Zomtropolis

by A. P. Fuchs

  “Better make a choice, man,” Jay said.

  “We go right,” I said, and readied the piece of curb in my hand.

  As we went down the street, the couple undead that were there started toward us.

  “Keep moving,” I said.

  “Duh.”

  More zombies started in down the street up ahead.

  Jay growled and shouted, “That’s it!” The boom of his voice sent a jolt through my ribcage and launched my heart into a panic. He ran toward the undead, waving his arms and screaming like a banshee. He didn’t touch them, but kept several feet away, all the while yelling at the top of his lungs and jumping up and down on the pavement.

  No response.

  “They don’t care!” I called after him, the whole setting me at unease.

  Still screaming, Jay took a swing at the dead businessman to his left, socking the guy in the head.

  “Great,” I muttered and tore off after him. Idiot.

  Arm cocked, I hurled the chunk of curb at the blonde, anorexic-looking chick coming up on the side. The curb struck her in the forehead, bounced off, and left a splat of blood in its wake. She dropped to her knees, eyes fixed forward, and fell over. I grabbed Jay by the shoulders as he kicked the business zombie in the nuts.

  “We got to go!” I said.

  The blonde crawled on the ground toward us.

  “AAAHHHHH!” Jay’s scream rang in my ears as I steered him away from the two undead.

  We bolted down the next street and, now familiar with my surroundings, led him on a bee-line to my place. At one point I had to stop and throw up, my gut hurt so bad from the stitch in my side. Warm, brown mushy hit the pavement, worms from the night before.

  “You all right?” Jay asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, catching my breath. “Just sick of running.”

  “Me, too.” He took me by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

  As we walked down the street, a tingle came over me. Something was wrong. I glanced over my shoulder and there, heading into an alley across the way, was Selena.

  I grabbed Jay. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  Selena had already gone into the alley. I didn’t know if I should go after her, if I was hallucinating or what.

  “What?” Jay said again. “What did you see?”

  I exhaled a slow sigh. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “Unlikely.” He tugged on my arm again. “We’re leaving. Tell me which way to go.”

  I went with him, all the while periodically checking over my shoulder to see if Selena would come out of that alley. How many times was that now that I saw her, killed her, come back, saw her die, saw her in a group of zombies—I’ve lost count to tell you the truth.

  Something’s seriously wrong, either with me or with her or maybe even both. I couldn’t tell Jay about her living and dying yet. I still needed to figure it out for myself. What was certain, though, was I was running out of time.

  My sanity was going quickly.

  ·38: Panic Attack

  My apartment building was clear except for a couple zombies lingering in the hallways. Jay and I decided it best to just motor on past them and get to my suite as fast as we could. When we got to my suite’s door, we counted to three then opened it, ready for the dead to come out, mouths open, arms outstretched. Instead, we found the place deserted and everything a mess.

  The couch cushions were off and on the floor. My kitchen table was turned over, likewise with a couple of chairs. My clothes, dishes, and garbage littered the floor like a second carpet.

  I checked for my computer. It was on the floor, the laptop’s monitor nearly snapped off its hinge. I’m writing to you on it now. Still have the telecom handheld unit, though.

  Jay and I paced the apartment several times, checking and re-checking for any undead that might be hiding. The closets were empty. The few items that remained in the cupboards were on the floor, nothing else within.

  “Disgusting,” Jay said as he lifted up his foot and showed me the crap on the bottom of his shoe.

  As if seeing it suddenly triggered my senses, the stench of the dead and the funk they brought in with them pierced my nostrils. I gagged, and had to hold myself back from throwing up.

  “Nasty,” I said. “Wonder if I should even bother cleaning it up?”

  “You kidding me?”

  “Don’t want to touch the stuff.”

  “You’re going to have to if we’re going to stay here.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s my apartment, my call.”

  “Yo, man, I ain’t stickin’ around with poop and blood and who knows what else all over the place.”

  “You want to touch it, be my guest.” I left the room and went to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of my bed and put my head into my hands.

  Heart pounding, a sharp pain spiking through it over and over, it was hard to catch my breath.

  So much happening. So much has happened.

  Concentrating as best I could, I worked on slowing my breathing, my lungs and ribs feeling as if a boa constrictor was squeezing and inching them closer and closer to my body.

  Decisions needed to be made. I was tired of running. Tired of sitting here typing and whining about my life and Selena.

  If Jay was anything right now, he was my anchor and a reminder of what interaction with real live human beings was all about.

  The sound of shuffling objects came from the other room. I assumed Jay was cleaning up.

  Should probably go help him, I thought.

  When I stood up from the bed, it was as if a fresh pair of arms wrapped around me anew and every breath was shallow. I was on my knees before I knew it, my chest aching, heart throbbing. Heart attack? No numbness in my left arm and, from what I’d heard, a heart attack is supposed to feel like someone is sitting on your chest. That wasn’t the case here. There was no pressure against my chest; it was just hard to breathe, each sip of air I took quick and shallow.

  I was going to call out to Jay for help, but I could barely speak.

