Once Zombie, Twice Shy

Kathryn, a troubled sixteen year old girl with a rough experience with zombies, is now living in a quarantine, along with her friends Hazel and Ethan. Others thought that the worst was over. Wrong.

Once Zombie, Twice Shy

CHAPTER ONE:

          I stared at the view outside, feeling grim and unable to sleep. Lights strung on the roof of the building illuminated the barbed fence and the soldiers silently making their rounds, their guns ready and alert on their sides.

          I was sitting on the on the window ledge of my room, my head resting on my knees with my arms encircling them. A blanket covered me to keep from shivering in the cold, though I already wore a sweater. I was supposed to be sleeping hours ago, but nightmares kept me from resting, memories buried deeply rising as soon as my guards were down. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, where no one would see them.

          This building was a hospital long ago, but the government officials turned it into a quarantine to accommodate the few survivors from the zombie apocalypse. I was one of them.

          Scientists were already starting to cure the zombies, and those who were turned were kept in the other building, where the hospital used to store dying patients. The government still didn't release them; for fear that they weren't quite sane enough. I agreed with them. We have to take what safety measures we could get to keep the plague from spreading. The virus had done a lot of harm to the population. No need to make it more widespread.

          "Still awake, huh?" The familiar teasing voice made me smile, and I turned around to face my new best friend, Hazel Williams. She was a survivor too, along with her boyfriend, Ethan Blake. If anyone could survive the Apocalypse and still smile, they were my best bet. Those two are fearless.

          "I can't sleep," I said, stating the obvious. Hazel sat opposite me, a shotgun gripped in one hand. She should have surrendered them to the officials long ago, but I knew that Hazel would sooner die than leave herself weaponless. I bet Ethan still has his shotgun too.

          "Jeez. Is the sound of my snoring really that loud?"

          I laughed. Hazel's room was next to mine, and even though Ethan constantly teased her about being able to snore like a hibernating bear, I knew better.

          "No, actually. I...I kept having nightmares," I confessed.

          "I feel you." Hazel nodded seriously. "Its about zombies, isn't it? They're really gross. It would keep anyone from sleeping."

          My nightmares weren't about zombies, but I just nodded. I wasn't ready to talk anyway.

          "Humans just keep evolving nastier and nastier. First, we're primitive apes, then we became hairy standing sticks, and now cannibals with no talent for speaking and had an icky craving for flesh. What next? Ethan look alikes?"

           I grinned at her. "Careful. He might hear you. He's just next door."

          Sure enough, an offended voice said, "Ethan look alikes? How could I, a study of human perfectness, would be somehow worse than zombies?"

          Ethan Blake stepped out of the shadows, his smirk similar to Hazel's as their eyes met. I tried to keep my envy from showing as I watched Hazel throw herself on his arms and Ethan sweeping her off her feet with one big kiss. Despite all their teasing, they were truly a beautiful couple. Ethan, with his dark hair and green eyes, an Adonis to Hazel's Helen. Hazel broke their kiss and grinned at him. Her royal blue eyes twinkled in the dim room. "Looks like someone misses my luscious mouth."

          "Baby, I ain't through with you yet, but that shotgun is making me nervous," Ethan replied.

          Hazel grinned and let the shotgun drop to the ground. With a grin of his own, Ethan let Hazel experience how much he truly missed her.

          I looked away from their unashamed PDA and looked out the window, returning to my sightseeing of the quarantine's security system. Soon, another set of soldiers would take their place, as they would finish their shift and go to sleep. I could see exhaustion in their uniformed bodies, and not for the first time, I felt sorry for them and wished that I could somehow help.

          A tiny movement outside made me jump, and Hazel and Ethan were suddenly at my side, asking me what's wrong. I shook my head. Maybe it was just my imagination...

          "Holy s**t," Ethan suddenly swore, and the three of us stood frozen as a mass of zombies climbed the fence, their red eyes visible even from here. Guns went off, and we watched as the soldiers were soon overwhelmed, the zombies quickly infiltrating the quarantine.

          "C'mon," I yelled, spurred into action. I grabbed my bag with my meager belongings I didn't bother to unpack, following Hazel and Ethan as they went into their own rooms, returning quickly with their own backpacks. An alarm went off, and a red light pulsed in the hallways, waking asleep people with their loud beeping.

          Ethan led us to the stairs, where we went down until we arrived at the empty cafeteria. Footsteps and voices yelling for their loved ones soon reached us, and I felt grateful for my instinct, which once told me not to make too many friends and be always be prepared. Now I just followed Ethan and Hazel as they pounded to their parent's room, waking them and telling them about the situation. Mr. and Mrs. Blake soon were with us, together with Mr. Williams.

          Blond hair flying, I followed them to the nearest elevator just as a heavy crash sounded and the whole building shook. Darkness descended as the power went out, and the rest immediately went out of the elevator and opted for the staircase, which led us to an emergency exit.

          "What about the others?" I yelled to Hazel as we got out of the building and was soon running on the grounds of the quarantine.

