Zombie Tears

This is a story I wrote over the summer for my intro to fiction class. Its weird.
Maybe sometime I'll post a more "normal" story.

Zombie Tears
F. K. Montgomery II

Our neighbor’s arm stood propped on the rail of our balcony, its fist clenched, post rigor mortis. It was supposed to be a “deterrent” for the undead lurking outside—an “A1 Security Systems Inside” sticker on the window, but for the undead. I assumed they knew what it meant.
A month and a half ago Pleasant Hill was in a Class 1 outbreak. Just a small rural area infected, forty zombies or less. More like “Not-So-Pleasant Hill now…” I’d joke to myself. The press seemed mostly unconcerned, covering up the deaths as “small incidents” and “probably domestic disturbances”. No one wants to hear about a growing infection of animated corpses, strangely.
Three weeks ago, local news upped the outbreak to a Class 2. It had spread to us in Bank’s Side, our suburban paradise. The death toll was estimated at 130, while the infected were estimated at 90. I wondered about those forty, unfortunate enough to die twice.
We had fortified our fortress, secured our perimeter, and boarded our windows and doors. The only view to the outside world was our second story balcony. Surely the zombies won’t find a ladder, and then figure out how to use it. Idiots. We watched from our balcony as the world we had known, our suburbia, fell to pieces. Is that Joanna and her dog from down the street? Crap. She made lasagna that was to kill for.

“Nathan, quit drinking that booze. You’re on watch tonight.” I said.
“Dude. Chill. Last one.”
Nathan and I switched off watch duties. Thirty hour shifts. Day to night to day. Then night to day to night. It kept things a little more diverse. We’d keep each other company a lot, but there was always a designated point man. Cindy would take a small shift from time to time, but she hated holding the sawed off shotgun. I feel like CNN recommended sawed off shotguns for this sort of thing. Or I’ve played too many video games, I don’t remember.
Nathan is just a little taller than me. Athletic. The dude is always climbing on stuff, like a hyped up spider monkey or something. He’d do anything for Cindy or me. Loyal. His twenty years of life had added up to mostly ridiculous adventures. I still have scars from the flaming bike incident.
Cindy is our house chef. Well, most of the time. She’s my girlfriend and she’s a vegetarian. Silly vegetarians. She keeps things in order while Nathan and I keep us alive. She’s a good height; she’s short but not too short. Her brown hair was always a mess atop her head. Skinny. She didn’t eat much and she would never let us enjoy the good food, the kind that comes in foil packages and ends in “-itos”.

There’s a small garden Nathan and Chris don’t know about. I don’t want them to know about it. It comes right up to the back of the house. When I’m in the basement, I can peel off a two by four, prop the window, and usually grab a carrot or two. Once I got three tomatoes. If I don’t eat them myself, I feed them to Xerox, our rabbit. He is ungrateful though. If Chris or Nathan knew about my garden, they’d kill me. They’d throw me off the balcony and feed me to the monsters, for risking our safety. Well, they might just yell a lot. Either way, they can’t know. This is my garden.

“We’re down to four packs,” I said.
“Yeah… how ‘bout that.” Nathan said as smoke escape from his mouth.
We needed to get supplies soon. The last time we tried, we almost got killed. Really, not just saying. We took Cindy’s Jeep, the largest of our vehicles, and figured we could plow over anything that got in our way. Side note: zombie pedestrians don’t obey jaywalking laws. We nailed that guy so hard we rode home on a flat and got our front bumper split in two. We got enough food and cigarettes to last us two weeks though. Getting supplies is quite the rush. Like grocery shopping on crack, with your life on the line.
I could see the glow of Nathan’s cigarette better than his face. Dawn would be coming soon. Day 24, stuck in our abode.

