by McKay, Faith
"Tammi."
"No, Marvin. This is it. We need new girls. It's not too late."
"We need girls who are willing and able to fight the undead," Marvin said. "They're going to have to be rambunctious."
"Rambunctious," Tammi scoffed. "We need good dancers. They're not getting it."
"Is this true, Tamara?" Willa asked. "What is the problem with their dancing?"
Tammi's stiff shoulders softened. "They can, they just aren't trying."
"Attitude problems are to be expected," Willa said.
"Tammi makes the most progress with them," Marvin said. "They only sass her so much. I've been leaving it to her."
"Thank you for your confidence, but getting them to stop playing around is not the same as making them work the way they need to."
"I disagree," Noah said.
"Of course you do," Tammi said.
"I think they need to play around some. I don't know why. Maybe it makes them feel safer. Maybe they just like to have fun. But I do think they're picking it up. I think they're going to have it together once we put them to the test. I framed fighting me as a test, and here's my shoulder."
"Perhaps," Tammi said.
Willa tapped the edge of her phone. "It's interesting that everyone is complaining about these girls but you, Noah," she said. "Either you're not a complainer and a bit of a glutton for punishment, or you're right, and these are the right girls for what we're doing here." She slid her phone into her bag and looked around the room. "It'll be interesting to see which it turns out to be, hmm?" She rose from her chair. "The final music video rehearsal is in three days. That will serve as your test, Noah."
"Trial by fire," Tammi said.
"It's what they signed up for," Willa said, as the door closed behind her.
"Somedays I get the impression I'm the only one who doesn't want to see these girls dead."
"That's not fair," Marvin said.
"I know, I know," Tammi said. "Sorry, Marvin."
He suspected that was Tammi's way of saying Noah was not excluded from that statement. If she was done fighting with him, he had nothing left to say, and a music video rehearsal to prepare for.
His office was the perfect refuge. He pulled up the videos from that day's lesson. He could see what Tammi meant. They weren't trying as hard as they could have been. They'd reacted to his dummies with either boredom or silliness. But if Willa's original dream for the band could work, and he believed it would, then these were the girls to do it. These five girls were fun and full of life, the perfect force to take down their exact opposite. The people would see that, and they'd be inspired. Eventually. He was sure of it. Ninety percent sure of it.
He checked the time. The band should have been home by then. He video-called Gerri and asked her to gather the other girls around the phone.
"Are we in trouble?" Dee asked.
"I wanted to have a talk."
Dee rolled her eyes. "We should not be in trouble. You're the one who told us to fight you! You should have to take some responsibility for that, you know? If you get hurt, or even if we get hurt, that's not really our fault, is it? You're our teacher! Safety is your job!"
"I agree one-hundred-percent," Noah said.
Dee was taken aback. "Well, good."
"I should have made something clear when we first met," he said. "I haven't explained what we're doing in our training."
"Fighting zombies?" Dee asked.
"It's more than that," Noah said. "Choreographing fights is about the entertainment value for the audience."
"We know that," Sadie told him.
"It's also about precision and safety. These fights have to be poetry—graceful, with a beauty that is precise, while also allowing for improvisation. Everything must appear intentional to the audience. All of this is put together to tell a story. In the music video we've been practicing for, we're telling the story of girls who can take down corpses on their own, but who are stronger when they work together as a group. I believe that's an important story to tell. Are you ready to tell that story with me?"
"Wow," Gerri said. "Gritty guy talk pretty."
"Swoonable," Dee agreed.
"Yes," Sadie said. "We can do that."
"Of course," Gerri said. "Geeze, Noah. You sure now how to get all dramatic when you want to."
Jo stepped out of the frame, ignoring him like she'd done at every opportunity since he'd first seen her. He was dying to know how she wound up in the band. He'd kill to know how she was, or just to have her look him in the face. But she didn't want anything to do with him; she'd made it perfectly clear when she'd flipped him onto the floor. She'd always been a better fighter than him, and had no qualms with letting everyone know. He was surprised she hadn't announced it to the class the first day. That was his first real clue that she wasn't the same.
