Love in the Time of Zombies (2 page)

The darkness of her eyes held the terror of the day.

The golden of her skin glistened with crimson rivers.

She wore the patina of lost ones like vagabond rags

draped on her bowed, weighted shoulders.

— Seth Ripley

The zombie apocalypse could end any fucking time as far as Seth Ripley was concerned. Six months had dragged on like years. When he envisioned actual years of this he was ready to swallow his S & W 1911 to end the pain. The only thing stopping him was God and the virus. Also, the thought of his mother’s pain at the idea they wouldn’t be together in Heaven someday. Catholic guilt will get you every time. He slapped the steering wheel, cursed, and then crossed himself.

Running supplies and messages between communities at least let him think he had a purpose, a reason for remaining on this forsaken land formerly known as the great state of California. Before the Z virus, he’d just been a truck driver. He’d taken loads from point A to point B, paid the mortgage on a house that was so far underwater he would have to pay the bank to take it back, and lived paycheck to paycheck to buy things he thought he needed. Now, he traveled from enclave to enclave, bringing messages from loved ones, needed goods, and getting paid with food, supplies, and sometimes a bed other than the one in his truck.

Coming from Antioch, he sped down the cleared Bypass Road, glad, yet again, that the people at the Streets of Brentwood group had moved the cars off into the grass months ago. His gaze swept the weed-infested, cracked asphalt, on the lookout for the undead. He swerved to miss one dragging its useless legs across the road. Crossing himself, he uttered a prayer for the lost soul just as a shot rang out and the man collapsed onto the pavement.

He slowed the truck and pulled up beside two men. Stopping, he saw Joseph and Robert from the Streets of Brentwood. Seth rolled down his window and waved at the men, shouting a hello.

The pair rolled the dead man into the grass, spray painted an X on the road, and then radioed their location to base. He knew a clean-up crew would come out later and incinerate the now truly dead.

He leaned out the window. “How’s it going?

“Not too bad,” they replied in unison, as usual. It was either that or they completed each other’s sentences.

“Didn’t see you guys last time I was through here.”

“We’ve been sweeping south and west lately. Some skinbags that way lately,” Bob replied.

“Nick and Emily have south today and they radioed in that they are going southeast to the Safeway group,” Joe added.

“You guys are gonna have to clear out the schools one day. They’re already partway fenced and protected. Wouldn’t take much to clear them out and have a small community with space and grounds to plant?”

“Yeah, just kill some kids,” Bob said, looking at the ground.

“Undead kids,” Joe finished.

Joe looked up. “What are you bringing today? Please say something other than tofu and veggie burgers.”

“I’ve got a load of fish today. The ham radio network passed the word from the scientific group Lawrence Livermore Lab. Fish and chicken are now on the safe list. Just have the flu vaccine, not the mutated Z.”

“Yes,” the guys cried in unison and bumped fists.

“So, who is this Emily?”

Joe replied while Bob swept the area, gun at the ready. “You must have missed her. She came with a group from the city, the last one. Been here a few months, but she does patrol. I swear that girl could shoot the wings off a fly.”

Bob turned around from his surveying. “Cute little thing. I would totally tap that if I were straight. Dark hair, dark eyes, sun-kissed skin, and with meat in all the right places, if you know what I mean.”

Seth’s mind went down roads it hadn’t traveled in a long while. Visions of an Amazon warrior princess filled his head. He’d had his share of women before the apocalypse, even a failed engagement with both parties okay with the breakup, but nothing since this mess all started. It’s hard to fight zombies and find time to have a relationship, when you didn’t know if there would be a tomorrow. Even when you tried to keep a glimmer of hope alive.

“Gonna head on in. Give you guys a lift?”

They shook their heads. “Nope, just heading out. Heard the Target group got a bunch of fabric and can make anything you want. Been seeing a few deaders too, so we’ll do some clearing.”

“I’m staying over tonight, so see you at the fish fry.”

“I’m not missing that,” they replied in unison.

Seth rolled up the truck window as the men started down the road, going north. He crossed himself and said a prayer for their safety.

Driving down the road, he turned in to the Streets of Brentwood. He stopped beside what had been REI and Ulta at one time. The sporting goods store had been cleaned out to the studs. The bikes, tents, and sleeping bags put to good use. The beauty store had been cleared as well for barter goods with other communities. The doors and windows were gone, making them hard for anyone, zombie or live person, to hide.

Seth hit his horn twice, paused, and hit it once more. The signal was out of courtesy, he’d been spotted long before he stopped in front of the container gate. The CB radio squawked at him. He picked up the receiver.

“Who is the president of the United States of America?”

Not that zombies seemed able to drive; yet, but they sure as hell couldn’t talk. Moans and groans didn’t count.

“President Andrew Thomas.”

“Welcome to the Streets of Brentwood.”

