Zombie Pink

by Noel Merczel

  "I know who that is!" Andrea informed her friends, staring at the sick looking face on the other side of the glass. "I mean, I'm pretty sure..."

  IT’S HER! Andrea's brain screamed. MR. SEXY JOGGER’S WIFE!

  She was positive.

  What the hell is she doing at my basement window in the middle of the night? Andrea couldn't help but wonder. AND WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH HER?

  Andrea was convinced this was some kind of curse brought on by her fantasizing about the woman's husband.

  Holy shit! she thought unreasonably. This is it! She’s come to get me! And not only has she come to get me, she's turned into a monster!

  "She looks really sick" Drew commented, moving in to get a closer look.

  The woman's purplish pink face was pressed up against the glass. Her eyes were a milky white color and her mouth was distorted into a gruesome twisted grimace.

  The woman appeared to have a giant wound on one side of her face and her ear was mostly torn off. There was a fair share of bright red blood dripping from her face and ear, along with some dark caked-up blood around the wounds.

  Suddenly, the woman backed up, leaving the basement window smeared with sticky blood.

  Then she proceeded to bang on the glass in a steady rhythm as though she was in some kind of trance.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  "Oh shit!" Drew gasped. "Andrea! Remember Dead Heads last night?"

  "Stop!" Andrea said. "There's no such thing as zombies!"

  "I don't know about that," Lisa chimed in. "She sure looks like one to me."

  "Be serious, you guys!" Andrea warned, wondering where the woman's husband, aka Mr. Sexy Jogger, was.

  He couldn't have done this to her...could he? she pondered. No, of course not. He looks like such a nice guy!

  Andrea forced herself to stare at the bloody woman banging on her basement window.

  She needed to get a grip.

  There’s no way the woman could know that she fantasized about her husband. There was just no way!

  She needed to stop watching so many horror movies and zombie shows. The poor woman was sick... or maybe she had been attacked by someone....

  But a revenge seeking zombie? Come on!

  "We should help her!" Andrea decided, thinking that would make up for the guilt she felt about indulging in inappropriate sexual fantasies about the woman's husband.

  "How?" Patty asked. "She looks...creepy. Besides, she'll get blood everywhere. Your dad will be mad, Andrea! M. A. D. D.!"

  "One D, Patty," Drew said.

  "Yea, he'll think you had a zombie party!” Lisa joked, despite the fact this was no time for jokes.

  "We should just call the police and let them handle it," Drew announced, always the voice of reason.

  Drew extracted her cell phone and punched in 9-1-1.

  "No one's answering!" Drew reported.

  "No one's answering 9-1-1?" Lisa asked. "Maybe something's wrong with your phone."

  Lisa and Andrea both tried 9-1-1 on their phones. Patty, however, seemed to have entered into her own world, which involved singing "Doo-a diddy - diddy dum - diddy doo," and staring up at the ceiling.

  Andrea marched purposely over to Patty and said simply, "Phone!" while holding her hand out. "Patricia! Phone?"

  "I like your bracelets," Patty replied absently, referring to the green glow-in-the-dark bracelets adorning Andrea's wrist.

  "You have the same exact ones," Andrea reminded her dizzy friend.

  "Oh...yea!" Patty said brightly. Then she giggled.

  "How many beers did you have, girl?" Andrea huffed.

  Then she retrieved Patty's silver Christian Dior handbag from the bottom stair and fished out the girl's pink bejeweled cell phone. Typical Patty - always trying to have what the celebrities have. However, Patty's phone produced no better results than her own..

  "Okay. That's really creepy!" Andrea remarked.

  "Maybe they're all on an espresso break," Lisa offered.

  "Lisa...stop with the crappy humor," Andrea warned her. "This isn't the time to be flip."

  "Flip?" Lisa asked, laughing. "Like a flip-flop? You’re the flip-flop, Andrea. That’s all you ever wear on your feet.”

  "I'm trying the local police," Drew informed us. "Only I don't know the number, so I have to call information. I mean, who ever calls the local police?"

  "Hey, ugly!" Lisa addressed the woman frantically banging on the glass. "Wanna be on top?"

  Lisa placed her hand up against the window. This caused the woman go ballistic, smooshing her weird skinny black lips against the glass and making them open and close.

  Just like Michael Fishman kissing me, Andrea thought ironically.

  Lisa placed her puffy lips against the window and pretended to kiss the woman back.

  "Gross..." Andrea said, feeling sick to her stomach. "LISA, CUT IT OUT! WHAT THE HELL'S YOUR PROBLEM?"

  “Oh stop, Miss Prude,” Lisa growled, backing away from the window and fanning herself. “She’s just so hot I can’t help myself!"

  "Nobody's picking up the phone at information, either," Drew reported.

  Andrea tried 4-1-1 on her phone. There was nothing but a rapid busy signal.

  She didn't want to call her parents for fear they would think she couldn't handle herself. Then they would probably insist they come home, which would really make Andrea feel like an incompetent child.

