,” said Jones.
We downed our first shot.
“To friends who can whack the hell out of zombies,” said Charley.
We downed another shot.
“To me,” said Brittany. “What? It’s my party.”
We downed another shot.
“Make it good, girl,” said Brittany. She gave me a wink.
“To . . . to the last man standing. Hooah!”
“Hooah!” said Brittany.
“Hooah!” said Jones.
“Hooah!” shouted Charley. We downed another. I gasped, my throat burned. I was not the drinker my friends were. Tears filled my eyes and I coughed.
“I don’t have any music, but I have an exciting game we can play,” Charley said.
“What?”
“Truth or Dare, the drinking version.”
“No, pick something else. I hate that game.”
Charley gave it some thought. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, Brittany answered. “Strip Poker, we have the cards, the table, and the bodies.”
Everyone immediately turned to gaze at me. As if I had a problem with it. I did. I looked at their drunken faces, waiting for my timid response, hoping I would not be a wet blanket for yet another asinine suggestion. I smiled.
“I’m game.”
“All right,” said Brittany.
The boys grinned at each other, afraid to reply, in case I had a change of heart. Jones poured another round and I couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around my teacup and gain some liquid courage.
Only one of us ever played the game, so in a drunken stupor that took several minutes to complete, we agreed to basic rules. Jones nearly fell as he rose to emphatically state that only the winner kept their clothes on, the losers would each remove an article of clothing after each round. Charley suggested that for bets, we did a round of Truth or Dare; he was determined to play his favorite game and wouldn’t let it go. We agreed to get play underway.
Brittany and I excused ourselves and went to the bathroom. When we came back, each of us had fashioned a hair scarf, wore an extra shirt, and proclaimed our weapons are jewelry and therefore clothing—I had a knife in each back pocket and in each sock. The boys moaned and groaned before adding their own changes to the aforementioned rules to even out the odds.
Throughout the game, whenever Brittany dealt the cards, I usually won. I figured she was cheating for my benefit. As the game progressed, I had the most clothes on, followed by Brittany. I should have spoken up and confronted her for cheating, the boys were too drunk to make a challenge. On the one hand, a rigged game in my favor bothered me, but on the other, it’s nice to have a friend look out for you. Brittany knew me well. She knew I was pushing the envelope and at any minute, would reach my limit. Thank God for Brittany.
Toward the end of our play, Brittany had on a white tank top and red panties and had lost her hairnet, scarf, boots, socks, pants, shirt, and weapons. I, likewise, was down to a blue shirt, blue bra, and matching panties. Since I was sitting, I surrendered my pants to keep my shirt. Though she cheated, I assume the boys were master cheaters and turned the tables. They plied us with drinks and stories. We couldn’t tell if they were lying or telling the truth, a perfect distraction for their hidden agenda.
Charley was at the table in white underwear and Jones was on top of the world wearing blue socks and shorts.
Jones dealt and the betting began. Brittany took an easy Dare and flashed Jones. On Charley’s turn, his eyes found mine and his grin, insatiable. “Truth or Dare, Zora?”
I eyed him up and down, knowing little about him. I thought it best not to test the waters. I had a winning hand and this would end it all. “Truth.”
“If you came over and passionately kissed us both, I mean with tongue and all, who do you think would be the better kisser, Jones or me?”
“That’s not a Truth, that’s a Dare.”
“No, it’s not, I’m not daring you to do anything, except tell the truth like you’ve been wanting to.”
“I don’t want to do anything.” Smug bastard.
“Zee,” said Brittany. She wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t slap me. “It’s a simple question, just answer it.”
“That’s not a question, it’s a Dare and I won’t. I said Truth and I meant Truth.”
“Zee! My God, girl. It’s not earth-shattering news. I mean for real!”
“Fine,” I fumed. “Jones would be the better kisser. He has a heart.”
I wanted my words to sting and make him feel as uneasy as I felt. More than likely I flubbed my attack. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“All right, Zee,” said Jones. “You’re up.”
I racked my brain deciding who to go after. Of course, it had to be Charley. He only had his boxers and if he failed the challenge, I win. If he succeeds, we show our cards, again, I win. “Truth or Dare, Charley?”
A coy smile, “Dare.”
Asshole. Now, I had to rack my brain to come up with something good, something he would never do. “I Dare you . . . to kiss, Jones.” I had him, victory was mine.
Brittany and Jones busted out laughing. I will admit, I joined in. To see the smug look wiped off his face thrilled me.
Charley winked at Jones. He tried to hide it by putting his hand to his face, faking embarrassment, but I saw it. He gave me another smile, one of those like Thompson used to give me. Charley boldly rose and went to Jones. Oh my God! No! He smiled at me, bent down, took Jones’ hand, and looking at me, kissed it. “Task completed, I win. Now, let me see, panties or shirt, a tough choice, indeed. I think I better play it safe and choose the panties. I wouldn’t want you catching a chest cold, you know, pneumonia and all.”
With every word he spoke, I boiled. Did he think he had me? “I won, you didn’t do it right.”
“No,” thundered Charley, “I won! You said kiss him and I kissed him.”
“That was his hand!” I shot back with all the boisterous anger I could muster.
“Well,” he feigned surprise, “I know he is your friend and you want to give him a treat, but where exactly did you want me to kiss him?” he put his hand to his mouth in shock.
