A Single Girl's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse (15 page)

“We didn't try hard enough,” Q said. “You lot pay attention. You're about to learn, Q-style.”

“Is that some kind of handicraft?” Angela asked. “Like crochet?”

“No! Just watch.”

Dave and Q walked toward the zombies. “You get the chick,” Q said. “I'll go brainless.”

“What's the plan?” he asked.

“Anatomy lesson,” Q said. “I call the right eye-socket.” She fired and hit her target. The zombie pivoted, then righted itself. “Nope. Your turn.”

“Left foot.” Dave shot. A good chunk of Zinkabella's foot imploded. It paused, teetered, then limped ahead on the stump.

“Left shoulder blade,” said Q, and fired. “No good, but this would make a tops mobile phone game. Your turn.”

“Right lung.”

“Gross, but no banana,” Q said. “Um – the banana.”

Dave grunted.

“Work with a bunch of five-year-olds long enough and you too will learn a hundred and three nicknames for the willy,” Q said. She watched as her zombie stumbled on. “No good. I guess he wasn't that attached to it.”

“The heart,” Dave said. He shot.

“Hah! You missed.”

“Nope.”

Dave was right. He hadn't missed. Zinkabella lay on the ground, absolutely still. It was no longer trying to get up. He'd killed it.

They were killable!

“Huh.” Q shot her zombie, aiming for the heart. She thought she aimed too low, but the bullet did its job. The thing fell and stayed fallen.

Maybe they weren't doomed after all.

Q and Dave walked over to their ex-zombies. Q prodded one with a disparaging foot. “Lame! No self-respecting zombie has a vulnerable heart. That's vampires. They're mixing genre.”

Dave grunted.

Angela joined them. “Are they dead? Really dead?” she asked.

“They're dead,” Dave said.

“Straight through the heart,” Q said.

“That's not the heart,” said Angela.

“Of course it is,” Q said. “They're down, aren't they?” She pointed at the bodies, which lay on ground like perfectly ordinary mutilated corpses.

“That, my friends, is the spleen,” said Angela. “Don't look at me like that, I know my anatomy. I used to be a marine biologist. And that is a spleen. Possibly a swim bladder. But probably a spleen. Q, what are you muttering?”

“Sorry. I was trying it out. ‘Boom! Spleen shot.' See? Doesn't work. So that can't be the spleen.”

Dave pulled a large bush knife from the sheath strapped to his leg.

“It's cool, whatever you say,” said Angela, hands raised and stepping backward. “That's the heart.”

Dave handed her the knife by the handle. “Autopsy,” he said.

“Awesome!” said Q. “A zortopsy!
Apocalypse Z
never did one of those. I'm gonna write this up.”

“Q, do you know that putting a Z in front of an ordinary word doesn't magically transform it into a zombie word?” said Angela.

“Clearly you've never attended one of my English lessons,” said Q. “Let's do this.”

Q asked Rabbit and Sheath to stand guard on the basis that the former didn't have the stomach for dissection and the latter didn't have the brains for it. The Scarlet Terror returned to her quiet, non-communicative state. Pious Kate opted to stay with Rabbit, claiming that Q was still trying to kill her and she wouldn't hang around when people were playing with knives. For once, Q didn't mind letting her rival outdo her for Rabbit time. She was way more excited about the chance to examine the undead in the flesh.

Zinkabella lay where it had fallen, head lolling like a doll that had displeased its owner. Q shivered despite the noon warmth and kicked a tuft of wiry grass, uprooting it.

Angela tied a handkerchief over her nose and mouth and lifted the knife. She put it down again.

“What's wrong?” Q said. “You won't hurt it.”

“I know her,” Angela said. “I knew her.”

Q put a hand on her friend's shoulder. “Pretend it isn't real.”

“It's not.” Angela took a deep breath, realized what she was breathing in, spluttered, then leaned over the corpse.

“Wait!” said Q.

“What? What's wrong? Is she still alive? Is she contagious?”

“No, but when they do this on TV, they talk into those recorder thingies.”

Angela scowled. “Do you have one of those?”

“No,” said Q.

“I have this knife, though. So don't yell again.”

Angela leaned back over the body and made a long incision down the torso. She began slicing skin from flesh. Dave and Q watched, fascinated.

“This is way grosser than any of my games,” Q said with enthusiasm.

“
Blood Vengeance Six
?” Dave said.

“I've got it on order—”

“Children! Pay attention.” Angela pointed with the tip of the knife. “Observe the lungs.”

Dave grunted. “Smoker?”

“No, that's what lungs always look like,” said Angela. “Those public health ads are misleading. Cut any organ in half and it looks disgusting.”

“The human body was not meant to be seen from the inside out,” Q said, with the wisdom of experience.

Angela turned back to the job. “Observe the heart. Note the complete absence of any wounds.”

“Except for that great knife gash you've just made,” Q said.

“But no bullet holes,” Angela said. “Proving that you did not shoot Christine through the heart.”

“I said you missed,” Q said.

“You too,” Dave said.

“Children! Observe the spleen.” Angela was pointing to a brown, spongy organ on the left side of the body that was about eight inches long. “Observe the clean bullethole through the spleen. This is what killed our zombie.”

Q poked the spleen with a stick. It wobbled. “It's big,” she said.

“It's engorged,” said Angela. “This zombie was diseased.”

“Interesting,” said Q. “What's a healthy spleen do?”

“It cleans out the blood, removes abnormal cells, makes antibodies. It's a filter.”

“So the question is,” said Q, “what's this one been filtering?”

There was a moist gasp from the direction of the rest of the group. Dave and Q, alert once more, ran.

Not Rabbit, Q pleaded. Don't let it be Rabbit.

