Mistakes I Made During the Zombie Apocalypse (6 page)

Welcome back to reality. Now tell them what you saw.

“My stint in the closet isn’t the first time I’ve been without Grant and the dead girl downstairs and the cheerleaders aren’t the first to have hurt me because…”

…I WENT AFTER RIPLEY

In a hostile world, beauty stands out; like flowers growing through cracks in the pavement or the fluid rainbow arcs in an oil slick. Ripley, the girl who wore a smile on her face as she dodged zombies in the street, was that beauty to Ian. She was an unforgettable brightness in the ever-darkening landscape.

On their journey east, the boys saw her looting a hardware store. Her work was quiet and meticulous. She was tall and lean and she appeared to be surviving much better than they were. Ian and Grant both stared at her like they hadn’t seen a girl before. She glanced up and Ian waved to her with a grin on his face. She waved back. A motion so simple and normal, Ian couldn’t get over it. Something about the return of such a silly gesture made him decide he needed to know the girl as much as she would let him.

He had lusted after many of the female species, but this was different.
Is this what love feels like?
He wondered.

“Let’s not go too far before we find somewhere to stay for the night,” Ian said to Grant. He didn’t want to lose track of the beautiful girl and the farther they traveled away from her, the more zombies he’d have to get through to get back to her. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious to Grant what his motives were.

“This place looks okay.” Grant was referring to a sprawling bungalow with a low fence and a thick garden, dead from the winter. There wasn’t a car in the driveway and the house was undisturbed by the chaos.

“Yeah, it does.” Ian suppressed his enthusiasm.

“Hey, man. I saw you checking out that girl. I don’t blame you. She was hot. I’d like to hole up with her somewhere.”

Ian smacked Grant’s shoulder. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Come on, Ian. We don’t have time for relationships.”

Ian was familiar with that tactic of Grant’s. He’d used it before to keep another girl for himself. As soon as he turned his back, Grant would be outside trying to find what Ian wanted.

“She’s mine. I saw her first.” Ian tried to sound confident, dominant.

“Oh, I get it. The virgin boy wants a shot with a lady.” Grant nudged his arm and winked exaggeratedly. “She does look easy, so I’m sure it’s a possibility.”

“Don’t call me a virgin boy!” Ian thought it was only fair that he have a chance with the girl. Grant had already lost his virginity. It was Ian’s turn. “Can you just be my wingman for once?”

“I doubt she’ll say yes, but I won’t stop you.”

• • •

You didn’t trust him.

“Hell no. Grant always got the girl. Between the two of us, they’d always choose him.”

You don’t sound too sour about it.

“Ha! I just couldn’t give him the chance again.”

So you snuck out.

• • •

They were sleeping in a bedroom that was centered in the house. It felt safe. That night, when Grant fell asleep, Ian left to find the girl. The floorboards moaned, but the sounds only blended into the nightscape.

Ian caught a glimpse of himself in a hallway mirror. He was surprised to find it a handsome reflection. Due to poor nutrition and quite a bit more exercise, Ian had lost weight and he was closing in on Grant’s handsomeness. This bolstered his confidence and he strode out the front door as though it was a normal day and he was on his way to school.

But to step outside in the dark was a huge and unnecessary risk. It was akin to putting one foot in the grave. Every corner Ian turned held a new opportunity to die. Broken glass, starving stray dogs, and of course, zombies were just a few of the dangers he would encounter.

He walked carefully in the dark to where he thought she was living; a stack of cargo containers on one end of a construction area. The place was once surrounded by chain link fence, but it was pushed over in sections and the dead roamed in and out freely. He walked over one of the fallen fences and it crunched beneath his feet. In the dead world, even such a small noise was going to draw attention. Like clockwork, eight zombies turned in his direction.

In the middle of the lot was a large pit, several stories deep. Some of the infected, who had failed to avoid it, dragged themselves around its bottom. Ian circled around the hole several times, trying to lose zombies to the hole. Only four of them ended up falling, but four was enough to take the pressure off.