I haven’t checked the garden in a few days. I get a little antsy, wondering what treasures await me. I sneak to the basement before Chris and Nathan switch shifts. They probably think I’m still sleeping. I’ve got at least an hour.
When I sneak around, I think about those cartoons I used to watch, where some wise-ass bipedal animal would sneak up on someone, usually trying to cause them harm, but every step they took, a higher note would sound. Doop doop doop doop doop. Like tap shoes walking up a xylophone.
I peel back the two-by-four. I keep a hammer under my pillow for multiple reasons, and this is one of them. I prop the window. I reach out and feel my way around. Hmmm… crab grass. No dice there. I shimmy my hand to the right. I picture seeing this happen from the outside, like Thing from the Addams Family searching for a buried mate.
Ooo, what’s this? It feels like… another carrot! Happy veggies. Good work Cindy, I thought to myself. I uproot the orange beauty, pull it in, and go for round two.
What the hell? This wasn’t out there before. It’s hard like, I don’t know, a boot covered in mud. I can’t see it because of the angle. Crap. It moved. What the heck.
OUCH! What the eff! Did I just get bit?!

“Dude, I’m going to bed for a while.” Nathan sighed. His shift was over. My turn. He hands the gun to me and walks slowly down the hall, down the stairs, and into his room. I feel so badass when I hold this gun. It’s like, come on zombies… I dare you. Actually, I take that back.
I’m out of books. I read all three. Maybe when we get supplies we’ll find some crappy paperbacks at the store. Those might help pass these lonely hours between Nathan’s sleep and Cindy’s waking. For now I’ll just finish this pack of Marlboro’s. Shotguns and cigarettes, how delightfully tacky.

“Hey babe,” Cindy says, greeting me with a small plate with an omelet on it.
“Oh hey. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine, I suppose.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” I take a bite of the egg creation. Carrots? Who puts carrots in an omelet? Silly vegetarians. “It’s good, thanks.”
“How’s your shift going?”
“Amazing.” And by amazing, I mean boring.
“Good.”
We just sit for a couple hours, not really talking. Things are growing dry between us.
“Is it hot up here?” Cindy asked.
“Not any warmer than usual.” I said. I touched her thigh. Holy crap, she’s on fire. “You’re burning up.”
“I think I might go lay down.”
“Ill wait here.” I said.

I feel so different. What is going on? I can’t believe I got bit. Damn, I’m in pain. I’m craving. I can’t stop it. This is worse than craving chocolate on your period. What am I craving? It’s like being thirsty with no water in sight. I mean, like, running a marathon in a desert kind of thirsty. I mean, holy crap. It’s like needing a cigarette. EFF. I gotta eat something. Human. Human. Human. No! I wont even touch meat. I can’t. It’s WRONG. But I need it.
Okay… maybe there’s something else. Let’s see… there’s Nathan. He always looked tasty. Lean, well kept, probably a big brain. NO! Freak. This isn’t happening. Something else. Something else… what about… those hot dogs Chris left in the fridge. Ew. Not even close. Goldfish? Crackers? Please.
Wait. What about that stupid rabbit? Xerox never really liked me much anyways. I mean, I’m sure Chris will get over it. Once this all blows over he’ll find another rabbit. Yeah. Another rabbit. Where is that damn thing?
Run. Run. Run. Walk. Play cool. Just walking by Nathan’s room. No big deal. Run.
There’s that freakin’ rabbit. Come here Xerox. Come on. I wont hurt you…

“My turn tiger.” Nathan said.
My shift flew by. I wonder how Cindy is doing. “Nap time. B.R.B.”

I wandered back to my room. I figured since Cindy wasn’t feeling well she might have forgotten to feed Xerox. I strolled over to his cage. Our furry little friend seemed a bit more rigid today, that’s odd. He stood facing the wall to my right. His wood chips were stained red. What the hell? Where is his left leg?! I looked around and saw nothing but a trail leading back to Cindy’s room. Dammit. She turned my rabbit into a freaking zombie.

