break from the pageants, she thought. Brittany complained about the photography sessions and deep down, so did she. There were other methods of succeeding and she would try them.

  April sold her last share of her business. She kept her chair and worked as a beautician though she had fewer and fewer customers. With Dee on maternity leave and restricted to bed rest, no one gave her their spare customers. The selling of the business was not enough to cover her overdue and ever-present bills. She was in debt to Mildred and another pageant coordinator for services. April was forced to sell Brittany’s college savings bonds for half their value, still, her debt was too great. She hated what became of her life and what she was forced to resort to in order for them to survive.

  In a drunken stupor, she completed her task. She kept her mind focused on her youth and how men vied for her affections by giving her gifts for the opportunity to date her. Life was grand in those days. She redressed, exited the car, and crept through an alley. Stumbling in the dark, April crossed a deserted street, and fell halfway through the next alley. Her head cracked against the hard pavement and blackness overtook her.

  April opened her eyes to the morning light. She didn’t bother figuring out how long she had been there. It happened so often it was no surprise. She made a quick check and breathed a sigh of relief; her money hadn’t been taken from her. April got to her feet, walked to the end of the alley, and came to the conclusion she was close to home. She sped up and made it to her front door and went inside.

  “Hey.”

  Her head lifted, she found it hard to focus. She struggled to put the chain on the door and lock it. “Hey, baby.”

  Brittany smiled from across their kitchen table. She got up and helped her mother to the couch. They narrowly missed a tumble to the floor—April’s feet had a mind of their own and decided to go in different directions. With great effort, Brittany got her to the couch where she collapsed.

  Next, Brittany brought a pan of water and a towel. She washed her mother’s face while the woman twisted and turned as if the water were scalding.

  “Be still, momma.”

  “No, that hurts.”

  “I’m almost done, be still.”

  April stopped resisting. Brittany helped her sit straight, then tapped her. Automatically, April’s arms went in the air. Her half-conscious state made no difference, her body responded to its normal routine. Brittany lifted the blouse over her mother’s head and threw it in an empty chair. She took off her skirt and helped her to her feet.

  “Come on, momma, it’s shower time.”

  “Help me, baby.”

  Brittany helped her into the bathroom.

  “Turn on the water, honey and then get my clothes out.”

  “Okay, momma.” Brittany checked the water temperature in the shower. “Hurry so you won’t be late.” She left to get her mother’s clothes out. On her way, the doorbell rang.

  Brittany left the chain on the door, opening it enough to look the person in the eye.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello, Brittany, is your mother home?”

  Brittany looked at the smiling woman. The smile was a lie. Brittany eyed the woman. “How much?”

  “Forty.”

  “Wait here.”

  Brittany shut the door. She picked up her mother’s skirt and checked the pockets. She found three twenty-dollar bills. She put one in her pocket and gave the other two to the smiling woman.

  “Such a darling child. Tell your mother if she is late again, the two of you will be out on the streets before dark. Have a nice day.” The woman gave an ambiguous grin.

  “Okay.” Brittany watched the landlady count the money while walking away, as if expecting more to appear. She closed the door slowly.

  Back to the kitchen she went. She had learned how to make coffee and brewed a cup before her mother showed up. She put in two cubes of sugar and a spoonful of cream. She stirred the cup and blew on it.

  April walked by in a towel and waved before going into her bedroom. Brittany stirred the cup and blew on it again. After a quick taste, it was ready. She took it in to her mother. “Here, momma.”

  “Just a second, baby.” April dressed. She then pulled a bottle of pills from her dresser and tossed three of the white capsules down her throat. “All right, baby, hand it here.” April took the cup and downed it in one take. “Whooo! Pretty good, baby.”

  “Thanks. That was your new hazelnut. Did you like it?”

  “Aainn, not bad.” April handed her the empty cup. “You wait for the bus and be good, you hear me?”

  “Okay, momma.”

  Brittany received a peck on her cheek for her trouble. April walked through the door and took off at a brisk pace. Down the street she went, yawning.

