Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie

by Verstraete, CA

  The garage door raised, Carm settled in the back seat, I got behind the wheel and backed the car out into the alley.

  Chapter Fourteen

  To say I was a good driver had been an even bigger exaggeration than saying I had the perfect tan gained from a week basking in the Florida sun—not unless I’d sat outside in a continuous 120 degrees with clear skies and no sunscreen, that is.

  Carm yelled and pointed at the straggler at the end of the alley. “Bec, watch out!” She hit me in the arm. “Can you see where you’re going?”

  I yelped and yelled back. “Oww, I see him.

  If he doesn’t move, I may hit him.”

  The way I drove, I’d probably end up hitting him anyway.

  Or not.

  With everything going on I couldn’t say I was blessed, but I felt like it when the man staggered a few inches in the opposite direction. Lucky me. Why didn’t I play the lottery?

  The old drunk waved the paper bag clutched in his hand from last night’s or this morning’s binge. Once he hit the sidewalk—up one step, back two—I gunned the car and squealed around the corner.

  The car swayed like a carnival ride, Carm screamed, and I bit back a curse. For one second, a dizzying feeling hit, like we were gliding on air, and then the car clunked ahead. Whew.

  Carm screamed again and grabbed the dash, her knuckles white. “Bec-Bec slow down! You’re going to kill us!”

  “Kill one of us, you mean, and no, I won’t,” I muttered, her lack of confidence in me kind of annoying. “You want to drive?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m worse than you. C’mon, slow down. I thought you said you were a good driver?”

  My foot stomped on the brake at the stop sign, making both of us jerk forward and then back when I skidded into a right turn. “Good’s a matter of opinion. I’m good enough. Oh, hell. Get the piece of paper out of my back pocket, would you? I forgot the street names.”

  Lifting my butt off the seat, I waited for Carm to dig in my jeans pocket and pull out the paper before I sat down again.

  “Okay, got it.” She unfolded the paper and giggled. “How can you read this anyway? Looks like a zombie wrote it.”

  “Funny, cuz, real funny. Zombies can’t write.”

  “Yeah, my point.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me and yelled again to slow down. Seeing a cop car in the other lane made her suggestion seem like a pretty good idea. I took a breath, tried to calm myself, and slowed down to a steady fifty-three, not too slow, but under the fifty-five speed limit. I didn’t need to attract attention to us.

  The cop car passed with the driver giving us barely more than a quick glance which made me feel a little better. The makeup did a good job of making my skin appear pretty normal, but once someone got close enough, of course, my condition became more noticeable. Not scary or creepy noticeable, but might as well wear a big red Z on my forehead noticeable. I’d never considered myself movie star beautiful, but I always tried to look my best. Still, makeup could only do so much.

  Selena Gomez I wasn’t.

  A commotion a few feet away made me step on the gas a little harder. Uh-oh.

  Three Zs, faces twisted in a perpetual grimace, teeth rotten, mouths bloody, lurched from a group of trees alongside the roadway and stumbled out in search of the few cars passing by. I glanced back in time to see a truck mow one down with a big splat. Yuck.

  Two others shuffled after another speeding car, their rotted arms dangling and waving, making me think of demented puppets.

  “Ugh, disgusting,” Carm whispered, her face in a grimace. “I thought they cleared them all away from here.”

  “I guess not. They must be hiding in the woods.” I pointed up ahead. “There’s another one. Want to try out the paintballs?”

  No answer. “Carm?”

  “Uh, okay. Wait, I have to load it.”

  She unzipped the bag and rustled around, pulling out the gun. I held back on the accelerator and let the car slow to a medium crawl.

  “Carm? You need to move faster. There won’t always be time. You have to be ready.”

  “I know, I know,” she complained. “I wasn’t planning for us to start already. I’ll have the stuff easier to get at from now on.”

  The thunk of gelatin balls hitting the inner hopper on the paintball gun, the snap of plastic as Carm closed the lid, and the click of the gun filled the car. She took a deep breath. “All done.”

