The Things We Cannot Change: A Zombie Apocalypse Love Story

by Kate L. Mary

  He just snorted and took another drink. After that, we didn’t talk a whole lot. I concentrated on my glass of wine, which I emptied and refilled three times, while Trevor sat quietly on the other side of the room. If it hadn’t been raining so hard, I probably would have just gone home to my empty apartment. At least there I understood the silence, but here it made no sense. There was another person sitting less than four feet away from me, a man I had slept with no less, and we couldn’t find the energy to even say two words to one another. It was a harsh reality, knowing that this man—who I had to admit I didn’t really like all that much—might be the only other person left alive in the city.

  The rain pounding against the windows gave us some relief from the silence, but not nearly enough to make me feel comfortable in this stranger’s apartment. Thankfully, the wine helped ease the tension, and by the time Trevor finally stood and headed to the bedroom, it was late.

  “You coming?” he called, barely pausing to look over his shoulder.

  “I can just crash here.” I nodded to the leather couch.

  He rolled his eyes. He still hadn’t thawed after my earlier criticism. “Suit yourself. Blanket’s on the back.”

  After the lights went out I finished my glass of wine. My head felt lighter than air when I lay down, but I found it impossible to sleep or shut my brain off. The studio wasn’t big, but I still couldn’t hear Trevor’s breathing from the couch and it made me feel totally alone. A couple times I considered giving in and climbing into bed with him, but I had a strong suspicion that if I did I’d find myself once again naked, and the idea wasn’t totally unwelcome. Trevor may not have been Nathaniel, and I might not like the guy all that much, but he was attractive and he was the only person I had, and the comfort of having another warm body against mine was enough to make my body buzz with desire. Especially when I thought about how good it had felt to have him slide into me.

  I resisted though, clinging to my resolve to change what I could and not focus on the things I had no control over.

  When the sun came up, I was relieved to find that the rain had stopped. I tiptoed past Trevor, who was passed out in the bed and looking glorious in just his boxer briefs, and headed to the bathroom. My clothes had dried enough that I was able to wear them, and after I changed I took the time to fold the ones I’d borrowed from Trevor and place them neatly on the counter before heading back out through the apartment.

  He hadn’t moved and I had no desire to have a long, drawn-out argument about how we should stick together, so I made sure to make as little noise as possible. I did, however, pause to scribble a note to him before ducking out the door.

  Trevor-

  Thanks for keeping me company. I really did need to be around another person the other night. I know you aren’t going to understand this, but I don’t think we’re a good fit, so even though it means being alone, I’m heading home.

  Thanks again,

  Jade

  Ps…I hope you decide to check on your kids.

  I set the pen down, but as an afterthought picked it back up and scribbled my address at the bottom of the note. Next to it, I added the words just in case. I really didn’t want him thinking it was an invitation to come to my place, but we were the only two people alive as far as we knew, and I hated the thought of leaving him stranded.

  Outside, New York city dripped. The buildings, the trees, even the air was thick with rain. It was also a lot cooler than it had been the night before, and I found myself shivering in my tank top. The sooner I got home, the better, but on the way I knew I had to make a pit stop.

  It took me over an hour to make it to the liquor store, and just like the day before yesterday, I didn’t see a single sign of life the whole way there. Now though, I couldn’t even try and fool myself into thinking I could hear a car in the distance, because I couldn’t. The only sound was the constant dripping of the rain as it fell from trees and buildings and slammed into the ground, and it made me want to scream. Or cry.

  The sooner I got some alcohol in my system, the better off I’d be.

  The liquor store looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d been here, meaning no other desperate people had raided the shelves. I had a few blocks to go, so I couldn’t take a ton, but I loaded up a couple reusable cloth bags with as many bottles of wine as I could cram in before heading out.

  The whole walk home the bottles clinked together like they were taunting me, pointing out how weak I was, but I told myself it didn’t matter. There was no reason to hold back now. The world had vanished and with things the way they were, I couldn’t think of a single reason to keep it together.

  By the time I made it back to my building, the straps were digging into my arms. It was fourteen flights to my apartment and my footsteps echoed back to me the whole way up. When I stepped through the front door, the place felt emptier than it ever had, and I found myself wondering why the hell I had left Trevor’s place. What was I going to do now? Did I think I was just going to hang out here all by myself for the rest of my life?

  I wasn’t sure, so I popped open a bottle of wine and filled a glass. I could go back to Trevor’s if I needed to, but for now I wanted to ease the ache inside me and I knew there was only one way to do that.

  I spent the next two days in a stupor, looking through every photo album I had ever put together. Memorizing Nathaniel’s face and smile like I was afraid it would slip away the way everything else had. Every time my buzz faded, I poured myself another drink, and the constant haze that surrounded me was a relief after the week I’d spent working at the hospital and the silence that had followed me through the city.

  Trevor’s existence was a foggy memory at the back of my mind. I didn’t need him, not when I had the bottles of wine lined up on the counter. With the alcohol flowing through my veins, being alone felt almost cathartic. I could do whatever I wanted. Sleep half the day and wake up long enough to drink a bottle, only to doze off again when the haze got thick enough. No one was around to judge me or question why I was choosing to live this way. No one could interfere with my self-destruction.

