by Pippa Jay
Because it wasn't just Zombie Girl. The rest of the local zombies had learned of the free meals, and came to scavenge. More than once, she had been beaten away from the food by bigger and meaner associates. Connor had tried throwing things at the bullying invaders, but even when he managed to hit one, they were oblivious. One still came back with a kitchen knife buried in its shoulder, apparently not bothered by the blade. They seemed impossible to scare off, or to injure. So he was forced to watch Zombie Girl take her chances with the rest, and hope that she got a few scraps out of it.
The others would soon leave once the food had gone. Zombie Girl would leave too, but the last few days she'd stayed behind, prowling around the bloodstained pavement where it had been as if not convinced it had all been eaten. He took the opportunity to slip her extra rations once he was sure the others had left. Today, she stood staring up at him again, and he knew she was waiting for her special treat.
Connor threw down the extra steak he'd saved, and watched her devour it. Her eating habits weren't pretty, and neither was she, but it was better than nothing. Not exactly a chat with a friend. More like having a wild creature that had come to depend on him. Maybe even trust him. But he had no doubt he'd be dinner if he tried to get any closer.
Today, even after eating her extra, she hung around. What did the zombies do, other than hunt for food? Sleep? Play? Fight? Zombie Girl prowled up and down the pavement, as if to be sure not a fragment of meat remained. Or like someone too dazed or shocked to perform like a normal human being. Up and down, up and down. Was she thinking about anything? Remembering anything? When she looked at him did she see another person like her, or just food?
Connor sighed, resting his elbows on the edge of the balcony while he watched her. Sunset had turned the blue sky into streaks of red, orange and gold, and edged the patchy grey clouds with silver. The breeze took on its usual chilly edge. Yet he didn't leave. What did he have to go inside for? Another quiet night watching movies because all the TV stations had shut down? Playing the same computer games over and over? Was that it?
Zombie Girl had ceased wandering around and stopped near the front entry. Connor stood upright, grasping the balcony rail hard. That's where he'd first met her, matching hand for hand on the glass. Was she waiting for him?
Connor ran through his apartment, into the elevator, and dashed to the door. There she was, Zombie Girl, her palms already pressed to the glass as her misty eyes stared through the window.
"Hey, girl." He put his hands up to meet hers, a grin stretching his face. How dumb was that? He was happy to see her. And even though he had no way to tell, it was nice to imagine she might be pleased to see him too.
Then another, bigger zombie slammed her out of the way and threw itself at the glass, at Connor. He jerked back, stumbling over his own feet in the flight to get away. His heart hammered as hard and fast as the new zombie on the glass, but the window held. Connor gulped as he lay sprawled on the floor, panic sucking the strength from him. He couldn't get up, couldn't move as the zombie battered the window until it spattered its own body fluids over the glass, pulping its fists in the frenzy to break in.
He scrabbled backward, away from the window, until he hit the wall. The cold hard surface behind his back steadied him even as he wished he could crawl inside it and hide. The second zombie's assault on the window slowed to a few pathetic, squelching blows until at last its mutilated arms fell to its side and it stared at him through the smeared glass. Mindless hunger was the only thing Connor could read in its expression before it eventually turned away and wandered off.
It took longer for Connor's heart to calm from its frantic hammering to something slower, and he felt able to get to his feet. Still shaking, he took a couple of steps toward the window, before leaning forward to peer out.
Beyond the smears, the street appeared empty. The big zombie had gone.
Connor sucked in a breath, then blew it out with a jolt as he remembered Zombie Girl. He pressed himself to the glass, straining to see beyond the confines of the window frame. All he could see was her shoulder and part of her leg where she sat slumped inside the doorway, but mostly out of range of his sight.
"Damn." He switched to the door, but could only glimpse the top of her head. He couldn't see if she was breathing. She wasn't moving. And the only way to be certain was to open the door.