Jones and Brittany were at it again. Their laughter was loud and annoying, I wanted to knock them both out. They were rolling, at my expense. “You bastard! You know I didn’t mean it that way. That’s not even the point, you cheated and you lost. I won!”
I pointed, spit, and everything else, as I lost all traces of decorum. The thing that infuriated me most was his calmness, the smug bastard.
“No, I won, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”
I threw the cards I was holding in his face. I picked up the ones near me and through them as well. Charley lunged at me, and I at him. We hit the floor and rolled around. When we settled in one spot, my hands were wrapped around his throat and his around mine. The intensity of the moment added energy to my grip and I wanted to kill him. Flashes of what he had done to Thompson danced across my mind and I gripped tighter.
Jones and Brittany hollered, screamed, and tugged at us both. None of it mattered to me, I was right and he was wrong and he was going to pay for it all. Finally. In the end, they resorted to the most unusual tactic imaginable. Jones hit Charley in the back with a baton at the same moment Brittany struck me. We both let go and groaned in pain. Brittany grabbed me and Jones grabbed Charley. Jones pulled him backward and dragged him into the large walk-in closet. Brittany held me tightly, squeezing the air out of my lungs, I nearly passed out.
“Britt!”
She let go. “Sorry, you left me no choice.”
Common sense set in. I took a deep breath and it hurt like hell. I felt to see if I had a cracked rib, I didn’t though it felt like I did.
“My God, Zee. How could you? You are a head case.”
Heavy breathing was all I could manage. It took all my focus to get my breathing under control so I could relax and think rationally. When I did, I hated myself. The full extent of what I had done hit me and I felt remorse.
“I don’t know why I did that, it just happened.” I pulled myself up to the wall.
“You know, Zee. Hell, anybody looking could see it.”
She was talking about Thompson again. I hate to admit it, she was right. I blame Charley for Thompson’s death, I always will.
“I’ll apologize in the morning. It was the alcohol. You know how it intensifies things? I got a little crazy. From now on, no more alcohol, problem solved.”
“Stick your head in the sand,” said Brittany. The look on her face was of anger, not confusion, as if she meant it as a question. “That’s your answer?”
“I’m not sticking my head in the sand. I get a little out of control when I have too much to drink. It’s easy to fix, stop drinking. Problem solved.”
“Look, Zee. We are living in hell for who knows how much longer. You have a choice between living before you die, really living, Zee, experiencing all that life has to offer. Or you can stick your head in the sand and be gloomy until death takes you. I have made my choice, you make yours.”
Jones came out of the closet, picked up the table we knocked over, and sat down. He dare not look at me, I felt awful. Brittany went to the table and sat next to him. They lowered their voices and leaned in to talk to each other. I couldn’t hear, but whilst they talked, Brittany giggled.
Even in these difficult times, Brittany found something to laugh about, something to be happy about. She and Jones laughed quietly. The fiasco the night turned into didn’t bother them one bit. I wish I could brush it off and began anew. It’s a much happier world they live in than I.
I looked toward the closet door, it remained open and no sound came from within. I briefly wondered what he was doing and briefly allowed myself to wonder if he was in pain or asleep. Brittany and Jones recaptured my attention with their giggles. Afterward, Jones got up and closed the curtains, darkening the room again. By candle light, I sat against the wall and watched him and Brittany move the table against a far wall. He then took her hand and led her to the pallet on the floor and they disappeared beneath the covers. I heard the same giggling from the previous night and it dawned on me, this wasn’t a first for them. They hid it so well and she never said a word to me, her blood brother.
I thought on what Brittany had said earlier about living life with reckless abandon. Perhaps, she chose tonight to let me know and fully commit. Perhaps, she chose long ago.
I sat and zoned out. I thought of Thompson and how I felt about him and then I took an honest look at Charley. I tried to be scientific and stack the good and the bad and admit to painful truths. I liked Thompson and I liked how I felt when he touched me. He made me feel special and I liked it. I think I fought for his memory for those reasons.
Taking a rational look at Charley, I will admit he is attractive and tall. His chest was a sculpture, a dream come true, and his blue eyes were dazzling. I didn’t know if feelings for him betrayed feelings for Thompson. I refused to consider or delve deeper into my psyche. I was content to only skim the surface and admit I liked the man.
The last thing to do was to think about tomorrow and what if we died making our way to the camp. How did I want to die? What did I want to be my last thought? What would be my last perfect memory before dying? I had already come up with the answer. Brittany’s soft sigh reinforced it for me. For the rest of the night, Zora was dead. It was the only way I could think of to make the change. Tonight, I will live in the moment and tomorrow would take care of itself.
I got to my feet and walked to the closet. Inside, I found Charley lying on the floor on a pile of clothes. The closet was big and spacious, the size of the smallest bedroom in the house. He turned and looked at me. I read his apology in his face and smiled. Charley returned my smile. I pulled my shirt over my head and closed the door. To my surprise, the door creaked open a bit and candlelight flickered in the room. I gazed into his eyes and found something there I hadn’t expected to find. I lay on top of him and I kissed him. I shut out the world, forgot all my hang-ups, and I lived in the moment. Thompson, I’m dancing.