To reach the cargo containers, Ian had to walk by two portable offices. He was tempted to loot them, but the urge to see the girl was stronger so he continued on. A faint glow of candlelight reached through a crack in one of the metal boxes. He climbed the side, holding onto the grooves like rungs of a ladder, and pulled his way to the top.
Had any boy before me gone to such lengths to be with a girl?

• • •

Your hormonal drive isn’t unique.

“It’s more unique now. Less competition if you haven’t noticed.”

• • •

His footsteps sent echoes into the container beneath him. The door, the one the candlelight was flickering behind, opened and the girl stepped out onto the makeshift balcony.

“Who’s there?” she called out, throwing the beam of a flashlight in all directions trying to find the human source of the noise. Ian’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice. It was sweeter than he imagined it would be.

He stepped into light, shielding his eyes from the intense scrutiny of the beam. “My name’s Ian. I saw you earlier. You waved.”

“Oh, you,” she said. There was no detectable enthusiasm in her voice, but she still took his hand and led him into the cold rectangle that was her home. Inside a single candle flickered. An older woman sat near it, rocking and mumbling to herself. Ian jumped, as he wasn’t expecting that someone else would be inside the container. “Who’s that?” he asked.

“My mother,” the girl replied. She clicked off her flashlight and lit another candle next to the first.

Ian kept his eyes on the woman in case she might glance up and greet him, but she never did. “What’s wrong with her? I mean…what happened?”

“It’s okay. She saw my dad die. She was normal before that.” She went to her mother’s side and ran a hand over her head comfortingly. The woman’s rocking slowed and her mumbling ceased.

“Were you there?” Ian asked. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see a parent killed. Thankfully he was spared witnessing his mother’s final moments.

“No. I was at school when it happened. My name’s Ripley, by the way.”

“Ripley?” Ian asked.
What a unique name
, he thought.

“My dad, he liked the movie
Alien
,” she explained.

“It’s a last name,” Ian said, displaying his knowledge of the film. “In the movie, Ripley is her last name.”

“Yeah I know.” She shrugged. “I guess my dad didn’t care.”

She must hear that all the time. Shut up!
Ian thought.
Change the subject!
“Why are you here? Why didn’t you stay home?” he asked. A pile of clothes and bags was dumped by one wall, another area functioned as a makeshift kitchen.

“I thought somewhere else might be safer than our house and my dad is still there, you know, walking around.”

• • •

You know exactly what it’s like to avoid bodies.

“I guess I should be thankful that the ones I’m avoiding aren’t walking around anymore.”

You put an end to that.

Images storm Ian’s mind. He can see the chair leg in his hands, the moment of first impact with Grant’s head, and the blood on his hands when it was over.

“I don’t want to see these things!” Ian yells.

Come back to Ripley’s story then. What did you say next?

• • •

“Nowhere is really safe.” Ian scanned the room for weapons. He saw a small fixed-blade knife, a hockey stick with blood on its toe, but nothing else even remotely dangerous or protective. Perhaps the flashlight could be used in a bludgeoning.

“I had to pick this place, up high, and stock up like crazy, because of my mom. She screams sometimes and it brings the dead. I lock her in when I leave. The food, out. I can’t trust her. I wish she had died with him because I know could survive on my own; it’s taking care of her that’s the difficult part.”

• • •

You didn’t show it, but you were shocked to hear that from her.

“Yes, she still had her mom. She should have been thankful.”

The grass is always greener, isn’t it?

“I’d give a lot to have my mom back. I’d even take one of my dad’s lectures on ‘unhealthy behavior.’ I could really fucking use that right now.”

At least you still had Grant. You told her about him, didn’t you?

• • •

“Grant, the guy with me earlier, he and I take care of each other like brothers. I’ve known him since I was little.”

“That’s nice. I never had anyone like that. Isn’t he going to wonder where you are?”

“He was asleep when I left, but if he were to wake up I think he’d know where I went.” Ian hoped it didn’t sound dirty, like all guys think about is bedding the ladies. Which was kind of true, but she didn’t need to know it.

She seemed to have the same thing on her mind though for she said, “Before we…do anything, I have to feed my mom.”