          "No time!" she yelled back. "That building is soon going to be overrun with zombies, and if we don't get out now, we have no chance of surviving!"

          My heart shriveled, but I knew that she was right. We have no choice but to leave them behind.

          The zombies were nowhere to be seen when we reached the gate, and I tried not to think of the dead bodies all around us as we went out. I fished a flashlight out of my bag, taking the rear as we took the main road and left the quarantine to be soon out of sight.

 

          Exhausted, we all agreed to take a break, and I was grateful as ever for my instinct as I took a long swig from my water bottle. Be prepared. My new favorite motto.

          "I've been there for what? Three days? And then suddenly s**t hits the fan and I'm on the run again?" Hazel tilted her head to the sky and said to the world at large: "You suck!"

          Mr. Williams shook his head, his face grim and haunted in the shadow of the night. "This isn't supposed to be happening. Those zombies--they aren't smart enough to try to climb the walls and infiltrate us. This is wrong. All wrong." He clasped his head between his hands, torn between frustration and grief.

          Hazel embraced her dad, and Ethan said, looking thoughtful, "Hey, Haze, remember the time when that little zombie girl tricked us?"

          She balefully glared at him. "If this is another one of your I-told-you-so's--"

          He shook his head quickly. "No, no, this isn't it. That little girl tricked us, and zombies aren't supposed to be able to think. So that meant she was thinking rationally and even cleverly when she trapped us."

          My mouth dropped open. "Oh no."

          Ethan nodded grimly. "Oh, yes." He looked at each one of us, his green eyes the most serious I'd ever seen them.

          "The zombies are getting smarter."

         

          "They've got the strength, the speed, the teeth, and now the I.Q.? How are all of you supposed to compete with that?"

          I raised an eyebrow at Hazel. "Only us? What about you?"

          "Puh-lease. I could pound them to a pulp if I want to, brain working or not." She flexed her arm, which I have to admit, was lean with muscle.

          Mrs. Blake was sitting on a fallen log at the side of the road, looking gaunt and scared as her husband tried to console her, together with her son. I felt a little out of place with the family reunion, considering I was the only orphan in our little group.

          "Hazel, do you have your daggers?" Mr. Williams worriedly asked his daughter, his eyes darting to the dark road behind us and back to his daughter again. Hazel rolled her eyes and unzipped her bag, letting his father see its contents. "Five grenades, twenty bullets ready to use, two pistols, four daggers, including two in my boots, pick ax, handcuffs, hammer, a mace, five forks, a bat, and a deodorant." She frowned. "Which, now when I think about it, don't really make sense at all."

          Mr. Williams' eyes narrowed. "You raided the armory?"

          She zipped the bag and smiled wide at her father. "I, Hazel Williams, do solemnly pledge that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies be they foreign and/or man-eating cannibals; that I will, to the best of my ability, bear true faith and allegiance to the same, blah blah blah, I swear to God." She rolled her eyes. "I swear, I don't know why the fuckshit do they make pledges so long."

          Her father raised his brow. "You signed up for the WRAM?"

          She shrugged. "I thought being a citizen soldier would be cool."

          Her father turned exasperatedly away, used to her daughter's antics. I turned to look at the road just as Hazel yelled to Ethan, "Hey, Blake, any idea why I brought a deodorant?"

          We had managed to cover much ground before we rested, but I was still uneasy and jittering to go. As far as I was concerned, we were only a foot from the quarantine where smart zombies still ate and lurked. Hazel had told me once that I had a problem with staying still, but that just wasn't it. I was burned too many times to risk going to the fire even a meter close. I had enough scars to last me a lifetime.

          To distract me from my thoughts, I went to Hazel to borrow some of her weapons. I had only a knife, some food and clothes, a flashlight, and some medicines I had picked up from the clinic back in the quarantine. I had tried raiding the armory too, but there was a security code to enter, and I didn't know how to get through that.

          Just as I was loading the third grenade in my backpack-Hazel said she didn't need it much anyway-I heard a sound of a footstep thumping to the ground, and whirling with my knife in front, I almost stabbed Ethan as he jumped away and raised both hands in defense.

          "Whoah, whoa, friendly creature coming in peace," he said, as I lowered the knife. "No need for shiny sharp objects."

          "Sorry," I said sheepishly, tucking the knife back on the sheath in my thigh. "I thought you were something."

          Ethan raised a brow. "By 'something', you mean 'zombie' right?"

          I nodded, shame-faced that I almost attacked him.

          "Wow," Ethan said, stroking his chin. "Have my face changed in the last few hours?"

          "Its probably the yellowish teeth," Hazel said as Ethan went to her side. "Now you see the importance of brushing your teeth?"

          "I only brush my teeth because you said you wouldn't kiss me if I won't," Ethan said sullenly, looking sour. "Your extent of love sucks."

          "There's this thing we call reality, pal," Hazel said. "And that's brushing teeth before kissing."

          "Sleeping Beauty didn't brush her teeth for a hundred years and the prince still kissed her," Ethan pointed out.