  "Why is that woman acting like that?" Patty suddenly asked, scratching her mosquito bite. "I mean, that's not normal, right? What if she's high on something? She could be dangerous."

  "And what's all over her skin?” Drew asked. “Maybe it's something contagious."

  "I think she's been badly hurt by someone," Andrea said, as the woman frantically clawed at the glass. "Or something...."

  "Yea, but what if whatever hurt her is still lurking out there?" Drew asked, pointing to the window.

  "Oh, you mean like that cute little coyote you were talking about?" Lisa put in, snidely.

  "Coyotes aren't cute," Andrea pointed out.

  "That's it!" Lisa cried out, like she had just discovered the answer to the universe. "She has rabies!"

  "Do people still get rabies?" Andrea asked. "Is it contagious?"

  "I don't think so..." Drew answered. "Anyway, you can go to the doctor and get a shot in the stomach. But I don't think it's rabies. She's not foaming at the mouth. Hey wait! Look at her now!"

  Andrea made herself look towards the window. The woman had stopped banging on the glass and now appeared to be crying. She was almost acting almost like a normal person... a normal person in deep despair,that is, trying desperately to communicate with them.

  Pleading for help.

  The woman's palms were open, exposing the nasty pinkish-purple discoloration that had claimed her skin.

  "That's weird," said Drew. "She looks so pathetic, I actually feel sorry for her. Now I don't know what to do. Maybe I should call my mom."

  "NO!" Andrea shouted. "No parents. We can handle this ourselves."

  "Okay smarty pants," Patty said, rubbing her chubby bare arms. "What should we do? We can't get through to the police....wait...what was I saying? God, I have the worst headache!"

  "We'll let her in," Lisa decided.

  "ARE YOU INSANE?" Andrea shrieked.

  Andrea did want to help the woman. But she wanted to help in a way that didn't involve her coming into the house.

  "Why of course I'm insane, darling!" Lisa replied in a fake English accent. "Another lovely guest for the party! How utterly delightfully! I do hope we have enough caviar and scones!"

  Andrea tossed Lisa a dirty look. Then she turned her attention back to the woman outside the window.

  "She could be dying..." Andrea said. "Oh, okay. Maybe we'll just let her lay on the couch until we can reach a hospital or something. Maybe she needs a glass of water. I know! We can call her husband for her and he can come
get her. Maybe he doesn't know where she is."

  Despite the incredibly weird circumstances that would bring Mr. Sexy Jogger right to Andrea's doorstep, she couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of seeing him.

  Immediately, she stopped herself.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Andrea asked herself.

  "Okay," said Drew, taking another look at the pitiful woman bawling her eyes out on the other side of the window. "But put a sheet or something on the couch, first."

  "In the laundry room!" Andrea exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. "I'll get it."

  "WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING IN YOUR BACKYARD AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT ANYWAY?" Drew called in, as Andrea hunted around the stacks of folded laundry for an old sheet. “DO YOU KNOW HER?”

  "NO!” Andrea replied. “I mean, I think I’ve seen her out in her yard. She lives right on this street. But I don’t know her, know her. I’ve just seen her.”

  Andrea didn't tell Drew any more than that. She didn't want to admit that this strange woman with the weird skin rash was the wife of the hot guy Andrea had nick-named Mr. Sexy Jogger.

  Andrea would never tell anyone about her married guy fantasies because she was well aware of how juvenile those fantasies were.

  Talk about a fucking cliché!

  The hot married guy who jogs by her house every evening? That was more lame than a twilight movie.

  No...more lame than the lamest Taylor Swift song!

  Andrea finally dug up an old green sheet that was shoved in the bottom of the hamper. It fit her parent’s king-sized bed and hadn't been washed yet. It wasn't one of the better sheets. It sported some mysterious stains and was kind of faded.

  Andrea grabbed the sheet out of the hamper and brought it over to the couch. First, she removed the Pier One Imports pillow. She didn't want anything to happen to that. Then she shook out the olive drab sheet and draped it over the couch.

  "Also, don't touch her," Drew cautioned.

  "Oh!” Lisa pouted. “I’m dying to touch her! She’s so sexy!”

  "Wait. I know!" Andrea announced, bolting into the unfinished part of the basement which was dubbed "the laboratory" by her parents. It was where Andrea's parents made the e-juice for their business.

  Andrea emerged from the room with a pair of blue medical grade gloves for herself and each of her friends.

  "Will we be conducting surgery?" Drew asked.

  "My parents have to wear these when they make e-juice," Andrea explained. "They can't get any nicotine on their skin. They also protect you from germs and bacteria and bodily fluids and just about anything, I guess."

  "Yummy! I love body fluids!" Lisa quipped, putting on the gloves. "Especially certain ones, heh-heh...."

  “How about rabies?” Patty asked, first smelling the gloves, then studying them. "Will they protect us from rabies?"

  "Do you have to smell everything?" Lisa asked, sounding annoyed.