Chapter 19
Someone kicked my foot. “Hey!” I opened my eyes to bright sunlight. I lie at the bottom of a pile of clothes on Charley, I slept on his chest. When my eyes focused, Brittany and Jones were standing in the door with wide grins plastered beneath their lying faces.
“We don’t talk about the night,” said Jones.
“Get up for breakfast,” beamed Brittany, “we leave in an hour, so don’t waste our precious time.”
“What?”
Jones reached down and grabbed Charley. “Come on buddy, we have to check our perimeter and make plans.” Jones pulled Charley away from me and they left the room together. I lie on the floor, looking at Brittany’s smirk-filled face. Was she delighted to have seen a naked Charley go by? Had Jones been delighted at seeing my unvarnished backside? I looked at her again. Was she delighted her scheme had worked?
“What is going on?”
“It’s almost noon. We are going to eat and hit the road. I told Jones to get Charley so there wouldn’t be any awkward small talk.”
“Thanks.”
“So?”
“So?”
Brittany looked disappointed with me. She reached down and held up my bag. Tossing it to me, she said, “get dressed, today is the day.” With that, she turned and left. Zora was back and Brittany didn’t like her.
I quickly dressed and ran to the window for a look. Zombies left during the night and only a handful remained, aimlessly walking up and down the street. At the table, Brittany had our meal ready to go. She watched me come to the table and I read her expression easily enough. I ignored it.
“What’s for breakfast?”
First a look, then a head shaking, her only retort. “Sardines and crackers for the journey.”
Brittany hadn’t opened any of the tins and chewed on a cracker while she stared out into space. I needed to kill time so I took a moment to read the label on my can of sardines, checking its caloric chart. It amused me and made me think of when it was that I last performed such a check. If nothing else, zombies were women’s natural diet partner. No woman in her right mind wonders how fat she is anymore, except in terms of how fast she can run away from flesh-eating monsters. Body image issues are a thing of the past, good riddance.
Jones and Charley came back from their perimeter check and joined us at the table. Naturally, Charley sat next to me and Jones next to Brittany. Charley said a quick prayer for our safety and we began to eat.
I cautiously observed them all while trying to figure out my place in Charley’s life. I don’t mean to say I was planning on a white house with picket fence and the standard two kids with dogs. It was more like: What do I say to him? Do I thank him? Do I pretend it never happened? Do I not talk about it? Does he want me to? He sat next to me, is that significant? I never read men my whole short life and other than Charley, I had a boyfriend for approximately three days——long enough for him to get the goods and get out of Dodge. Yes, that’s me, no-experience Zora.
Before the end came, I had met a nice guy. We dated off and on for three months without a deep commitment. He never made a move on me and I liked him for it, however it did make me wonder if he maybe had a little sugar in his tank. That’s my mom’s way of putting it; she hated saying the words, gay or homosexual. It doesn’t matter now. Zombies ate him as he came through the door to rescue me. He was simple and expressed his feelings. Charley, on the other hand, said very little.
Perhaps his being next to me, it could be his words, couldn’t it? I decided I would not push it and keep silent. We kept silent and ate. After breakfast, Jones placed a map on the table. “We’re here and this is where we need to go.”
“Are we going by road?”
“No.” Jones pointed away from the road. “We have encountered zombies near the road at every turn. We will cut across the fields and travel away from them. It will take longer, but may be a safer route. Look guys, if one of us doesn’t make it, the rest have to continue and make it to safety. If we run into zombies and one of us is surrounded, the rest do not help, we keep moving. Do you understand?”
We looked at one another. We understood, but didn’t want to say it or promise it.
“If I’m surrounded and can’t get away,” said Brittany, “I don’t want to be eaten or turned. I want all of you to promise me right now you won’t let it happen. Promise me you will shoot me and spare me the horror.”
“Britt?”
“Promise me, Zee.”
“I promise.”
“And you, Charley.”
Charley looked sad, but reluctantly agreed. “I promise.”
Brittany turned to the man beside her, saving him for last.” Jones?”
Jones grinned. “You don’t have to ask, I’ll gladly put a hole in your head.”
“Make it count,” she smirked, “right between the eyes.”
“No doubt,” said Jones. He looked longingly into her eyes and caressed the back of her hand for a brief second.
“Are you expecting zombies?” I asked more to break up the uncomfortable moment than for a reply. They were making me sick. I could throw caution to the wind for a moment only; embarrassment embedded itself into my core being and would require an exorcism for removal.
“Don and Ruthie were not on the road,” said Jones.
Remembering Thompson’s words, I blurted, “the zombies we find in the country will be stronger and take longer to take down. That will increase our chances of someone getting hurt. Wouldn’t it be better to stick closer to the roads?”
“How is that better?” he asked.
“The city zombies will be easier to kill than the country zombies.”
“What?” asked Brittany, unaware of the new term I coined.
“The newest zombies will be in the country. They will be stronger and take longer to kill because they have recently turned. I would rather fight a dozen weak ones than one strong one. There is a greater chance of us getting killed with the country zombies and I don’t know about you, but I got somewhere I need to be.”
Jones’ face soured. I saw the blood rushing to his face, once again regret filled me. I had a bad habit of challenging my commanding officer. Back at camp, it was cute, here in the real world, it wasn’t. His fist clenched, closing around the map. I hoped the others were looking elsewhere and didn’t see what I saw. When he spoke, I knew it would be sharp and edgy.