And what if the big zombie was waiting for that? What if it was hiding just out of sight? Even if it had truly gone, if he risked going outside to check on the girl, what if she recovered and attacked him? Connor might be stronger, but he'd already seen the big zombie destroy its own hands trying to reach him. They didn't feel pain. Even if he could bring himself to hit her, even in defense of his life, she could probably tear him apart.
But she still wasn't moving. And she was the only remotely human interaction he'd had since before he'd gone into a coma. Interactions he still couldn't remember.
I could get myself killed... He stood with his hand hovering over the lock release, debating it. If he didn't do this, well, he'd hate himself. He'd be thinking about it for the rest of his long, lonely, miserable life. Death didn't seem so scary or so bad by comparison.
Connor made up his mind. He hit the release, but held the door shut with his other hand. Then he eased it open a crack and peered through the slit.
The girl hadn't moved, curled up in the doorway with her head slumped forward, one hand loose in her lap and the other limp by her side. Dirt and what could be dried blood covered her pale skin, with that faint green tinge showing darker around her broken toe nails. The soles of her feet were black. Her dress, once a bright blue with geometric swirls in pink, black and white, had rips and stains all over it, the seams unravelling at one side so that he could see bare skin almost up to her hip.
Connor edged the door open another fraction. He could reach out his hand and touch her, she was that close.
And get my arm ripped off... Connor clenched his hand into a fist, wavering with indecision. What should he do?
So slow, he thought he'd never reach her, he put out his hand and poked her before snatching it back. Her leg rocked slightly under the pressure, but nothing else.
Crap. He tried again, poking harder. The same. He blew out a breath, grabbed her knee and shook her. The flesh felt cold under his palm, but it didn't part or squelch as if rotted like he expected of a zombie. She still didn't move.
Connor inched the door open a bit farther and listened hard. Other than his own shaky breaths, he couldn't hear a thing. Not even her breathing.
Shit. I’m going to get myself killed. He bit down a snort of laughter at the thought of dragging his torn and bloodied corpse back into the hospital with a 'told you so' to the Mentor, but what the hell else was he going to do? Either he died alone surrounded by zombies, or he took a chance that maybe this one wouldn't kill him. That maybe, just maybe, he could help her.
Connor pushed the door open, grabbed her ankles, and yanked her inside. He flinched as her head smacked the ground, but didn't stop. If she was already dead, it wouldn't do her any more harm than had already been done. If not, hell, maybe it might knock some sense into her, if nothing else could.
She came limply, her arms dragging behind her. The second her fingertips were clear of the door he dropped her legs and slammed it closed. Couldn't risk that big zombie getting in. Then he turned to look at her.
She didn't move. Crap, he couldn't even see her breathing. Connor dropped to his knees at her side, and felt for a pulse in her neck. He wasn't even sure where to put his fingers, but after some random poking he found a point where something jumped under his fingertips.
Well, that was something. He looked at her. Blood trickled from her nose, stark red-black tendrils against her white skin with that weird greenish tint. Her eyes were closed, her mouth half open. Her lip had split too, a dark scarlet crack compared to the almost purple lips. What was it the Mentor had said? Something about toxins in the blood poisoning them, af
fecting the brain? The blood was certainly a weird color from what he remembered.
"Er..." He knew nothing about caring for an injured person. Connor put his face near her mouth, and though the putrid smell made him gag, at least he felt the whisper of air against his cheek. So, pulse and breathing. What else?
He blew out a breath, heart racing. Maybe if he could get her upstairs, he could look up first aid on the intranet system. But first... He wasn't going to risk getting bitten. Wasn't that how it worked in the movies? If a zombie or a vampire bit you, you turned into one?
Connor tugged off his belt and used it to lash her legs together, then one of his laces from his sneakers to tie her wrists. He'd gag her if he had anything else to use, but after an instant figured that might interfere with her breathing. If she couldn't move and he kept himself out of range of her teeth, at least it should be safe.