Ian’s mom had fed others at the hospital. It was messy and took patience and sometimes the patients didn’t want to eat. Sometimes, they became violent. Often, more of the food ended up on her or on the floor. “Do you actually have to feed her?”

“No, she can still do that, but I have to prepare the food. I’m the chef.” Ripley dug through a box and pulled out a can of chowder and a very old baguette. It had a few spots of mold on the crust that she carefully cut away. When she was done, Ian took the bread from her and hit it on the card table. It was in the last stage of stale: rock solid.

“You could kill a man with this,” he joked, trying to lighten the situation.

She grabbed it back. “Not if you dip it in the soup first. It softens.” She lit the flame of a small camp stove and dumped the chunky chowder into a pot. Once the chowder was warmed, she poured a single bowl and set it down on the floor in front of her mother. She set the baguette next to it and kissed her mother’s forehead.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Ripley asked.

Ian shook his head. The last thing he needed before losing his virginity was a belly full of sloshing soup. His stomach was churning anyway, from a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Ripley grabbed his hand and led him to her bedroom, which was nothing more than a bed and an overturned crate as a table. A sheet hung from the ceiling of the shipping container and acted as a wall. They lay down on her bed, which was only a pile of flattened cardboard covered with a sheet and quilt. She cuddled close to him.

Ian’s heart began to pound and he could feel his cheeks and his crotch growing warm.

“I’m sorry if I smell,” she said self-consciously. “I haven’t bathed in a few days.”

“I’m sure I smell far worse. I’ve been running around a lot.”

“Yeah and you’re a
boy
,” she said through a laugh.

“A boy who forgot to pack his deodorant.”

“You know, there’s a ‘take one, get one free’ sale at every store in town right now. It wouldn’t be much trouble for you to get some.”

She’s cute and funny
, he thought.
How did I get so lucky?

Ian was quickly running out of things to talk about. His life revolved around Grant and survival, and Grant was the last thing he wanted to bring up. He touched the thin fabric wall that separated them from Ripley’s mother.

“It’s a little weird, you know, with your mom out there,” Ian said. He worried she would become bored of her meal, wander over, and snap out of her senility long enough to chew him out for banging her daughter.

“She doesn’t pay attention anymore,” Ripley replied as she blew out a candle, the only light source.

“This is my first time,” Ian finally admitted to her in the dark. His hands felt heavy and awkward, but Ripley began to guide them and his nerves calmed. She was obviously not a virgin. There was something primitive about the low bed, the dirt of the construction site, and the metal smell from the container walls. Ian felt an animalistic energy come over him as he entered her. Ripley moaned softly and then covered her own mouth with a hand to stifle the noise.

After they finished, they lay next to each other in the dark. Now that Ian was no longer a virgin, he was suddenly less shy and couldn’t stop touching her skin. It was soft and warm, made softer and warmer by the juxtaposition of their industrial surroundings. Ian was beginning to fall asleep when a dry and wretched noise came from the “living room” area. “What is that?”

Ripley sighed. “My mother. I’ll go check on her.” She reached for a flashlight and turned it on. Ian got a quick peek of her naked body before she pulled on her dirty clothes. Ripley dragged her feet as she went to her mother’s aid.

“Oh my god! She’s choking! Help me!” she called out to Ian.

Ian felt around for his own clothes, dressed, and ran to them. Ripley pushed the flashlight to his chest. “Hold this!” she yelled.

He held it above the woman’s face with a trembling hand as she struggled for breath. Ripley plunged a finger down her mother’s throat in an attempt to free the piece of bread, but she only succeeded in lodging it further down.

“Dammit! Hold the light over her mouth!” she screamed. Ian had closed his eyes from exhaustion, but also to keep from seeing the woman as she was dying and that caused the beam of light to move to an area on the side of her head near her right ear. At some point the woman stopped breathing and her face lost its last spots of color, but still Ripley tried to dislodge the bread.

Ian put a hand to Ripley’s shoulder. “She’s gone. It won’t help. We need to get out of here,” he warned her, but she was in a daze. Her mother’s eyes were empty, but open. Ian knew it was time to go when he saw them move once again.