He swallowed hard. “Baker, follow orders and let me worry about our route.”
“Yes, sir.”
That’s the army, follow orders, good or bad. I wish I can remember how that story went about the soldiers who marched to their death, that’s how I feel. We packed and gathered by the front door to make our escape.
We discarded the contents of one of the duffel bags and Jones stuffed it with small pillows from around the house. It was odd. I wanted to ask about them, I couldn’t, I had reached my daily allotment for challenges. I told myself he is our leader and he knows best. Jones was good and so far, our lives were safe in his hands. Now was not the time for a mutiny. Besides, the one lesson I learned from him was to look at the big picture, he always did.
Jones left first, followed by Brittany, Charley, and once again I guarded our rear. This time I would be sure to shut the door in case we needed to retreat. I kicked myself. Zombies aren’t intelligent and can’t read. If I had been thinking, I would have left a note on the door alerting anyone who passed by that the house was a safe zone. Literally a safe zone, I had never felt safer than in this place. Instead of a note, I shut the door, checked it, and then blew it a kiss as I hurried to catch my team.
Jones led us along a similar route as the last and I glanced at the burned houses, their embers still aglow. Over the rise we went. So far, the stray zombies we saw were moving opposite us and we stayed behind buildings until they passed. We came to a small hill and at the top, saw a small shack in the distance.
The others made their way to it while I defended our six. Jones whistled to me. I journeyed to the shack. They hadn’t gone in, they lay flat on the ground, looking ahead. Below us, zombies were rummaging around an overturned truck, I counted six of them. I checked our left and right, no other zombies were present. I lay on the ground and low crawled to my team.
Charley looked at them through Jones’ binoculars. Something delighted him, he chuckled lightly to himself.
“What?”
“That truck might run,” said Charley. “There is no lower carriage damage. Maybe zombies flipped it over to get at the people.”
“Batons only,” said Jones. “We take them out and take a look. It’s worth it if we can get the truck running. Baker, you stay with our bags and watch our six.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Follow orders and watch our six.”
Venom filled his words. The sweet lovable friend left with the morning meal. I should have known. It was my fault as usual. I needed to learn the core lesson, the number one lesson a soldier must learn: never question your superior. I lay the fault at the army’s feet, they knew what they were getting when I signed up. Jones didn’t have to be mean about it.
I watched them perform a move I had seen many times. With batons high, they began their descent to the truck. Brittany was last to leave. She turned and without words, smiled at me. Her magical smile was like the sun falling on a darkened land, it warmed me throughout. A second look at my crawling friend revealed a curiosity; she didn’t crawl with a baton. Instead, she moved along the ground with her zombie crushing lead pipe.
The truck was half a mile away, tilted on its side in what looked like a ravine. Together they crept to the truck and in a furry, beat the zombies to death. I saw Charley go around the front and fear welled in me. I was concerned with his safety. The emotion took me by surprise and I could only connect it with last night’s activities. I couldn’t be concerned about this man, I had plans and he wasn’t part of them.
I kicked myself for getting involved in the first place. Why did I ever listen to Brittany and Thompson? I was the only person who had my best interests at heart. I couldn’t afford distractions and would never call it by any other name than that. Distractions were dangerous and if not nipped in the bud, could get you killed.
Then it came. From behind me a soft groaning sound filtered down to me. There was no time to cringe, no time for fear. I turned as a zombie was bending toward me, mouth fully open and salivating. I kicked up as hard as I could, knocking the zombie back. A quick check of its eyes revealed a small red ring around the outer edge of his eyeball. He was new, a country zombie. I had been right all along. Jones should have listened to me.
For a split second, I was distracted by my gloating. I had already planned the victory speech I would deliver to Jones, face to face. The zombie came at me again and I scrambled to get to my feet. Fighting wasn’t what I wanted to do. I preferred a bullet through the head from a distance away.
I stood defenseless, unable to get to my pack and a weapon. Unable to get to any of the packs standing behind the zombie. I lunged at it. The strategy had worked in the past, why change now? Careful not to fall into its clutches, I pushed it backward while gripping its arms. As it howled and fell backward, I managed to stay upright and readied for my next assault. With the zombie on the ground, I reared back and kicked as hard as I could. My boot went through its skull in one try. The difficult part was extricating my foot from the mess of its head.
I should have turned my head and not looked, I didn’t. Green slime covered my boot. More tapioca styled, green-tinted, zombie brains made my boot a heavy, stinky mess. It smelled like a cesspool. I shook it off as fast as I could. The sight and smell equally made me sick to my stomach. If not for my friends being in mortal danger, I would have fallen to the ground, vomiting.
There was no time to think about poor little me. I scanned the area for more zombies, I saw none. He must have been a stray. I hurried to my bag and pulled out my sawed-off shotgun. I cocked it. I would be ready for the next one and blow its head clean off its shoulders. Any part of it that remained would get my steel-toed combat boots.
A whistle let me know Jones was calling. I looked to him and he waved me down. Brittany was coming toward me, I waited for her.
“I’ll help you take the bags down,” she said.
“What are we, a butler service?”
“You and me both, it’s the army.”