This is the end. This is definitely the end. I screwed up big. I have to do something. I can’t let myself turn and remain in this house with those guys. Man, worst day ever. I’m so sorry Chris. I’m so sorry Nathan.
Rope. Chains. Something. Anything. I must stop myself. I’m throwing things across my room searching. There it is, my box of excess cables.
Lets see… we’ve got some coaxial cable, Chris told me the name, I don’t know how I remembered, some internet cable stuff, this one looks like a telephone line… and a USB cable. Perfect.
Maybe if I just wait in here with the door locked nothing will happen.
Right. Good idea, genius. No. We’re doing this.
I start with my legs. Easy. Extra tight sailor knots for these legs. Good thing my daddy was in the Navy. Good thing these knots will be tight enough for me to not escape. This is really happening.
If I just do my legs I can’t get away, and everything will be fine. This pain is excruciating. Shut up Cindy. Hands. Two Running Bowlines coming up. This is humiliating, painful, and necessary. Come on!

What the hell is all that racket? “Cindy?” I yell.
Her room is next to mine. I run to the door. “Cindy?” I repeat.
“HEEEEELP,” a scratchy voice reminiscent of Cindy’s grandmother called from inside. The door is locked. People who need help should leave their doors unlocked.
I grab the axe I keep under my bed, and rushed back to Cindy’s door. I give it a few swings, Jack Nicholson in The Shining, style, and boom, Here’s Johnny! I’m inside.
Wow. This doesn’t feel so real anymore. Cindy is tied up, completely immobilized. Her cry for help must have been her last, because now she lies completely still. Not even a beat in her chest. Worst day ever.
I couldn’t help but cry as I sat there and realized my girlfriend would be a reanimated corpse in a matter of hours. My girlfriend. My Cindy.

I had passed out on her floor and was woken by the sound of struggling. Sounds like apartment neighbors having sex on an old bed while you’re trying to sleep. What am I going to do? What can I do? I then realized there is only one thing I could do.

“Look, Cindy, I just don’t feel like things are working out between us.” I said.
“BRRAAAGGHH,” She said. Her skin was slowly muting to grey.
“I never wanted things to be this way.” Well, the zombie part; the tied up thing might have been a little kinky.
Drool seeped out of the corners of her sagging mouth. She is showing her teeth more than normal.
“I hope you can understand. I need some closure here.”
“BRRRRRRAAAAAGH!” She repeated, but louder, hissing sharp consonants. The ropes grew tighter as she pulled on them, trying to reach at me.
“You know I loved you, really. But things clearly can’t be the way they were.” Obviously, “I mean, not with the way you’re staring at my head… the same way Xerox stared at those carrots. I just don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.” I paused for a moment. “Oh wait, yes I do. Zombie infection.” I suppose now wasn’t the best time for jokes. “And seriously, Cindy, steak is delicious.” Her vegetarianism always bothered me for some reason, her pushing of gross food. I can’t help but be amused that the advocate of animal rights is thrusting towards me now, with intentions to feed. What would PETA think of this?
She vomits violently towards me and I step back. I’ll assume those are bile tears. It’s the best she can do, really.

Well, what do I do now? I’ve got a zombie rabbit, caged, and a zombie ex-girlfriend, bound. Do I put her out of her misery? Like Old Yeller or Lennie, “tending to the rabbits.” I’ve got limited resources here and need to be careful. Killing your recent ex can be quite awkward really, too many things to take into account.
I pace around her room for a few moments. All right, decision time. I’ll borrow the gun from Nathan, come down here, make it quick and easy—single shot to the head—and dump the body when we get groceries. That reminds me, I should probably tell Nathan.

“Dude, I gotta kill Cindy,” the words fell from my mouth.
“What?”
“Just give me the gun.”

I return to her room. I spend a moment or two looking deep into her green-red eyes, noticing her foaming mouth and running nose. Romantic, I know. Well, what must be done must be done, and I shoot.

“Here,” I pushed the gun back to Nathan.
“Now what?” He said.
“Grocery shopping?”