Our Undead

by Theo Vigo

  Margaret: Yes, I did… And yes, I do.

  Margaret feels a bit of pride rising inside of her, and an instant rapport is created in between them as they share their stories. They stay seated and talking long after they finish their pieces of energy bar, but soon Margaret starts to notice Billy's body language getting all shifty and uncomfortable. Soon, she finds out why.

  Billy: Hey, look Margaret, it's been amazing talking with you, but I should really get moving. I've been keeping to a strict schedule. I gotta make sure I move at least twenty to fifty miles a day.

  Margaret: Wow... That's a lot of miles.

  Billy: Yes, it is… So I'd better go.

  With that, he gets to his feet, slings his knapsack over his back and picks up his bow.

  Billy: I wish you luck. I hope you get to your destination safely.

  Margaret: Yea, wherever that may be. Now that I know Portland has turned to shit, I don't really have a destination to get to safely, but thanks.

  Billy: Hm.. Well… Take care, nonetheless.

  Margaret: Mmhm.. I'll try my best. You do the same.

  Billy nods at Margaret, who is still sitting down, and she nods back. He then takes a brief look around to gain his bearings and his attention stops in a particular line of travel, most likely the direction that he needs to go in. He gives Margaret one more nod before heading down it, and she twists her neck watching Billy walk away. She can't help but feel like she's going to miss him, and she looks down to the ground in front of her when her head can twist around no further.

  Billy has to walk past Abe as he leaves, and the two of them lock eyes as he does. He can't believe that the girl was actually able to tame this beast. That was something special, something very special. Maybe even too special to pass up. He walks by Abe, breaking eye contact at the very last moment but stops three steps after. Margaret hears that the footsteps have ended early, and she turns all the way around to see what the hold up is. She sees Billy standing just beyond Abe with his back still turned. Did he see something? Is he waiting for something? Three seconds later, Billy turns around. He isn't at all surprised that Margaret is already staring at him, expecting her to be.

  Billy: Margaret?

  Margaret: Yep?

  Billy: I was thinking.

  Margaret: Oh yea?

  Billy: Yes. I was thinking that since you don't really have a specific place to go, maybe you might want to come with me. It wouldn't be a problem.

  Margaret: Billy Tell, I thought you would never ask, but… we might slow you down. Abe isn't the most agile creature, and my ankle is pretty messed up.

  Billy: Yea, that did cross my mind… We can make it work.

  Excited, Margaret gets to her feet and makes her way over to Billy, scooping up her duffel bag along the way.

  Margaret: Cool! Abe, come!

  Abe begins walking toward them, and they all leave the little clearing, on their way to Hollywood, California.

  YOUNG HERO

  An arrow swishes through the tree trunks, and swiftly enters the side of a female zombie's skull. It pauses for a moment due to the shock, then collapses to the ground. Not too far beyond, another zombie comes into focus. It turns to look over when it hears it's brethren falling down, but it doesn't get to for very long, as another arrow swiftly enters its skull as well. It goes through the same format as the first, pausing momentarily, then falling over. Margaret, Abe and their new companion, Billy Tell, are walking through the thicket and trees toward the fallen targets from about thirty feet away.

  Margaret: Jesus… How'd you learn to shoot so well?

  Billy: My foster dad's favorite films were the "The Lord of The Rings" pictures. We watched all three of them successively on the first three days that I lived with them. A movie for each day. I didn't mind cause I like movies, and I'd never seen it.

  Margaret: You had never seen The Lord of The Rings?!

  Billy: Nope, but I thought it was cool. Actually, I fell in love with the Legolas character; his incredible skills with a bow and arrow, to be more specific. The way he takes out the orcs with his flawless marksmanship and travels so fast but so soundlessly. It really stuck in my mind.

  Margaret: I guess it doesn't hurt that the orcs in the movies kinda look like zombies.

  Billy: Exactly.

  They arrive at the site where the two walkers were sniped, and Billy yanks the first arrow out of one of the corpses. He takes a small cloth out of his side pocket and makes sure the arrow tip is clean before placing it back into the bag with the others. Then he makes his way over to the next one to repeat the process.

  Billy: My foster dad couldn't have been happier. I had my first lesson the day after we watched the last movie.

  Margaret: It sounds like your foster parents spoiled the hell out of you.

  They start walking again.

  Billy: Yea, they were pretty well off. Foster dad ran a few online businesses and foster mom worked from home, too. She was into make-up and other skincare products. I was there only child, so they spoiled me.

  Margaret: Sounds like you were quite the lucky kid.

  Billy: I guess so, but it didn't take too long for the thrill and excitement of adopting me to fade.

  Margaret: What do you mean?

  Billy: Well, later I came to find out that the reason they had to adopt was because my mother wasn't able to have children of her own. I guess after having me for a while, the novelty of it wore off. They still bought things for me, but they didn't offer anymore. I always had to ask. And we altogether stopped going out and spending time as a family.

  Margaret doesn't know what to say. She feels like offering some sympathy, but she already knows that Billy doesn't respond well to that sort of thing. She has to say something before things get even more awkward, but then she remembers that 'awkward' is pretty much what Billy is all about. Perhaps not by choice, but still. She stays silent.