“Yeah, more like this
We downed our first shot.
“To friends who can whack the hell out of zombies,” said Charley.
We downed another shot.
“To me,” said Brittany. “What? It’s my party.”
We downed another shot.
“Make it good, girl,” said Brittany. She gave me a wink.
“To . . . to the last man standing. Hooah!”
“Hooah!” said Brittany.
“Hooah!” said Jones.
“Hooah!” shouted Charley. We downed another. I gasped, my throat burned. I was not the drinker my friends were. Tears filled my eyes and I coughed.
“I don’t have any music, but I have an exciting game we can play,” Charley said.
“What?”
“Truth or Dare, the drinking version.”
“No, pick something else. I hate that game.”
Charley gave it some thought. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, Brittany answered. “Strip Poker, we have the cards, the table, and the bodies.”
Everyone immediately turned to gaze at me. As if I had a problem with it. I did. I looked at their drunken faces, waiting for my timid response, hoping I would not be a wet blanket for yet another asinine suggestion. I smiled.
“I’m game.”
“All right,” said Brittany.
The boys grinned at each other, afraid to reply, in case I had a change of heart. Jones poured another round and I couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around my teacup and gain some liquid courage.
Only one of us ever played the game, so in a drunken stupor that took several minutes to complete, we agreed to basic rules. Jones nearly fell as he rose to emphatically state that only the winner kept their clothes on, the losers would each remove an article of clothing after each round. Charley suggested that for bets, we did a round of Truth or Dare; he was determined to play his favorite game and wouldn’t let it go. We agreed to get play underway.
Brittany and I excused ourselves and went to the bathroom. When we came back, each of us had fashioned a hair scarf, wore an extra shirt, and proclaimed our weapons are jewelry and therefore clothing—I had a knife in each back pocket and in each sock. The boys moaned and groaned before adding their own changes to the aforementioned rules to even out the odds.
Throughout the game, whenever Brittany dealt the cards, I usually won. I figured she was cheating for my benefit. As the game progressed, I had the most clothes on, followed by Brittany. I should have spoken up and confronted her for cheating, the boys were too drunk to make a challenge. On the one hand, a rigged game in my favor bothered me, but on the other, it’s nice to have a friend look out for you. Brittany knew me well. She knew I was pushing the envelope and at any minute, would reach my limit. Thank God for Brittany.
Toward the end of our play, Brittany had on a white tank top and red panties and had lost her hairnet, scarf, boots, socks, pants, shirt, and weapons. I, likewise, was down to a blue shirt, blue bra, and matching panties. Since I was sitting, I surrendered my pants to keep my shirt. Though she cheated, I assume the boys were master cheaters and turned the tables. They plied us with drinks and stories. We couldn’t tell if they were lying or telling the truth, a perfect distraction for their hidden agenda.
Charley was at the table in white underwear and Jones was on top of the world wearing blue socks and shorts.
Jones dealt and the betting began. Brittany took an easy Dare and flashed Jones. On Charley’s turn, his eyes found mine and his grin, insatiable. “Truth or Dare, Zora?”
I eyed him up and down, knowing little about him. I thought it best not to test the waters. I had a winning hand and this would end it all. “Truth.”
“If you came over and passionately kissed us both, I mean with tongue and all, who do you think would be the better kisser, Jones or me?”
“That’s not a Truth, that’s a Dare.”
“No, it’s not, I’m not daring you to do anything, except tell the truth like you’ve been wanting to.”
“I don’t want to do anything.” Smug bastard.
“Zee,” said Brittany. She wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t slap me. “It’s a simple question, just answer it.”
“That’s not a question, it’s a Dare and I won’t. I said Truth and I meant Truth.”
“Zee! My God, girl. It’s not earth-shattering news. I mean for real!”
“Fine,” I fumed. “Jones would be the better kisser. He has a heart.”
I wanted my words to sting and make him feel as uneasy as I felt. More than likely I flubbed my attack. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“All right, Zee,” said Jones. “You’re up.”
I racked my brain deciding who to go after. Of course, it had to be Charley. He only had his boxers and if he failed the challenge, I win. If he succeeds, we show our cards, again, I win. “Truth or Dare, Charley?”
A coy smile, “Dare.”
Asshole. Now, I had to rack my brain to come up with something good, something he would never do. “I Dare you . . . to kiss, Jones.” I had him, victory was mine.
Brittany and Jones busted out laughing. I will admit, I joined in. To see the smug look wiped off his face thrilled me.
Charley winked at Jones. He tried to hide it by putting his hand to his face, faking embarrassment, but I saw it. He gave me another smile, one of those like Thompson used to give me. Charley boldly rose and went to Jones. Oh my God! No! He smiled at me, bent down, took Jones’ hand, and looking at me, kissed it. “Task completed, I win. Now, let me see, panties or shirt, a tough choice, indeed. I think I better play it safe and choose the panties. I wouldn’t want you catching a chest cold, you know, pneumonia and all.”
With every word he spoke, I boiled. Did he think he had me? “I won, you didn’t do it right.”
“No,” thundered Charley, “I won! You said kiss him and I kissed him.”
“That was his hand!” I shot back with all the boisterous anger I could muster.
“Well,” he feigned surprise, “I know he is your friend and you want to give him a treat, but where exactly did you want me to kiss him?” he put his hand to his mouth in shock.