          "Exactly my point. That was a fairy tale, not real life. Which reminds me-did you bring your toothbrush?"

          "I got my toothbrush before I even picked my shotgun," Ethan grumbled.

          Hazel grinned at him. "I just love your sense of responsibility."

          At this point, I tuned out of their conversation, going to Mr. Williams, who was standing alone at the side of the road, looking with concern at the road.

          "Maybe we should start moving," he said as soon as he saw me. "Just to be safe."

          I nodded in agreement, and soon we were all walking again, until we reached a wide meadow with a barn on the right side, the thick wooden doors barred with a two-by-two wood.

          Mr. Blake, who was at the front with his wife, turned to look at us with an amused smile. "How would you kids like to rest on some hay?"

         

          We easily opened the barn, and sure enough, haystacks filled it, together with some pitchforks and two pairs of garden boots-one large and one small enough to fit me. We easily picked our spots-me on a corner and others scattered all around with Hazel and Ethan at the middle-with haystacks obscuring our view of each other. We all agreed that we were full enough not to open our reserved canned goods, and with a few goodnights to each other, I attempted to sleep for the second time that day, finally accomplishing in doing so.

          It didn't last long.

         

          My eyes flew open, a hand covering my mouth to stop me from screaming. My attacker was behind me, and he/she had my hands tied up to prevent me from fighting. I struggled, but the more I resisted, the more he/she tightened his/her hold. Finally my efforts slacked and my shoulders slumped, accepting defeat.

          Then I realized with horror-

          The hand that was covering my mouth was covered with blood.

 

CHAPTER TWO:

          I bit one of his/her fingers hard enough to cause bleeding, and a surge of triumph went to my heart as I heard him/her groan in pain. Then I smelled the unmistakable tang of blood in my mouth, and beyond disgusted, I spat it out before wiping my mouth harshly.

          Whipping around, I straddled my attacker and pressed the tip of my knife on his stomach, one hand pulling his hair to tilt his face up to mine.

          He was a boy.

          A guy, really, not more than a year older than me. Jet-black hair, gray eyes, and a lean body.

          Not a zombie. Thank God.

          "Who are you and what are you doing here?" I hissed, glaring. "And how did you find us?"

          He kept quiet, his mouth nothing more than a flat line.

          "I said," I pressed the knife closer until I heard his white shirt tear-"who are you and what the hell do you want?"

          Still he kept his silence, and frustrated, I transferred my grip on his hair to clutch his neck. Squeezing, I said, "Until you start telling me answers, I will keep choki-"

          "Jesus, Kath, what the f**k are you doing?"

          Surprised at the sound of Hazel's exclamation, my grip on the boy slackened, and with a blur, I suddenly found myself lying beneath him, his legs beside my waist and my own knife on my throat, his gray eyes steady on mine.

          "Move away from her, or I'll shoot your head to bits."

          Hazel's sharp voice made the guy look at her, and still not speaking, he slowly stood up, uncurling his hands on the knife and letting it clatter to the ground.

          Eyeing him warily, I sat up and crouched to pick up the knife and then went to Hazel's side as she steadily pointed her shotgun at the guy's forehead. Hazel jerked her head at me. "Go and wake up Ethan," she ordered. "My dad and his parents too."

          Shooting the guy one last look, I did as I was told, and soon the guy was sitting on ground with his hands cuffed behind his back, Mr. Blake standing over him and the rest of us watching. The guy was still not answering our questions despite our several threats, his gray eyes just eerily roving over us.

          "You know, I've been wondering why you look so familiar," Mr. Blake said, kneeling in front of him. "Now I remember. You were one of the Cured."

          I audibly gasped and looked at the boy with newfound horror. Hazel looked simply interested, and Ethan stunned. Mr. Williams, who, like Mr. Blake, had been one of the scientists in the quarantine lab stood up and joined Ethan's father, scrutinizing the guy. "You were one of the first fifteen to be cured of the virus. Christopher, I think your name was."

          "Christian," the guy corrected, finally speaking. "Its Christian Matthews."

          "You're a zombie once," I said, my voice a thin whisper. "You ate people."

          Christian met my eyes, then he lowered his. "Yes. I did."

          Feeling sick, I stood up swaying on my feet and ran outside, just as I heard Ethan say, "Cool. So how does human flesh tastes like?"

          I vomited on the ground, heaving yesterday's lunch and coughing. Hunching, I wiped my mouth with the corner of my sleeve, feeling dizzy and disoriented. I had to wait a few minutes before I could stomach going back again.

          Christian met my eyes as I entered, and I looked away, trying to hide the sudden twisting of my mouth. Hazel alerted me to the bad news as soon as I sat. "Dad and Ethan's parents wanted him to stay here," she whispered. "Sucks to be sure, but cancelling the fact that he was once a cannibal, he really is hot, Kathryn."

          I glanced at Christian. "I don't care," I said, loud enough to be heard. "He once ate people. He's a murderer."

