Neeta Lyffe, Zombie Exterminator

by Karina Fabian

  (When Miguel related what he’d told Twiddle to do with his lawsuit, she’d almost signed the contract unseen.)

  And Nasir—not a real stand-out, but more than capable, and he came from so far for this.

  She was sitting on the toilet lid in her white bathrobe, combing back her hair and mulling over her decision, when the doorbell rang. She got up and lugged herself to the door and peeked through the peephole. If it was a reporter, she was going to disable the bell and go settle down with a book.

  Instead she saw Ted and Roscoe jostling to peek back at her.

  She undid the door limiter and pulled it open.

  “I have got to knock on this door more often,” Ted said before she could ask what was up.

  “Oh, gawd, do you read Ask Loreli, too?” Roscoe asked.

  Behind them Gordon stood with arms behind his back and eyes looking at the porch ceiling.

  They were all dressed up, even Ted, who wore a silky white shirt and dark jeans. She was so glad he’d topped it with a vest patterned in flames.

  “Nice vest,” she said.

  “Like it? I got it today. I love it.”

  There was also a new guy, wearing a suit and an admiring smirk on his face. In his hand was an envelope.

  “If you’ve got a subpoena for Neeta Lyffe, she’s not here.”

  “Oh, girlfriend, you are so all there,” Roscoe purred.

  Some days, she didn’t understand that man. “What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on?” Ted repeated. “Honestly, did you check your phone messages at all today?”

  “Well, I—” Her hand dropped to her jeans pocket. She touched terry cloth instead.

  Her hands went to her rapidly heating face. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered. She peeked through her fingers just enough to catch Mrs. Westerman’s face in the window across the street. She had a cell phone to her ear. Great.

  Gordon smacked his lips. “Situational awareness not so good off the job?”

  “Not that we’re complaining,” Ted added.

  The suit cleared his throat. “Ma’am, perhaps this will explain our presence.” He handed her the invitation.

  “Oh,” she said as she read, bathrobe again forgotten. Then, “Wow. So what about the others?”

  “Spud and Lacey are being embarrassing in the car,” Roscoe said with a roll of his eyes but a grin. “LaCenta and Katie are coming in another limo. They have dates. Oh, uh, we talked to Brian. He… said to uh, have fun. Oh, girl, I’m so sorry.”

  “It was wrong for both of us,” she said. “Nasir?”

  They glanced at each other. “You didn’t see the news? Zombies are crawling all over his country. He and Sharon are making arrangements for us to wrap up filming tomorrow and to get him and Gordon to Afghanistan.”

  “Gordon?” She looked up at the big ex-Marine.

  He shrugged. “Teams of two. Safer to have someone at your back. You taught us that, right?”

  She felt herself choke up. “Absolutely.”

  He glanced at the others then added, “We know you get to pick who wins, but we’d like to discuss that with you.”

  “On the ride.” Roscoe threw his hands up like an Italian grandmother and waved her back in the house. “We need to get you dressed and dolled. Woody is waiting.”

  He hustled her into the house then stopped the others as they tried to follow them.

  “Oh, no, boys. This is our time. Go wait in the limo—or out of it if Spud and Lacey are too much for you.”

  He slammed the door in their faces and put on the limiter.

  “Hey,” he called to Neeta. “That thing on the door?”

  “Don’t you start,” Neeta said. “Just pick me a nice outfit while I do something with my hair.”

  “A little gel and a little fluffing,” he advised. “We don’t have much time and trust me, you will look so vogue.”

  He opened her closet, frowning over her clothes until he looked down.

  “Neeta, love the footwear.”

  “They’re in order.” The bathroom door muffled her voice. “By comfort. The farther right, the less time I can wear them and actually stand and walk.”

  “When do you plan to have shoes like this and not stand and walk long?” he asked, eyeing a pair of peg-heeled black suede boots.

  “Dinners, award ceremonies, that sort of thing.” Even the door couldn’t muffle her ire. “Don’t get ideas.”

