The other guys freaked out.
Tiff jumped straight into the air and landed in Paul's arms. His knees were trembling. Tiff was crying and yanking on her hair, then she yanked on Paul's hair. He didn't even try to stop her. Nora asked if they were all right – if they wanted out of the contest/challenge/game/event we all just signed up for. They said they wanted to stay – that they were strong – and they sniffed and wiped the snot off their faces and smiled. Forcefully. BIG smiles. Teeth shinning white. Eyes worried. I didn't smile. We were wasting time. I was going to win this thing, I knew it. I HAD to win. This was my purpose. For years, I always heard of people growing up not having a clue what they wanted to do with their lives. These people – these adults – went to college and spent thousands of dollars for nothing. They either couldn't find a job or they DID find work they specialized in, but they hated everything about it (even IF they were making a shit load of money). It wasn't what they loved doing.
They had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives.
But I knew.
Right there and then, I knew.
Zombie hunting was for me. And I was going to win that day. I could feel it in my bones. My whole body was singing – cheering me on. I was vibrating success.
Nora opened her arms to us.
“Now. Time for the first game.”
We walked a little deeper into the forest. It rained a little. We climbed down some rocks and came to a stream. Across that was a tall fence with an old gate in the shape of a screaming demon – the teeth made of swords. Damn gate looked like something you'd see in Conan: The Barbarian. The fence was rusty, made of thick bars topped with arrows. It ran far down the stream on both ends. Behind the fence were wooden crosses, all sticking out from the ground at different angles. The ground was littered with white rocks that were once, I imagined, headstones. Nora turned to us. Sweat ran down her face. Her hair was all sticky...stringy.
“Across this stream,” she said, “is Novac Cemetery. If you folks haven't heard of it, it's because it's a secret – and sacred – place only known to master zombie murderers, such as myself. It's a place of practice. Sometimes I come here just to blow off some steam. Many zombies here. They never stop coming.” She smiled when she said it.
Tiff looked at me. She looked scared. Her chin trembled. Nora jumped forth and shook her shoulders.
“If you wanna leave, do it now!” Nora said. “I can't have you dying on me. I can't take the guilt....”
Tiff words came out fast and nervous:
“I'm ready,” she said. “I'll do whatever you ask.”
Nora looked sad.
“I don't believe you. But it's your call.”
A British man walked out of the woods and greeted us. Nora wasn't surprised. The British fellow pulled on a rope as thick as a man's calf muscle, and five zombies moaned out of the woods, eyes covered with blindfolds. This long rope was driven straight through their bellies, connecting one zombie to another. At the end of the line was a skinny, British woman that carried around a huge, golden ax.
The British man tipped his small hat to Nora.
“Mo'ning!”
Nora didn't smile at them.
“Early, I see,” she said, eyeing out the zombies that just stood there.
The British man, always smiling, nodded.
“Yes, yes...our work never stops. People always needing more things to practice on and throw things at, ha ha ha.” He looked at Tiff and me. “Still training?”
Nora nodded.
“You can call it that.”
“And what would you call it?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Nora said. “Let's just say...some kind of rebirth.”
I looked at the British woman. She was staring right at me. She smiled and winked. The British man yanked on the rope.
“Come on, you hooligans. Mush!”
They walked the line of zombies over the stream and shoved them right into the cemetery. The zombies sniffed the air. The British team took off their blindfolds, then gave the rope a good yank. The thing made a zipping sound on its way out. A clean hole was left behind. I could see straight through those zombies. They looked around in wonder and stumbled about...slowly...arms out...all just walked off in a daze. The British team waved goodbye to us and walked down along the stream and vanished behind a large boulder.
Nora walked to the stream and took off her high heels and stepped into the water. She turned around.
“We'll do this by age. Let the oldest of you three step forward.”
Paul walked to her. His hands were shaking. Nora noticed. Paul saw that she noticed, so he bit into his hands to calm them. It worked, and Nora nodded.
“Very good,” she said. She took his shoulders and turned him around to face us.