          Christian's eyelids flickered as if to glance up, but he didn't.

          "Well, you better take your case to the higher ups, cause they're all up for him in staying here."

          "Fine," I said, standing up. Approaching Mr. Williams, I said timidly, "Sir? Can I speak to you for a second?"

          Hazel's father smiled at me. "No need for formalities, Kathryn. I'm quite used to teenager speak." He edged away from Ethan's parents with me following on his heels, until we were far enough not to be heard. "What's up?" he asked.

          "Its just..." I fidgeted on my feet then just blurted it all out. "I don't want him here," I said, shooting Christian a look. "I don't want to journey with a cannibal."

          "He's human now, Kathryn," Mr. Williams said softly, with a gentle smile. "Besides, being a zombie wasn't his choice to decide. Whatever disgust you must be feeling now for Christian, believe me, he's feeling that a hundred times more."

          "I don't care," I said hotly. "I just want him gone."

          "And he'll be," he said, but before I could smile in triumph, he added, "But just after a few weeks, at the most. He doesn't look like he has any possession besides the clothes he's wearing. We just can't let a boy starve to his death, Kathryn, no matter his past."

          "But-"

          "If you let him die," Mr. Williams said to me with a knowing eye, "Then you yourself would be no better than a zombie. Remember that, Kathryn." Then leaving me in stunned disbelief, Hazel's father walked away to talk to Mr. Blake, leaving me to stare at the cuffed boy in the barn with a suspicious and vehement look.

          "So?" Hazel asked with a knowing smile as I sat beside her. "Did you convince the higher ups to let Christian go?"

           "No," I grumbled.

          She raised her eyes to the heavens. "And the earth revolves around the sun."

          Ignoring Hazel's theatrics and turning to Christian, I studied him, his bowed head and penitential pose. I snorted. He probably thought that would make me buy his martyr act, but I lost too much to the zombies that I was unwilling to believe that zombies can change their nature just by being cured alone. Or as the saying goes: A snake may change its skin, but never its true nature.

          Or was it the chameleon?

          "Did you ever visit the lab where they cured the zombies?" I asked Hazel, who was bantering with Ethan, insulting each other again at who was the ugliest. I think Hazel might have won this round, though. She was grinning as she glanced at me.

          "Nope. Didn't want to anyway. I'd fall to my early death there because of boredom." She gave a fake yawn for emphasis. "Injecting needles, then the sudden awakening back to humanity, the guilt trip, the suicides, going insane because of what they had done...I mean, who'd be interested in watching that?"

          I narrowed my eyes then gasped at her widening grin. "You visited the lab!"

          "No s**t, Sherlock. The lab was the first place I broke in after settling in the quarantine. Not the weapons room. Can you f*****g believe that?" Her grin brightened a notch at my impatient expression. "Okay, okay. It was a total clusterfuck in there. How would you feel if you remembered eating someone and enjoyed it?" She screwed her best 'aw, shucks' expression. "Let me tell you: Not good. Some were pounding their heads on the wall until it bled open, then the screams..." she shuddered. "Man, how I worried for my delicate eardrums. Its like the Exorcist in there."

          I jerked my head at Christian. “Did you ever see...him?”

          Hazel frowned, and even Ethan leaned closer to hear her answer. “Huh. Probably. Oh...he could be the guy I saw sitting on the floor in the midst of the asylum slash curing lab. He was holding his head as if it was about to explode with his eyelids squeezed shut. Unlike the others, he was just...sitting.”

          As one, we all turned to Christian, who still had his eyes on the floor. “He must have one hell of a poker face,” Ethan finally said. “I bet he’d be a good partner for the casinos.” His face turned dreamy.

          I shot him a dirty look. Christian was a zombie, and all he could think about was how good it’d be to have him as a gambling buddy?

          Hazel noticed my expression and laughed. She patted me on the back. “Welcome to the ninety-fifth Ethan Sucks club meeting. Its free registration and meetings are 24/7. You’re officially a new member.”

          “Consider me honored,” I said dryly.

          “Kiss a*s, Williams,” Ethan said. “You're just jealous because I had the idea of making him a poker partner first."

"Please," Hazel scoffed. "You are so dumb. Christian as a poker partner? So lame. I was thinking more of making him teach me how-to-fight-like-a-zombie 101. I want to know their moves."

"Hazel!" I exclaimed.

My best friend shrugged at me. "What? I'm an opportunist."

"But he was once a zombie! He ate people."

Hazel looked baffled. "So what? I once had an ex that I went and had sex with. Letting a former zombie teach me how to fight is no biggie."

Ethan glared at her. "I did not have to know that."

"No, you don't," Hazel said sweetly. "But I want you to."

Ethan took a very, very deep breath. "I will not hold your behavior against you because I realized it was caused by childhood trauma--your parents told you that you were beautiful and when you did look into a mirror...you saw Shrek."

"You-you..." Hazel sputtered. Then she looked at me. "What do you call an intelligent, handsome and sensitive guy?"

I shrugged.

