Love in the Age of Zombies (Book 1): My Zombie Honeymoon

by James K. Evans

  “That’s a great idea. I wish I’d done that. I have a generator and a five-thousand gallon fuel tank, but when it runs out, I’m S.O.L. I’ve used about a quarter of the tank already. I’m hoping to use less once we get through the winter.”

  “So you don’t have anyone with you?”

  “Nope, just me. I used to come up with my Irish Setter, Buddy, but he died a few years ago and I didn’t have the heart to replace him. He was a good companion. So far, of all the people I’ve been in contact with, you’re the closest. How far do you reckon it is from your place to mine? I’m north of Atlanta—do you know where Atlanta is? It’s west of Alpena toward Gaylord.”

  “Let me check. Hold on.” I booted the laptop and pulled up the map software. “Looks like you’re two hundred or so miles from here,” I said. “In the old days, it would have been about, what, three or four hours away? But now, with no gas stations, it would take weeks or months.”

  “You thinking about heading my way?” Doc asked.

  “No, just thinking out loud. I figure eventually, we survivors will need to come together for our own common good.”

  “Bear in mind the highways are probably closed down. From what I heard before the bottom dropped out, people were leaving the cities in a panic and taking to the highways. Eventually there were pile-ups, and then the creatures discovered their own roadside buffet line. I wouldn’t plan on using the highways. Maybe some of the back roads. But without a four-wheel drive to get around the major snarls, or major groups of creatures, it’d be mighty risky.”

  “You called them creatures” I said. “What do you think happened? What’s your medical opinion? How did dead people start coming back and eating us?”

  “I’ve thought long and hard about the subject. Before everything fell apart, I was trying to keep up with the reports posted on medical blogs, and was keeping up with other doctors and nurses. But the bottom line is, no one knows exactly what happened. This isn’t a virus—if it was, our antiviral meds would have had an effect. It doesn’t act like bacteria, either. It doesn’t act like anything. If I was a spiritual man, I’d say God had finally lost patience with us. How else can you explain dead people with no organs, no real intelligence, no mind directing their actions, walking around and eating people?”

  “We’ve seen some of them with injuries that would kill a normal person, completely ignoring their broken bones and missing organs. How can any creature with a broken leg keep walking around?”

  “That’s the thing, Kevin. This goes against everything I was taught in med school. I have no explanation. There were some theories being bandied about, but they were all quite a stretch. And now, with probably 99.9% of the population being dead, there’s no one left to do the research to try and find a cure or make a vaccine. The best we can do is destroy them before they destroy us.”

  “But if you’re right . . . if there are so few of us, and so many of them . . . what chance do we have?” I looked over at Michelle. Only one button was left. I had to end this conversation. “It won’t be easy, I must admit. Numbers are on their side. But from what I heard over the radio, and what you just told me, they’re slow, they’re not intelligent, and they don’t work together. I think we have a pretty good chance, especially during winter.”

  “But you have to remember, I’ve never even seen one of the creatures, I have no idea how many survivors there are, and I don’t know of any organized group trying to destroy them. That’s the good news.”

  “The good news? What’s the bad news?” I was actually afraid to ask. While I asked, Michelle undid the last button and opened her shirt.

  “The bad news is this: Zombies are not our greatest threat. People are. Those survivors who are willing to kill other humans in order to get something they want. Once again, we’re our own worst enemy. And I have to tell you, when I think of it in those terms, who’s worse? The creatures, acting on instinct with no morals, no thought processes, no humanity . . . or the survivors who steal and murder, knowing full well what they’re doing?”

  Michelle and I sat there in silence. I was listening to Doc but I was staring at her cleavage. Damn she looked good. She knew I was watching, too, and arched her back so they jutted out. She had a mischievous grin on her face.

  “On the other hand, Kevin, there are people out there like you and me who are doing our best to keep our better natures alive. And, as you said, we need to band together at some point to re-institute structure and authority. And when we finally get some order restored, guess what we should do first?”

  “Destroy all the zombies, of course.”

  “No, that’s secondary. First we have to destroy our greatest threat. We have to destroy all the humans who used this catastrophe as an excuse to hurt, rape, and kill other people.”

  “Why not just lock them up?”

  “Locking them up would involve capturing them, restraining them, and finding someplace to lock them up. Then we’d have to have someone watch them, someone cook for them, clean their waste . . . I can’t imagine we’ll have enough resources to do that for quite a while.”

  Michelle’s blouse was now barely covering her breasts. “Bones, you’ve given us a lot to think about, but I have a couple of things here I need to take care of. When can we talk next?”

  “’Bones’? Star Trek fan, are we?”

  “I confess, I’m a Trekkie at heart, and this feels like a bad science fiction movie. I’m waiting for Roger Corman to yell ‘Cut!!’ But right now I’m going to fix a drink, and I think Michelle has dinner ready.” As I said this, she pointedly opened her blouse more, revealing her nipples.

  “Ah, so you have alcohol? Tell me, do you have bourbon? I’m afraid I have a taste for bourbon, and I ran out quite a while back.”

  “A man after my own heart, and yes we do. Listen, thanks for the conversation. I’ll try to catch you tomorrow night.”

