Zombie Zora

by R. G. Richards

  “Could you put his pants back on, please?”

  “Sure.”

  Jones turned the pants upside down and pieces of glass fell out of one of the pockets. The pieces were thin and had traces of a blue liquid on some of them. He turned the pocket inside out and it was stained blue.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Brittany.

  “You got me,” said Jones. He picked up a piece and sniffed it. His eyes widened. “I bet it’s a serum. This whole time he has been with us, he kept the truth from us. He got infected before we left the camp. That son of a bitch.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Zee! Look at this.”

  The piece of paper had medical writing on it. Jones could be right. Thompson was a scientist and if a cure existed, he would have it.

  “Oh my God! It’s true.” Jones said. “Back at the house, when I caught him peeking at little Katy, I kicked him. I thought I heard something shatter, but I wasn’t sure and I was mad as hell. I just kept kicking him. It must have been his serum. I broke it when I kicked him.”

  “Then he knew he didn’t have much time left.”

  “Yeah, Zee, I guess so,” said Jones.

  Jones looked sad. It wasn’t his fault. He was protecting us from what he thought was a pervert. Turns out, we were both wrong.

  “Could you cover him up, please?”

  “Sure.”

  Chapter 14

  Though I killed him at his request, I couldn’t bring myself to look at Thompson’s body. The war was starting to get to me. I kept my back to them as they carried the body to a window and through it out like garbage. I prayed I wouldn’t hear the sound it would make hitting the ground. Thank god it was a soft thud.

  “We had to do it,” said Jones. “He would start to smell and we might be here longer than we expect to be.”

  “I know.”

  I stayed against the wall. I was not going back to sleep. To occupy myself, I took everything out of my bag and counted it several times.

  Jones patrolled the area silently. Each time I counted he would appear and give me a painful look. He would then turn and go downstairs to check out the area before returning to catch me doing the same thing. I would then fold all the clothes before packing them back into my pack as neatly as possible.

  There was nothing to say. Jones felt guilty and thought he responsible for Thompson’s turning. I did my best to tell him it wasn’t true and I no more believed my words than he. To a lesser degree, he was guilty. If he hadn’t smashed the vial of serum, Thompson would be with us today. Then again, Thompson was a zombie long before I or my team met him. I call him a zombie because one bit him. He was in effect, a dead man walking. That serum he was taking was delaying the unavoidable, it wasn’t a cure.

  When Jones came into the room, this time I was ready for him. “Hey, you need to rest.”

  “You up to it?” asked Jones.

  “You tell me.” My humor was more deadpan than I intended. Jones gazed at me with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Yes, I’m up to it.”

  “Stay alert and wake me if anything happens. Don’t try to be a hero, Baker.”

  “I won’t, Captain.”

  I checked my back pocket for my knife and my belt for my hammer. After confirmation, I left the room to check the rest of the house. The house was quiet. Charley was lightly snoring; it echoed down to me as I walked to a window and slid behind a mattress to look out. It was dark outside, pitch-black. There were no street lamps in this residential neighborhood to light the area. I let my eyes adjust and focused. With the aid of the moonlight, I saw movement in the distance. I tried to raise the window to listen. The window was locked and without looking, I ran my hand along its top for conformation. It was indeed locked.

  I slipped back out and pushed the mattress tighter to the window and readjusted the metal bedframe against it to hold the mattress in place. We didn’t think the zombies had enough intelligence to break a window and force a mattress out of the way. Our thinking was they would smell us and come in through the front door.

  If I weren’t a part of this new world, I would think we would cringe at the sight of a dead body or instantly throw up at the smell of rotting flesh, I would be wrong. In this new world the smell was routine, it was normal and everyone adjusted to it. How could we not? Dead bodies were everywhere; you couldn’t get away from them. Haven’t you ridden in a car with the window down and passed by roadkill? That’s the natural smell of the world today. If it is constant, you get used to it and block it out. Any new smell will get your attention and for zombies, the smell of human flesh was that new smell.