"A rumor. Yeah, that's what they are. A f*****g rumor. You know what I think? Guys should be like Kleenex--soft, strong, and disposable."

"Well, girls as caring and softhearted creatures is obviously just a dirty trick played on guys to achieve the continuation of the species, if you are any indication," Ethan quickly shot back.

"Eight letters. Bullshit. Who runs the world?" Hazel yelled. "Girls!"

Ethan scrambled to his feet. "Well, you girls might run it, but we guys own it!"

Hazel, certainly not liking how Ethan towered over her, quickly stood up. "Keep up the delusion, dude. Who knows? Maybe you'll start to believe it."

Ethan's eyes flared. "Guess who gave the apple to Adam? A girl!"

"Well, guess who tempted her? Satan! Who, I might just inform you, is a GUY."

"He might be a guy, but he--"

I scrambled to my feet and put myself between them, both arms extended to stop them from spitting on each other's face. "Stop," I said, glaring at them with my best Alpha stare for effect. "Guys, we have no time for this. I know you two always fight, but everyone's tense right now; the zombies are getting smarter, and we have no clue on what to do next, plus..." I shot Christian a look. "there's him. We just have too much problems right now and we don't need both of you arguing with each other. Time out, okay?"

Hazel and Ethan gave each other a measuring look, and I almost smiled when Hazel grudgingly held her hand out. "Truce?"

Ethan, matching her narrowed stare with one of his own, briskly shook it. "Truce," he confirmed. Then he added, "For now."

Hazel pointed her index and middle finger to both of her eyes, then pointed it to Ethan's in a classic 'I'll be watching you' gesture. "This isn't over."

Then they turned their backs to each other and huffed before stalking out to separate directions. As soon as they were out of earshot, I released a sigh. It was a little bit tiring to be their friend on some days. Ethan and Hazel constantly argue a lot, like they were already married. But I always knew that even before twilight they'd be kissing again, back to their I'm-so-love-drunk atmosphere. Honestly.

"Are they always like that?"

I jumped, so startled to hear Christian's voice. He was still cuffed, sitting on the ground with his head tilted sideways as he regarded me. I couldn't believe my ears. He had some nerve!

Ignoring him, I stalked out after Hazel, my expression as stormy as hers. If he thought that I would actually talk to him, then he's got another Kathryn-surprise coming. 

Because, as far as I was concerned, he was way worse than a zombie.

He was a zombie pretending to be human.

We were walking again on another deserted road, dried leaves swirling with the wind as the dry summer breeze whipped our hair. The quarantine had been located outside the city, so there were only a slight number of cars haphazardly parked on the road, their dusty windows suggesting the length of time they were abandoned, which was probably because they ran out of gas. Fuel had been one of the things humans fought over when the plague spread, but as usual when there’s a crisis, the wealthy got most of the gasoline. There might be zombies roaming the land, but people would always be people: greedy, selfish b******s.

          “Are we going into the city?” I asked Mr. Blake as he walked beside me with his wife, Ethan’s mother. We were in the rear, with Hazel and Ethan on the middle, and Christian and Mr. Williams leading. Christian was no longer cuffed, and that worried me...a lot.

          In fact, my hand kept twitching at the pistol I had inserted on the space where my jeans hugged my waist, the coldness of the metal searing my skin but at the same time comforting me. It was already loaded, safety on. I could hardly take the risk of accidentally shooting myself in the belly.

          “Yes,” Mr. Blake said, in answer to my question earlier. “There’s likely to be more food supply there. Our reserves aren’t gonna last any longer.”

          I understood his logic, but the problem was, there are also many zombies in the city. I glanced at Christian, who was walking with light, easy steps, his sneakers barely making sound on the pavement. He had the gait of a panther�"quiet, wary, and deadly. It set my teeth on edge.

          Mr. Blake followed the focus of my gaze and gave me a knowing smile. “You have to take him and accept him as he is, Kathryn. Christian cannot change his past anyway than you can.”

          I felt annoyed at another Christian-is-good-have-mercy lecture. “But I can change the future,” I argued. “And if I were him, I’d have shot myself a long time ago.”

          It was the truth. How the guy could still live with himself was beyond me.

          Mr. Blake shook his head disapprovingly. “Killing oneself is a direct disobedience of God’s law,” he said. “Thou shall not kill.”

          “Oh, come on!” I exclaimed. “He already killed. He even ate it!”

          Mr. Blake winced as my already loud voice got carried by the wind, making even Mr. Williams and Christian hear. I could see him stiffen. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Williams drew closer to him, his lips moving. I couldn’t hear them, but I just knew what he was saying. Probably in the lines of ‘forgive her, she’s a troubled kid’ or maybe simply an ‘ignore her’ comment. I snorted. I couldn’t care less if he was hurt. He’d probably deserved it.

          Nevertheless, I grew quiet as we walked on.