That done, he got hold of her feet again and dragged her into the lift. She didn't fit. He had to move her legs and arms until she formed an awkward huddle on the floor before he could close the doors and hit the buttons. Chest heaving, he stared down at her as the lift rose. Jeez, some hero he was turning out to be. Tying her up and dumping her on the elevator floor wasn't particularly an impressive way to rescue someone. But then, she wasn't the typical damsel in distress, was she? And poor help he'd be if he didn't take precautions. He wasn't about to get eaten trying to do a good deed.
The lift delivered them to his floor, and again Connor pulled her across the landing and into his home. After some consideration, he managed to hoist her up onto the couch, then sat panting, body aching. He'd never imagined such a skinny girl would be such a weight, and despite all his rehabilitation, he wasn't ready for all the heavy lifting and maneuvering.
Once he'd got his breath back, he called up first aid on the intranet and went hunting for medical supplies. His stomach flipped over as he skimmed through the info. He shouldn't have moved her, other than to maybe put her into the recommended recovery position. Then again, anyone with any sense wouldn't have brought a zombie into their home, unconscious or not.
He settled for turning her onto her side so the blood from her nose wouldn't choke her, then wiped it away from her face, checking that she was still alive. Cleaning her and brushing the knotted hair away from her face revealed bruising across her forehead and right cheek, and a graze on her scalp. Maybe that's what had knocked her out. She'd taken a hell of a beating from the bigger zombie. Clearing the gunk from its smashed hands that had mixed in with her hair and blood made him gag. It stank. Or maybe it was her. He couldn't be sure.
Throughout, she laid still, no sign that she might awaken. Close up Zombie Girl looked even younger than he'd thought. She might even be a teenager. Connor's chest tightened. Maybe his age. And while he'd been lying in a coma, blissfully unaware as it turned out, she'd seen the world end. Had she been one of the first to fall sick? Or had she seen others sicken and die, or turn into zombies? Watched others being torn apart before it affected her? Had she any idea what was happening to her? Was she aware of it now?
Connor shuddered. He hoped for her sake that she might have been one of the first to transform. But then, what might have become of her family? Maybe she'd torn them apart as her first act as a zombie.
She moaned and her eyelids flickered, and Connor shot backward away from her. Even though she was tied up, he had no idea what she might do to him conscious.
Her head moved. Her eyes opened, but rolled up in her head before she turned her face toward him.
"Um, hi?" He waved a hand, but no reaction. Maybe she was stunned, or maybe she couldn't see him. Perhaps both. "Can you hear me?"
A feeble groan came from her mouth before her eyes fluttered shut again. He had no idea if she'd tried to respond the only way she could or was simply in pain.
No. The Mentor had said the toxins stopped them feeling pain, and the way the bigger zombie had pulverized its hands trying to get at him was proof of that, right? Even a human wouldn't have gone that far without being drunk, drugged, or totally psycho.
So if she couldn't feel pain, then she must have been responding...
"What the hell am I going to do with you?" Connor sighed, then smacked himself on the forehead with a yell. Of course. The hospital. She qualified as a patient, right? Maybe the Mentor could cure her?
But that meant he had to get her there. Which involved getting her back downstairs, and into an autocar... without encountering another zombie.
"Oh, shit." Connor slumped onto the floor, covering his face with his hands. Why him? Why couldn't one of the others woken up and dealt with this crap?
Oh, mature, man. Who started feeding the zombies in the first place?
Connor groaned. He'd started this. He'd better finish it. And maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out right and he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life alone. Even if she hated him afterward. Right now he'd be happy to have someone to fight with as much as talk to, just to break the lonely monotony of his existence now.
"Okay. Let's do this." He hauled himself over to the window and out onto the balcony, doing a full circuit to check the streets below. Nada. That meant nothing by the time he'd got downstairs, but for now the coast was clear.
