Chapter Five #3
It’s meant to be a rhetorical question, but this one I can actually answer.
“First, you figure out how they work, when they’re most dangerous, what their weaknesses are, and the most effective ways to kill them.
Then you can devise the best kind of shelter in order to rest safely from them.
Everything else is just normal survival problems. Power. Food. Other humans.”
Maisie glances at me, then blinks. “Are you a prepper?”
“No, but I’ve seen hundreds of zombie movies, and they all boil down to interesting survival scenarios against relentless, though flawed, enemies.” I struggle to smile. Maybe my film degree isn’t so useless after all, Mom.
“But those are just stories. They’re not real.”
“In all the countless zombie stories out there, humans are bound to have predicted some of it right.” I shrug. “Take your rescue back there. In every zombie story I can think of, destroying its brain is a surefire way to take a zombie out, and it worked for you, too.”
“So? Destroying the brain kills everything.”
“And people got that right in zombie lore. Maybe some of the other things that show up in zombie stories will be true for our apocalypse.”
Maisie looks deeply unimpressed, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced I’m right.
Maybe I just want to believe I’m not totally useless, but my mind is starting to buzz with connections made between our reality and my deep bench of movie knowledge.
Glowing eyes? Army of the Dead, though I’m pretty sure the zombies eating out of that dumpster we just passed aren’t secretly robots.
Slow in the daytime, but feral at night?
Day of the Dead. Zombie virus? Here Alone, 28 Days Later, and a jillion others.
“Okay, if movies are so helpful, what are the main takeaways for survival?” Maisie’s voice contains a challenge, one that zips inside my chest and makes me sit up a little straighter.
I like it.
“Oh, I could prepare an entire presentation on this, but if I had to narrow it down…I’d say they’re most dangerous when they swarm, they tend to have poor gross motor skills, so seeking shelter higher up is probably wise, and always assume there’s a zombie waiting to surprise you.”
Maisie hmms noncommittally. “Do they ever get better? You know, turn back into normal humans?”
“In the movies?” I blow out a breath that warms my face mask. “Almost never.”
We don’t talk after that, but the silence that follows feels easier, at least. When she pulls into my driveway, everything looks just as I left it yesterday.
The garbage cans are still at the curb, waiting to be rolled back to the side, the garden’s wild and untended, and the front door’s cracked open.
Wait.
Maisie clocks it before I do, then glances at me warily. “Is someone else home?”
“God, I hope not,” I murmur, staring at the door. The windows are dark, revealing nothing. I desperately do not want to go inside. I slowly click the release, and my seatbelt slides off reluctantly, like hands dragging across my chest. “Well,” I start too brightly, “thanks for the ride!”
Maisie’s brows pinch together. “I don’t think you should go inside.”
“It’s the only place I have left,” I croak.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks, still frowning between me and the door. “Help you secure the interior?”
“No, no—I’ve got it.” I throw my hands up in a weird double-finger-gun, then laugh awkwardly, though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
I’m not one of those guys who have to feel tough in front of women, and besides, that ship sailed with Maisie after she mistook me for a cat in distress, but I was raised by two colonels who teach war tactics for a living, and they beat into my skull to never, ever be a burden, only an asset.
Maisie’s already saved me once today—I don’t want her risking her life for me again.
“You literally just said to assume there’s always a zombie waiting to surprise you.” Maisie stares me down. “You don’t even have a weapon. Don’t be ridiculous!”
I’m already half out the door. “Sure I do.” I glance about wildly, then grab the rusty rake I abandoned in my yard two years ago.
“I’ll be fine. Seriously. And thank you.
” I swallow, memorizing her pretty face.
It may be the last human one I ever see.
“Be careful out there, Maisie.” I give her a sad half smile, grateful I’m holding the rake so I don’t do the finger-guns again, and close the car door on her disbelieving face.
I turn toward the front door, the sliver of dark beyond filling me with dread.
I take my first step up the walk. Maybe I really did leave it open by accident.
I was in a hurry last night, and I definitely wasn’t thinking straight.
The wooden porch creaks beneath my feet so loudly, it nearly stops my heart.
I whip around and watch as Maisie, still frowning, puts her car in reverse.
That’s good. She doesn’t need to see this. She’ll have a nice life in a bunker somewhere, with a sexy G.I. Joe who knows how to tan deer hides and sterilize pond water. I grip the rake tighter and push open the door.
I’ll be fine.
It’s the last thought I have as a heavy thunk cracks against my head.
Everything goes dark.