In a feat of mechanics he hadn’t quite figured out yet, the containers lifted from the ground via two cranes on the roofs of the buildings on either side of the street. Once it was high enough, he drove through. In his side view mirror, he watched as the containers slowly settled back down to the ground with a groan and a solid thump of security.

The road inside looped around in an oval with the stores on the outside and water features and gardens in the middle. He drove slowly toward the movie theatre on the lookout for kids who seemed to be everywhere. Tension left him as his shoulders sagged and he breathed deeply. Something about little kids just let you believe there was a future, maybe. There was a comforting sense of security here.

With a hiss of hydraulics, he braked in front of the theatre. At one time, it had been state of the art. Now it was the group’s warehouse and showed movies once a week as long as the wind turbines continued getting power out on Vasco Road and funneled it to the shopping center. The theatre had been pretty much all computer-run and the stockpile of movies remained.

Seth cut the motor and hopped down from the truck. A group of men were converging on the back of the trailer to help him unload. A solidly-built man walked toward him. Jack Canida was a walking poster for Army Strong. He’d been an army captain on leave at the time the shit went down. Jack was a natural-born leader. People flocked to him and with a show of hands elected him commander of The Streets of Brentwood. Within days, he had the place fortified, cleared of the undead, and supplied with weapons, ammo, and food.

They shook hands. Seth looked into a face that he wouldn’t have wanted to confront in a dark alley. Jack had changed over the past few months. The first time he’d brought food, and news of the outside world, the man had been outgoing and talkative, sure that things would right themselves swiftly once the army arrived. Two weeks later the army arrived, complimented him on a job well done, officially promoted him to colonel and commander of the mall base, and left him with explosives and the suggestion to demo the restaurants out front and the parking lots to have ground for crops. Not exactly a forecast of things being back to normal anytime soon.

That was the last Canida or The Streets of Brentwood heard of them. The army was gone. The government was gone except for a president who couldn’t leave the bunker. They were all on their own. No wonder Jack looked as worn out as he did; he was responsible for 250 souls.

“What do you have for us today, Ripley?”

Seth smiled. “A load of fish. Science guys put it on the safe list, along with chickens.”

That put a little happiness on Jack’s face. “The people will be happy to hear that. I must get twenty reports a day that veggie burgers aren’t cutting it.”

“But at least you guys have plenty of fruits and vegetables,” Seth added. The smile left his face. The day he’d gotten him and his mother, Carla out of Oakland, the people had been reduced to cats and dogs. The food drops had stopped and the city was declared a total loss. He shuddered. In a town known for violence, they would have fought the gangs for some veggie burgers.

He brought his dark thoughts back to hear Jack ordering the men to unload the truck. He tossed his keys to one of them to unlock the back. The sound of the lock disengaging was followed by the crash of the door being pushed up. A young boy brought back his keys.

“Walk with me,” Jack asked.

He knew the commander did a loop of the mall several times a day. He wasn’t an Ivory Tower kind of leader. The man knew who was sick, who needed extra rations for a pregnant spouse, or who wasn’t eating and giving up. Kids ran up to him and found out the candy supply in his many pockets never ran dry.

They’d walked to the opposite end of the mall, the most vulnerable because it had been the most open. Containers were stacked three high on this end, with men patrolling the top. A set of breakaway stairs led up. They could be pushed over in an extreme emergency.

Seth had just reached the top when a thunderous noise thumped up the stairs. He turned and saw a young teenage girl, out of breath, rushing over to Jack. She skidded to a stop, and put her hands on her knees and panted heavily.

Jack put a hand on her back and leaned down. Her news came out in spurts.

“Safeway... Emily and Nick... everyone infected.”

“What about Emily and Nick?” Canida barked out.

She stood up. “They used their walkie-talkies. Everyone at the Safeway is dead or undead. N-Nick and Emily are trapped on top of a delivery truck.”

He caught the girl’s stutter and fast blush. Nick was something more to her than just a member of the Streets group. Taking a deep breath, Seth blurted out, “I’ll go. I’ll take off the trailer and go in my truck. It’s big enough even with just the truck to take out anyone and I’ll have room for Nick and this Emily easily.”

“Beth, keep this quiet. We don’t need a panic yet. Okay?”

She nodded at the commander. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Jack replied and turned to Seth. He pulled his walkie-talkie off of his belt. “John, this is Canida. Double-time on that unload, Ripley needs his truck.”

“Okay, you’re good to go. Thank you. Grab a walkie-talkie from John before you go.”

Seth put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll bring your people back if they’re alive and take care of them if they’re not.”

The stoplights swung in the rising wind. The wind here was either nonexistent or blowing with a roaring train sound across the open spaces. With the window open, Seth heard the creak of the lights weight on the bouncing poles. Moans echoed from the intersection across from the Safeway shopping center.

