And This Too: A Modern Fable (10 page)

"I suppose," he sighed in response, staring at the gun in his lap, "this is going to be the sketchiest road trip, ever."

Tsgumi giggled and sent the 5-speed into reverse. "The absolute sketchiest."

Eight

Somewhere in California

The beaches were roped off with caution tape that had been gnawed at by the cold ocean and harsh wind. Hundreds of festering, relentless undead were water logged and trying to make their way through the shifting sands of the ocean floor. The stench of decay was magnified tenfold by the merciless California sun.

Yet, Mariah didn't care; she was going to go to her first house party. Some parts of the Golden State were mysteriously immune to the epidemic. As Mariah walked through the semi-deserted neighborhood, she adjusted her sKankgoggLes so that they were perfectly aligned with her face. Her curled, silk chocolate hair bounced as her TrampStompers chastised the cement.

Mariah entered her two-floor apartment with an excited flourish. Her roommate, Carrie, was going to help Mariah get ready for the party. Carrie, who had been to hundreds of raves, would know exactly how to gussy-up the fledgling.

"Carrie!" Mariah called, sliding her SGs up onto the crown of her head, "I'm ready for my makeover!"

As Mariah climbed the stairs, she admired the way her frosty purple nails stood out against the oak banister. Her nails matched her sunglasses, her shoes, and her HooChii Koture handbag. The icy hue was Mariah's all time favorite. As she climbed the stairs, Mariah's white denim, mini-skirt edged up her golden-tan thighs. The majority of the twenty-three year old's day had been spent at Toaster's Tanning, which was located in a part of the city that was still up and running.

"Carrie!" Mariah turned into the upstairs hallway and peeked into Carrie's room. Her bubbly demeanor was shoved back down her throat and she couldn't help but to gasp the sound, "Caahr."

Carrie, the flaming red head that had always been Mariah's role-model, was standing in her room wearing only one high heel and a skirt that might as well have not been there. Tarlike slime was caked in the corners of her plump lips which were smeared with a disturbing shade of red. Her eyes were a blackish-yellow and a growl gurgled in her throat as Mariah's eyes darted to the obscenely infected track marks in Carrie's left arm. Carrie growled at Mariah a second time, showing that the spaces between her teeth were outlined in the same black ooze that tarnished Carrie's beautiful mouth.

Mariah was appalled. Essentially, Carrie was the love of Mariah's life...and on a few occasions where either drugs or alcohol or both were involved, they acted upon these impulses. At first, Mariah thought that maybe Carrie was just having a really bad time with something her dealer sold her, and then she registered how gnarly Carrie's track marks were. A dirty needle had given her best friend the flu. Carrie started hobbling towards Mariah, her ankle wobbling when she carried her weight on her stiletto-clad foot.

"Carrie," Mariah whimpered, "baby, it's me."

Carrie let out a guttural screech and lunged at Mariah who squealed and tripped over her expensive shoes all the way back down the stairs. Carrie's groaning echoed throughout the apartment and was barely muffled by Mariah's frantic screams. Mariah ran into the kitchen, pulled a particularly sharp knife out of the silverware drawer and waited. She could hear the uneven footsteps awkwardly thumping down the staircase. Mariah brandished the cutlery as her heart began racing and the situation finally sank in. As Carrie rounded the corner, tears spilled down Mariah's cheeks and she gulped.

"I love you, Care-bear," she whispered.

Carrie screeched in response, and Mariah jammed the large knife through Carrie's forehead.  

*****

The bus was hidden away in the woods so well that only those who knew what they were looking for could find it. Harley hoped that the Crown Vic behind her could handle the untamed terrain. Kurt looked around the unfamiliar surroundings and his left eyebrow perked up.

"Are you sure that we're going the right way? I don't remember this at all."

"Shush. Trust me."

"Whatever."