Jones and Brittany were at it again. Their laughter was loud and annoying, I wanted to knock them both out. They were rolling, at my expense. “You bastard! You know I didn’t mean it that way. That’s not even the point, you cheated and you lost. I won!”
I pointed, spit, and everything else, as I lost all traces of decorum. The thing that infuriated me most was his calmness, the smug bastard.
“No, I won, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”
I threw the cards I was holding in his face. I picked up the ones near me and through them as well. Charley lunged at me, and I at him. We hit the floor and rolled around. When we settled in one spot, my hands were wrapped around his throat and his around mine. The intensity of the moment added energy to my grip and I wanted to kill him. Flashes of what he had done to Thompson danced across my mind and I gripped tighter.
Jones and Brittany hollered, screamed, and tugged at us both. None of it mattered to me, I was right and he was wrong and he was going to pay for it all. Finally. In the end, they resorted to the most unusual tactic imaginable. Jones hit Charley in the back with a baton at the same moment Brittany struck me. We both let go and groaned in pain. Brittany grabbed me and Jones grabbed Charley. Jones pulled him backward and dragged him into the large walk-in closet. Brittany held me tightly, squeezing the air out of my lungs, I nearly passed out.
“Britt!”
She let go. “Sorry, you left me no choice.”
Common sense set in. I took a deep breath and it hurt like hell. I felt to see if I had a cracked rib, I didn’t though it felt like I did.
“My God, Zee. How could you? You are a head case.”
Heavy breathing was all I could manage. It took all my focus to get my breathing under control so I could relax and think rationally. When I did, I hated myself. The full extent of what I had done hit me and I felt remorse.
“I don’t know why I did that, it just happened.” I pulled myself up to the wall.
“You know, Zee. Hell, anybody looking could see it.”
She was talking about Thompson again. I hate to admit it, she was right. I blame Charley for Thompson’s death, I always will.
“I’ll apologize in the morning. It was the alcohol. You know how it intensifies things? I got a little crazy. From now on, no more alcohol, problem solved.”
“Stick your head in the sand,” said Brittany. The look on her face was of anger, not confusion, as if she meant it as a question. “That’s your answer?”
“I’m not sticking my head in the sand. I get a little out of control when I have too much to drink. It’s easy to fix, stop drinking. Problem solved.”
“Look, Zee. We are living in hell for who knows how much longer. You have a choice between living before you die, really living, Zee, experiencing all that life has to offer. Or you can stick your head in the sand and be gloomy until death takes you. I have made my choice, you make yours.”
Jones came out of the closet, picked up the table we knocked over, and sat down. He dare not look at me, I felt awful. Brittany went to the table and sat next to him. They lowered their voices and leaned in to talk to each other. I couldn’t hear, but whilst they talked, Brittany giggled.
Even in these difficult times, Brittany found something to laugh about, something to be happy about. She and Jones laughed quietly. The fiasco the night turned into didn’t bother them one bit. I wish I could brush it off and began anew. It’s a much happier world they live in than I.
I looked toward the closet door, it remained open and no sound came from within. I briefly wondered what he was doing and briefly allowed myself to wonder if he was in pain or asleep. Brittany and Jones recaptured my attention with their giggles. Afterward, Jones got up and closed the curtains, darkening the room again. By candle light, I sat against the wall and watched him and Brittany move the table against a far wall. He then took her hand and led her to the pallet on the floor and they disappeared beneath the covers. I heard the same giggling from the previous night and it dawned on me, this wasn’t a first for them. They hid it so well and she never said a word to me, her blood brother.
I thought on what Brittany had said earlier about living life with reckless abandon. Perhaps, she chose tonight to let me know and fully commit. Perhaps, she chose long ago.
I sat and zoned out. I thought of Thompson and how I felt about him and then I took an honest look at Charley. I tried to be scientific and stack the good and the bad and admit to painful truths. I liked Thompson and I liked how I felt when he touched me. He made me feel special and I liked it. I think I fought for his memory for those reasons.
Taking a rational look at Charley, I will admit he is attractive and tall. His chest was a sculpture, a dream come true, and his blue eyes were dazzling. I didn’t know if feelings for him betrayed feelings for Thompson. I refused to consider or delve deeper into my psyche. I was content to only skim the surface and admit I liked the man.
The last thing to do was to think about tomorrow and what if we died making our way to the camp. How did I want to die? What did I want to be my last thought? What would be my last perfect memory before dying? I had already come up with the answer. Brittany’s soft sigh reinforced it for me. For the rest of the night, Zora was dead. It was the only way I could think of to make the change. Tonight, I will live in the moment and tomorrow would take care of itself.
I got to my feet and walked to the closet. Inside, I found Charley lying on the floor on a pile of clothes. The closet was big and spacious, the size of the smallest bedroom in the house. He turned and looked at me. I read his apology in his face and smiled. Charley returned my smile. I pulled my shirt over my head and closed the door. To my surprise, the door creaked open a bit and candlelight flickered in the room. I gazed into his eyes and found something there I hadn’t expected to find. I lay on top of him and I kissed him. I shut out the world, forgot all my hang-ups, and I lived in the moment. Thompson, I’m dancing.