  Zombies found people wherever they hid. Like a bloodhound, they followed the scent and feasted.

  I went to the back door to double-check it. It was a solid wooden door with two deadbolt locks and a chain door lock. I undid the lock and turned both deadbolts. Twisting the doorknob, it wouldn’t open. I pulled and shook the doorknob, trying to get the door opened.

  “What are you doing?”

  I turned and saw Jones. He had his hands on his hips and was standing erect, looking at me angrily. “Trying to open the door.”

  “Why?”

  “I was going to go out and take a look around our perimeter.”

  Jones waved his hand, “this is our perimeter, Baker. Are you inviting zombies into our perimeter? Is that your idea of guarding us while we sleep? Are you offering our enemies a feast?”

  I said nothing. The confusion of his words was making me dizzy.

  “Answer me, Private.”

  That did the trick. “Yes, sir. No, sir. I was not inviting the enemy to a feast, sir.”

  “Explain yourself, Private.”

  I was back at camp and rigid as I could possibly be. “I was inspecting our perimeter for enemy intrusion, sir.”

  “At ease, Private.”

  I relaxed. My heart beat faster but I slowed my breathing. Jones had a way with me that others didn’t. I always wanted him on my side and felt secure whenever he was near me. “Could you tell me why I can’t open the door, when I unbolted it?” I spoke as softly as I could to make sure it didn’t sound remotely antagonizing.

  “I nailed it shut with your hammer while you were upstairs with Thompson.”

  “You nailed it shut?”

  “Me and Charley. During the time you were getting Thompson situated we did a sweep of the house and nailed it shut.”

  “What if we need to escape? How will we be able to get out with the door nailed shut? I mean they can’t get in, but we can’t get out either.” I was not saying it the way I was thinking it in my head. I hoped my words were not as offensive as they sounded.

  “If you step out that door, you will be tripping over the body of a decaying zombie we found in the dining room. Charley and I moved him to the back steps and nailed the door shut. That way, zombies will smell him and think no one is in this house and leave us alone. It might be the reason we are safe.”

  “I understand that, but what if we had to get out quickly?”

  Jones put his hands back on his hips and arched his back. He looked me squarely in my eyes. “In that case, you simply jump through a window or head out the front door.”

  “Oh.”

  Jones, being our military leader and hero, came up with the perfect way to hide us. He was correct about the smell. The scent would throw off any marauding zombies and keep us safe. Still, I had qualms about the idea. The idea didn’t please me. I hoped it never came to that. Jones was in charge, the idea man, at least he had a plan. It would be good enough for me.

  I smiled a reassuring smile at him and walked from the door toward the entrance to the living room. At that moment, something new occurred to me. Why was Jones here? I turned to face him and he must have read the puzzlement on my face. His expression changed and he lowered his head.

  “Why are you here, Jones?”

  With regret, he faced me. “I was checking on you.”

  “Why?
”

  “You know why, Zee.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I know that now, I had to be sure.”

  I looked into his eyes to see if it was true. Jones was usually readable. This time I wasn’t comfortable in my appraisal of him. He was a tactician and loved both Chess and Poker. I never beat him at either. “I am fine,” I said firmly.

  “I know.”

  “I am!” I got louder in my affirmation and regretted it immediately.

  Jones nodded and gave me a comforting smile. We walked out of the kitchen together and he went back upstairs and left me on guard duty. Pretending I carried my M16, I marched back and forth and concentrated on my early days of guard duty. I spent the remainder of my guard duty patrolling the lower floor and thinking.

  It wouldn’t be long until the sun rose. I went back upstairs to end my shift. I was dead on my feet and took a position against the upstairs’ bedroom door. I sat next to it for a while and then decided it would be better if I had my back against it. If someone opened the door, I would be ready. From here, I could see the front room door and handle any zombie attack.