  Billy: So does that guy do anything besides follow you around?

  Margaret: Um. He eats.

  Billy: You didn't teach him any tricks?

  Margaret: Like what?

  Billy: I don't know. Fetch?

  Margaret: No... What's the point of teaching a zombie how to play fetch?

  Billy: You could send him out to get things for you… Like, if a bunch of walkers are ever surrounding a gun, you wouldn't have to worry about getting it yourself.

  Margaret sees that Billy has a point. It probably would be a good idea to try teaching him some new things. The advantages of having a zombie as an ally in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested world are definitely in excess. She feels that maybe she has been taking it for granted. It's time for her to cut it out, but she won't admit that to Billy.

  Margaret: Well, he did save my life once.

  Billy: Oh, yea. How did he do that?

  Margaret: These two walkers got into my cabin, right? I was able to kill one, but the other had me trapped up against a wall. While I was struggling to get it off of me, Abe came up from behind and grabbed the thing by it's shoulders. It wouldn't have been able to get free if it were promised it's human life back. That's how tight Abe was holding on to it. He gave me the chance I needed to kill it.

  Billy: Wow. That's pretty intense… Unbelievable.

  Billy looks back at Abe with a look of esteem and also at Margaret. As usual, the emotion is hard to spot, but Margaret thinks she's getting the hang of him.

  Margaret: You better believe it, dude.

  Billy: No, it's really extraordinary. You know I read about this stuff, and never have I heard about a slave type subject like Abe. That is, when the infection is started in a biochemical lab or by scientists. Those types of zombies are usually enraged and completely unruly. Abe's case seems to fit more into the Voodoo scenario, where zombies are created through hypnosis or with specific plant toxins administered by witch doctors.

  Margaret: Maybe this infection is sort of a mixture of the two.

  Billy: Exactly. It's all starting to make mo
re sense.

  Margaret: What is?

  Billy doesn't answer. Something has grabbed his attention not too far ahead of them.

  Margaret: Billy? What's all starting to make more sense?

  Billy shushes her and throws up a signal for everyone to stop. Margaret stays silent and peers forward, although, she has no idea what Billy is looking at. He takes out an arrow and pulls it back on the drawstring. Margaret mouths something that looks like, "What the f…" but her silent sentence gets cut off by the lightning quick release of the string.

  <><><>

  Much further along now, the three of them come to a dirt road at one of the forest's edges. As usual, Abe follows from a few steps behind, but now his attention is occupied with a furry snack. Opposite the forest is a tall cornfield that stretches for miles in both directions. Margaret stops on the dirt road to take a look around, waiting for the other two to leave the trees behind.

  Margaret: Thanks for catching those hares for Abe.

  Billy: No problem.

  Margaret: Sooo.. now where do we go? Is this field here freaking you out as much as it's freaking me out? I feel like something is liable to pop out of there at any second.

  Billy: We just have to follow this path. It'll take us to the highway, then we just have to follow that until we reach the border. It's the easiest way, so we have to take it. Don't worry. We should be okay.

  Margaret: Really? What makes you so sure?

  Billy: I do.

  Margaret: Heh,. Cocky, much? (huffs) Fine. Whatever you say.

  As they walk along the dirt road, sandwiched between the forest to their left and cornfield to their right, they continue getting to know each other.

  Margaret: You know, I don't mean to offend you, so don't take this personally, but you're a little strange… in a good way, though. I've never met a fifteen year old like you before.

  Billy: It's okay. I know I'm strange. I didn't have many friends because of that fact. Any, really.

  Margaret: How could you not have had any friends? You're not an asshole or anything. Just odd. You're really nice.

  Billy: Mm, I guess that didn't translate well with the kids in my social circle. Actually, the assholes were usually the ones that did well. The assholes flourished. I was nice, sure, but I think my geeky, soft appearance typecast me in life as a Columbus.

  Margaret: What's a Columbus?

  Billy: From Zombieland… Your stereotypical loser.

  Margaret: Oh! Tch, even if that is true, Billy, those people just don't get you. You're a special kid. I mean, obviously. Look who's still alive.

  Billy responds with no words. It's one of those responses you aren't really sure is a response, however, Margaret can see that he is through with his explanation. She knows that a good ten minutes of dead air is a guarantee if she doesn't say anything, so rather than be bored, she opens up.

  Margaret: I can honestly see where you're coming from, but from the other side. I was usually the one doing all the bullying. See, I've always been sort of a tomboy. My dad and I would always play sports or make fun of each other, so I have thick skin, figuratively and literally. I would totally take advantage of that fact in the playground. No one messed with me, not even the boys.

  Billy continues moving forward. Not once does he peek or even take a second to glance over in Margaret's direction, as proper conversational behavior would solicit. She now genuinely feels like she's walking with two zombies, but she's still pretty sure Billy is listening. After all, he isn't an asshole, he's just a little strange. She continues.