  “Put the window down enough so you can aim and fire.”

  I sped the car up a touch and veered closer to the side of the road where one Z, an ungainly, tall man with a rotted scarecrow face and hair sticking up all over, saw us. He made a loud, low groan and arms raised, staggered toward us.

  He was slow, but not as slow as I expected. In seconds he was four feet away, then three, then… “Carm? What’re you doing? CARM!”

  The thing began to shuffle faster the closer he got to us. He growled, his arms—what was left of them anyway—flailed in the direction of the car. Two feet, a foot…

  “CARM! SHOOT!” I yelled. “What’re you waiting for? SHOOT!”

  The paintball went wide and missed the thing by a few inches. A second later, the creature hit the car door and scraped at the window.

  Oh, gross.

  The stench, a kind of road kill-skunk-decaying garbage smell drifted in. With a cry, Carm shoved herself back when the thing stuck out its festering, sore-covered hands and grabbed at her. He roared and reached. Grrrowl!

  “Bec, HELP! GO-GO!”

  I gunned the car and twisted the steering wheel, the thing trying to hang on before it fell in a heap as we revved off. In the rearview mirror, I watched it stumble and shamble around in a circle, acting like it could catch us.

  My calm broke in a torrent of curses when two more of them lurched from the trees at the side of the road and waved at us like long-lost demented friends.

  “Damn—darn it, Carm! Why’d you wait so long? You want to get bit or scratched? You were right on top of him. You should’ve hit him!”

  She sniffled and cried in loud sobs as she played with the gun in her lap. “Bec, I-I’m sorry. I-I’m not a good shot. I can’t do it! We’re going to die because of me!”

  I hesitated to state the facts of life and death to her again in wake of what was more important now. Slowing the car and seeing no more of them come out, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped.

  “Carm, I’m sorry I yelled. I thought you were a better shot.”

  “I’m okay,” she admitted. “Not great. I-I got so scared I forgot what to do.”

  “All right. Hey, I have a better idea. Uh-oh, there’s one coming. Give me the paintball gun. Grab the other gun in the bag. Hurry up, it has a friend.”

  The paintball gun in my hand, I watched the two things shuffle and stagger in our direction while I waited for my cousin’s reaction. She pulled out the big orange plastic gun and stared at me, her face puzzled.

  “A squirt gun?”

  “Yeah, great idea, huh? Get going, fill it with the stuff. Hurry up, I’ll get these two.”

  I tried leaning out the window as the things tottered a foot closer, and then another. Too hard. Instead, I slung the door open and hurried around the front of the car.

  “Bec, get back in!” Carm yelled.

  “Keep filling. I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” Several feet away the things growled and split, one going off to one side, one to the other. “Ah, some thinking skills left, eh?”

  The larger thing growled and did a kind of freakish shuffle-slide for several steps. Four feet away, three feet…“ARRGHHH!”

  The paintballs hit the zombie on my right with a splat, evidenced by an ever-growing spot of paint so bright it nearly glowed. The thing roared and danced around as several balls sunk in its cheek with a loud sizzle like bacon on a griddle. I choked, the smell nothing you’d want to experience first thing in the morning. A few seconds later, it dropped to the ground, the thing’s face a
fizzled mass of decay and foam.

  I barely had time to turn and squeeze the trigger again when the other thing came within inches of me and lunged. I jumped aside as the ball hit it in the face with a splat and a sizzle. The thing fell in a screaming, writhing mass of fried flesh from the chemicals. I wrinkled my nose and tried not to gag. The stench was worse than anything I’d ever come across. A low gurgle stopped my progress back to the car. I eyed the thing still moving around on the ground and glanced at Carm. Then the thing slowly tried to get up.

  “Carm! The stuff didn’t work. Quick, give me the other gun!”

  As fast as I could, I shuffled to the window, grabbed the other weapon Carm held out, and aimed. The thing fell back, the pellets having done their job.

