Zoe, Undead

by J. R. Knoll

  Stopping only seven or eight feet away, he glared away at the zombie and snarled, "You just get off that girl and do it now." His accent was something she had heard in the movies, someone who lived in the country in the South, and it reminded her a little of how Tex spoke, and his voice was rather young.

  The zombie quickly lost interest in Zoe and stood from her, crouching down as he squared off against this new target.

  "Good boy," the young man drawled. He backed away a few steps, and predictably the zombie followed step for step. Without looking at her, the young man ordered, "Miss, I need you to move out of the way now and give me a clean shot."

  Still on her back, Zoe clumsily scrambled away, off the curb and into the road.

  The zombie held his arms out, swung his mouth open and roared a horrible, gurgling roar. The young man responded with his shotgun, firing his first shot right into the zombie's chest. Staggering back a couple of steps, the zombie recovered quickly and charged, only to be shot in the chest again, sending him backward again.

  "The head!" Zoe shouted.

  Chambering another round as he watched the zombie recover again, the young man barked back, "I know what I'm doing." He fired another round into the zombie's chest and advanced as it staggered backward again.

  Zoe huffed a breath and looked around her, finding her revolver a few feet away. Turning herself over, she reached for it and had it in her hand as she rose up on her knees and turned toward the zombie as the young man shot it again. Holding the revolver with both hands, she took careful aim and fired, hitting the zombie right in the temple, and it fell forward and slammed flat onto the concrete.

  Turning her eyes to the young man, she raised her brow and repeated, "In the head."

  He glared back at her and crooked his jaw.

  The motor home door slammed shut and another man strode toward them. He was also dressed in jungle camouflage and combat boots and brandishing a longer shotgun with a wooden stock and grip, and it also had a flashlight mounted on it. He walked with a limp, had a long black and silver beard and bushy black eyebrows. He was also rather plump and had rough looking features beneath the brim of his tattered leather cowboy hat.

  With his eyes on the fallen zombie, he stopped beside the young man and shook his head, saying in a southern drawl and a gravelly voice, "Fourth one of those mad-dogs we've come across. Just keep your eyes open for more, boy." His eyes shifted to Zoe as she stood and he took the brim of his hat and greeted, "Ma'am." Looking her up and down, his eyes narrowed and he raised his chin. "Hang on a second."

  "She shot it in the head," the young man informed.

  Training his shotgun on her, the fat fellow added, "She's also a zombie, boy!"

  Zoe raised her palms to them and cried, "Wait! Don't shoot me!"

  The young man took the barrel of the older fellow's shotgun and forced the muzzle down. "Zombie's don't talk, Pop, and they don't shoot other zombies."

  Pulling his shotgun from the younger man's grip, the larger one trained his weapon on her again as he corrected, "You'd better take a hard look at that one. I know a zombie when I see one."

  "I'm with the Zombie Response Team!" Zoe said desperately, still backing away.

  "Never heard of 'em," the older man countered as he raised the shotgun to his eye and pressed the butt against his shoulder.

  "Please don't!" Zoe screamed.

  Once again, the younger man grabbed the shotgun and forced the muzzle down. "I'm tellin' you she ain't no zombie. Zombies don't talk."

  "Mind your place, boy!" the older man yelled as he pulled his weapon from the young man's grip a second time.

  The roar of an engine drew their attention and they turned around.

  To Zoe's relief, the Stryker turned hard into view and charged toward them, and she stood where she was as it pulled up and quickly stopped right beside her. The doors opened, the back hatch opened and five soldiers stormed out, three of them with their weapons on the two men.

  Zoe holstered her revolver and grasped the barrel of the assault rifle held by the soldier closest to her, and she assured, "It's okay. They're hunting zombies, too. They saved me from that one over there."

  Sergeant Morris strode up behind her, took her shoulder and ordered, "Lower your weapons, men." As the soldiers slowly complied, he raised his chin to the older fellow and greeted, "I'm Sergeant William Morris of the Zombie Response Team."