          Finally, at around late in the afternoon, we arrived at the borders of the city, the wide meadows finally receding and making way for the buildings and skyscrapers. All of us became cautious as soon as we entered, knowing that the city presented more danger than our languorous walk in the countryside. There were even signs of it, like the sudden increase in the number of cars we passed, or the rotting bodies that we saw lying in the most absurd nooks and alleyways. Even the very air seemed to hush, as if the whole world was pressing down on us, making us feel as if we were utterly alone.

          But I know that we weren’t.

          The hair standing on the back of my neck seemed to testify to that.

          “Keep your eyes alert,” Mr. Williams called out softly, his hand clutching a rifle. “Remember, they’re fast, they’re strong, ...and they’re smart.” He shot his daughter a look. “And don’t get cocky.”

          Hazel turned to Ethan with a patronizing look. “Heard that, Ethan?”

          He gave his girlfriend a glare. “He wasn’t talking to me.”

          I had my gun out now, safety off. My ears strained to hear a rustle, my eyes darting from left to right in case I saw some movement. It had been a long time that I had been exposed like this, and I was scared that I might have gotten rusty during my time in the quarantine. It had been a year and a few months, after all.

          Up ahead, I can see an overturned truck blocking the road, tilted vertically enough so that it left a few space for us to wiggle through. I turned to Mr. Blake. “That narrow crevice is wide enough for just one person to go through,” I said, jerking my head to the small cleft. “We have to squeeze through it one at a time.”

          “I know,” he said.

          Mr. Williams and Christian stopped just a few meters away from the truck, pondering the hole. They turned as we caught up to them, Hazel with a frown at her face. “Why are you all stopping?” she demanded. “Don’t tell me that little hole scares the living daylights out of you p*****s.”

          Mr. Williams narrowed his eyes. “Language,” he chided. “We’re just being cautious.”

          Hazel gave a disbelieving sigh. “Are you afraid there’s gonna be zombies on the other side?” she asked. “Its just a little hole.” As if to prove her point, she walked to the small fissure and peered in.

          “Hazel...” Mr. Williams said warningly.

          She turned to him. “Its deserted,” she informed us. Then she stepped through the hole, and then stuck her head back out, giving us an impatient look. “Well? What are you waiting for? The damn concert of Lady Gaga?”

          Rolling his eyes, Ethan followed her, then Mr. Williams, Christian, Mrs. Blake, me and finally Ethan’s father. As we pooled in front of the opening, I took a survey of my surroundings.

          When the plague had first spread, the government army came and tried to evacuate the public. At that time, there were already a lot of zombies, and as time wore on and it seemed as if the legion of zombies would never stop coming, the government had given up and all the quarantine and evacuation facilities closed down. Several of the soldiers of the army bolted to take care of their families, and it seemed as if the whole world turned upside down and all hell got loose. People were running down the streets screaming, the zombies popping out everywhere, and the rate of suicides shot up off the roof of the charts, including the death rate.

          Now, several years later, there were still signs of that nightmare, like the tanks that was randomly parked all over the road, or the police cars that got left behind. I could still even hear the echoes of those screams, yelling for salvation that would never come.

          Hazel ran to the nearest tank and hopped on it, scrambling to clutch at its long pistol and tapping at its closed hatch. She muttered a curse. “Damn it,” she said, jumping down. “Its closed from the inside.”

          Ethan shrugged. “What did you expect?”

          She glared balefully at him. “Did you just speak? I was under the impression that primates did not have that kind of capability.”

          “Careful now,” Ethan easily said. “You’re starting to hiss your ‘s’. You don’t want them to know my girlfriend is a reptile, don’t you?”

          We started to walk, all of us familiar with Ethan and Hazel’s constant banter. We knew they wouldn’t stop until someone wins.

          “Is that your version of calling me a b***h?” Hazel said tartly.

          “Did it sound that way? Gee, I have no idea.”

          Hazel wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell? Its like the scent of rotting flesh. Must be your brain, Ethan.”

          I looked down, and realized that we just passed by a month old corpse.

          “Think again, Williams. What’s closer to your nose?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Your mouth. Must be your bad breath.”

          A couple of feet more and we passed another corpse. Then another. And another.

          I stopped. “Guys?”

          They all paused and turned to look at me. Mr. Blake’s brows scrunched up, looking puzzled. They were all looking ahead, not down. But I was.

          “Look around,” I said simply.

          They did, and I heard their sharp indrawn breaths.

          We were surrounded by corpses.

          Dozens of them.

CHAPTER THREE:

          “Its like a graveyard,” Mrs. Blake whispered, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide, staring around us in horror.

          Piles of stinking dead bodies were scattered all around us, and there were even some bones. Its as if a bomb had exploded and left a massive morgue on its wake. Thousand of flies were buzzing above them, like some kind of a backward halo. I swallowed my nausea. “What happened here?” I said.

          Apparently, the others seemed to be thinking the same, because their faces were a mirror of my own: confused and baffled horror.

          “The bodies are new,” Hazel said, prodding with one toe the dead body nearest to her. It had two missing legs and its internal organs were peeping out, along with its ribcage. “I don’t suppose one of the zombies was celebrating his birthday and got this as buffet?”