  Rounding the front of the car, I got back in and set the gun on my seat just as two more things emerged. The woman, her stomach gashed and leaking a bloody string of entrails that swung like a Jack the Ripper jump rope with each step, her head half gone, came along with her gruesome child at her side, the younger ghoul dressed in a horrific parody of what was once a lovely Sunday best dress.

  Talk about family devotion, I thought, watching the two of them shuffle in our direction. Dinner time! Come and get it!

  Putting on a brave front, even while I quivered inside, I slammed the door, threw the locks and cranked the engine. “Carm, you okay? Want to try for those two?”

  She moved closer to the window and hesitated before she rolled it down a couple inches more. “Ugh, Bec, I need to clean the window. It’s got ghoul goo over it.”

  I began to laugh. “So that’s what you callit?”

  Carm’s laughter joined mine as she threw a towel over the window edge and leaned on it, bracing herself and the squirt gun even as the things came close enough for their reeking odor to fill the car.

  “Ready?” I called out.

  The things outside shuffled two steps closer. “Aim.”

  Two more steps, the stench became more pronounced. “FIRE!”

  I watched Carm fumble around. Too late, I realized she’d grabbed the squirt gun instead of the other gun. I prayed it would work but aimed my gun out the window as back-up. The two things were mere inches away when she pushed the plunger with a yell.

  “ARRRGGH, take that you beasts. DIE, you monsters, DIE!”

  Carm screamed and aimed the gun, the spray reaching her targets with much better accuracy than the paintballs. The mother thing shrieked and reached out in some kind of freakish imitation of motherly love. Her disfigured child wailed and clawed at its face, raking shreds of skin and leaving a gaping glimpse of bone behind.

  Seconds later, Mama Z screamed and did the same. Both fell to the ground in a sizzling pile of rotten, charred flesh. As they continued to writhe and make inhuman moans, several shots from me made it final. I turned and gagged, wondering, could I keep doing this over and over? It was absolutely horrible.

  “Yay, I DID IT!” Carm yelled as she wiped the window, trying to remove the rest of the slime and goo. “I GOT THEM. I DID IT!”

  I felt numb as I stared in the rearview mirror and watched Carm jump all over like she’d won the lottery. Then, just for a moment, it hit me: her enthusiasm for the kill, the creatures’ death shrieks, the reminder of the threat I’d found in the letter at my own front door.

  I could picture me at the receiving end. The way I walked sometimes, the way I looked now…someone could think I was one of them right?

  The thought horrified me. I wasn’t like them, nor would I ever be…no, not ever. Never!

  Scary.

  I vowed to be careful, very careful.

  The moment passed and I took a deep breath as Nurse Teapot’s common sense advice came to mind: better them than me.

  Our euphoria wore off in the face of reality at the sight of two more things emerging from the woods. Then two more came out.

  I swore and hit the gas, sending the car barreling down the road.

  “Will it ever end, cuz? Will it?”

  I shook my head, wishing I had something positive to say. “I don’t know, Carm, I honestly don’t know.”

  Neither one of us could even say the obvious: what if it did?

  If something happened like the virus mutating again, or maybe some universal “cure” was found, or the viral components started breaking down so the hosts began “really” dying, then the end was near—for everyone, for me.

  I couldn’t face the thought. No. Not at all. I was a teenager with both feet in the grave.

  My life sucked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The radio cranked up another notch, I hummed to myself in hope of forgetting everything as best I could, at least for a little while. If we were lucky, the rest of the trip would continue without any extra drama or problems.

  Right. And I’ll be voted Miss Teen America, the undead version.

  Tuning in to an oldies station for a change, I tapped my foot to the Beatles’ “Paperback Writer” and wondered how my mom was doing. I loved Lady Gaga, but my mom used to play the Beatles’ records and CD’s all the time at home. The song only made me sadder. I reached over and spun the dial again, stopping it when I heard something I didn’t recognize with a lot of guitars.

  I drove on in a kind of funk, my eyes straight ahead (yes, both for once), trying my best to ignore the gruesome things who waved from the road’s edge or ventured into the light traffic with the expected, not-so-great results. I swerved here and there to avoid them, but mostly I kept my foot to the pedal.