Chapter 19
Someone kicked my foot. “Hey!” I opened my eyes to bright sunlight. I lie at the bottom of a pile of clothes on Charley, I slept on his chest. When my eyes focused, Brittany and Jones were standing in the door with wide grins plastered beneath their lying faces.
“We don’t talk about the night,” said Jones.
“Get up for breakfast,” beamed Brittany, “we leave in an hour, so don’t waste our precious time.”
“What?”
Jones reached down and grabbed Charley. “Come on buddy, we have to check our perimeter and make plans.” Jones pulled Charley away from me and they left the room together. I lie on the floor, looking at Brittany’s smirk-filled face. Was she delighted to have seen a naked Charley go by? Had Jones been delighted at seeing my unvarnished backside? I looked at her again. Was she delighted her scheme had worked?
“What is going on?”
“It’s almost noon. We are going to eat and hit the road. I told Jones to get Charley so there wouldn’t be any awkward small talk.”
“Thanks.”
“So?”
“So?”
Brittany looked disappointed with me. She reached down and held up my bag. Tossing it to me, she said, “get dressed, today is the day.” With that, she turned and left. Zora was back and Brittany didn’t like her.
I quickly dressed and ran to the window for a look. Zombies left during the night and only a handful remained, aimlessly walking up and down the street. At the table, Brittany had our meal ready to go. She watched me come to the table and I read her expression easily enough. I ignored it.
“What’s for breakfast?”
First a look, then a head shaking, her only retort. “Sardines and crackers for the journey.”
Brittany hadn’t opened any of the tins and chewed on a cracker while she stared out into space. I needed to kill time so I took a moment to read the label on my can of sardines, checking its caloric chart. It amused me and made me think of when it was that I last performed such a check. If nothing else, zombies were women’s natural diet partner. No woman in her right mind wonders how fat she is anymore, except in terms of how fast she can run away from flesh-eating monsters. Body image issues are a thing of the past, good riddance.
Jones and Charley came back from their perimeter check and joined us at the table. Naturally, Charley sat next to me and Jones next to Brittany. Charley said a quick prayer for our safety and we began to eat.
I cautiously observed them all while trying to figure out my place in Charley’s life. I don’t mean to say I was planning on a white house with picket fence and the standard two kids with dogs. It was more like: What do I say to him? Do I thank him? Do I pretend it never happened? Do I not talk about it? Does he want me to? He sat next to me, is that significant? I never read men my whole short life and other than Charley, I had a boyfriend for approximately three days——long enough for him to get the goods and get out of Dodge. Yes, that’s me, no-experience Zora.
Before the end came, I had met a nice guy. We dated off and on for three months without a deep commitment. He never made a move on me and I liked him for it, however it did make me wonder if he maybe had a little sugar in his tank. That’s my mom’s way of putting it; she hated saying the words, gay or homosexual. It doesn’t matter now. Zombies ate him as he came through the door to rescue me. He was simple and expressed his feelings. Charley, on the other hand, said very little.
Perhaps his being next to me, it could be his words, couldn’t it? I decided I would not push it and keep silent. We kept silent and ate. After breakfast, Jones placed a map on the table. “We’re here and this is where we need to go.”
“Are we going by road?”
“No.” Jones pointed away from the road. “We have encountered zombies near the road at every turn. We will cut across the fields and travel away from them. It will take longer, but may be a safer route. Look guys, if one of us doesn’t make it, the rest have to continue and make it to safety. If we run into zombies and one of us is surrounded, the rest do not help, we keep moving. Do you understand?”
We looked at one another. We understood, but didn’t want to say it or promise it.
“If I’m surrounded and can’t get away,” said Brittany, “I don’t want to be eaten or turned. I want all of you to promise me right now you won’t let it happen. Promise me you will shoot me and spare me the horror.”
“Britt?”
“Promise me, Zee.”
“I promise.”
“And you, Charley.”
Charley looked sad, but reluctantly agreed. “I promise.”
Brittany turned to the man beside her, saving him for last.” Jones?”
Jones grinned. “You don’t have to ask, I’ll gladly put a hole in your head.”
“Make it count,” she smirked, “right between the eyes.”
“No doubt,” said Jones. He looked longingly into her eyes and caressed the back of her hand for a brief second.
“Are you expecting zombies?” I asked more to break up the uncomfortable moment than for a reply. They were making me sick. I could throw caution to the wind for a moment only; embarrassment embedded itself into my core being and would require an exorcism for removal.
“Don and Ruthie were not on the road,” said Jones.
Remembering Thompson’s words, I blurted, “the zombies we find in the country will be stronger and take longer to take down. That will increase our chances of someone getting hurt. Wouldn’t it be better to stick closer to the roads?”
“How is that better?” he asked.
“The city zombies will be easier to kill than the country zombies.”
“What?” asked Brittany, unaware of the new term I coined.
“The newest zombies will be in the country. They will be stronger and take longer to kill because they have recently turned. I would rather fight a dozen weak ones than one strong one. There is a greater chance of us getting killed with the country zombies and I don’t know about you, but I got somewhere I need to be.”
Jones’ face soured. I saw the blood rushing to his face, once again regret filled me. I had a bad habit of challenging my commanding officer. Back at camp, it was cute, here in the real world, it wasn’t. His fist clenched, closing around the map. I hoped the others were looking elsewhere and didn’t see what I saw. When he spoke, I knew it would be sharp and edgy.