  “I guess so,” Andrea replied, in answer to Patty's question about rabies.

  When the girls finished donning the gloves, Andrea couldn't help but think how strange they looked wearing medical gloves with glow stick jewelry. Like ghoulish characters out of some weird cult medical show.

  Andrea wasn't sure if allowing this woman into her house was the right thing to do. However, the woman was from right down the street, so it wasn't like she was a complete stranger.

  But what if she dies in my basement? Andrea worried. Will people blame me?

  In her head, Andrea saw a trial going on. The mood was very dark and serious.

  “She wanted this woman’s husband!” the hard-nosed lawyer in the gray vest declared, pointing at Andrea. “She did this! She’s guilty! She promised him mind-blowing blow-jobs!”

  In this decidedly non-sexy fantasy, Andrea is dressed very conservatively, wearing a maroon and navy blue argyle sweater over a crisp white blouse with a dark blue neck-tie, and a longish navy blue wool skirt. Her thick honey colored hair is pulled back on one side with a dark blue – no – pearl bobby-pin.

  “I’m innocent!” Andrea pleads. “I was only trying to help her! That’s why I let her lay on my couch!”

  “Andrea, are you okay?” Drew suddenly asked.

  Andrea shook the courtroom scene out of her head.

  “Not really,” she replied.

  What if the woman has some deadly disease, like Ebola or bird flu or bubonic plague? Andrea thought. I don’t want to risk my life for someone I don't even know!

  Suddenly, Andrea changed her mind.

  "Hey, you guys, maybe we..." she started to say.

  But it was too late. Lisa was already half-way up the basement stairs.

  "LISA, STOP!" Andrea yelled, running after her.

  But Lisa was too fast - even in her mile-high heels. She was already clumping to the back door and....opening it.

  "OH FUCK!" Andrea shouted.

  Andrea chickened out at that point, and ran back down into the basement.

  Then Drew and Andrea just stared at each other. Patty seemed lost in her own little world again, staring at the ceiling and humming a tuneless melody.

  "OH ANDREA, YOU'RE TURNING INTO A DONKEY!" Patty suddenly screeched.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Andrea asked.

  Andrea noticed that the mosquito bite on Patty's face had expanded to the size of a walnut.

  "You're sprouting a tail!" Patty giggled.

  Andrea sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

  "Too much to drink," Drew whispered, rolling her eyes.

  "Stop scratching that mosquito bite!" Andrea told Patty. "It's turning into a volcano!"

  "Don't wanna!" Patty replied, digging her nails into the angry red lump.

  “What the hell’s going on up there,” Drew asked, worriedly looking towards the stairs while chewing on a piece of hair.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” Andrea said. “But maybe this was a really bad idea.”

  Oh fuck! Andrea thought. How many times have actors spoken those very words in horror movies? And how many times have they been right? Just about every single time!

  Suddenly, Andrea and Drew heard clumping and stumbling noises upstairs, along with an unfamiliar highly agitated voice.

  "Holy shit, they're in the house!" Drew exclaimed. "They're coming down here!"

  "Well...that was the plan, remember?" Andrea said.

  "YOU GUYS...MY BRAIN IS BUZZING!" Patty called out; oblivious, as usual.

  Only, it didn't sound like Patty’s voice, at all. It sounded like some sort of cartoon voice.

  "Shhhh!" Drew said. "God! Patty, you can turn on the lights now!"

  "BAT POO!" Patty shouted in a shrill voice, not making any move to comply.

  "You mean guano? How many beers did you have, anyway?" Drew demanded, angrily marching over and flipping on the light switch.

  Suddenly, the erratic footsteps were clumping and trudging down the basement stairs. Drew backed up. Patty scooted away from her post on the stairwell and did an impromptu twirl in the middle of the gray tiled floor.

  Briefly, Andrea wondered how her parents would have handled all this if they'd been home. She had to admit, they certainly picked the perfect weekend to go away.

  "Here they come...." Drew said with foreboding, as though she expected Lisa to appear with the Grim Reaper in tow....

  "Shit!" Andrea replied, standing over by the computer, not knowing quite what to expect.

  "I think something is really wrong with me!" were the first words the girls heard coming out of the sick woman's mouth when she reached the bottom step. "I taste blood!"

  "Yea, honey. We can see that!" Lisa replied, in her typical snarky voice. "What the hell happened to you? It looks like something tried to eat you alive. Or maybe you tried to eat something while it was still alive?"

  When the woman didn't respond, Lisa said, "Sorry! Bad joke!"

  Naturally, Lisa didn't really soun
d sorry. Lisa never sounded sorry about anything.

  "Lisa!" Andrea warned.

  Suddenly, Andrea knew what happened.

  "It was the Nelson's Rottweiler over on Heathcliff Avenue, wasn't it?" she blurted out. "I don't trust that dog! I hate the way they just let him run free sometimes. I've seen that dog go after people. I won't even walk past that house. I was thinking of getting some pepper spray..."