White Trash Zombie Apocalypse

“Sure did. High School Zombie Apocalypse!! Two exclamation points. Bunch of our guys are working security details there.”

I chuckled at the “two exclamation points” business. If it ever came out in 3-D would it get a third? “Yeah, I got called out for a death on the set this morning, and then almost got my own body bag when some idjit who wasn’t paying attention to the whole ‘road closed’ thing tried to run me over.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, alarm in his voice. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, but only because Philip tackled me out of the way.”

“Who?”

“Philip. My zombie-baby. Remember?” I’d filled him in on everything that had happened to me in that goddamn lab, but months down the road there was no reason for him to remember the guy’s name.

I heard his intake of breath. “Shit. But…wait. I don’t understand. Was he attacking you?”

“No!” I said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. It sure as hell seemed like he was trying to keep me from being plowed by that car. And then he jumped up and ran the hell off.”

“That is seriously weird.”

“No kidding!”

“How are you doing? Hungry? You have anything with you?” I knew he meant brains, not burgers.

“I just sucked down a smoothie to fix up my shoulder, so I’m okay for now.”

“I’ll bring more for you when I pick you up this afternoon.” We had a casual date set for when I got off work today, though he had yet to tell me what he had planned. “Can’t have you falling to pieces on me, now can I?”

“That would suck,” I said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I kinda like your bits right where they are, y’know?”

I grinned. “You like my bits?”

“Pretty much, yep.”

“Cool,” I said. “Bring me something to eat and maybe later I’ll let you touch my bits.”

“Now there’s an incentive not to be late,” he said.

“You’d better not be!” I said with a laugh. “My bits and I will see you at four.” I hung up without giving him a chance to reply. It served him right for not telling me where he was taking me this afternoon.

The rain began in earnest as I pulled up to the rear entrance of the Coroner’s Office building, but I managed to get myself and the body inside without getting too wet, thanks to the recently installed new awning.

No one else decided to die for the rest of my shift, which was damn nice since I really didn’t want to pick up a body in the rain. When Jerry came in at five minutes ’til four to relieve me on bodysnatcher duty, I gladly turned the van keys over to him, grabbed my stuff, and headed outside to wait for Marcus.

Rain drummed on the awning in a heavy staccato, and barely a minute later Marcus pulled up in his bright blue Ford F-150 pickup.

I gave him a broad smile as I climbed in. “Right on time.”

“You know it,” he said with a grin as he passed me a bottle. “Now let’s get those bits stable.”

I took a long drink, then watched him as he drove. Ruggedly handsome with dark hair and eyes, and a great smile, he was a damned good guy who happened to be the one who’d saved my life by turning me into a zombie. He’d also anonymously secured me a job at the Coroner’s Office, so I’d have a supply of brains, and helped me establish myself in my new life as a zombie. Later, we had a few hot and heavy weeks as a couple before I backed off to get perspective and space.

It was the whole business about zombifying me and extorting me into taking the morgue job that I’d needed the most perspective about. Pair that with some over-the-top protective bullshit and general treating me like a child, and I’d been damn close to washing my hands of him completely. But the truth was, Marcus had some really great qualities, and I did enjoy him. Therefore, after a number of Very Serious Talks, I’d decided to mentally wipe the slate clean and start over. No point in holding a grudge for shit in the past, especially when his actions had totally saved my life and forced me to get my act together. Marcus had promised to try harder and actually get my input on things from now on, and I tried not to overthink anything and simply have fun.

I finished off the bottle, exhaling in relief as the last tugs of hunger faded and the world came back into proper focus. “Yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

Marcus pulled a baggie of what looked like ugly grey banana chips out of the console and passed it to me. “Now try these.”

I replaced the top on the bottle and stuck it in the drink holder, then gave the contents of the baggie a dubious sniff. I liked what I smelled, but they sure looked nasty.

“What are these?” I asked, taking a cautious nibble.

“Brain chips,” he said. “I got a dehydrator and thought I’d give it a try. Slice thin and let ’em dry.” He shrugged. “Only about half of the brainpower they’d have if they were fresh or frozen, but no cooler needed and they satisfy that crunch craving.”

I took a bigger bite. “I like.”