  The older fellow rested his shotgun over his shoulder and nodded to Tex. "Alfred Knox. This here is my boy Zachary. We got a few more in the motor home but I ain't bringing them out until I know it's safe for 'em."

  Tex nodded and looked to the zombie that lay dead on the sidewalk. "Zoe here got three more inside. I'm sure other's have heard the commotion and are on their way." He turned his eyes back to the two men and offered, "We have a base of operations set up at the Central Hospital. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

  Slowly shaking his head, Alfred informed, "Stayin' in one place is a sure fire way to get overrun by these things. We stay on the move and we stay out of their sights."

  "Until you run into a sizeable nest of them," Sergeant Morris countered. "Look, we're not hiding there, we're fighting back. Our objective is to take the whole damn city by the end of the month and we're well on our way to doing so." He glanced at their weapons. "Looks like you're pretty handy with those things. We could use a couple of guys who know what they're doing."

  "But," Zoe cut in, "you have to shoot them in the head."

  Alfred's eyes turned to her and he raised his chin toward her. "You mind filling me in on that one?"

  "Sure," Tex agreed, "but information on her is only available to ZRT members."

  "Zombie, isn't she?" the older fellow pressed.

  "She's ZRT," Sergeant Morris replied with a harshness to his tone. "That's all you need to know for now."

  Alfred motioned to the dead zombie and informed, "Well, that one there was trying to kill her. My boy here got 'im off of her."

  "But didn't shoot it in the head," Zoe grumbled, her eyes on the younger man, who sneered back at her.

  Elbowing the younger man in the ribs, Alfred ordered, "You mind your manners, boy. Go back to the R.V. and tell everyone we're pulling out." He had a little smile for Sergeant Morris as he said, "Looks like you got yourself some new recruits, Sergeant. So you got plenty of food and ammo?"

  Tex smiled back, ever so slightly. "We've got it covered."

  Alfred elbowed his son again and barked, "Get goin' boy!"

  Zachary nodded, his eyes on Zoe, then he turned and strode back to the motor home.

  Motioning to the departing young man with his head, Alfred informed, "The boy may be a retard, but he sure knows how to handle a shotgun."

  "That isn't a nice thing to call people," Zoe spat.

  "It means he's retarded," Alfred countered. "He's slow in the head. Don't get me wrong, I love my boy, he's just slow in the head and he knows he's slow in the head."

  "Okay," Tex conceded. "We're going to finish our sweep of the mall and check for supplies. Do you know where the hospital is?"

  "Passed one a couple of miles north of here," Alfred replied. "I think we can find our way back to it."

  "Just go in and ask for Colonel Halstead," Sergeant Morris ordered. "He'll get you fixed up with something to eat, maybe some medical attention if any of your people need it."

  With a nod, Alfred offered, "Much obliged, Sergeant. We'll see you there."

  When he turned to walk back to his motor home, Zoe gave Tex a disapproving look and hissed, "He shouldn't call people that."

  Tex patted her shoulder and advised, "Just let it go for now, Princess. Let's finish our sweep of the mall."

  They turned and walked side by side toward the entrance, and Zoe looked down at her bare shoulder, her torn shirt. "I just got this," she complained. "I only had it for a half hour and that stupid zombie tore it!"

  Raising his brow, he looked down to her and suggested, "I'm sure there's
another one in there, Princess."

  "Then that's where I want to go first," she insisted.

  As they neared the door, she looked over her shoulder at the zombie that lay dead, the zombie that had attacked her. Fear took her eyes, a familiar terror that she had felt when this whole thing had started and she cringed and turned abruptly away, cuddling into Sergeant Morris as best she could as they walked.

  **

  Zoe strode to her neatly made bed and laid down the stack of folded shirts. Five in number, three of them were pink, one yellow and one black. On top of them were folded denim shorts, another pair of shoes and a pink cap she had found in the same store. With a glance at her teddy bear, which sat on the pillow and leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed, she unbuckled her vest and slipped out of it, folded it in half and laid it down beside the clothes she had. Next, she pulled out her revolver, looked to the night stand and pulled the drawer open, laying the weapon gently inside on top of the bible there.