          “Zombies don’t have time thinking, much less celebrating.” Surprisingly, it was Christian who said this. “It looks to me more like a group of people was fleeing and the zombies all around the city must have smelled them and launched a full out attack.”

          Hazel glanced at him. “I know that, Mr. Serious and Solemn. I was just joking.” She looked back at the body. “But you’re right. Its as if all the humans on a thousand mile radius went here and got feasted on by zombies.”

          “Well, its certainly no use for us to dawdle here to investigate,” Mr. Williams interjected, walking again. “They’re already dead. Let’s just hope we don’t end like them and keep moving.”

          Dragging our eyes reluctantly from the morbid spectacle, we followed Hazel’s father, falling into the line again. I glanced at the sun.

          “We should hurry,” I called out to them. “Its going to be night soon.”

          As one, they all looked at the setting sun, their pace getting quicker and more brisk, all eager to be inside a safe shelter before night came. Zombies had excellent night vision, and since we didn’t, they have the advantage.

          “I wish Az was here,” Hazel grumbled. “He’d have found us a home to sleep by now.”

          Az, a nickname for Azrael, was Hazel’s pet dog, a Siberian Husky. He had died during her journey to the quarantine, and she told me how he could smell a good hiding place from miles away, sniffing the house with the least blood and gore. I could tell she missed him.

          Finally, we decided to stake out a small-looking house, with blinds covering its windows and a fence surrounding its small yard. We were about to enter when Christian suddenly stopped and turned around, and since he was in front, caused quite a small traffic. Following his gaze, I felt my heartbeat skip.

          A zombie was staggering towards us, about thirty meters away. I could hear faintly the keening sounds he uttered, and as his red eyes fixed eerily on us, I felt myself shiver.

          Hazel drew her shotgun. “We should let him get a little nearer before we shoot,” she said. “Right through the brain, so that we’ll only use one bullet.”

          I drew my gun out and strode confidently in front of them. “I’ll do it.”

          They all looked surprised, and I couldn’t help but feel offended about their doubt on my skills.

          “You can shoot that far?” Ethan asked dubiously.

          “Yes,” I snapped at him, bristling. “I’m an excellent shooter.”

          To prove my point, I sighted, and taking a deep breath, positioned my legs into the classic shooter stance. As I let my breath out in one long whoosh, I fired.

          The zombie crumpled, the bullet going straight his brain.

          I heard Hazel whistle in appreciation. When I turned around, they were all looking at me, impressed. “Where did you learn to shoot?” Ethan asked, curious.

          I shrugged, sheathing my gun again. “My father was the commander in chief of the armed forces in the U.S. He’s the one who taught me.”

          “No s**t,” Hazel said, looking at me with awe. “Why did you only just tell me this?”

          I shrugged again. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

          “Mattered? Your father was a freaking commander! Do you know how awesomely cool that is?”

          Ignoring Hazel’s indignant sputtering, I followed her father as he opened the door and peered inside, his shotgun ready to aim. Nodding once at us, we soon followed, keeping our footsteps quiet as we entered.

          The house was dim, but it was to be expected. Electricity had long since been cut off of supply, and the survivors of the plague learned to get used to a life without fluorescent or a heater. Those who had generators reserved them for especially hard times, and rarely ever use them.

          Mr. Williams gestured for Christian, Hazel and me to check out the upstairs, while he and the Blakes scoped out the ground floor. I felt uncomfortable accompanying my most hatest member of the group, but I assured myself that Hazel would have my back if it got to that.

          A long hallway greeted the three of us, Hazel on the lead. There were four bedrooms all in all, with a bathroom right at the end of the corridor.

          Still quiet, each of us opened a room.

          I edged inside, looking carefully around. It was an infant's room, with a crib right at the center full of stuffed toys and couches surrounding it. My throat constricted as I surveyed the blood crusting on the walls, my imagination supplying the details at what must have taken place.

          It was easy enough to see that it was empty. I turned around, right in time to see Christian snapping with his bare hands a zombie's neck.

          The zombie fell down in a heap in front of me, Christian slowly lowering his hands. "He was about to bite you," he said. Then he walked away and went down the stairs.

          My eyes went back to the zombie, my heart beating fast. I thought of what almost happened and how calmly and effortlessly Christian had killed it. I hugged myself.

          When I looked up, Hazel was leaning on the doorway, looking at me, concerned. "You okay?"

          I managed a smile. "I'm still alive."

          She acknowledged the half-answer for what it was, letting me evade the question. She grabbed me. "Come on," she said, pulling me out of the room. "Ethan's gonna think that I was probably killed by some zombie if we stay too long, and I don't want to get his hopes up."

          We climbed down the stairs, Mr. Williams waiting for us at the last step. "Everything's clear," he said. "We're staying here tonight. Mrs. Blake is already preparing for our dinner. She'd like it if you girls help her."

          Hazel rolled her eyes. "See how sexist boys are?" she told me as we made our way to the kitchen. "A few hours with us and they think girls are supposed to be all domestic. Pigs."