Connor activated his One-Dee. "Gimme an autocar, fast as you can."
"Estimated arrival in ninety seconds," the synthetic voice informed him. Wow, that was quick. But then, they were hardly in demand elsewhere.
Connor fetched a blanket from his room and spread it beside the couch. After some hesitation, he simply shoved his zombie girlfriend off the couch and onto the sheet, rolling her onto her back. Then he gathered the corners together and dragged her back out to the elevator. At least he was trying to be more considerate about it.
The short ride down only intensified his unease, and sweat broke out down his back, prickling his neck. This is crazy. Worse than crazy. The girl didn't stir inside her blanket, curled up like some freaky looking child asleep. She could die any minute. Well, technically she was kind of brain dead already, even if you ignored the whole zombie mythology. He shuddered. No matter what the Mentor had said about it being a purely medical condition, it sure reminded Connor of the movies he'd been watching.
His stomach lurched as the elevator stopped. He clenched his hands to try and still the shakes, but it wasn't happening. As the doors slid open, he slid his bundle across to the main door, and did his best to look out the restricted view. The autocar was already out there, waiting. And that seemed to be all.
His heart thundered until he couldn't hear anything else other than the pounding of his blood and his ragged breathing. Connor eased the main door open and edged outside. Now he had a clear view of the streets both ways, at least as far as the corners of his apartment block. Still nothing.
Gonna have to be fast...
Without stopping to think about it, he grabbed the blanket's edge and staggered toward the autocar as rapidly as he could. Just three steps, and his feet caught in the blanket, sending him over. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, but panic yanked him back to his feet. Connor grabbed at his bundle again, but the cloth slithered through his fingers. Twice he had to reclaim it, all the while his instincts screaming danger inside his head. He thought his heart would explode. So short a distance, and yet it took forever for him to reach the car door with his zombie.
Connor yanked it open, jarring his hand in the process, but the pain was irrelevant. If he didn't get them in the car quick, he'd have far worse to worry about.
He looped his arms around her, trying to lift her into the car. Arms and legs fell from the blanket and blocked his way, as if her body wanted to resist getting in.
"Fuck!"
Connor dropped her, scrambled inside the car and tried dragging her in that way. She slithered through his arms and hit the pavement.
He looked to the side. Two shambling figures were headed down the street toward them.
"Oh, hell!" Conn
or leaned down, looped her tied arms over the back of his neck, and pulled back with all his strength. Her body bumping over the ledge, she slid slowly into the car with him, all bad smells and dead weight. He removed her arms and reached to yank her legs in that still trailed outside the car. The new arrivals were getting closer. His fingers slipped on her skin, and he had to jerk her remaining leg inside so hard he thought he might have snapped her knee. Then he slammed the door.
The two zombies hammered into the car, beating it with their bare fists and throwing themselves at the outside. Connor huddled into the bottom of the car, yelling.
"Go! Go!" he screamed at the car.
"Please state destination."
"Go to the damn hospital, now!"
"Destination not recognized. Please repeat."
The car rocked as the zombies battered at it
"Union Vale Hospital!"
"Destination recognized. Union Vale Hospital in ten minutes."
The autocar finally pulled away, and the thumps died away as it outran the zombies. Connor stayed panting in the car well, arms wrapped protectively over his head.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck..." He kept repeating it over and over, until his heart-rate had settled down a fraction. Then, "Oh crap."
Connor was sitting on her. He shoved himself up onto the seat, and then leaned down to check on her. He'd probably broken most of her bones and crushed the poor dumb zombie girl.
No. He could still find a pulse, and her chest moved as he watched, even if not by much. More blood had seeped from her nose and mouth, though, and her skin looked paler, if that was possible. Connor pulled more of the blanket aside. Maybe it was just getting her out into full sunlight that made her look whiter. Otherwise it couldn't be a good sign. He gazed out of the car, not recognizing where they were.