“Paul will cross the stream and fight a zombie...or zombiesss. Like you, he has no training. I believe in fate. It will decide if he will win...or die.” She paused. “He may not make it back.”
Paul's eyes blew up. He swallowed an imaginary fly. Nora went on.
“If you've got something to say to him, better say it now.”
No one said anything. Nora looked at Paul's wet face.
“If you win the fight, you may cross back. Then, the next oldest must go and fight.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“If fate finds you deserving, you will become a zombie hunter. This is a test of the heart, of the soul. Let your instincts guide you. Do what comes naturally. Make me proud.”
Paul took in a deep breath (shoulders going up high, then down) and crossed the stream. Mr. Rose was already at the gate. He took out a Gothic key and opened the huge lock, undid the chains, and opened the gate. Paul walked in...very, very slowly...like a chicken.
I knew then he was going to die.
He tiptoed around the crosses, head whipping here and there, listening for anything weird. It was like another world across that stream: The trees were thinner; the place was darker, muddier – depressing – like the sun was afraid to shine on it. Paul heard something and spun around. His face was covered in sweat. Or was it tears?
A cross shook...and then it was pulled into the ground. Paul cried out and gripped his heart. A hand shot out from the mud. Paul looked around and picked up a pointy stick. The zombie crawled out from its grave and rolled around on the mud. I kept thinking, Dammit, Paul, now's your chance! Kill it! Do something!
But he just stood there and stared at the odd creature. He was petrified!
The zombie was a woman in a wedding dress. At least I thought it was female. I couldn't tell because its face was meatless – nothing but dirty bone with a grin that was all teeth. Worms fell out of its eye-holes. The zombie kept snapping its jaw, making an unnerving sound, like someone banging wooden blocks together. It sounded somewhat musical. Paul took a step back and, of course, fell down. He just stared and stared, just letting the damn zombie walk toward him. And it wasn't even a fast walk. She walked like she had problems, like she was possessed by the shakes. Paul's mouth opened up, but no sound came out. His eyes were so wide at that point, he looked humorous. The zombie was almost on him. I don't know what got into me, but I stepped forward to help! I felt hands on me. It was Mr. Rose. He squeezed my shoulders tight, and I went down on my knees.
I think I heard Nora go, “Hmmm”.
Right when the beast was on him, Paul yelped and shot up and made a mad dash toward us, toward the stream. The zombie fell forward and grabbed his ankle. He fell and rolled over and kicked the zombie's head off. Bad idea, I thought. You had to kill the brain (everyone knew that part), but with the head so far away from him, he didn't have a chance.
And that was true.
The zombie climbed his body.
Rotting hands blasted out of the ground and held Paul's limbs down as the bride zombie tore his neck open and played around with his insides. It looked like she was searching for her lost wedding ring. Tiff looked away and vomited all over her feet. Nora gazed at the ground and shook her
head. The bride zombie stood and, with its arms out, walked around. It stepped on its own head, shattering it into pieces, and the zombie fell over...dead.
I felt sick.
Old, buried memories came flashing across my eyes – of my dad with all those zombies swimming over him.
Nora sighed.
“Let him go,” she told Mr. Rose.
He loosened his grasp on me. I shot up and made to punch him. Nora held me back. Mr. Rose smiled and backed away and held his hands up. He smiled. This all meant nothing to him. Just another day in the woods with people getting killed by zombies, he was thinking. Oh, well....
Nora cupped my face in her hands. She could tell I was fuming mad.
“Boss, I believe you're next,” said. “Use your energy wisely.”
I nodded and crossed the stream. I tried not looking at Paul's trembling, dead body, but I couldn't help it. The zombie-hands pulled down all together, and Paul exploded in a brilliant red splash.
I screamed out like a girl.
Silence.
Then I heard Tiff weeping...then birds chirping...then the wind whispering nonsense into my ears. I yanked free a cross made of two sticks and tore it apart. I stood there with those two stakes in hand, waiting.
I just waited.
And waited.
A tumbleweed bounced by.
There was no need to walk around. I could feel them all around me. Might as well conserve my energy and wait for them to come to me. Somehow, I could sense Nora agreeing with me.
