by Dia Cole
For a moment, every muscle in my body froze. The pepper spray dropped from my trembling hand.
This can’t be happening.
The man staggered closer. The horrible sound of his teeth clicking together echoed in my ears.
Screw this.
I spun around, giving in to the overwhelming urge to run. I darted through the alley.
Help. I need help.
I raced into the parking lot frantically scanning for Duncan’s beat-up truck. It was gone. Other than a few parked vehicles, the lot was deserted.
Oh crap. I’d taken too long and he left.
A whimper escaped my lips.
Light blazed from the windows of the sex shop like a homing beacon. I rushed through the door. Bells jangled as I slammed it behind me.
A fortyish man with a thick paunch glanced at me through the rows of multicolored dildos lined up across the counter. “Good evening. What can I—”
With my chest heaving, I managed to pant, “Zombie.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, no zombies. But we have a whole section on vampire role-play. It’s over by the lubes.” He motioned to the left of the store.
“A guy just ate my coworker in the alley.” I felt a flash of sympathy for Jess. She’d always acted like a bitch, but no one deserved to go out like that.
I half expected him to look at me as if I was crazy. Hell, I thought I was crazy. My mind raced to find some kind of logical explanation for what I’d seen.
Instead the man nodded. “As soon as I saw those news clips of hospital patients attacking cops I knew it was just a matter of time. One guy took ten rounds to the chest and still didn’t go down. You’d think people would’ve watched enough zombie movies to know you shoot them in the head. Body shots won’t do shit.” He leaned down and grabbed a shotgun from behind the counter. “It’s closing time.” He marched over to the door.
Watching him through narrowed eyes, I sidestepped toward the rack of edible panties. The man was tiny, barely coming to my shoulder. With his thinning red hair and lime-green bowling shirt, he looked like an over-the-hill leprechaun.
He peered through the glass. “I don’t see nothing.”
“They’re out there.”
He gave me an assessing look, and then nodded. He flipped the sign hanging on the door handle from Open to Closed. “Name is Cal.”
“Lee.”
“Things are going to get bad, Lee. Real bad. I give it forty-eight hours before the city is overrun with them.”
I swallowed hard. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
His laugh sounded like wheeze. “The police can’t help us. The army can’t help us. Our only chance is to gather weapons and supplies and wait the worst of it out. I have a well-stocked underground shelter.” He gave me a head-to-toe scan and licked his lips. “You’re welcome to join me.”
My skin crawled and my internal creeper alarm flashed red. “Umm, thanks, but I need to get home.”
He frowned. “Suit yourself. Can I give you a lift?”
Hmm. Creepy sex shop owner vs. zombies. Damn. This is a no-win situation.
Taking my silence as a refusal, he shook his head. “Fine. At least let me walk you to the street.” He pushed the door open.
“Thanks,” I said, more than a little relieved. I followed him outside.
He strode in front of me, his shotgun pointed out in front of him.
As we walked past the alley, I couldn’t help stopping and peering through the darkness.
It was empty.
Had I imagined the whole thing?
I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I’d been working too hard lately. If I was being honest, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten more than four hours of sleep.
Cal motioned for me to stop. He darted ahead, stopping every few feet to survey the handful of vehicles occupying the unpaved parking lot Eros shared with his store.
Country music filtered out of the strip club. I stopped in my tracks. Jess used that song in her routine…
How can she be inside dancing when I’d just seen her—
The realization of what had really happened slammed into me like a cement truck.
Goddamn it.
I clenched my fingers into fists. There were no walking dead. There was just a bitchy stripper with a chip on her shoulder and a love for cruel practical jokes. I should’ve known better. It was just like the time she’d put talcum powder in my hair dryer or the time she’d glued all my makeup to the counter. She’d laughed and told everyone in the club how she punked me.