  My eyes got heavy and the soft snoring of Charley became a song to me. Before long, I was asleep.

  The door opened and I fell backward. The jolt woke me and I looked into the whimsical eyes of Jones. Clearly, he hadn’t gone to sleep like the others.

  “Get some sleep, Baker.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I said it softly, not in anger or as a snide remark. Jones was my friend and I was grateful for his kindness. I committed a prison-worthy offense and he let it slide. I was already on the floor, so I crawled to the others and climbed into our makeshift bed. It would be morning soon and we would be on our way to see Simon. I hope Camp Brandt meets all our expectations. With thoughts of Simon on my mind, I closed my eyes and went to sleep, dreaming of our reunion.

  “Zee? Zee?”

  “What?”

  “It’s morning,” said Brittany, “get up.”

  She shook me harder and I reluctantly opened my eyes. Brittany was correct, it was morning. I could barely see a few short minutes ago and now everything was bright. I pulled the cover off me, stood and stretched.

  After several yawns, I surveyed the room. Nothing had changed, we were all there and alive, except for Thompson. The thought of him saddened me so I pushed him out of my mind. Brittany waved me downstairs with a warm smile. Hating her was a chore, I gave it up. I can tell it pleased her, she seemed brighter today. Yesterday had not been a good day. Thompson died and I lashed out at her. So many emotions ran through me, I couldn’t control them all and my blood brother suffered because of it.

  I gladly followed her to the door and turned to invite Jones down as well. He was standing, looking out the window. I saw his hand on his hip and that meant he was thinking, plotting. My stomach sank. I changed my mind about going downstairs and went to the window.

  “Zee! Don’t!” Brittany protested, a little too much.

  I went to see what was so interesting out the window. I saw Jones’ face before I looked. His face was stoic, chiseled in despair. I looked down and saw them. Zombies were in the street and they were slowly walking lackadaisically toward our house. “What is it?”

  Jones shook his head. There was something more, but he wouldn’t say. “Come on, let’s get some grub.” He pulled me away from the window and we walked out behind Brittany. Someone had removed the string of cans and laid them to the side. Our early warning system lay disabled at the top and bottom of the stairs. It was a relief not to have to duck under them as I had done all night.

  In the kitchen, Charley sat in front of a plate made of napkins. He stood when we came in. I looked at him with a blank stare. I remembered what I said last night and should apologize. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wouldn’t accuse him of anything, but I wouldn’t fully trust him either. Charley smiled and nodded. I half-smiled.

  “Who wants to say a quick morning prayer?” asked Brittany.

  “I will,” said Charley.

  With a bowed head, Charley took Brittany’s left hand. Brittany gave her right to Jones and he gave his right to me. I looked at Charley, waiting for me to reach across the table and give him my hand. I thought about everything he had done to Thompson, I refused. I just looked at him for an instant — giving him an evil eye — then bowed my head.

  Charley cleared his throat. “Lord, thank you for letting us live to see another day. Help us to safely travel to our destination. Give us courage and strength, Amen.”

  “Amen,” said Brittany.

  “Amen,” said Jones.

  “Amen,” I said.

  Everyone sat down and Brittany played hostess. She was happy and had smiles for everyone. Jones was quiet and in deep thought. I did my best to avoid looking at Charley. I focused on Brittany and watched as she passed out potted meat tins and animal crackers to us. She had opened the cans for us and had napkin plates at each of our positions.

  I thought of my mother and how she loved being a hostess. Our breakfast table would dwarf this little thing we called a table. This was no more than a decorated playing card’s table. Ours was huge and at one of our last breakfast’s mornings, we were all proud because for the first time ever, we sat in matching chairs. For a family of fourteen, that was huge. That’s the drawback of having so many children, most people never know. The ideal family is four to six and most items only come in that number. For us, we needed multiples of everything and hardly ever found them in matching sets. We would have to special order and that would cost a fortune. Something we lacked.