“Damn,” he cursed, reaching for his rifle in the rear. He’d known the center was a massacre waiting to happen from the first time he’d made a drop-off. The distance between buildings was too wide to enclose. The group settled for all living on the grocery store’s roof, with a few cars across the openings. It wasn’t enough.

Shots rang out from the paved parking lot as he shifted gears and stepped on the gas. He decided to go in the front. The cars were still moved aside, probably for the delivery truck he spotted in front of the store. Two people stood on top, shooting into the horde below. The store had twenty-five souls the last time he’d been here; today he counted ten. Make that eight as two more shots rang out.

A young boy and girl stood on the roof of a truck trailer. The girl sighted down the rifle and got off two more headshots.

Seth pulled on the air horn. A blast echoed across the empty space, bouncing off the storefronts. Zombies turned and started shuffling toward the truck. He blasted them again with sound. Rolling up his window, he pushed on the trapdoor above his seat and hopped out to the roof of his truck. The kids slid off the roof of their perch, climbed down and jumped to the asphalt.

The sway of her breasts in her thin shirt told him the girl wasn’t as much of a kid as he’d first thought. Seth aimed and shot the three in front of him in the leg, shattering kneecaps and taking them to the ground.

“Let’s go,” he shouted to the pair.

The young woman gave him a withering glare and finished the two in front of her, stopping to cap the three he’d shot.

She marched over to him. So close, he felt her heavy breathing on his chest. Her dark eyes stared into him, black pools of anger. Just in front of him, he saw the lines around her eyes that said this was a full-grown woman, the fluidity of her body, the laugh lines in her face summed up the picture.

“What in the hell is your problem? You have to shoot them in the head.” Her body shook and he stood on guard in case she decided not only zombies needed to be shot in the head today.

“They’re incapacitated. They can’t get me. It isn’t my choice to be judge, jury, and executioner.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You are shitting me, right? You can’t be that stupid. A living zombie is a dangerous zombie. They’re dead; I’m just finishing the job.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, which she promptly shook off. “What is dead? They are walking, talking, eating. Even if by chance they are dead, they’ve lost their souls. I’m not going to be responsible for sending them to Hell unless I absolutely have to.”

Her response was cut off by the boy’s scream.

They turned to see the last zombie biting the kid on his arm. Before Seth could think, the girl had the gun up and shooting. The undead guy had a hole between his eyes and fell to the ground, taking the kid with him.

Seth brought his gun up and scanned the area. No sounds, no movement. Except for the rising whip of the wind, there was deafening silence. He squatted and checked beneath the two trucks. Nothing.

He hopped up and ran with the young woman to the kid’s side. He gasped. It was Nick. He knew him from his runs to the Streets of Brentwood group. Nick had a wicked sweet tooth and would trade anything for a candy bar.

The kid was hyperventilating. “You promised, Emily. We said we wouldn’t let either of us turn. Do it.”

She raised the rifle and centered it on Nick’s forehead. Her finger rested on the trigger. Her hand shook as she applied pressure and closed her eyes. As she pulled the trigger, Seth stepped over and yanked the gun up. Her finger jerked and the bullet ricocheted across the pavement.

She pulled the gun away. “What in the hell are you doing? We promised we would take care of the other.” The woman wiped tears out of her eyes and glared at him.

Seth stepped up to her and grabbed the weapon. “He isn’t dead yet. Or undead.” He looked down at Nick. “The wound doesn’t look that bad, I’ve seen others survive a lot worse.”

When she looked up at him, hope gleamed in her eyes. He prayed he was right. He’d only seen it work once. He gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, if he doesn’t bleed out he might be okay if we get him to the shopping center. I’m Seth by the way. Seth Ripley.”

She took his hand off her shoulder and shook it. “Emily Gray and this is Nick Cruz.”

“Nick I know,” he replied. A moan carried from the street entrance. The zombs from the strip mall across the street were here. Seth glanced over. They weren’t going to make it to his truck and he wasn’t sure that Canida would even let them back in with Nick’s bite anyway.

“Up on the truck,” he yelled to Emily and Nick.

His arm no longer bleeding, Nick hopped up on the truck and scampered to the trailer. Emily followed as if she’d been climbing all her life. Seth joined them a little slower, his boots slipping on the roof of the truck.

“Anyone left up there?” Seth bobbed his head toward the roof of the Safeway. The moans and stench below were becoming overwhelming. He heard nothing above.

“Everyone was down here,” Emily answered. “They must have come down to help the driver. Maybe he was infected when he got here.”

“Up it is then.”

A rope ladder was shaky in the best of times, and this wasn’t the best of times with the horde below yanking the rope back and forth. Nick climbed like a monkey and helped Emily up next. Then they disappeared. Seth felt his boots slipping on the rope. Suddenly, a body fell past him, bounced off the edge of the truck, and hit the pavement with a thud and a crack of its skull.