She was a genius with stage makeup. It wouldn’t have taken much to do a convincing zombie look. White contacts, fake blood, and leftover Halloween props…
I kicked at the gravel wishing it was her head. Of all the nights for her to test me…if I wasn’t so damned tired, I’d stalk into the club, grab her by her hair extensions, and slap the smug expression off her face.
“Shhh. No noise,” Cal hissed at me.
My attention was drawn back to the tiny man darting around vehicles like some kind of wannabe SWAT officer. The ridiculousness of the whole thing caught up to me. I let out a strained laugh. “Thank you, Cal. I’ve got it from here.”
“But…but…the zombies.”
“I have an overactive imagination. I appreciate your help though. You’d better put the gun away. There are some pretty bad dudes in the club who might think you’re looking for trouble.” I nodded in the direction of the midnight blue Jaguar and three black Mercedes that belonged to Javier and his goons.
Cal’s eyes widened. “The threat is real. You need to prepare yourself for the zombie apocalypse.”
Okayyy. This conversation just took a left turn into crazy town. “I’ll see you later, Cal.”
Cal grabbed for my arm. “You’ll die if you go out alone and unarmed.”
He’s insane.
Heart in my throat, I backed away.
Cal followed me, tightening his grip on his shotgun. “You need to come with me now.”
4
“Is there a problem?” a familiar gravelly voice said behind me.
I spun around. The sight of Duncan grimacing at the sex shop owner had me releasing a tense breath. “I thought you’d left.”
Duncan gave me an apologetic look. “Nah, I just picked up some smokes. Is this guy botherin’ you?” His hand rested on the holstered revolver he always carried.
Cal’s gaze darted from me to Duncan. He shifted his grip on the shotgun as if nervous the silver-haired, mustached cowboy would start shooting.
The last thing I wanted was a big scene.
Time to diffuse the situation.
“Cal was just making sure I made it to the street safely.” I turned to the bug-eyed sex shop owner. “Thanks for your help.”
Cal nodded. “I’ll check out the alley for you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I knew all he’d find there was some fake blood.
I so owe Jess for this. It’s time I finally stand up to her nasty tricks.
“Better safe than sorry,” Cal said marching into the alley.
Duncan shook his head. “Interestin’ friends you have.” He held his arm out. I threaded my hand through his elbow, letting him escort me across the street to the liquor store. The familiar smell of stale cigarette smoke clinging to his fringed leather jacket calmed me down with every breath I took.
Duncan’s limp was more pronounced than usual and I found myself taking shorter steps. I opened my mouth to ask if his prosthetic was hurting, but thought better of saying anything. Duncan was a proud man and always sensitive about his lost limb. When we were kids, he’d told Eden, Reed, and me that he’d lost his left leg in a grizzly bear attack. After a while, his story changed to include a ferocious shark, and then later his leg became the casualty of a lightsaber battle. It wasn’t until I was older that I’d learned he’d nearly lost more than his leg in the Vietnam War.
My gaze wandered to the military dog tags the old man wore around
his neck. I’d once asked him why he continued wearing them. He’d told me that they weren’t his tags. Rather, they belonged to the soldier who’d saved Duncan’s life by pushing him off a land mine. Duncan had lost a leg; the solider, his life. Duncan said he’d asked the soldier’s family if he could wear the man’s tags to remember him. “It’s a reminder that I need to make his sacrifice mean sumpin’,” he’d told me gruffly.
A car filled with rowdy college-age men nearly ran us over as it peeled into the liquor store parking lot.
Duncan and I responded to their honk with matching one-finger salutes.
Duncan cursed. “Goddamn yahoos.”
We shared a grin. The all-too-familiar interaction relaxed me further.
It was just an average Thursday night. Sure half the bars and clubs on Fourth Avenue were boarded up, casualties of the economic effects of the canine flu. But the sky was alive with helicopters flying to the nearby army base, and people were cheering inside the pool hall down the street.
When we reached the liquor store parking lot, Duncan moved ahead of me to open the passenger door of his rusted-out white truck.