  Each of us would rock back and forth in our new chairs, angering our parents. After we settled down, my mother would pass bowl after bowl around the table. Dad would lead us in prayer as we held hands and then we feasted. Breakfasts were huge and easily the biggest meal of the day. Lunches were skimpy, so we ate quickly and left the table to play. We weren’t required to all sit together during dinner, unless it was a holiday. Often, we arrived for dinner at different times and ate in groups. Breakfast was the meal I remembered most and the one I loved. That is, before the many marriages and step-relatives.

  I watched Brittany sit and begin eating. She wasn’t a mother figure to me, but I revered her as such. I drank the half bottle of water she gave me before eating. My thoughts went to the missing, to Thompson. He was right; there was still beauty in the world. Though our world has ended, we are still here and life is good. I let Brittany’s laughter raise my spirits.

  Chapter 15

  After breakfast, my hopes dashed. I felt my mood shifting to a dark place. Jones told us we couldn’t leave. He and Charley had their heads together earlier and his look from the upstairs window should have told me something was up.

  I should have questioned the decision, but I didn’t want to upset Jones. He was our leader and so far we had survived. I put my faith in him and did my best to relax. It went against my nature and I strained to conform. In the end, I trusted him and like the bolted door, put it out of my head.

  Charley pulled out a deck of cards as a diversion. Brittany suggested Spades and we partnered up. We were getting into the spirit of the game and just to look at the four us, betrayed our circumstances. We were all young people sitting around a card table in the kitchen playing cards, with no hint of danger or death. No traces of the world we resided in. We were kids and the world was our oyster.

  Our innocence shattered, moans filtered in from outside. The zombies found us. We froze for an instant. That gave us time to listen and judge how close they were to the back door. Jones ushered us out of the room and we crept upstairs. Each of us went to our packs for our weapons. I had both, my hammer and my knives. Brittany had a baton in one hand and a metal pipe in the other. I passed her a knife. She wrapped the sheath around her right leg and put the knife in it. For the present, her intention was to fight by swinging and bashing. I agreed and looked for something in the room to hit with. I could always throw my
knives, I would have to recover them to use them a second time. Bashing seemed better.

  Charley and Jones held batons and for backup, they had Molotov cocktails. They went back down to the living room with Brittany while I looked for a weapon to bash zombies. There was nothing in the room useful, not even the rod used to hold the hangers in the closet. It was entirely too weak and already bent.

  I searched the rest of the floor and then went downstairs to continue my search. I thought about the house’s plumbing and hoped to find a metal pipe I could rip out. We knew there was no basement; it was one of the first searches performed. There had to be something, someplace where I could get at pipes. I began my assault on the downstairs. I went room to room and found nothing useful. There was always the metal from the bed frames, but they braced the mattresses at the windows and we needed them there more.

  “Zee.”

  Brittany interrupted my feverish search. I was in the downstairs closet rummaging through the junk on the floor. I stopped. My heart dropped from her soft tone alone. Something was up. Why us?

  “What?”

  “You better come upstairs.”

  “Tell me, Britt, what is it?”

  “Come with me.”

  She turned and I followed. I walked behind her through the living room to the stairs. I looked around for the boys and neither was there. The zombies were howling outside and through a crack between a mattress and window, I saw dozens. They weren’t coming into the house. They were nevertheless massing around the house.

  I followed with trepidation. For her not to tell me meant it was bad and she didn’t have the words. My mind reeled with possibilities and I was happy to reach the door to end the suspense. We went inside and both boys were at the window. They turned and the look on their faces was telling. It was definitely bad news. Like the man on his way to the electric chair, I recoiled. Brittany caught a hold of me and saved me from further embarrassment. I walked to the window with a heavy heart.

  Jones moved aside and when I looked into his eyes, I can only guess it was pain in them. I can say for certain I saw no fear. If his eyes could talk, they would perform some sort of apology to me.