  “Of course not, Miss Neeta Virgin Lyffe.” With so few really good outfits, he was able to choose quickly. After all, you could never go wrong with the little black dress, and hers was darling. Now if only…

  He squealed when he found a wide leopard print belt with matching shoes near the center of the row. True the heel was a little low, but they were platforms and there was a peep hole.

  “You have red nail polish?” he called.

  “Somewhere. Do we have time?” She popped out, hair and make-up done, holding a small bottle.

  He gasped. “You’re a vision. Maybe we should send the others ahead.”

  “Stop that, or you’ll lose any chance of winning the million,” she growled, her face turning red.

  He handed her the dress and shoes. “Honey, I’m an actor. I live for the camera, not the prize. Besides, the winner is already picked. That’s what we want to discuss. Now get dressed, and we’ll do the nails in the car. We have important people to grace with our presence.”

  * * * *

  Date: August 3, 2042

  FROM: Sharon Peterson

  TO: ZDE Forum members

  SUBJ: Important announcement

  Hi, Everyone, Sharon, the ZDE Admin here.

  I’m e-mailing to let everyone know the events in LA and Afghanistan have led to a serious change in schedule for the cast and crew. Not only will Nasir Haq Qalzai be returning tomorrow to his homeland to help battle the infestation ravaging his already torn country, but also Gordon Makepeace will join him.

  As a result, the winner of ZDE will be announced LIVE at 9:45 a.m. tomorrow in a publicized ceremony where Los Angeles Mayor Gruberman will be awarding medals for heroism to each exterminator, along with the emergency personnel who participated in the event. If you are in Los Angeles, please come and support the ZDE crew and all who helped save 124 lives yesterday and prevented a zombie contagion from invading the city. For those unable to come, it will be shown on all the major news networks and via live streaming on the ZDE website.

  We will be having a final episode! “The People’s Choice” will feature favorite clips and funny outtakes of the season. Missed Hu’s toilet snafu? Want to see Spud fall in love? (They’re engaged, BTW!) We’re collecting votes until Wednesday, so get on the ZDE website and rate your favorites. In addition, Neeta talks candidly about the ups and downs of each episode. If you’ve been watching, you don’t want to miss it. If you’ve not—it’s a great way to meet the Heroes of LA.

  You are receiving this e-mail because you are registered on the Zombie Death Extreme Fan Forum. If you do not wish to receive further announcements, please click here.

  Chapter Twenty

  ZDEAdministrator

  SUBJ: Apology from Tro111

  I got this in the e-mail late last night and wanted to share with you:

  Dear Sharon,

  Thanks for the e-mail. Yes, I’m also VoiceofReson. Sorry for the deceptoin. This, however, is genuine.

  I, along with my nine-year-old son, was part of the accident on West Burbank. We were there until the B to Z truck helped us all escape. It was the most harrowing hours of my life, made even more so because of the presence of my son, whom I was not sure I could protect. Any fathers in your group will understand.

  The ZDE team was…surprising. Professional, brave, positive. Even Roscoe showed a mettle I didn’t think he had, no offense. They kept us together, they kept us alive, and when we were off the scene, they did their best to keep the zombies at bay until real help arrived.

  I still stand by my words
about reality TV. Nonetheless, the plebes of ZDE…they’re more than contestants. They’re real.

  That’s why I’m even alive to write this apology.

  I’ll be at the ceremony. Part of the adoring fandom, but here are real people who deserve real fandom.

  Troy LLame’

  * * * *

  The heat wave finally broke at 9 p.m. the night before, and the morning stayed cool—if 85 degrees Fahrenheit could be considered “cool.” Still, it was enough that Neeta’s skirt wasn’t sticking to the plastic seat nor her company polo to her skin as she watched the mayor give the last of the medals to the ambulance technicians.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught Roscoe making pucker lips to the audience. She smacked him on the leg with her fingers, hoping no one would see, then did a double-take as she saw LaCenta doing something similar but more subtle to a man standing in the front row. Past her, Spud fingered the medal around his neck reverently, while Gordon sat ramrod straight. Nasir squirmed, obviously eager for the day to end so he could board the first of several C-130s bringing troops and supplies to help his nation not only repel the now-acknowledged invasion but also the zombie threat. Katie sniffled, and Ted reached down and grabbed her another tissue.