  When someone pounded on my door, I was so drunk that I had actually forgotten most of the world was gone. I half expected a delivery or a neighbor stopping by to check on me, but when I opened the door Trevor pushed his way inside, grabbing my arm on his way by and pulling me back. I stumbled, barely stopping myself from falling on my ass as he slammed the door and locked it.

  “What the hell?” I mumbled, the words sounding slurred even in my own ears.

  He spun to face me and his hazel eyes were wide enough that even drunk off my ass I couldn’t miss the fear swimming in them. “Have you—” He blinked. “You’re drunk.”

  “You’re a detective.” I rolled my eyes and stumbled back across my apartment, collapsing on the couch.

  Two empty bottles sat on the table in front of me, as well as a third one that was still half full. I picked it up and took a swig as Trevor sank down on the loveseat. The way he was staring at me made the hair on my scalp prickle. This was why the silence in the apartment had felt so good, because I was sick of seeing that look in people’s eyes. The one that told me they were judging me or worrying about me, or even worse, getting ready to give me a lecture.

  Not in my apartment.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked before he could say anything else.

  “Have you been outside since you left my place?”

  I shook my head and took another drink, and his gaze moved to the empty bottles on the coffee table, then behind me to the kitchen where my stash was ready and waiting.

  “Is this what you’ve been doing?” he asked after a heavy silence that made me want to throw the bottle at him.

  “Yup.” I shrugged. “You’re an asshole and I’m a drunk. Sucks that we’re all that’s left of humanity when there were so many good people that could have survived.” I snorted at the irony—if it was even irony, in my current state I wasn’t positive—a
nd then took another drink.

  Trevor sighed. “Well, you need to sober up long enough for us to get the hell out of the city.”

  “Why’s that?” I leaned back, the bottle still in my hand like I found it impossible to put it down.

  “Because there are zombies all over the fucking place and we need to get somewhere less populated. Maybe upstate.” He exhaled. “We can go to my ex-wife’s place.”

  I busted out laughing. “Zombies? I’m not that drunk, you prick.”

  Trevor stood and crossed the distance between us, pulling me to my feet so fast and so forcefully that I almost dropped the bottle of wine. I stumbled as he dragged me across the room, and when we reached the window I yanked my arm out of his grip and glared up at him, but all he did was nod to the wall of glass in front of me.

  We were fourteen stories up and I was three sheets to the wind, but even I couldn’t miss the people walking around on the street below, and the sight made my heart stop. The bottle slipped from my grasp and hit the floor, the glass clattering loudly in the silence of the apartment. I tried to step closer to the window, but ended up banging my head against it. The impact throbbed through my skull, but I couldn’t care or even focus on it, not when there were people on the street.

  “We’re not alone,” I whispered, and then turned to look at Trevor. “Did you talk to anyone? Did they get sick and recover or were they immune like us?”

  “They. Are. Dead,” he said slowly, punctuating each word. “Zombies. I realize it sounds insane, but it’s true. I saw them through my window and went outside, and some lady tried to eat my face off.” He exhaled and slumped against the window. “So I ran here. It was all I could think to do. Remember the woman from Central Park? The one who walked toward the snow leopard like she wasn’t afraid? That had to be why. She was one of them.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  Heat moved through me and without thinking, I shoved him. Trevor stumbled back but didn’t fall, so I pushed him again. And then I hit him. I balled up my fist and slammed it against his chest over and over again while tears fell from my eyes. The apartment dipped and swayed, and my stomach twisted, but I didn’t stop hitting him and I was crying so hard that before long my breaths were coming out in hiccups. Trevor didn’t fight back, but instead let me take out all my hurt and anger on him one blow at a time.

  When my stomach jumped to my throat, I ran, my hands still balled into fists and my head spinning in circles. I made it to the bathroom just in time, falling to my knees in front of the toilet as my stomach wretched and every ounce of wine I’d downed over the last twenty-four hours came out in a flood of dark purple bile. It seemed to go on forever, my stomach convulsing over and over again as sweat beaded on my forehead.

  Vaguely, I was aware of someone behind me. Of gentle hands pulling my hair out of my face and rubbing my back. Of soothing words in my ear, whispering that it was going to be okay. That I was going to be okay.

  By the time my stomach was empty, I felt spent. I wanted to curl up on the bathroom floor, but Trevor urged me to stand and helped me rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. Then he lifted me and carried me to my bedroom where he pulled the covers down and tucked me in like I was a sick child and he was my mother.

  “Rest,” he seemed to whisper from far off. “We’ll talk about it after you get some sleep.”

  Chapter 5

  The bedroom was pitch black when I woke, but when I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled down the hall, the living room was lit up. My mouth was so dry that I was sure every ounce of moisture had been sucked from my body while I slept, and my muscles ached in a way that told me I was on the verge of being severely dehydrated. I remembered that I’d brushed my teeth before going to bed, but the faint flavor of vomit had managed to hang on anyway. Even worse was the way my head pounded.