He had to believe that, given enough time, everything would be okay. That's how things were with Jo—she got all mad, she didn't tell you why, and then one day, things were fine again. He just had to wait it out. He was sure of it. Eighty percent sure of it.
CARRIE
"You can't be serious."
"Of course I'm serious."
"Blink twice for sarcasm."
Sadie rolled her eyes, but kept them open. "Seriously, it would have so much impact. How could I not be serious? I've never been more serious in my life."
"A flamethrower? A flamethrower is what you're going to dedicate the most serious moment of your life to?"
"What's your problem with that?"
"I think everyone should have a problem with zombies on fire."
"You're short-sighted."
"Um, no. No. No. No." Carrie shivered in disgust. "I can just picture it. It's like I'm there."
Gerri looked up from her phone. "Does it smell like barbecue?"
"You are disgusting," Carrie said.
"Yeah," Sadie said, "that was pretty gross, Gerri."
"What?" She shrugged and went back to her phone. "I think I'm funny."
If they weren't going to even consider looking at any of Carrie's lyrics, they definitely weren't going to consider Sadie's flamethrower suggestion, especially with the final rehearsal for the music video in just a few days. It wasn't really going to happen, but that wasn't her true concern. "I don't see how you don't know you're wrong."
"Uh huh," Sadie said. "This is why you don't make a good first impression, just so you know."
"I make an excellent first impression," Carrie argued. "I made it through auditions, didn't I?"
"Yeah, I don't know how to account for that," Sadie said. "They must have not listened when you talked."
Carrie was suddenly very glad she hadn't ever mentioned that, for the most part, she hadn't actually spoken during tryouts.
Meghan clapped her way through the front door. "We've already been fed," Carrie told her. Once they'd had dinner and she'd given them some kind of lecture—which she surely thought of as a motivational speech—she usually left them alone for the night. She told them to go to sleep when she left, even if the sun was still up.
"You know what tomorrow is, ladies?"
"Beauty day!" Dee sighed happily.
"Hey, Sadie?" Gerri was picking at her nails. "Do you get half-price pedicures? Because you totally should."
"Oh my god!" Dee yelled. "You can't say that!" She looked to Sadie. "Right?"
"Correct," Sadie said. "If for no other reason than that joke isn't getting any funnier the more times I hear it."
"Yes," Meghan said, drawing the attention back to her. "Beauty day. And the next day you have your final rehearsal for the music video, which means, you officially have no more time for practice." She paused to let that sink in for a moment. "Do you all feel prepared? To both perform in that video, and to safely dispose of the corpse?"
Sadie crossed her arms. "Are you saying we shouldn't?"
"I'm saying to you, you awful brats of mine, don't disappoint me by doing something foolish, like dying." She patt
ed Dee on the head, and left the room.
"That was encouraging," Carrie said.
"She doesn't, like, actually think we're going to die, right?" Dee was checking her hair in a mirror. Carrie hadn't seen a hair out of place, but she undid her ponytail and put it back up while she talked. "Because that's not, I don't know, in my plans. They're going to have safety measures in place. We can't die. We're famous. They wouldn't let that happen."
"We're not famous yet," Gerri said.
"That's helpful," Carrie said. "I'm sure we're not going to die, Dee, for all the reasons you said. Plus, we're amazing, right? We can take down a couple of old zombies. The real thing to worry about here, is making a bad music video." She looked around at them all, waiting for it to sink in like Meghan had. "We have to live up to our brilliance if we're really going to stand out." They were all just standing around, like these words had no impact on them. Her therapist had long ago told her that if there was a root to Carrie's anxiety, it was her ambition. She couldn't remember what her therapist had said about that, but a calm had spread over her, a reassurance. Someday, when she achieved the kind of success that satisfied her own ambitions, she wouldn't be like this. She would be calmer, more able to deal with life. It made perfect sense. If Carrie worked hard enough, did enough, just kept going, then someday, she'd get over it. There was a cure, and it was being as amazing as she could possibly be. Rising to that challenge got her out of bed, kept her going, kept her believing that someday things would be okay. The rest of them looking bored was like being unmoved at your first ballet. What was wrong with these people? "We have to do our best," she added, when it had been quiet too long.