I heard a groan and turned to my left. A zombie climbed out from a brown puddle. It wore a yellow hardhat and a tool belt – a variety of screwdrivers and hammers included. This zombie had a long beard that ran down to his bullhead-shaped belt buckle. Like the bride zombie, his head was a bare skull. BUT, this one was quick. It still walked funny, but it walked with a purpose. It opened its mouth. The zombie made to moan, but no sound came out, only a rat. The pest bounced on the ground and zipped back up the zombie's leg, disappearing into a hole in its torn pants. I ran up to the zombie, screaming, and ran my stakes into its eye sockets. Nora cheered me on, yelling things. The zombie fell back against a tree. I grabbed the zombie's hammer and pounded the stakes deeper. The zombie held my shoulders.
It didn't seem to care.
Maybe it wanted to die.
I tossed the hammer over my shoulder and grabbed the stakes and started mixing. The brain inside the skull turned to mush. I could feel it – like mixing tough dough. Then the rats came. As if the zombie was controlling them via undead ESP, the rats ran out from behind the zombie's bones, zigzagging up my arms and bit me! I grabbed each one and threw them away. One of those mini bastards took a trip around my neck. Its rat-claws felt like needles against my skin. I reached around and took hold of the rat and shoved it into the zombie's mouth and pushed the monster back into the puddle.
I made too much noise.
Damn!
More zombies were coming: From behind trees, from out puddles, from under the ground...some even fell from trees (one zombie had a bird's nest on its head, baby birds chirpin' for Mama). Dead-hands popped out of the ground, reaching around for my feet. At one point, I was jumping around like a football player at practice, trying to avoid the bastard-hands. Then living-dead faces popped up from the mud, trying to bite me. Somewhere, a baby was weeping. All too confusing. I cried out to Nora.
“Have I murdered enough zombies?! Can I come back now???” I asked, still hopping around like a damn fool.
I was trying to smile.
Nora yelled back, hands waving: “Come on back!”
She looked pleased.
“I am pleased!” she yelled.
Mr. Rose opened the squeaky gate, and I ran through huffing and puffing. He slammed the gate shut with a BANG. The zombies stuck their arms through, hands hungry. I ran over that stream with zero heroism, zero grace – afraid for my odd life. I lost my footing and fell in the shallow stream, and for a second I thought I was drowning. I took in a mouthful of water. Total fear and confusion. My brain was on fire.
It all sunk in then: I came this close to getting eaten by zombies.
Nora dragged me out of the stream and gave me mouth-to-mouth. I didn't even know my insides were filled with water. I just kept thinking about zombies. My mind was betraying me. I kept picturing zombies eating me out. I didn't know if I was afraid or excited. Maybe there is no difference.
Next thing I knew, I was coughing up so much water. Even a small fish. It flopped on my stomach. I think that Mr. Rose-guy snatched it up and ate it. Actually...I'm pretty sure I remember him doing that.
Mr. Rose and Tiff and Nora standing over me. They were clapping. I was helped up to my feet by someone. Then I heard weird sounds. Complaining sounds? Was someone crying? I wasn't sure. My ears were filled with liquid.
After a minute, I was back to “normal”.
Tiff, weeping a storm....She was up next.
Tiff forced herself to go, to cross that stream. She was crying, and Nora tried talking her out of it, but the girl didn't want to quit. I remember thinking, Just quit. You don't wanna do it, then don't do it. At this point, you're just being stubborn. You've already lost. Accept it. Quit. It's respectable. I heard Tiff mumbling to herself, motivating herself as she tiptoed across the stream. She was saying something like, “I need this money. I don't wanna be a waitress anymore. Please, God, let me win. Just give me my monies. I just want my own, quiet place. I can do this. I MUST do this. Anything is better than working at a job.”
I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. A part of me wanted her to win. Can you believe it? In a stupid way, a part of me wanted her to win.
The zombies were still there – walking around with nothing much to do – strolling around, uninspired. Tiff walked into the cemetery, and Mr. Rose, using a very long stick, shut the gate behind her and ran off. I think he was smiling. Tiff looked over her shoulder, right at me, our eyes locking. I thought, Tiff, pick up a stake. Do what I did. To my surprise, she looked around and took apart a cross and held the two sticks close to her chest.