Christian gritted his teeth. Kurt had been getting on his nerves since Harley had picked him up from the gas station. Every move Harley made seemed well calculated and thought out, but Kurt always had something to say about it. Christian wanted to say something to him, but figured that his input would make things worse and decided to just be a conscientious observer.

"We're definitely going the wrong way."

A fine vein in Harley's forehead was beginning to bulge. She wished that Kurt would have ridden in the Crown Vic. It would have made the whole situation a lot less stressful. She continued to drive, keeping her lips pressed in a tight, thin line.

"Harley, did you hear me? We're going the wrong way."

If there wasn't a car behind her, Harley would have slammed on the brakes. "Shut. Up. Kurt! You've never driven to the bus; you've always just passed out in the back seat like the couch potato you are. I'm surprised you ever even came out here with us where there are no video games to numb your mind. You don't even really know where we're going, so shut the fuck up and be patient."

Kurt crossed his arms and pouted like a child. "No need to yell," he muttered.

A mere five minutes later, they turned a corner and drove up to a faded lime green bus and an abandoned farm house made of rotting wood and corrugated metal. Christian's breath caught in his throat. It was incredible. Harley parked at an angle to make a barrier around their makeshift campground. Allie did the same.

Everybody got out into the open and stretched.

"This is great," Christian murmured to Harley, "you can actually breathe out here. It doesn't smell like sun-roasted decay, or festering sickness."

Harley couldn't help but giggle a bit at the truth. It smelled safe in the woods. "I actually think that we'll be able to set up camp and even eat a little without having to worry about the zombies."

Christian slid his arm around Harley's waist and pulled her close to him. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Harley looked up into Christian's sad, honest, beautiful blue eyes. "Of course," she whispered.

"You kept me sane while I was alone."

Harley's heart skipped a beat. "Really?" she asked, feeling a lump rise in her throat like she was going to cry.

"Really," Christian replied with a chuckle. "The fact that you came by...you're so beautiful and intelligent and...strong. You're my angel. I knew it when I saw you pull up."

Harley kicked at the dirt and smiled. "How would you...like to...sleep in my tent with me?"

Christian's eyes lit up. "I'd love to."

"Then we'd better get to work."

Christian watched Harley walk away, her juiciest asset accented by her tight black pants that were tucked into black men's combat boots. She was so full of confidence, even though she had been scared shitless when the gigantic mass of undead came at them on the highway. So full of confidence even though things were not the way they should have been. He admired how she was perfectly content living out in the woods, which seemed safer than finding shelter in an over populated city.

"Alright, everybody, listen up!"

All eyes were on Harley. Christian smiled.

"We'll use the bus as an infirmary, and a safe place to keep the extra supplies," she said, pointing, "We still need to remember that there are bears and stuff to worry about out here. We need to build a fire pit in the middle of our little circle thing," she pointed again, "And then tents around it. We have four tents so we'll set them up in the corners of our circle. Don't forget that we need to stay as sanitary as possible so remember to piss away from camp." Harley clapped. "Alright team, let's get to work."

Allie came up to Harley while she was getting the tents and sleeping bags out of the back of the Escalade.

"He's cute," Allie declared, nodding to Christian who was moving medical supplies from the back of the Crown Vic to the bus.

"I concur."

"I'm glad for you being able to find love during a time like this."

"Love?"

"I see the way you look at each other. It's electric."

Harley blushed and looked back over at Christian. "C'mon, these tents won't put themselves up."

"Harley," Christian called from bus. "This bus needs help."

Harley dropped the tents in the middle of the clearing and jogged over to the bus. It was less than savory, having been abandoned in the wild so many years ago. The windows were still intact and it was mostly clear of debris, but the mattress smelled funkier than it had the last time Harley visited and the shelves were barely clinging to rusted and broken supports.

"Eeek," Harley said, bashfully. "I guess it's been a while."

"We can fix it," Christian replied cheerfully. "It won't be hard."

Harley smiled up at Christian.