"Right," Sadie said. "Let's still worry about the not dying thing, I mean, that is a valid concern, but don't let it stop us from making the best video. Let's keep our priorities in sight."
"Exactly," Carrie said. She tried not to look at any particular one of them, but there were some known deficiencies in the group. Jo was often stiff while dancing; Dee used her short legs as an excuse every time she stumbled and regularly improvised her own fight moves instead of remembering the choreography; Gerri was more interested in playing the drums on her thighs than slashing knives at dummies. "Does everyone feel confident that they'll be able to get this video down? Should we practice some more?"
Sadie cleared her throat. "Does everyone feel confident that they'll be able to protect themselves during filming? Especially if one of the corpses goes off course and we have to improvise?" She shook her head. "Actually, scratch that, it's an awful question. How can we ever feel completely prepared? Let's be real here. We could always use a little more practice. Let's go ahead and practice right now."
"Now?" Gerri groaned. "Honey, that's crazy talk. We've been working all day."
"It'll be fun." Sadie was already pushing the furniture out of the way, and Carrie and Jo were helping her. "Pair up. Gerri with Jo, Carrie with Dee, and I'll tag people out and we'll keep switching it up."
Dee asked, "What do we do?"
And Gerri said, "Don't encourage her!"
They shoved the sofa Gerri was lounging on into the wall, and Gerri reluctantly stood up.
"Fight each other," Sadie said.
"Hold on," Carrie said. "How's that going to help us get the music video choreography down?"
"This is about improvising," Sadie said. "It's a way to get better at reacting."
"I don't think this is what Meghan had in mind when she came in here," Carrie said.
"Who knows what goes on in Meghan's mind?" Sadie asked. "For that matter, who wants to?"
"Uh, okay, I think I agree with Carrie," Dee said. "I know, it doesn't make sense. But seriously, should we be risking our faces? We have a photoshoot after the beauty day celebrations tomorrow."
"Celebrations?" Sadie asked. "Nevermind. Enough with the excuses. Anything goes from the neck down! Now, fight!"
"I suppose if you're only going to have one rule, that's a good one," Carrie said. Her and Dee were staring each other down. They hadn't ever been alone in a room together, and had barely spoken directly to each other. Maybe they wouldn't fight at all. Maybe they'd just look at each other until Sadie tagged them out and—
Dee bent down and punched Carrie hard in the thigh. When Carrie leaned forward in pain, Dee bumped her body from the side, knocking her to the ground. "Do I win?" Dee asked Sadie.
Carrie grabbed both her ankles and yanked, knocking Dee hard on her back. Carrie's thigh was sore, but it didn't hurt that bad, definitely not bad enough to knock the air out of her like Carrie's move had to Dee. Carrie scrambled on top of Dee and pinned her arms above her head. "Do you give up?" Carrie asked.
Dee's head lunged up, mouth open, and Carrie had to let go to avoid being bitten. She jumped up and backed away. "You rabid little monster!"
Dee rolled her eyes. "Does that mean you give up?"
Carrie fumed. Dee didn't seem that great in fight class; Noah was always correcting her. She obviously had the drive to win, and that was making up the difference. Carrie wasn't going to let anyone's drive outmeasure her own. Carrie was great at choreography. She made a wide sweep of her leg, a move she always remembered because it was similar to something she did in ballet, and Dee quickly backed away. It was one of the moves Dee was always complaining about in class, saying that it favored the tall. It distracted Dee, pissing her off, so she didn't see the palm of Carrie's hand coming up and slamming her hard in the chest.