He swallowed hard. “Baker, follow orders and let me worry about our route.”
“Yes, sir.”
That’s the army, follow orders, good or bad. I wish I can remember how that story went about the soldiers who marched to their death, that’s how I feel. We packed and gathered by the front door to make our escape.
We discarded the contents of one of the duffel bags and Jones stuffed it with small pillows from around the house. It was odd. I wanted to ask about them, I couldn’t, I had reached my daily allotment for challenges. I told myself he is our leader and he knows best. Jones was good and so far, our lives were safe in his hands. Now was not the time for a mutiny. Besides, the one lesson I learned from him was to look at the big picture, he always did.
Jones left first, followed by Brittany, Charley, and once again I guarded our rear. This time I would be sure to shut the door in case we needed to retreat. I kicked myself. Zombies aren’t intelligent and can’t read. If I had been thinking, I would have left a note on the door alerting anyone who passed by that the house was a safe zone. Literally a safe zone, I had never felt safer than in this place. Instead of a note, I shut the door, checked it, and then blew it a kiss as I hurried to catch my team.
Jones led us along a similar route as the last and I glanced at the burned houses, their embers still aglow. Over the rise we went. So far, the stray zombies we saw were moving opposite us and we stayed behind buildings until they passed. We came to a small hill and at the top, saw a small shack in the distance.
The others made their way to it while I defended our six. Jones whistled to me. I journeyed to the shack. They hadn’t gone in, they lay flat on the ground, looking ahead. Below us, zombies were rummaging around an overturned truck, I counted six of them. I checked our left and right, no other zombies were present. I lay on the ground and low crawled to my team.
Charley looked at them through Jones’ binoculars. Something delighted him, he chuckled lightly to himself.
“What?”
“That truck might run,” said Charley. “There is no lower carriage damage. Maybe zombies flipped it over to get at the people.”
“Batons only,” said Jones. “We take them out and take a look. It’s worth it if we can get the truck running. Baker, you stay with our bags and watch our six.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Follow orders and watch our six.”
Venom filled his words. The sweet lovable friend left with the morning meal. I should have known. It was my fault as usual. I needed to learn the core lesson, the number one lesson a soldier must learn: never question your superior. I lay the fault at the army’s feet, they knew what they were getting when I signed up. Jones didn’t have to be mean about it.
I watched them perform a move I had seen many times. With batons high, they began their descent to the truck. Brittany was last to leave. She turned and without words, smiled at me. Her magical smile was like the sun falling on a darkened land, it warmed me throughout. A second look at my crawling friend revealed a curiosity; she didn’t crawl with a baton. Instead, she moved along the ground with her zombie crushing lead pipe.
The truck was half a mile away, tilted on its side in what looked like a ravine. Together they crept to the truck and in a furry, beat the zombies to death. I saw Charley go around the front and fear welled in me. I was concerned with his safety. The emotion took me by surprise and I could only connect it with last night’s activities. I couldn’t be concerned about this man, I had plans and he wasn’t part of them.
I kicked myself for getting involved in the first place. Why did I ever listen to Brittany and Thompson? I was the only person who had my best interests at heart. I couldn’t afford distractions and would never call it by any other name than that. Distractions were dangerous and if not nipped in the bud, could get you killed.
Then it came. From behind me a soft groaning sound filtered down to me. There was no time to cringe, no time for fear. I turned as a zombie was bending toward me, mouth fully open and salivating. I kicked up as hard as I could, knocking the zombie back. A quick check of its eyes revealed a small red ring around the outer edge of his eyeball. He was new, a country zombie. I had been right all along. Jones should have listened to me.
For a split second, I was distracted by my gloating. I had already planned the victory speech I would deliver to Jones, face to face. The zombie came at me again and I scrambled to get to my feet. Fighting wasn’t what I wanted to do. I preferred a bullet through the head from a distance away.
I stood defenseless, unable to get to my pack and a weapon. Unable to get to any of the packs standing behind the zombie. I lunged at it. The strategy had worked in the past, why change now? Careful not to fall into its clutches, I pushed it backward while gripping its arms. As it howled and fell backward, I managed to stay upright and readied for my next assault. With the zombie on the ground, I reared back and kicked as hard as I could. My boot went through its skull in one try. The difficult part was extricating my foot from the mess of its head.
I should have turned my head and not looked, I didn’t. Green slime covered my boot. More tapioca styled, green-tinted, zombie brains made my boot a heavy, stinky mess. It smelled like a cesspool. I shook it off as fast as I could. The sight and smell equally made me sick to my stomach. If not for my friends being in mortal danger, I would have fallen to the ground, vomiting.
There was no time to think about poor little me. I scanned the area for more zombies, I saw none. He must have been a stray. I hurried to my bag and pulled out my sawed-off shotgun. I cocked it. I would be ready for the next one and blow its head clean off its shoulders. Any part of it that remained would get my steel-toed combat boots.
A whistle let me know Jones was calling. I looked to him and he waved me down. Brittany was coming toward me, I waited for her.
“I’ll help you take the bags down,” she said.
“What are we, a butler service?”
“You and me both, it’s the army.”
“Yeah, more like this
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