  “Same bat-time, same bat-station. Give Michelle a hug for me. I haven’t had a hug in a very long time. W8D10C signing off.”

  The radio went silent. Michelle looked at me, eyes lit up, a naughty smile on her face. I was about to ask if Doc’s comments bothered her, but before I could say anything, she removed her blouse and tossed it to me. It landed on top of my head and covered my face. I took it off and threw it across the room.

  Some of the things Doc said made me want to talk to her, but I decided we could talk later. Right now my fingers, tongue, and lips wanted to have a conversation with her nipples. I took her into my arms and she drove any questions right out of my head. A half hour later, we reclined in each other’s arms.

  “What do you think about what Doc said?” I asked. She thought for a minute before answering.

  “Kevin, sometimes I forget how good we have it here. If what he said is true, the people who are out there trying to survive must have it very rough. Having to search for food and shelter in the dead of winter while they avoid zombies and fight other people who are desperate enough to kill them for their food . . .”

  “Or their women,” I interrupted.

  “. . . it must be brutal. Like the guys who broke in here. If they’d succeeded, they probably would have eaten our food, drank our booze, then trashed the place and moved on to take stuff from other innocent people. And who knows what they would have done to us—probably amused themselves with us like they did that woman. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to live in a world like this.”

  The woman the men had tortured. They threw her to the zombies, and she became one of them. I suppressed a shudder, thinking about her body lying in the front yard. I wasn’t even tempted to tell Michelle.

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to live in a world like this . . . without you,” I said, absently stroking her hair. We sat there for a minute, just thinking and being. “Let’s forget all about everything for the rest of the day,” I said. “Let’s take care of our chores, make some dinner, put in one of those, um, adult DVDs and have a few drinks. Let’s pretend life is normal
like it used to be.”

  “I can guarantee life with you was not normal even before all this happened,” she replied. “I’ll go along with your idea on one condition. You fix the drinks, and I get to pick the movie.”

  I agreed with her and headed into the storeroom. I felt like bourbon, but I knew she would probably want wine. To me, bourbon and porn go together better than wine and porn, but Michelle and porn go together even better than bourbon and porn, so if she wanted wine, I’d serve her wine.

  I picked out a bottle called Arcturos Late Harvest Riesling, from Black Star Farms in Leelanau. After I uncorked it, I let it breathe for a few minutes while I poured my bourbon. Michelle was going through the DVDs.

  “Find anything interesting?” I asked.

  “That depends on what you’re into,” she said.

  “I’m into you. Or I hope to be later.”

  “Ha. Play your cards right, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Just having you here makes me lucky.”

  She finally picked out a DVD called 2040. It was supposed to be futuristic, with porn stars playing the part of robots who were ‘pleasure models.’ The plot was pretty thin, but it had high production values and the scenes were well filmed and well lit—it was a big cut above some of the really cheap stuff. There were scenes that went too far if you ask me, but it got us both in the mood.

  Before the movie was even half over, I had my head buried between her legs. We’d finished the bottle of wine, and it definitely got her worked up.

  “That’s cause I want you inside me,” she whispered. I took her hand, led her into the bedroom, and gave her what she wanted.

  December 22nd

  Yesterday was quiet. I didn’t remember it was the winter solstice until just after 5 p.m., and the sun had already set. In the light of dusk I saw a few nearly stationary zombies that had begun filtering into the neighborhood. I put on my coat, grabbed my axe from the upstairs closet, and headed toward the front yard. The moon was barely rising in the east, but even so, a good six inches of snow had fallen, so I could see my way around with no problem even as the dusk faded. The darkness took on that shade of muted blue particular to snowy nights.

  It was difficult to bring the creatures down. Not because they were moving, but because they were frozen. It was like trying to chop through a frozen and rotten side of beef. They’d fall over after I hit them the first time, but then it’d take a good two or three strokes before the axe would make it through their necks. Whatever is keeping them animated is also preventing them from freezing solid. Otherwise it would have been even tougher to eliminate them.

  After brushing off the ice chips of frozen skin, clothes, tissue, and bone, I stood near the door, looking at the stars. While I had been taking care of zombies it had gotten completely dark and the night sky was magnificent. No light pollution, the moon just rising in the east, and the frigid air made for some magnificent viewing. Remembering something Michelle had said, I went downstairs and took a shower. Then I gathered some blankets and a couple of sleeping bags, grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a two- liter of coke, and told Michelle to get some warm clothes on and come upstairs with me.

  “What in the world for?” she asked.

  “Trust me. I have something to show you.”

  She shrugged and began to get dressed. Outside the temperature was hovering around twenty degrees, and I led her by the hand to the back yard. The dead zombies in the street yard were not exactly romantic viewing.

  The whole world was dressed in white. It was very quiet, something I can’t get used to. Except for the occasional tracks of a rabbit, squirrel, or bird, I could see no signs of life in the nearly pristine snow. Off in the distance, a mile or more away, I could hear a dog barking. Then it stopped.

  For the first time since early summer we were outside without much risk. I’d taken care of the zombies, and they’re so slow it wouldn’t matter if I missed a few.