  It took another ten minutes to reach the door. She gave it a shove and walked through. Mary gave her a hateful stare. Elizabeth gave her the same. She ignored them and went to her station. The three of them would work the day together. Each lady worked on a customer and had another waiting. Once again, her station was empty. April set up supplies, pretending everything was normal. She kept it up until she felt no eyes on her.

  A woman walked through the door. She was tall and thin and wore a scarf over her hair. She looked around and then walked over to April’s empty chair. April’s heart beat faster, a rich customer who didn’t know her. “Are you free?”

  “Yes, have a seat.” April helped her to the chair and wrapped a sheet around her. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need my hair dyed. I brought a picture of what I want.” The woman pulled out a sheet torn from a magazine.

  “Okay,” said April. She looked at the woman in the picture. It was a woman with a two-tone, dirty-blond hairstyle. April looked sharper. “Those are extensions. You want a dye job and the extensions?” she hoped the woman would say yes. She would make a lot of money and kill a lot of time with one customer.

  “No,” said the woman, deflating her. “My hair is long enough. Skip the extensions. I have to be on a plane in six hours. Is that enough time for my hair coloring?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  April leaned the chair back. This customer would take her to lunchtime. She gave the footrest a couple of pumps. Took the scarf off and went to work untangling the mass before her.

  An hour later, April had aluminum strips all over the woman’s shoulder length hair. She worked at a fever pitch and kept track of the time while calculating how much she would make off the woman.

  When done, a rest was needed. April stepped out the back door to have a smoke. She moved to the storage door a few feet away and sat. The space felt good, cold and hard, yet comfortable. She wished she could say the same for her fingers, they bothered her. She flexed them constantly, moving the cigarette from hand to hand. April tried thinking of how long she had been asleep and how long she had slept before that time. She lost track of time and eventually lost consciousness.

  “April!”

  Someone shook her. Her eyes were slow to open.

  “April!”

  “What?”

  April fell to the side and hit her head. Mary shook her again. The look on her face, hateful. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “What?”

  “Your customer! Her hair is blue! How long have you been out here sleeping?”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” she lied. “I was resting.”

  “Well,” the troll put her hands on her hips, “you can rest forever, you’re fired.”

  “What?”

  “That woman sits on the city council. You’re fired, get out!”

  “You can’t fire me. I own this place.”


  “You sold out, remember? You are fired and I want you out of here. Right now, April! You get your shit and you get out of my shop. I see you again and I will call the cops. I’m not getting sued over you. Get out!”

  The woman stormed off, slamming the back door. April sat dumbfounded. How could this be? She looked up to gauge the time. The sun was directly overhead. It can’t be! It can’t be noon, not yet. April rose and walked back inside. The shop held no customers. That was a relief. She could do her Walk of Shame without witnesses. April braved a look at Mary and Elizabeth, both shunned her. She collected her supplies—so nice of them to provide an empty box. She packed in silence and left without another word.

  April hurried home with one thought in her head. She needed to use her rented computer before they came and took it away. She turned it on, good, it still worked. Brittany will hate it, but they have to go back to the circuit to survive. She typed in the search field: teen pageants, St. Louis, Missouri. She waited for the results and scanned them. It took time to weed through the unimportant contests, but she found it toward the bottom of the screen, a huge cash prize. She smiled. Thank god.

  AMM - American Miss Missouri Pageants

  A pageant for "Today's Girl!" It's Your Time to Shine . . . at American Miss! Three Age Divisions: (ages 4-6, 7-9, and 10-12), American Miss has grown to be the state’s largest pageant system. First-place winners receive $10,000 and qualify for our National Pageant. Nationals are held in Los Angeles; with activities in Hollywood and Disneyland. New Ford Mustang Convertible awarded at Nationals with ten prizes from $5,000-50,000.

  Request Information or Apply on line.

  April read through the advertisement again. She clicked on the link and filled out the application. Brittany won a lot of contests and held great honors; she would be a sure win. With nothing to do but wait, she made a sandwich and debated whether to tell her daughter she lost her job.

  * * *

  April waited backstage, wiping the sweat from her hands.

  “Our next contestant,” said the announcer, “number eighteen, Adorable Brittany.”