  Any other time I’d admire the acres of golden wheat, or the rolling landscape and trees, but not now. No time to relax, not when we weren’t there yet. Not when I spotted a couple Guardsmen patrolling and prayed they wouldn’t stop us. Especially not with the Zs around.

  I gripped the wheel harder. If a Z got in the way, so be it. Road kill. I let their bodies bounce off my fender and continued on.

  Okay, maybe it sounded hard-hearted, so what? When those things come at me, I know they don’t want to give me a welcome hug or a loving kiss. No more stopping, I decided, not for any reason, especially not for them, and not until we reached our destination.

  The car tires screeched as I dodged another battered, blood-soaked thing. It stumbled on like a machine and got slammed by another car. Ick.

  I frowned in disgust, but drove on like nothing had happened. Even if it bothered me a little (yeah, okay, it did—sometimes), I had to ignore it.

  Had to, or I’d go crazy. “Carm, you asleep?”

  “No, I’m just lying here.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked. “We haven’t talked. You haven’t said much once you squirt-gunned those two. Did it bother you?”

  She glanced at me before answering with a big sigh. “You know, I thought it would? But no, once I looked at them, I mean really looked at them without wanting to throw up, I realized they were nothing anymore. Whoever they were is gone. Now they’re nobody, just creepy, mindless things, and when they start coming, I know it’ll be them or me.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. I thought it would bother me, too, but it doesn’t. Why should it, right?”

  “I guess.” She shrugged, then sat up and gazed at me, her eyes sad. “But what if—”

  I waited for her to continue. “What?”

  “It doesn’t bother either of us because it’s nobody we know. What if, you know…?”

  Her voice trailed off. I strained to hear. “Carm, what?”

  “Bec, what if it was someone we knew? Could you have shot Jimmy C. at school? Could you?”

  Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. I had to think about it for only a second. “I felt bad when those guards took him away, you know? I wondered what would happen to him, but I’ll be honest. If it was him, me and you, and if he attacked one of us, especially if he went for you, we’d have to defend ourselves, I’d have to protect you. Same rules apply.”

  Her face pale, she gave a timid nod. It wasn’t too convincing.

  “Carm? We
agree, right? I need to know you’ll be there for me, as I will for you, no matter what.”

  Silence. “Carm?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” she paused, then finally answered. “But…”

  “But what?”

  Her voice got teary. “I-I don’t want to think about it. I can’t. B-but what if the worst thing ever happens?” A deep breath. “What if my mom—or yours—turned into those things? What if one of them came after us? What then?”

  My turn to breathe deep.

  I swallowed and blinked, trying to spread around the teensy bit of moisture which appeared in my eyes now and then. My tear ducts might not have fully “unglued” but I didn’t want them to start now. If I started crying I’d never stop.

  Carm had to mention the one possibility I feared most.

  It was the absolute worst thing that could happen. I didn’t want to think about it.

  Whenever it popped in my head, I always shoved the thought away. I refused to even consider it. I couldn’t imagine it—I didn’t want to.

  My mom a Z?

  It wasn’t something I was ready to face. “I don’t know, I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t wanted to think about it, not after all we’ve been through already. Not after seeing all these things running around. I-I can’t face it. I just can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Carm shook her head. “I don’t think I can deal with that.”

  “Let’s forget it for now, all right? It won’t happen. But I’m worried the paintball stuff isn’t working, so don’t rely on it. Grab the other gun, or try one of those rubber marbles, see if they work, okay? Like you always tell me, we have to stay positive, and be prepared.”

  “Positive,” Carm echoed. “Yup, got it. Hey, are we there yet?”

  I caught her mood. We both began to laugh. The car’s sudden jolt stopped both of us cold.

  Carm glanced at me, her face uneasy. “Bec? What was that?”

  The panic fluttered inside me when the car bucked again like a wild pony. The engine knocked and made funny sounds.