That may have been a mistake, because when Dee looked up again, she really did look like a rabbid little monster. Carrie focused her breathing and readied herself for an attack.
"Hey! Hey! Okay," Sadie said, arms up between the two of them. Gerri and Jo were both on the ground on the other side of the living room, Jo rubbing her elbow and Gerri grumbling to herself. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
"I could have told you that," Carrie said, dropping her arms. "Oh, wait. I did."
"Me, too," Gerri said.
"I think we all kind of did," Dee said, still glaring at Carrie like she wasn't entirely decided on giving up the fight.
"I didn't say anything," Jo said. "But I could have."
"Well, then why'd you all do it?" Sadie shoved the furniture back into place, not bothering to wait for the others to get out of the way. "It's not like I made you!"
"Hey, wait," Carrie said. "We should still practice, that was right."
"And how do you want to do that?"
"We could teach each other," Carrie said. "Jo's great with this fight stuff, she could show us." She'd meant to say that Jo was the best with the fighting, but the sentence had almost strangled her. It was close enough; the message got across.
Jo's eyes widened marginally, but her face quickly settled back into that cool mask she always wore. "You all know how to fight."
"But you could critique us. We do this in dance all the time, and we've been doing it in fight class. Everyone line up. We'll practice some of the things we already know, Jo can look at our form, and let us know what she sees."
"Sounds safer," Sadie conceded.
"And also like more work," Gerri said. "Am I the only one who's tired around here? I mean, I'm all for bonding by beating the snot out of each other, but I could be online right now. Or sleeping. Or doing anything else."
"You couldn't even," Dee said. "The internet is down. Again."
That happened a lot: internet blackouts. God forbid you complain about it when an older person was around, though—they loved to talk about how lucky they were to have internet at all. "Back in my day, the internet was down more than it was up! Kids today have no idea how lucky they are!" Then they'd talk about how long it took them just to get the shoddy cell phone service working. Carrie was never moved. Like, I'm sorry that you had a tough time with your internet a million years ago, that doesn't help me get it working now.
"Well I could still be doing something else that's better," Gerri said. "Like refreshing my browser until it turns back on."
&
nbsp; "Like Sadie said: no one's making you," Carrie said. "If you want to miss out on the fighting and be the one who doesn't know what to do when a loose zombie grabs at you, go right ahead." Gerri stared at her, and Carrie stared right back, refusing to be intimidated. She expected Gerri to shrug it off and join the group. She didn't. Her door slammed hard enough to crack. It would have, if it were made of something cheaper. Carrie'd broken her own door slamming it after her mother died. "Okay," she said, swallowing down the memory. "Everyone ready?"
DEE
That Jo girl could actually get real chatty about killing corpses. Except she didn't say killing, but "put to rest." She really believed it was some kind of noble service. She talked a lot about ways to bring the fight to their quickest close, like she had completely forgotten the whole killing zombies thing was about entertainment value. But Dee figured that as far as weird survivalist things went, this wasn't so bad. Especially since she mostly kept it to herself. And with Gerri out of the room, no one said anything to her about it. So it was okay. Still, though. It was weird.
While Dee was still waiting for the day she'd get her new wardrobe, tomorrow was a close second. It was all about giving them a good base, a desperate catch up for some of them. If she was being completely honest, she'd fallen into such disrepair the past few weeks that she wasn't in much better shape. Cracked nails. Split ends. Blackheads. Tomorrow would fix all that, finally.
Clear skin, a manicure, a couple dead zombies, and then fame!
It was going to be a good week.
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Chapter Eleven
JO
She wasn't sorry that she'd hurt Noah's shoulder. She knew that would appall her family, if they were talking to her. They'd be proud she'd bested him in a fair fight, but appalled she was glad she'd hurt him. It wasn't that she was vengeful for all he'd done, but that he'd had the gall to look her in the eye and say, “I'm a corpse.” Inexcusable.