They started with the rotting mattress. It was unsavory and definitely unsanitary, and needed to go.

"So, we can put the extra sleeping bag in here on the floor, and use the broken shelves as firewood."

"We could use a couple Styrofoam coolers as extra storage space," Christian chimed in excitedly.

Harley stared into Christian's smiling eyes and she could feel the electricity that Allie had mentioned. Christian took her breath away. Somehow she was having fun in a world where fun wasn't even a word anymore. It was as though Christian was the missing piece she'd been searching for since she was a little girl. They barely knew each other, and she already thought of him as her best friend. She didn't like feeling this vulnerable, but it was surprisingly pleasant. Harley bit her bottom lip, which made Christian's blood race to every one of his veins, sending tingles through his entire body, before she walked away to help set up the rest of the camp.

*****

Somewhere in Wyoming

Jamie would never get used to the taste, or texture, of cat food. It wasn't wholesome and delicious like all of the advertisements promised. It tasted like tuna flavored Breakfast-O’s. But there was no more food, and she needed protein. She was squatting in a shed, which was reinforced from the inside with a few sheets of plywood. The metal shed was warmish, her makeshift mattress was comfortable enough for one person and the only time she ever dared to go outside was to empty her chamber pot. The smell was unbelievable, but she didn't want to fight. Anything beat having to fight. She chewed on the hard-to-stomach cat food and grimaced.

"This isn't the way things should be," she whispered out loud.

Jamie had been biding her time by writing and reading and doodling by the LED beam of a flashlight, which was soon to run out of battery life. She hadn't had a ton of time to prepare for this kind of "life", that's why she was eating cat food and urinating in a bucket. She itched to see the sun. The nerve-tingling howl of zombies outside had ceased, and her shack needed to air out a little bit. She finished eating her breakfast and decided she'd flip a coin. There was no other use for the currency now, except for decision making. Jamie picked a penny off of the metal floor and sighed.

"Heads," she vocalized, "and I'll go outside for a little bit. Tails and I'll just empty my bucket and come back inside."

The coin barely caught in the glow of the flashlight hanging from the ceiling before it landed in Jamie's palm. She didn't want to look at the answer. She could just stay inside and let the fumes of her own waste kill her slowly. Her fingers uncurled and she looked down at what she could only define as God's answer. Heads.

Jamie would have leapt, except she would have hit her head on the ceiling. Without thinking about it, she began to tear the plywood down. Sunlight poured in through the now open door, and a huge smile settled over Jamie's face.

"Thank you God," she whispered into the blinding sun. "Now I know that this too shall pass."

Jamie quickly grabbed her bucket, ran outside, and dumped her waste in the "compost" pile. The fresh air made Jamie blush. She set her bucket by the entrance to her shed before taking a stroll through the trailer park. The dirt road seemed less dusty, the worn down houses seemed nicer and the birds were quieter. Jamie felt a chill creep up on her and she shivered. It was suddenly apparent that the entire world was sick. She kept walking, regardless. Her stomach grew queasy and she began to sweat like crazy. It had only been a few minutes, but she was ready to go back into the seclusion of her shed.

Turning around, she tried to act as casual as she could, but she could feel eyes on her.

"Just walk," she breathed, "just. walk."

In her haste, Jamie tripped over a rock and tumbled to the gravel road. She let out a cry as several little rocks embedded themselves in her knee. Jamie took one look at her knee and was horrified by the gore. Her face began to pale. She couldn't handle the sight of her own blood dribbling out of her knee. She tried not to let the nausea get to her, but her cat food ended up on the gravel anyways.

"nnnnUUUUUUUUUUgh."

"Oh God."

The howls of the undead grew louder and more numerous. The people who were "living" in the surrounding trailers began spilling out of doorways and broken windows. Jamie began to panic.

"C'mon Jamie, get up," she urged herself, pushing herself up off the ground. "Now run." But her knee hurt too bad to run, so she kind of half limped towards her home.