  What was I so afraid of? Had I just taken everything on the chin until now and suddenly my body decided to feel the pain of those blows all at once? I’ve been through worse situations than coming home to a zombie-wrecked apartment. Why now?

  Above the humming in my ears, Jay screamed from the other room. “Nononononono . . . . No way! Get out now! Nuh-uh. Not you!”

  I crawled on my hands and knees to my bedroom door, then flopped myself out onto the hallway floor.

  If I thought I already had trouble breathing, it got even harder because Selena just stepped in through my apartment door.

  “Stay back! Get out of here!” Jay yelled at her.

  He saw her, I thought. That means she is real. I’m not crazy.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Where’s Marty?”

  “Marty? You know him?” Jay yelped. “I can’t even believe I’m talking to you.”

  Selena turned around and saw me. “Marty!” She ran down the hallway and got on her knees beside me. “What’s going on? Marty, what’s wrong?”

  “Can’t . . . bre . . . breathe . . .” I said. It was so good to see her again, and despite the panic attack, her being there brought me peace.

  “Here, sit up.” She got her arms underneath me and I put my own strength into it as she helped me up. She put her hands on mine. “You got to stay still. Calm down.”

  “Dude, don’t touch her!” Jay said.

  “Wh-what?”

  “What’s wrong with you!” Selena screamed.

  Jay rushed over to her, arm and palm held out at his side like a hockey stick. When he got up to her, he smacked her across the head.

  “Jay!” I coughed. Each breath pumped in and out at a rapid rate. Light-headed, green rimming my vision, I forced myself to get up and pull Jay off of Selena right before he was about to bring his fist down on her head.

  “Stop . . .” When I spoke, it was barely a whisper.

&nb
sp; “You don’t want this, man,” Jay said.

  “Don’t . . . I . . . love her.”

  He stared at me a moment then rolled his eyes.

  Selena looked at me as if she couldn’t believe what I just said, yet her eyes conveyed a sense of surprise instead of anger or disappointment.

  “She’ll kill you,” Jay said.

  She already had, I thought. How many times is that now? “Need . . . to . . .” The last thing I remember was my legs giving out beneath me.

  ·39: The Disappearing-Reappearing Girl

  When I came to, I was lying on the kitchen floor. Jay stood over me. To my right, Selena was tied to a chair, hands and body bound with stato-rope. Red streaks ran down her pale cheeks.

  It broke my heart to know she had been crying.

  “Jay . . .” I managed, then had to take a deep breath. What I really wanted to say was, “I’ll kill you.”

  Jay held out his hand and helped me up. The moment I got to my feet, a sharp pulse of pain blossomed at the base of my skull. My temples ached and my kitchen went fuzzy.

  “Just chill out, dude,” Jay said. “You hit the ground pretty hard.”

  I rubbed my head. “Yeah, you sent me there.” I didn’t know if I should pop him one first then rescue Selena, or simply go after the girl.

  My sweetheart looked at me, her eyes pleading for help.

  “You son of a–” Before I could finish, my fist snapped out and caught Jay square in the jaw. He fell back against the counter. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threw him by the kitchen door, then slammed him into the wall beside the fridge. I leaned into him hard, pressing my forearm into his neck.

  His eyes already began to bulge out of their sockets. When he spoke, his voice was rough and squeaky. “She’s . . . dangerous. Don’t . . . trust . . .you have to . . . please . . . let me . . . breathe.”

  I glanced over at Selena. “Don’t kill him, but give him one for me.”

  I nodded and punched Jay in the gut with my free hand. I let go of him and he slumped to the floor.

  “See . . .” he said, coughing. “She’s dangerous.”

  I opened the drawer next to me and pulled out a steak knife, then immediately got to work loosening Selena’s bonds.

  The moment she was free, she stood, marched over to Jay and kicked him in the head. “Bastard!”

  She recoiled into my arms. Violence wasn’t her thing.

  “It’s okay,” I said softly. “I’ll send him on his way.” I took her face in my hands. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, sniffled, then said, “I’ll live.”

  Jay held out a hand. “Wait.” He coughed. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Then you can explain to me what you were doing tying her up and knocking me to the ground.” I looked at my knife, making sure Jay saw me do so. “Don’t think I wouldn’t.”

  “Just hear me out,” he said, and carefully got to his feet. He held out his hands in front of him in a seeming gesture of trust.

  “Marty, who is this guy?” Selena asked.

  “Someone I met while trying to outrun the undead. How do you know him?”

  “I don’t.”

  “He sure acts like you do. Ex-boyfriend?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “As if.”

  “Better start talking, Jay. I’m giving you ten . . . then I’m throwing you out.”

  “Her” –he pointed at Selena– “I’ve seen her before.”

  “So?”

  “No, you don’t get it. I’ve seen her, man. Outside, on the street. She walks with the dead. Sometimes she’s all nice and pretty, like she is now. Other times she barely has a face left. But I recognize those eyes. I’ve seen her at least a dozen times. I’ve seen her . . . eat.”

  I took a step closer, but Selena jerked me back to my place.

  “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Just get him out of here.”

  “Please, Marty, I’m telling the truth.” Jay’s eyes were wide, sincere.