  The mayor and EMT shook hands, and everyone applauded lightly until he invited all the heroes to stand and receive one last round. Even in the open air, it thundered against Neeta’s ears.

  She remembered what her mother had told her when she was eleven, and her mom had received some kind of national award for her work. The crowd had thundered then, too, and she’d leaned over to speak in Neeta’s ear.

  Lap it up now, Neeta, because the accolades come few and far between in this biz. Better that way. Can’t work with a big head.

  “Gawd, I live for this. What are you laughing about?” Roscoe leaned over to ask her.

  She just shook her head in reply.

  The mayor held up his hands and the applause died down. “Now you’ve all been standing here for quite some time. You’ve seen our heroes awarded. You’ve listened to the stuffy politicians pontificate.”

  He paused for the laughter.

  “Now, however, I think you won’t leave until you hear one more thing. So without any further ado, here is Ms. Neeta Lyffe, Master Exterminator, to announce the winner of Zombie Death Extreme!”

  The screams and cheers struck the stage like a gust of wind, then fell into muddled chants of contestant’s names. Neeta stood and brushed her hands on her skirt. She looked back at her plebes and saw them drinking in the adulation. Looks like she might change her opening.

  She walked up to the mike, and the cheers didn’t so much die down as stop, like someone had pushed a mute button on the whole audience.

  She pulled the mike to her level. She twisted her head just enough to look at the ZDE team while speaking. “Before I start, I have a message for my plebes—for my exterminators—that my mother gave me as a child. Big heads don’t fit in motorcycle helmets.”

  Everyone laughed. Roscoe stuck his tongue out at Neeta.

  “Having said that, I want to remind you of something else Mom said. Take the accolades where you can. They will be too few, but they are inevitably deserved.”

  She straightened and addressed the audience. “I’ve also been instructed by my producer to remind everyone that, even though I’m announcing the winner today, we will have a season finale on schedule Friday. It’s being dedicated to the memory of Bergie Eidelberg, so I hope you’ll watch.

  “Thank you, all of you, for being here and for watching the show. We never expected this to happen. We never expected a lot of things to happen, but like real professionals, these people rolled with the punches, bounced back, and when it came to a real emergency, put aside fear, ambition and rivalries to work together for the real reward—saving lives.

  “That’s what was making it so hard for me to decide on a winner. Never have I been more grateful to have a decision taken out of my hands.”

  As Dave had instructed her, she paused there to let the audience squirm. Then, one by one, she called them to stand beside her:

  “Roscoe Glaser, you came to this show seeking glory. Instead, you discovered self-sacrifice.

  “LaCenta Dane, you wanted to make your family proud. You’ve done that and so much more.

  “Pippin ‘Spud’ Frost, quiet and dependable. You had some people fooled, hiding in the background. You have what it takes to stand in the forefront.

  “Gordon Makepeace, you may have been taken out of the Marines, but the Marine will never be taken out of you.

  “Nasir Haq Qalzai.”

  He stood and started forward, but she held up a hand.

  “Nasir, you have come so far and sacrificed so much to be here. Now your country needs you. In the opinion of your competitors—”

  She heard the gasp of realization from the audience.

  “—of your teammates, you not only need but deserve the prize of one million dollars!”

  Nasir staggered back, stunned. Katie sprung from her seat and hugged him, sobbing loudly enough to be heard over the cheers.

  The rest of the team ran to hug and offer slaps on the back. Neeta stood at the mike, watching and trying to ignore the tears running down her own cheeks, until someone reached out and pulled her into the group.

  Not just someone.

  Ted.

  Epilogue

  “It’s a cool 81 along LA’s miracle mile in what experts are calling clear proof the government is not taking enough measures to stem global cooling.”

  “Global cooling? Snort. Helloness! I like being able to wear sleeves.”