Marcus smiled, obviously pleased. “Keep those. I have more at home.”

“Cool!” I ate another brain chip and then stuffed the bag down into my purse. “Man, I feel sorry for those fake zombies who have to wear that makeup all day. Wonder how much it costs to pay all those people and stuff?”

“Dunno,” Marcus replied, “but I heard that these extras are making a hundred to a hundred and fifty bucks a day, and that they gave first hiring priority to people who were laid off after Saberton Corp bought the farm machinery factory last fall.”

“Oh, wow,” I said. “That’s pretty cool of them.” The bigwigs at Saberton had sworn up, down, and sideways that the layoffs were temporary, and that everyone would be rehired as soon as the company nailed down a major defense contract. But the contract had yet to come through, and several hundred people were either still out of a job or making do with whatever work they could scrounge.

Marcus glanced my way. “Well, Uncle Pietro said that State Senator Jane Pennington really pushed for that.”

“Even cooler.” Then I grinned. “Is it wrong that I want to go hungry for a bit and then sneak in as an extra?”

“Probably, but who cares?” he replied with a laugh.

He turned down the street that ran alongside the high school, not far from where I’d picked up the body, then pulled into the deserted back lot of the football stadium. I used to think my high school took their football seriously, but Tucker Point High supporters took it to a whole new level of absurd. After a ridiculously successful, high-profile fund-raising campaign a few years back, the alumni had built a sleek monstrosity that had to be the biggest, glitziest high school stadium in the southeast.

“We’re here,” he announced as he parked close to the entrance and shut off the engine.

The look I gave him was plenty dubious. “Um. Why are we here?”

He grabbed a thick blanket from behind the seat. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said. And with no further hint, he climbed out and headed toward the darkened entrance.

Okkaaaay. I hurried to follow. Behind me, the truck horn beeped as Marcus hit the remote lock.

“Dude, this is kinda creepy,” I said with a laugh.

He reached back and took my hand. “In a few minutes you won’t be thinking about creepy.”

“Well that can be taken a bunch of different ways,” I replied.

Marcus broke into a run as the light rain abruptly increased in intensity, then pulled me close as soon as we were under shelter. “So can you,” he murmured.

A thrill shot through me. Marcus and I had our ups and downs, but we had some serious chemistry in the bedroom. “Oh wow,” I said with an unsteady grin.

His mouth nuzzled my neck. “You’re in trouble now. I’m primed.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to eat the chips!” I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t help but laugh. Back at his house he had a brain-pudding that he’d nicknamed “foreplay.” Never a good idea to risk falling apart during zombie-sex. Ew.

Marcus chuckled as he took my hand again and headed down a passageway. “I’m no fool.”

I peered around as we walked. “Are we allowed to be here?”

“Uh, sure,” he said in a very unconvincing tone of voice. “Didn’t have to climb any fences did we?”

We wound our way through a dim passageway beneath the seating, then up a set of concrete stairs and onto a covered walkway that ran around the perimeter of the stadium. “This sure is, um, romantic,” I said, casting him a dubious look.

“Didn’t know you were looking for romance,” he said, still grinning as we stepped out onto the bleachers. “Come on,” he urged as he began to climb.

“You’re so weird,” I said, but I went with him.

“You mean besides being a zombie?” he said, shooting me an amused glance over his shoulder.

“Well, yeah,” I said, grinning. “That zombie shit’s old hat now.”

We reached the top of the stairs, and I allowed Marcus to lead me behind the scoreboard and then up a narrow ladder to a hidden alcove above the walkway. He let go of my hand and spread out the thick blanket. I looked out over the empty stadium from our lofty vantage. State of the art, no doubt about that. From the swanky all-glass press box to the perfect grass on the field with Tucker Point emblazoned in the end zones it screamed, We obsess way too hard over high school football, and don’t you forget it!

“Okay,” I said. “This is kinda cool.”

His gaze went out to the view “Not so creepy up here.”

I sat down on the blanket. “Well, you are a zombie, so automatically creepy.”

“Wait,” he protested. “A few seconds ago the zombie aspect was old hat.” He stripped off his damp shirt and dropped it to the concrete. “I think you just say stuff that’s convenient in the moment.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">