  The clarity of the stars was simply amazing. We lay our blankets down, then put our sleeping bags on top of them, put the bourbon, coke, and two glasses in the snow, and lay down side by side, snuggled together.

  “Wow . . .” She sighed with awe. “The stars. The real stars. And look how clear they are! I can’t remember the sky ever being this clear!” she exclaimed. As we lay there, entranced by the vision, the Northern Lights began to put on a show. I’d never seen them so bright. They were like moving curtains of light.

  Until you’ve seen the stars and Northern Lights with absolutely no light pollution, you haven’t really seen them. I used to marvel at how clear they were on the beach at Lake Menekaunee. They were dim compared to what we were seeing tonight. Sweeping currents of greenish-blue undulating curtains of light with an occasional hint of red. It was mesmerizing.

  Another difference was the horizon. I’m used to the horizon having a glow about it—faint when looking west, away from Detroit, but the eastern horizon was usually lit up with light pollution. Not anymore. The only way I could tell where the sky ended and the horizon began was the silhouette of snow covered trees and buildings.

  Up until around the turn of last century, everybody saw the stars this clearly. Even in the cities, there couldn’t have been much light pollution, with only oil lamps and gas lamps. The first city to get electric lights was Wabash, Indiana, back in 1880. Wabash is only a few hours from here. So even at the turn of the century, the night sky must have been magnificent. I was thinking what a waste it was to miss seeing a spectacular view like this, all so we could light our massive big box parking lots and freeways.

  Of course, those thoughts came to a dead end when it dawned on me that those parking lots and freeways are now dark, and for the foreseeable future, there would be no light pollution.

  I held Michelle’s mittened hand in my gloved hand. We had no need to spoil things with our little words. Being able to see the stars with this incredible level of detail made the universe more real somehow. Before, the stars looked great—but their impact tonight was much greater. There’s nothing like seeing cold infinity to help realize your own puny mortality, to get you in touch with the immensity and wonder of creation. In times past, when seeing nature in all its jaw-dropping splendor, I found it hard not to believe in a guiding power, a Maker, a being incomprehensible to my feeble mind. But tonight, lying in a dark and dead city, front yard littered with zombies, I saw chaos and the lack of Divine Intervention and thought, If God is there, He has deserted us. I pulled the bottles out of the snow and mixed us both a drink. Hers was heavy on the coke, mine was heavy on the bourbon. We sipped them in silence before Michelle started talking. She, too, was impacted by the beauty before us.

  “You know, it makes me sad to think everyone might soon be dead, and all of this incredible beauty won’t be seen or appreciated by anyone or anything. It would be like having a beautiful painting locked in a safe. All this useless beauty.”I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

  After only about fifteen or twenty minutes, we were both cold, so we took our blankets and went back inside. The moon was higher in the east. I wasn’t sure if it was waxing or waning, but I knew that a couple hours from now, the stars would not be nearly as impressive.

  Not only was it amazing to look at the night sky and Northern Lights, but it was astounding to not feel like we were in imminent danger. I think winter is my new favorite season.

  I’ve started craving a steak. A big, juicy ribeye, medium rare, hot off the grill from Knight’s, with a baked potato on the side, along with a pint of Founder’s Backwoods Bastard.

  I wonder if I’ll ever have another steak. I can’t imagine anyone alive has a working freezer chock full of them. Chances are, all the ribeyes in the world have been eaten or gone rotten. Shit. My only hope is that not all cattle-ranchers became zombies. Maybe there’s an Angus cattle rancher a just waiting for new customers.

  December 23rd

  Michelle decided to decorate for Christmas. I was at a loss. I haven’t decorated
for Christmas in years. Without Tammy around, I just didn’t see the point. I tried decorating the year after she died, but it just made things worse. Cheery Christmas decorations with nobody in the house but me was depressing. I wasn’t about to wrap presents for myself.

  She had decorations at her house, so we trudged over there. She has a small tree, some lights and ornaments. We took everything home, assembled the tree and decorated it together. She even put on some Christmas music, which is something else I don’t have. We heated up some wine and added some cinnamon and nutmeg, and soon sat back to enjoy the tree drinking our wassail.

  I must admit, it made the place look festive. And the lights reflecting in Michelle’s eyes—well, I was enchanted. I started nuzzling her neck, and my hand wandered between her legs. Before too long, we were both intoxicated from wassail, naked, making love under the tree. It was very romantic, a night I’ll not forget soon.

  The World is Just Us Two

  How can I give her the stars

  When I have no ladder tall

  How can I hand her the moon

  When I have no hands at all

  How can I give her my heart

  When my heart has crumbled away

  How can I promise tomorrow

  When I do not have today

  How can I offer my soul

  When my spirit died long past

  How can I give her my kingdom

  When destruction is all I’ve amassed?

  The stars are in my heart

  The moon is in her eyes

  My heart beats just for her

  Tomorrow is now’s demise

  My soul she already owns

  My spirit she breathes anew

  My kingdom is simply her heart

  And the world is just us two.

  December 24th

  I slept in today. I don’t think wine agrees with me. I had a headache in no way commensurate with how much wine I’d had. By the time I got up, the coffee was made.