          Mrs. Blake had finished preparing before we arrived, so Hazel and I just helped the boys make our makeshift beds for tonight. I avoided Christian as best as I could, trying not to think of the dead zombie upstairs.

          "He really fills up those jeans, doesn't he?" Hazel whispered, watching Christian as he bent down to adjust the mattresses. "Hmmm."

          I glared at her. "Would you stop that?" I asked grumpily. "You already have a boyfriend."

          She raised an eyebrow at me. "Not getting possesive, are we?"

          I snorted. "Puh-lease. He's all yours."

          "Just look at him!" Hazel insisted. "All those rippling muscles. That square jaw. There's just something about an alpha male that makes a girl-" she sighed, "-melt." She nudged me. "C'mon, just give him a peek."

          I kept my eyes stubbornly to the blanket I kept smoothing over the mattress. "Stop it."

          "Don't be a nun, Kathryn! Come on, just a look. One super quick look. Ethan's a pretty boy, but Christian...damn. He just makes you think of sex."

          My eyes widened, and I shoved her. "You're shameless, you know that?" I lowered my voice to a furious whisper. "He was a zombie once!"

          "So?" she shrugged. "Zombies just want hugs. See why they always raise both of their hands when they walk?"

          I ignored her grin, feeling annoyance wash over me. I still couldn't get over the fact that no one seems to mind Christian's past. How could they not be bothered by the fact that he ate people? People...like us? Am I the only one able to realize that he's more trouble than he's worth?

          We all gathered in the living room downstairs to eat, our dinner as per usual the canned goods that we keep as our food supply. Cooking is hard enough without electricity, and the raw ingredients that are needed for a good warm meal have either decayed or been exposed to a dirty environment (i.e., rats, cockroaches, dust...you get the idea) so it was almost always canned goods we survivors consume.

          We were all hungry from our journey, so the food we rationed out quickly disappeared. Or at least...all the food except for Christian's.

          "Don't you like your food, dear?" I overheard Mrs. Blake ask him, after probably watching him play with his food.

          "Its okay," he muttered. "I just...don't have the appetite."

          At his reply, my eyes couldn't help but narrow at his direction. And what kind of food do you have the appetite for? I asked him inside my head. Human flesh, perhaps?

          "But you must be hungry," Mrs. Blake persisted. "We've been walking for hours."

          He just shook his head and pushed to her his share. "Here. I don't want it."

          "Oh no. Its yours, and besides, I'm full." She smiled at him. "At least eat a spoonful. You'll need the energy."

          Mrs. Blake got up at that, probably thinking that the matter have been settled. But I watched as Christian got up, and threw his entire dinner at the nearest trashcan.

         

          "Hey, Kath, easy there. I don't want you to sprain your ankle before we even play."

          I  stuck my tongue out and glided on the snow, my skates easily following my movements. I could see the mist coming out of my mouth as I exhaled, and I rubbed my mittens together as I made a sharp turn. "Where are they?" I asked Mitch, looking around. "They said they'd be early."

          He rolled his eyes. "And you believed them?"

          I crossed my arms. "Well, of course. Don't you?"

          "Nope. Never have, never will."

          I rolled my eyes, thinking that Mitch really has some trust issues he needed to work out. "I don't know why you even hate them," I complained. "They're nice enough."

          "Yeah, nice for a barracuda," he said under his breath.

          I slapped him on the chest. "I heard that, moron."

          He skated away from me, making a 360 degrees turn before tucking his head in and gliding fast. "Think you can race me, hey, Kath?"

          I started skating. "I know I can race you, Mitch. Prepare to lose."

          He threw a grin at me over his shoulder. "Don't be too sure of yourself."

          I woke up, gasping, my thoughts scrambled enough that at first I forgot where I was. Then realizations came flooding in, and I noticed a silhoutte sitting not far from me.

          "Bad dreams?"

          Christian had been tasked to take the first shift, so he probably noticed when I started twisting on the covers and sat bolt upright, my eyes wild. I felt the tips of my ears go warm.

          "Mind your own business," I said acerbically, lying back down. I saw him shrug, and closing my eyes, I tried to sleep again, this time without the accompaning nightmares.

         

          Morning found us packing again, ready to move. Shouldering our backpacks, we all filed out of the house, squinting against the bright light of the sun.

          "Are we just going in a random direction, or do you have a specific destination in mind?" I asked Mr. Williams, after I caught up to him near the front. Christian was on his right, but I ignored him as best as I could.

          "Actually, we do have a specific direction in mind," he replied, smiling down at me. "After Maverick and I got reacquainted at the quarantine, we decided to have a back up lab where a sample of the cure can be hidden in case things get ugly. A safehouse, if you will."

          "Smart," I remarked.

          "Well, we are scientists, aren't we?" he said, arching a brow.

          I let myself fall back to my usual position at the rear, content to be as far away from Christian as possible.

          We passed no dead bodies anymore, which was a positive sign.