  Trevor was on the couch, reading, and he turned when I stopped in the middle of the room. “You’re up.”

  “I feel like I’m dead,” I muttered, and then headed for the kitchen.

  I stopped when my mind registered that the place had been cleaned up. Not scrubbed or anything, but straightened. There were no longer wine bottles set out in a neat line, and the empty ones were also out of sight, and I had the feeling it was Trevor’s way of trying to keep me sober. The state of the world told me it wasn’t going to work, but at the moment I was too thirsty to drop that bomb on him. If he decided to stick around, he’d find out sooner rather than later.

  I poured myself a big glass of water and gulped it down as he came into the kitchen behind me. He stopped and I could feel his gaze on me as I filled the glass a second time, making the hair on my arms stand up. Even though a part of me was afraid to turn and see the judgment or questions in his eyes, I forced myself to as I sucked down the second glass of water. The look in his eyes, though, was amazingly understanding.

  “You okay?”

  He wasn’t asking if I was hung over, but my answer was the same either way. “No.”

  “I get it.” Trevor let out a deep sigh and leaned his hip against the counter like he needed the support so he didn’t fall. “Are you ready to talk?”

  “I think I have to be.” My memories from the night before were fuzzy and I wasn’t sure if what I was remembering had actually happened or if it had been a dream—or really, a nightmare. But I did remember the lady from Central Park and the things Trevor said about her. “Were there people out on the street yesterday?” He nodded. “But they weren’t alive?” Trevor nodded again. “Zombies?” The last word came out as a whisper, but he didn’t miss it and I didn’t miss it when he nodded in response.

  “We need to get out of the city,” he said. “I should have left a couple days ago like you suggested. Gone up to see my kids. Maybe I’m a bigger asshole than I thought, or maybe I was in shock. Either way, if I’d done the right thing I’d be better off right now.” Trevor let out a deep sigh. “Do you have a car?”

  I swallowed as I nodded.

  I didn’t want to believe he was telling the truth about the zombies, but I also couldn’t come up with a single reason why he would lie about it. It was too crazy for a person to make up unless they were insane, and I didn’t get that impression from Trevor. Which meant he was telling the God’s honest horrible truth.

  “My car is parked in a garage about two blocks over,” I told him. “I haven’t used it in a while, but the tank is full. How hard will it be for us to get there?”

  “Not too bad, I think. Those things pretty much ignored me when I first came out of my apartment. It wasn’t until I called out that they seemed to notice I existed, and that’s when the lady closest to me lunged. I got away easily, though. She was slow. They were all slow. Almost like they couldn’t react as fast as they used to.”

  “That’s something at least,” I said.

  I leaned against the counter at my back and looked the kitchen over again.

  Trevor seemed to read my mind and know that I was thinking of the missing wine bottles because he said, “I put them away.” He paused before asking, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Not really.” I crossed my arms like it would protect me from his intense gaze. “Do you want to bare all your deepest, darkest secrets to me?”

  He tensed and stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. “Not really.”

  “Then I’d say we’re good with the way things are.” I pushed myself away from the counter and headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to shower and then throw some things in a bag, then we can leave.”

  “I’m ready to get the hell out of here whenever you are,” Trevor said behind me.

  I stood in the middle of my bedroom, looking everything over, but I couldn’t bring myself to pack anything. This was where Nathaniel and I had lived together, where we’d made love, where we’d talked about the future, where we’d laughed, where we’d fought. Suddenly, though, it seemed like a stranger’s home, and I couldn’t think of
a single thing that would be difficult to leave behind. I had my wedding rings still, and my memories, but other than the basic necessities—a couple changes of clothes and some toiletries—there was nothing else.

  When I’d finally gathered my things and gone back into the living room, I found Trevor standing at the window looking down at the street below.

  “There are more,” he said without turning my way. “It seems like every few minutes more of them pop up.”

  “Where are they coming from?” I asked, not really wanting to know but unable to stay quiet.

  “The buildings. I think they can open doors.”

  He didn’t move from the window, and the bomb he dropped was big enough to send me to the kitchen. It took a little searching to find the bottles of wine he’d stashed away, but when I did, I loaded them into a canvas bag, along with a corkscrew. The clink of glass was what finally pulled Trevor away from the window. He stared at me, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t either because there was nothing to say.

  When I was ready, Trevor took my bag while I carried the wine. The bottles were heavy and I knew they were going to weigh me down, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave them. I didn’t know for sure where we were going or what would be there, but I did know that in the face of this crisis, I was going to need the alcohol more than I was going to need anything else.

  Trevor stopped at the door, his hand on the knob, and took a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

  His free hand tightened on the handle of a knife, a big one he’d taken from my kitchen. It was the only weapon we had in the apartment and the only one we were going to get since there were no gun stores in New York City.

  “Of the zombies?” Saying the words made my stomach convulse.

  “No. Of getting to my ex-wife’s house, of what I might find there.” He swallowed. “If my kids lived but their mom died, she could have come back. She could have—” His voice broke and he had to swallow. “It will be my fault because I didn’t go sooner.”