  When Doctor Caswell walked into the room, she paused and just stared down into the drawer for long seconds before she slowly pushed it shut.

  "I heard you had a big day out there," the Doctor said.

  Drawing a deep breath, Zoe just nodded.

  With a lean of her head, Rachel asked, "Do you need to talk?"

  Slowly, the zombie girl shook her head.

  "I see," Doctor Caswell said softly, turning her eyes to the floor. "I've always heard that when you kill someone for the first time, that image never really goes away."

  "I didn't kill anyone," Zoe corrected as she ran her fingers over the edge of the night stand. "It was a zombie. It was a thing and it wasn't really alive anymore."

  "Sounds like you're coping okay," Rachel observed.

  "I had my pills this morning if that's what you're getting at," Zoe said through clenched teeth. "And then that other kid didn't know to shoot them in the head. He kept shooting that one in the chest and I told him that won't work. You have to shoot them in the head."

  "Is that what's bothering you?" the doctor asked. The girl's long silence spoke volumes. Venting a deep breath through her nose, she observed, "You seem really preoccupied since you came back, and I know that today was the first time you ever shot anything."

  "It isn't that," Zoe assured in a slight voice.

  With slow steps, Rachel approached the girl and grasped her shoulders, not letting go even as the girl cringed. "Talk to me, Zoe. I want to help you if you'll let me."

  "You'll get tired of me," Zoe said softly. "Everybody does. As soon as I'm not needed for anything anymore then you'll get tired of me and you'll want me to go away. You and William and Colonel Halstead and everybody won't want me anymore. Now that I'm a zombie everyone wants to kill me or…"

  "I know for a fact that everyone here really likes you," the doctor insisted. "Even if you didn't go out to scout for them, they'd like you all the same. I know Tex really does, and I know I do." She turned the girl gently to her and grasped her face in her hands. "The world is in turmoil right now and, believe it or not, you are the only sense of normal we have."

  Zoe slowly raised her brow and whispered, "I'm a zombie girl with Asperger's Syndrome. How is that even close to normal?"

  With a smile, Rachel combed her fingers through the girl's hair and assured, "It just is." She kissed Zoe's forehead and turned to leave, only making it halfway before she turned back. "Would you be okay with staying here tomorrow?"

  "More tests?" the girl asked, grimly.

  "Some," Doctor Caswell confirmed, "but mostly I think you need a little time away from the guys, and I need some girl time with someone."

  A little smile curled Zoe's mouth and she nodded.

  CHAPTER 8

  Food was taken to the conference room where the next meeting promised to be a long one. With Colonel Halstead sitting in his place and looking over reports one more time, his forehead resting in the fingers of one hand, Sergeant Morris, who had taken time to get showered and changed into fresh black commando trousers and a white tee shirt, dropped his papers on the table a few seats down and settled into his chair. He was clearly near exhaustion and leaned over the table to rub his eyes. Also joining them was Alfred Knox, who had also taken some time to freshen up and changed into fresh camouflage and a clean shirt, and he sat next to Sergeant Morris. The doctors sat on the opposite side with the Captain and Lieutenant.

  Silence overtook the room.

  Colonel Halstead looked up from his reports, scanning the people at the table, and his attention fixed on Sergeant Morris and Alfred. Folding his hands on the table, he set his jaw and announced, "I've sent for Private Princess and she should be here in a few minutes. I understand you two have some bad news for me, something about a new moaner for us to worry about."

  Alfred raised his brow and said, "You must be talkin' about the mad-dogs out there. Yes, Sir, they're bad news. They ain't like the others."

  Doctor Kavorski sifted through his papers and pulled one from the middle, looking down on it as he confirmed, "A zombie that is more of an active hunter, something of a wild animal."

  "We had one attack Zoe," Tex reported. "I've never even heard of moaners attacking each other."