  “Don’t we all? Hey, we’ve called up someone who’s always going to be hot in my book, Ms. Neeta Larger-than-Lyffe Zombie Exterminator, who’s also the new spokeswoman for HumVees.”

  Sounds of chainsaws and zombies moaning “Braiiiins” before a honk and a thunk.

  “I told you to stop calling me that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “My new HumVan. I just picked it up today. I can’t believe how well my equipment fits. I even have a little fridge for AH grenades.”

  “That’s the stuff they used to stop the LA Zombie Massacre, right?”

  “The very! Saved a lot of lives, but not easy to keep in a foam form, which is why I’m loving the fridge.”

  “The fridge? You’re driving Motor Trends New Design of the Year, and all you can say is it holds a fridge?”

  “Oh, the bumpers! I love the bumpers. If I get in with a swarm of zombies, I can mow them down, and the smart airbag means I won’t have it going off in my face. Everything about this van is smart. The only thing it won’t do is come when I whistle.”

  Brian laughed. “How’s it handle?”

  “Nice. I took it on the track fully loaded to try it out.”

  “How fast did you go?”

  “I’m not saying. I don’t want anyone getting ideas. Let’s just say faster than any regular driver needs to go. Scared myself a couple of times on the turns—scared the instructor, too. Glad they strapped on safety bars for the training, or we might have rolled and wrecked my paint job. You know, the point is, it doesn’t handle like my mom’s van. I know I said I was never going to promote products. Frankly, I wish they’d cut the price in half so average people could afford one, but seriously, it’s a sweet machine.”

  “I don’t know, I’ve seen plenty of average people driving the new Hums.”

  “Not in my neighborhood. Good thing this has my logo all over it, or I’d probably lose it half an hour after leaving it on the street. Not really—the tamper proof alarms are fuze core. That’s what my friend’s brother said after he tried to pick them for an hour.”

  “You had someone try to break into your car?”

  “Wowsers, Neeta.”

  “Yeah, well, if I’m going to endorse something, I’m going to make goram sure it’s worth endorsing. Anyway, I’ve got to go. We’re doing a photo shoot with it before I
get it all gored up from work.”

  “Neeta, thanks for your time.”

  “Thanks Neeta. Since we’re on the subject of cars, let’s find out the latest in traffic.”

  * * * *

  The background sounds of the station muted and Brian said to Neeta. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

  Neeta breathed out through pursed lips and turned on her blinker to take the exit. “I hate advertising. Did I do okay?”

  “Well, they might want to talk to you about that ‘average person’ comment. Don’t worry. First time and all. Hey, did you get the flowers I sent?”

  She smiled at the dashboard camera, even though Brian didn’t have his on. “Yes, thank you. The doorknob was a nice touch. I’m going to see if I can get it put on tomorrow.”

  “Good. I meant what I said on the card. If we can’t be a couple, let’s be a couple of friends. So, who’d you hire as your apprentice?”

  She sighed as she came to a red light. “Still looking. Hollerman hired LaCenta, and Spud’s working with Lacey until they earn enough to start a business in his hometown. Roscoe said he’d freelance now and then, but you know him. He lives for reality TV.”

  “Well, someone will turn up. Listen, I know what you said, but if you ever need a shoulder.”

  “Thanks, Brian, but I have two of my own.”

  * * * *

  After the shoot, Neeta pulled into the parking lot of a mom-and-pop grocery store. She had just enough time to grab a couple of things before meeting Eugene to go over Twiddle’s new payment schedule, and the fridge was good for more than ammo, after all.

  She walked past the register, with its wall of cigarettes behind a cage and the sign “Smoking—the Addiction that Kills.” The guy at the register smiled at her in a dreamy, unfocused way that made her hurry to the dairy section. Before she got to the milk, she had to stop and admire the big standup sign advertising Longevity.

  Spud and Lacey stood with their arms around each others’ waists and chainsaws hanging from straps on their shoulders. In their other hands, they held cans of BUDD drinks—Longevity for Spud, Supercharge for Lacey. In front of them, roughly a dozen undead lay in pieces.

  “BUDDies for life—and the living,” the caption read.