  I didn’t know what to believe. How was it possible that he’d “seen” her a dozen or so times?

  But I’ve seen her several times, sometimes like this, sometimes deadly. She dies, comes back, dies, comes back, I thought.

  I turned to Selena. “I don’t know what to say, baby.”

  “I do,” she said. “Give me the knife.”

  I lifted the hand with the knife high up so she couldn’t reach it.

  “Give me the knife, Marty.”

  “No.”

  “Now.”

  “No.”

  She walked toward me. I backed into Jay. Instead of attacking me, he caught me and helped me stand up straight again.

  He leaned over my shoulder. “She’s dangerous, man.” He pulled my arm with the knife down. “Come on, do it. Just end her before she eats us.”

  “She’s not a zombie,” I said. To Selena: “You’re not, are you?”

  “No, of course not! How could you even say–you know what? I was a fool to come here. Forget it. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

  Selena turned around and took the other way out of the kitchen.

  I blocked her before she could get to the main door. “Wait.”

  “No.”

  “Jay?”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Get out.”

  “Fine, man, whatever.” He went passed us and opened the door. Before he left, he pointed at me and said, “You’ll be dead by morning.”

  ·40: Two Bodies

  Selena was on the couch, lying on her side, her legs on my lap. I sat there massaging her feet as she slept, thinking to myself how beautiful she was.

  “Why’d you come looking for me?” I asked quietly, not wanting to wake her. “Out of everyone else, you came here.” For a moment, I forgot I was looking at someone who had the uncanny ability to die and come back to life over and over. “Why you, sweetie? Why you?” Why me? “I always dreamed you and I would be together again. Just couldn’t have imagined it’d be in a world like this, and that you, of all people, would tear me apart like you have. I’ve lost you so many times I’ve lost count. Are you real?” I sighed. “I know you are. Jay saw you, too. So it’s not just me. But what are you? You can’t be one of . . . one of the dead because they don’t come back to life once they’re killed, they don’t come back beautiful and pure like you do.”

  Selena quivered. I put the back of my hand against the skin of her arm, thinking she might be cold. Instead, her skin was warm, but I thought maybe I should get her a blanket anyway.

  Just as I moved to stand and place her feet on the couch cushion, she said, “No. Not . . . don’t . . .”

  “Selena?”

  “I SAID NO!” With a yell, she jerked awake, sat upright, and stared straight ahead, breathing in and out good and hard.

  “Hey,” I said softly, and reached out to her. The moment I touched her shoulder, she screamed and bolted up from the couch so fast my own heart jumped into panic mode.

  She stood there, frozen, staring at me.

  We stood there together, and I waited for the moment to pass.

  Selena took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just had a bad dream.”

  Bad dream? I thought. I’ve heard this before. From her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

  She put her hands on her hips and breathed steadily in and out. “So real,” she said to herself.

  I had to know. Was just she prone to nightmares or was this something else? She never said anything while we dated. “Tell me.”

  She sat back down on the couch. I sat beside her. Gently, I placed my hand on her back and rubbed it. “It’s okay. If you want to talk, I’m here.”

  “So real,” she said again. Then, “It was dark. Some kind of hallway with silver walls. Silver floors and ceiling, too. Had it not been so dark, I’m sure it would have been beautiful. The air had this lemon-like scent, but also this funky stench of garbage.

  �
�There were footsteps, Marty. Soft ones that dragged on the ground. At the other end of the hallway was a humanoid shadow. The way it held itself–it had to be dead, you know, like those things. I ran when it started moving toward me. No matter how fast I ran, it was like the creature was able to keep pace despite how horribly it moved.

  “Then the sounds started, the calls of the undead as their moans filled the hallway. When I looked to see where the sounds came from, a pack of girl zombies were not far behind, twenty or thirty feet. All dark hair and pale skin. They didn’t seem too decayed or rotten, but their jerky movements and shuffling feet were enough to tell me they were the undead as well. I kept running through the halls, all that silver making one hallway look like the next. No way out. Then the undead grabbed me and pulled me to the ground. Immediately they crouched down around me and clawed at my hospital gown. Once they tore through that, they started digging into me with their fingers. Eventually they broke through my skin . . . and started into my flesh. Blood gushed out, spraying me, then, everything. Their bloodsoaked hands pulled out my stomach, intestines, kidneys–all that was within me.”

  The same dream, the one she had before when she came here. I couldn’t forget it. Not when it scared her so much. Not a dream where my baby was killed.

  “You’re safe here,” I said, not really believing it myself. The undead had come here before. Who was to say they wouldn’t again.

  “I’m scared, Marty,” she said.

  “You’re safe.” I put my arm fully around her and squeezed her gently. She lay her head on my shoulder. A moment late she reached around the front of me and wrapped her arms around me. They way she held me in her arms, so tight, so sure–I felt her shake as I returned the embrace.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I said. “I’ve got you.”

  She just squeezed me tighter.

  A flurry of emotions ran through me, and I didn’t know if this embrace was solely because of the dream or because maybe–just maybe–she still cared about me.

  Why– “–are you doing this?” I didn’t mean for the words to come out.