Wanting to get home and forget about my hellish evening, I eagerly jumped in. Inhaling the lingering scent of tobacco and wet dog, I glanced into the backseat. With a pang of sadness, I noted Buddy’s old blanket still laid out for him on the seat. The old black lab had been Duncan’s trusty companion for years. It was heartbreaking that he’d had to be put down too.
Duncan walked around the front of the truck and eased into the driver’s seat.
I bit my lip knowing not to dare offer to drive us home. The last time I’d suggested that, the old man had chewed me out insisting he’d been driving with his peg leg longer than I’d been alive.
Duncan pulled out of the parking lot and slowly cruised down the street. He cast me one of his reprimanding looks from under the brim of his hat. “I wish you’d quit strippin’. You’re too smart for that kinda thing.”
I stiffened, readying myself for the lecture that was sure to come. “We need the income.”
“I’ve done told you a thousand times, I’ll help you kids out.”
I shook my head thinking of the paltry sum of VA disability money he received a month. It was barely enough to cover Duncan’s lot at the trailer park. “Keep your money, Duncan. We’ll get by.”
“Goddamn it. You Walker women are so stubborn. Your Gran was the same way and your mother…” He stopped, his face falling into sadness.
We never talked about my mother. Ever.
My throat tightened at the mention of her. I clutched my purse to my chest, wishing I could remember more. Time had eroded my memories of her face and the sound of her voice.
Duncan continued driving in pensive silence. Within minutes bars and clubs gave way to run-down apartment complexes and college housing. The next turn brought us to my neighborhood.
The sight of yards filled with weeds, beer cans, and old cars up on cinder blocks bottomed out my mood even more. One day we’d earn enough money to move somewhere nicer. Until that day, I’d just have to grit my teeth and—
The sound of blaring music and screaming jolted me back to the present.
5
With a sinking sensation in my stomach, I realized the noises were coming from a familiar location. My single-story rental was still two houses away, but there was no missing the throngs of people congregated in the front yard.
Small shindig. Right…
I started to see to red, but took a deep breath. It’s Reed’s birthday, I reminded myself.
A cluster of people I didn’t recognize lounged on the worn saggy couch under the carport. They chatted and gulped liquid from red cups. My mood darkened further. There better not be a keg. The last thing I needed was to be arrested for contributing to underage drinking. That would just be the cherry on top of a craptastic day. I snorted. Maybe Eden and I could share a jail cell. At least then I’d have the opportunity to lay down the law about participating in any more animal rights protests.
Not that she’d listen to me. She was stubborn to her core.
Duncan parked the truck in front of the house. “Looks like you’ve got some company.”
I shook my head in frustration. “It’s Reed’s birthday.”
Although he may not live to see another one if the cops show up.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Duncan reached under the center console and cursed. “Damn it, I forgot to bring Reed’s gift with me.”
Of course he got Reed a gift, because that’s what you did for family on their birthdays.
I slunk down in my seat feeling even more like a jerk for entirely forgetting Reed’s birthday. “We were going to celebrate tomorrow. Come to dinner with us and you can give him your gift then.”
Duncan shook his head. “Nah, I’m driving up to the Rim tomorrow morning. It’s been a while since I checked on the cabin. Ricky’s gonna pick you up at the club and drive you home tomorrow.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Ricky? Are you two seeing each other again?” I smiled thinking of the foulmouthed, bearded man who managed Duncan’s trailer park.
Duncan’s weather-beaten face flushed. Ignoring my question, he snapped his fingers. “Hey, why don’t you kids come up to the cabin with me? We can hike and fish. Like old times.”
Fond memories of summers spent visiting his run-down wood cabin washed over me. Getting away from the strip club and Javier sounded amazing. “That’d be great.”
He flashed me a jack-o’-lantern grin, revealing a handful of missing teeth. “Great, then I’ll swing by and pick y’all up tomorrow morning.”
All too quickly, I remembered my two shifts at the restaurant as well as my set at the club. I shook my head sadly. “I can’t. I have to work.”