  Looking to him, Alfred growled, "I've seen them things attack anything that moves, including other zombies. They don't eat them, but they sure mess 'em up." His eyes slid to Doctor Kavorski. "You sure don't want to be on the receiving end of one of those. You can outrun one of the others and even fight 'em off, but these mad-dogs come at you like they got rabies. They won't walk at you; they charge like a dog."

  Kavorski slouched in his chair slightly, staring at the bearded fellow across from him with blank eyes. With a glance at Colonel Halstead, then Sergeant Morris, he drew a breath and said, "We're going to need one to study."

  "Good luck with that," Alfred laughed. "Your best bet is to kill every one you see and leave 'em lay. You don't want to try to make pets out of 'em."

  "We need to know more about them," Doctor Caswell informed. "If this is some new threat then we have to know what we're dealing with and how to deal with them."

  "I'll tell you how to deal with 'em," Alfred said. "You hit 'em with a shotgun 'till they don't get back up. That's how you deal with 'em."

  "How many of these have you seen?" the Captain asked.

  "Four," Knox replied. "Last one was yesterday attacking your little zombie girl. My boy put 'im down."

  "Four?" Captain Langley asked, leaning toward the hefty man. "Moaners tend to run in packs or large mobs most of the time."

  "The mad-dogs sure don't," Alfred corrected. "Only one's we've seen were loners. They keep to themselves and don't have nobody around them, other zombies or nobody. Seen 'em attack dogs, too. They see it move, they're going after it."

  Rachel looked to Doctor Kavorski and insisted, "We definitely need a subject to study."

  A knock at the door drew everyone's attention and Colonel Halstead barked, "Enter."

  The door slowly opened and Zoe peered in around it. She had taken her hair down and it hung loosely down her back and over one shoulder. Her eyes betrayed anxiety and fear.

  "Come on in, Private," the Colonel ordered.

  Zoe had her shoulders shrugged up as she stepped into the room and gently closed the door.

  Rachel pulled out the chair beside her and patted the seat, saying, "Sit down, sweetie."

  Hesitantly, the girl complied, sitting gingerly in the chair she was offered and pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged. With her hands folded in her lap, she turned her eyes down to them, cringing as she awaited what she thought was to come.

  "Private Princess," the Colonel started. "We need your report on the moaner that attacked you."

  She would not look up and just stared down at her hands, unable to answer.

  Doctor Caswell gently summoned, "Zoe?"

  Breaths entered the girl with some difficulty and she just shook her head.

  "Hey, Princess," Sergeant Morr
is said in a gentle tone. "It's okay. Just tell us what happened."

  "I can't," she whimpered.

  Colonel Halstead growled a sigh and said, "P.T.S.D. Saw this happen during the last war." He glanced at Doctor Caswell and ordered, "You're staying in the next few days, Princess; give you some time to get yourself squared away. In the meantime I want you to qualify on some other weapons and I'll have some of the men show you some hand to hand moves. You read me, Private?"

  She nodded and replied in a meek tone, "Yes, Sir."

  "Look at me," the Colonel commanded.

  Hesitantly, she complied, barely raising her head to train her gaze on him.

  "This happens," he explained. "Sometimes we run into something that rattles us to our core. Your best bet is to dig deep and find the means to beat it. According to Mister Knox here those new zombies keep to themselves and there aren't many of them."

  "Yet," Alfred added.

  Zoe asked in a little girl's voice, "Can I go, Sir?"

  Halstead just stared at her for a long moment, then he nodded and replied, "Dismissed."

  As quickly as she could, Zoe hopped down from her chair and fled the room, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her.

  Tex watched the girl as she left, and set his jaw as the door closed. He looked down to the table, then grasped it with both hands and pushed his chair back. Standing fully, he looked to the Colonel and raised his chin.

  Halstead motioned to the door with his head and said, "Go on, Sergeant, and good luck."

  He knew he would find the girl in the place she felt most safe, and in this place, that was her room. The door stood open and he stopped in the doorway, seeing her huddled in the middle of her bed with her legs drawn to her and her teddy bear hugged tightly against her chest. Her wide eyes were on the TV, and she stared blankly at the screen, even though it was not on.