  Margaret: Speaking of boys, I got into high school and all of a sudden I had eyes all over me. Like, I'd gotten attention from boys before, but usually it was because they wanted something stupid, like to cut in line or to pinch my legs. When I got to high school, anytime I talked to a guy he got all dumb in the head. It's like the whole male gender goes through some metamorphosis in high school where they all become silly perverted cowards… or showoffs.

  Billy: Ever think that it might've been you who went through a change?

  Margaret: (looking down at her bosom) Okay, you may be right… But yea, I started to see the advantages of acting girly, so I started buying mini skirts and stopped hanging out with my dad. I moved up from bullying everyone to bullying boys and stupid girls who thought they were much cooler than they actually were. I wasn't a slut or anything. I would just get a drive somewhere if I needed one, and guys were just generally nice to me cause I was nice to them. I flirted. There's a thin line between being nice and flirting. I had a tendency of blurring that line to get what I wanted.

  Billy: Sounds devious.

  Margaret: No no no. More like smart. I never hurt anyone, and trust me, I could have. I actually got to hang out with the popular kids, so I know what some of those people are capable of. I've seen it from behind the scenes, gotten the inside scoop. Luckily, my parents taught me well, especially my dad.

  Billy: He definitely gifted you in the ways of speech.

  Margaret: Is that your way of telling me I'm witty?

  Billy: …… I guess.

  Margaret: Thank you! It's gotten me out of many sticky situations. Like this one time in grade ten, I was making out with this guy in one of the stairwells at my high school… I didn't do that a lot, by the way. I actually liked this guy. His name was Kevin… Kevin something. Whatever. Anyway, this teacher named Mr. Lambdenson caught us, and he tried to send us to the principal's office. Well, you should've seen the show I put on to get out of that jam. My top already had a few of the buttons undone, so I just puffed out my chest, brought my chin down a bit so I could look at him all cute, and begged him not to send us to the office in the most seductive, sexy way I could think of. It's embarrassing thinking back on it now, but the crazy thing is that it worked! I swear, if I wanted to, I could have had that teacher join in, the old perv. A little playful poke here, and a soft whisper there. He would've been…

  Margaret hears Billy clear his throat, an unintentional clear. She looks over at him and notices him swallow a bit heavily. It is easy to see that his level of comfort is dropping at a steady rate. She had forgotten that Billy is only fifteen, the same age as Kevin Whatever was in her story, but tons more timid. Maybe things are getting too X-rated for the shy fellow. Maybe it would be best if she cut it short.

  Margaret: Buuuut yea... I know how you feel. People can be real jerks.

  A few of those awkward seconds that Margaret was trying so hard to avoid, make themselves known, but she doesn't let them last for long.

  Margaret: And you know what? I think they got worse after the infection started... people, I mean.

  Billy looks up at her. It seems that her comment has sparked some sort of genuine interest inside him this time. The subject matter seems unquestionably more up his alley.

  Margaret: Cause.. I've seen bad things being in the popular cliques at school; betrayal, lies, backstabbing, even some beat downs. All this zombie infection has proved to me is that those shitty traits in people are just amplified when things get harder.

  Billy: You're speaking as if you know from experience.

  Margaret: That's because I do. My father was infected, but not because of some mistake he made. It was this spineless, fat, bastard we were travelling with.

  Margaret begins telling the story of how her father got infected. Her flashback brings us to a frenzied city. A group of seven are running through a crowded street, filled to capacity with walkers and others who are running every which way just trying to escape. Margaret is among them.

  <><><>

  "When my family and I fled the hostel, the streets were in chaos. We were in a group with four other people; a girl named Lynn, her mother, a young Australian guy, and a dumpy old bastard named Roger that I'll never forget. We all kind of randomly ended up running together, probably because we all escaped the hostel at the same time, but none of us really knew where we were going. The Australian guy and I took lead and stayed a bit ahead of the rest
because we had weapons; some bats, and we used them well. My dad had a big enough lead pipe and was taking watch over all the people in the back, so; my mom, that girl, Lynn, her mom, and that fuck, Roger.

  "We were lucky enough to find an alleyway a few blocks away from the hostel that was practically vacant. There were only four walkers in it, and they looked confused, so we decided it would probably be our best chance to get off of the streets. The Australian guy and I ran in ahead of the group and killed the zombies before checking the doors of the buildings that were on each side of us. The last one I tried was open, and the coast seemed clear enough on the inside. I figured it would be better than being out where were, so I signaled the rest of the group at the mouth of the alley that it was safe to come over.

  "Right at that moment, a group of about ten to fifteen zombies appeared behind my family and the rest of our group, out of nowhere. Must've broken off from the chaos of the streets. And they were the good ones; the ones that could get a good jog on, you know what I mean? So everyone started running toward the Aussie and me, who were waiting at the door, and they were doing fine, well ahead of the ten or fifteen. Even that dumpy fuck, Roger was keeping up. He was lagging behind a bit, but I knew he would make it if he just kept at up his dumpy little pace. My dad, on the other hand, couldn't help but play the protector. He freaking turns around to see how Roger is doing and sort of, you know, reaches out a hand of encouragement to wave him along… That fat asshole grabbed my dad's arm and pulled it so hard in an attempt to get ahead of him that he sent my dad to the ground on his hands and knees.