“Nope, the driver was up here,” two voices chimed.

“Lord, please tell me he was one of the undead.”

I helped Ripley up the last of the rope ladder and we pulled it to us, playing tug of war with the zombies for a few moments until they lost interest since nothing human was coming their way, and shambled across the asphalt. I turned and eyed the rooftop. The truck driver had knocked things over but it still looked pretty intact from what I remembered from my last visit.

I watched as Nick found a first-aid kit. He came running over. Taking the box, I found the hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and tape.

“This is going to hurt,” I told him, pouring it quickly over the wound. His yelp and cursing brought a smile to my lips. “Hey, I don’t lie.”

“You’d make a terrible mom, you know,” he complained.

Just like that, the smile died. “So I’ve been told.” I tightened the gauze and taped it in place. The wound didn’t look too bad, just a couple of teeth indentations, a few barely breaking the skin. Maybe the man was right. Maybe Nick would be fine. But just in case, I was keeping watch.

Pulling the walkie-talkie off my belt, I checked in with the command post. Nick pleaded with his eyes, but I knew we had to tell them he’d been bitten. We couldn’t afford more people coming to our rescue. By dawn, we would know, and that’s what I told the base.

“I’ll report in at sunrise.” Finishing the call, I clicked off the walkie.

Nick wandered away toward the food stores. I let him. When the dark thoughts hit me, I’m not good company. Something Seth obviously didn’t know, since he sat down next to me and handed me a container of baby wipes. Damned if I were going to cry in front of a stranger. Being infertile didn’t have as much of a gut punch in a world where having a baby was beyond stupid.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, grabbing the box.

“No, problem,” he said. “I figured you might like to lose the zombie guts.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and came away with bits and pieces of flesh. “Oh, yuck.”

Glancing over at Seth, I groaned inside. Mr. Clean and Sparkly even had bright-white teeth when he smiled at me. I took a deep breath. Looks weren’t everything, but they sure could take your breath away from time to time. Dark hair just brushed his shoulders. And my, what broad shoulders they were. Hazel eyes shone out of a tanned face.

“There’s a shower in the corner. Probably cold water, but it’s still warm outside. Unless you want to wait until dark,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

I wiggled, while my back itched from what I was sure was blood running down it. “Nope, now is fine. You’ll watch Nick?” No way was I taking a shower in the dark with just me, Seth, and the, maybe infected Nick around.

Seth nodded and I decided to take time to get cleaned up. Across the rooftop, Nick rummaged through the food stores. Even if they had been low, there were only three of us. We should have plenty to last until... well, until.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I grabbed a towel and some clean clothes from a basket. The shower was a wooden box with a door. Stepping inside I spotted the jerry-rigged showerhead hooked to a hose running down the side of the building.

Tossing the clean clothes over the top of the wood wall, I threw my dirty clothes over to the rooftop. A twist of a knob and cool water rained down on my head. With the heat of the day and the gunk in my hair, the water was great. Running fingers through my hair, the blood, guts, and horror of the day washed away.

I’d certainly come a long way from a Victorian mansion in San Francisco to a wooden box of a shower in the middle of a zombie nowhere land. If I closed my eyes, I could still see the marble shower walls imported from Italy, the custom rain showerheads, and music piped in from an over-the-top luxury sound system. Laughing, I grabbed a bar of soap off a makeshift shelf. I wouldn’t trade right now for all the marble in the world that came with the baggage I was well rid of.

Turning the knob, the water petered out to drips. The sun beat down on my head. Birds twittered from a nearby tree. I lathered up, turned the water back on, and rinsed.

I turned off the water one last time and looked up at the sunlight behind my closed lids. The sunshine dried me off better than the plushest Egyptian cotton towel at a couple hundred dollars apiece from a high-end department store. Constantly telling Michelle to seize the moment, maybe I should take my own advice more often. The sunshine, the birdsong, and fresh breezes were free for everyone.

My short hair was dry with a few swipes of the ragged towel over my head. My body was as well with a few more swipes. There hadn’t been any undergarments so I’d have to make do and wash mine. Pulling on a tank top my nipples showed clearly through the thin material. I pulled on a T-shirt as well. Better. Then I yanked on some jeans that almost fit. I’d need a belt or a piece of rope. That felt good too. I’d dropped four pants sizes in the past six months. I hadn’t been a size six since high school.

Getting out of the shower, I sat down on a chair and pulled on socks and my own boots. At a man’s laugh, I looked up. Seth was over by the food with Nick. It looked like they were putting together lunch. Good, I was starved. I had to laugh at that too. Who knew you could kill zombies, and then turn around and eat? And enjoy it. Flavors were richer. Good smells were deeper. The thought of every meal being your last could do that to you.