His smile faded. “Well, think about it. I’ll still come by around nine with Reed’s present. If you come to your senses and change your mind, we can all head out. Pack light, ya hear. None of that three suitcase crap.”
I started to remind him that it was Eden who always brought all but the kitchen sink with her, but the music coming from the house increased in volume. Distracted, I mumbled, “Sounds good,” and slid across the cab to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for the ride and coming to the club.”
He waved me away. “It’s the least I can do.” He glared at the people drinking on the couch. “Do you need me to kick these kids out of here?”
I sighed. “No, I got this.” I jumped out of the truck and gave Duncan a quick wave as he drove away. As I walked through the yard, I noted the crumpled red cups and trash littering the dead grass.
Reed is picking this up first thing tomorrow.
I pushed past the people on the porch. A few familiar faces called out, “Hey, Lee.” Not in the mood for small talk, I ignored them and stepped through the doorway.
The smell of weed and the sound of loud folk rock music assaulted my senses. I clamped my hands over my ears and tried to peer past the wall-to-wall partygoers. The living room had been taken over by music equipment and Reed’s band.
Ronnie, shirtless and wearing too-tight skinny jeans crooned unintelligible lyrics into a microphone, while Sam flexed his enormous biceps banging away on his drum set. Morgan’s long black hair obscured his pockmarked face as he strummed his guitar and Reed…Reed stood by the speakers smoking a clove in jeans and a blue flannel shirt. He shook his shoulder-length sandy-blond dreadlocks along with the beat.
Why isn’t Reed playing his bass?
With one last wail, Ronnie finished the god-awful song. The crowd must’ve been drunk because they hooted and howled their appreciation. Always theatrical, Ronnie bowed several times. “Thank you. Thank you. That song was dedicated to our former bandmate who is celebrating his nineteenth birthday tonight. Reed, we’re gonna miss you, man.”
Former bandmate?
I blinked in confusion. The band was everything to Reed. Just last week he’d been trying to convince me they were close
to signing with a record label. I’d laughed and told him to wake up and smell reality. His band had as much chance of making it big as I had in making it to the Peace Corps now. Some dreams had to die bitter deaths. But I didn’t intend on Reed doing something as drastic as leaving his band. My gaze sought his out.
As if sensing my presence, he looked up. His electric-blue eyes contrasted so vividly against his darkly tanned skin they gave him an almost otherworldly appearance. Although only a hint of his jaw was visible underneath his trimmed goatee, his high cheekbones were accentuated by his facial hair. Seeing me, he smiled. The change in his expression transformed him from good-looking to drop-dead gorgeous. His attractiveness wasn’t lost on the group of women standing around him. Several of them cast frequent glances in his direction. Seemingly oblivious of their interest, Reed straightened to his lanky six-foot height and pushed away from the huge speaker he’d been leaning against.
Motioning him toward the kitchen, I maneuvered between the wall-to-wall crowd.
Some tall, muscular guy crashed into me, spilling his drink.
I stared down at the beer dripping down the front of my sweater daring the night to get any worse.
“Waste of good beer,” the douche bag mumbled.
“Screw you.” I shot the guy a scathing look. Based on his Southern Arizona University sweatshirt and short blond crew cut, he didn’t run with Reed’s hipster crowd.
Getting his first look at me, the guy’s hazel eyes widened and a dazed look crossed his face. “Damn you’re fine. Um, I’m sorry for spilling my drink.” He tried to mop up the wet spot on my chest with the back of his hand.
I pushed him away. “Excuse me.”
He flushed. “Sorry. Uh. Let me make it up to you. Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks.”
Seemingly oblivious to my annoyance, he stuck his hand out. “Name’s Noah, but everyone calls me Scooter.”
I ignored his handshake. “Great. You can scooter out of my way.”
He let out a laugh too loud for my lame joke. “A beautiful woman with a sense of humor. That’s a rare thing. Do you live around here?”