She walked toward the woods, into the center of the cemetery.
The zombies sniffed the air and jumped her.
Mr. Rose made a whining sound and began yelling.
“Tiff! Oh, God!”
Nora and I looked at him, then looked at each other, then back at him.
Tiff screamed out for help. A zombie had her in a headlock. She started punching the zombie in the gut. Much gore fell out, but nothing useful happened. Mr. Rose yelled again.
“You can do it, baby!”
Baby?
The zombies tugged on her arms and legs, holding Tiff up in the air! Mr. Rose took hold of his long stick.
“I'm coming, Honey! Baby!” He ran to the gate, fiddling with the lock. “Honey-baby!”
Nora just stood there.
“I knew it,” she said. “You cheating bastard! I hope they eat her all up!”
Mr. Rose called out for help, but Nora turned around and folded her arms. I was tempted to help, but what if she jumped on me? Nora was a total mystery. I had no idea what she was capable of. Honestly, I was more afraid of her than I was of the zombies. Mr. Rose opened the gate and began hitting the zombies with his stick, bashing them on the head. More zombies in the scene now – so much, I could barely make out Mr. Rose and Tiff. I heard them screaming – calling for my help. Calling out MY name.
I broke and ran to them.
Nora grabbed my shirt and threw me to the ground. I crawled back like a crab. My mind raced. All right, I thought. If I have to fight this crazy dame, then that's just how it's gonna be.
Nora took in a deep breath, rolled her eyes, and ran to the cemetery. She fought those zombies. It was an amazing display of martial arts action. But it was too late for Mr. Rose and Tiff. The zombies already had their limbs, munching on them like greedy slobs. One zombie had Tiff's hand in its mouth (I could tell by her yellow-painted fingernails). The hand
stuck out, fist opening and closing.
Nora was is trouble.
She didn't scream out for help. I ran to the gate, but she kicked it shut, separating me from the zombies that tried to reach out and rip my face off. They had her. They tore her clothes off and ate her out – at her life-giving bits. She didn't scream out.
Not once.
In fact...I saw her smile.
I vomited all over the zombies behind the fence, and I ran down the stream with my hands over my face.
It was all my fault.
That's just how I honestly felt.
I went back to the condo and told everyone what happened. They began to worry about paying the rent. I told them we'd all have to get jobs. They didn't like hearing it. Many of them just sat down on the carpet with their legs crossed, meditating with great-big smiles on their faces. Some of them began singing – some kind of Jesus song about how everything was going to be all right.
“Just put your faith in the Lord,” they sang. “Just put your FAITH in the Lord.”
These damn hippies, I thought. Some of you guys are 10 years older than me, and you're acting like little kids without a care in the world.
People began arguing about who was going to work. No one wanted to do it. More and more people sat down and crossed their legs and just joined the other people as they meditated – as they blocked their brains from reality. It was like they were sleeping. People sleeping their problems away. It was a sign of depression.
A young woman walked up to me and asked about Tiff, about how she died. I told the sad tale, and the girl nodded.
“I told her to stay away from that man,” she said. “Tiff was always too thickheaded to listen to reason. She always has something to prove.” She paused. “I mean...had.”
This girl was named Lynn. I never saw her before. She said she was new – that Nora saved her from a zombie in Waikiki when she swimming. “Damn thing almost pulled me under!” Lynn said. “Must've been walking around down there for months, maybe years!”
Nora offered her a place to stay.
“I never want to go back home,” she told me. “I like it here. I hate my parents. They've been trying to control me my whole life. Maybe I don't wanna be a nurse. Maybe I don't wanna go back to school. Did you know that in a thesaurus, another word for college is prison? Maybe I don't wanna marry Alfredo Malltabon just because his family is rich. They wanted me to milk him for all he's worth, understand? These are my damn parents. Living in fear, always complaining about being poor. Always complaining about money. I'm sick of it.” She gave me a serious look. “I'll work for my spot here.”
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