They reached the others. Dave turned away, unable to watch. The scene was too awful.

Sheath and Pious Kate were snuffling on Rabbit's shoulder. The Scarlet Terror wept silently. It was group therapy, with mucus.

“What's wrong?” Q asked, wanting to help but not knowing how. “Are they hurt?” She ran through their first-aid supplies, wondering what they'd need. Bandage? Antibiotics? Homemade amputation kit?

“What's wrong?” said Pious Kate in a mocking voice. “You're an idiot, that's what's wrong! Two of our friends are dead and soon we might be too.”

Q deflated. She had lost another point. Here she was fighting zombies to save them, and she was barely human herself. Who would save her?

*

“Hannah, good news! Have you been crying?”

“No,” Hannah said. It was a lie. Q could hear it in the girl's voice.

She had returned to the scene of the autopsy under the pretense of private study to make the call. It was the safest place – the others would not come here, they didn't want to see the body.

“They broke into the hall,” Hannah said. “I shot one in the head. It didn't die.”

Poor Hannah. She didn't believe everything Q said, but she believed her about monsters. Q had always told her to go for the head shot. She watched the midday sun slip past Mount Empress as the girl recovered her breath. She wished they had longer before darkness poured back. Night fell fast in the mountains.

“Then Mr Barrett tried to take the gun,” Hannah said. “I said no. Then Mrs Mathews left.”

Mrs Matthews was the librarian. Nice woman, but Q found she couldn't picture her face any more. Were the dead gone so fast? “What happened?” she said.

“She wanted us all to go,” said Hannah. “She said we were trapped and we couldn't kill them and we had to get out. I said no, we should stay like the plan said.”

Q could imagine the scene: the six-year-old arguing with clarity and the scared adults who wouldn't listen to a dumb kid. “Hannah, you gotta convince them or force them. You're the girl with the plan.”
And the gun
.

“They got her.” Hannah was snuffling. She hardly ever cried, not even when Tommy split her lip in training. “I watched,” Hannah said. “Someone had to.”

At least there'd be one more set of rations. “It's gonna be okay, Hannah. We worked out how to kill them. You shoot them in the spleen.”

The snuffling stopped. “Is that next to the janitor's cupboard?”

“What? No. Tell Mrs Wright about it. She'll explain.”

“Mrs Wright isn't feeling so good.”

“Tell her fast. Listen, Hannah, you can't follow along with what the grown-ups are telling you. Stand up and take charge! Stick to the plan.”

“Why should I do what you say?”

“Cos I'm no grown-up. I'll call again soon.”

*

It was a slow and somber walk back to camp. Q regarded the charred remains of last night's campfire, black as their hopes. Why was everything so bleak? It was the same place it had been two days ago. Had the bush changed, or had she? The sky was pale, birds shrieked, leaves rustled. All peaceful enough, if you didn't think too hard about what made the leaves rustle.

 So much had happened since their arrival!
 What had she been thinking about in those innocent days before the outbreak? Zombies, Pious Kate turning into a monster, end-of-the-world strategies and how to win over Rabbit. Maybe things weren't so different.

“You're quiet,” said Angela. “What are you thinking about?”

“My therapist advised me against answering that question in new social situations,” Q said. “Come on. We gotta get our stuff together.”

Dave scratched his balls, then waved to Q. She walked over to him. “Gotta talk,” he said.

“Anything you say to her, you can say to the rest of us,” Pious Kate called out.

Dave grunted. “Your friend's a zombie.” He twitched his head toward Pious Kate.

“That's outrageous,” said Pious Kate.

“I agree,” said Q. “We're not friends.” She turned back to Dave. “How do we know for certain?”

“Shoot suspects in the head,” Dave said. “If they survive, they're zombies.”

“I can't believe you're listening to that freak!” Pious Kate said. She stormed off to her cabin.

“Tempting,” said Angela, glaring at the retreating Pious Kate. “But we could try something a bit less Salem. How about checking for wounds? That's what your book said, wasn't it? If you get bitten, you turn into one of them? So if no one's bitten, we're all safe.”

“Yeah,” said Q. “And we think they're following that rule, because Princess Starla turned after she was half-eaten and Zinkabella had a chunk bitten out of her throat.”

There were mumbles of agreement.

“Everyone checks, and everyone gets checked,” said Angela. “Anyone who has wounds gets watched and anyone clean is okay. All nice and fair and no one has to get shot in the head.”

“Great idea!” said Q. She moved toward Rabbit to begin the inspections.

Angela put a hand on her shoulder. “Boys over there. Girls here,” she said. “I don't even know how you can think about sex right now.”

Q grinned. “Envy me.”

*

The three women stood behind a large rock, shivering in the shade. Q studied the sky. They had three hours of light left, maybe less. They should get water and firewood before dark. No one would want to roam the bush on their own when they couldn't see. It was hard to hurry, though. The lethargy of camping combined with the lethargy of helplessness. What was there to do, except wait?

Angela checked the Scarlet Terror, found no wounds, and gave the frightened girl a hug. The Scarlet Terror dressed and went to gather firewood.

“Did you like my class earlier?” Q asked, inspecting the older woman's arms. “I did manage to demonstrate Rule Two, so it was one of my more successful lessons.” She held her own arms out for Angela to view.

“Carnage is a success? Gee, Q, I've never seen such defined biceps on a woman.”

“Thanks,” said Q. “Push ups and pull ups. You get a good burn with monkey grip.” Q turned and let Angela check her shoulders and back. “Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the class was a ten out of ten, but I got my point across and there were no new casualties. I'm improving.”

“You are a very strange kindergarten teacher,” Angela said. “We're done here. It's all mosquito bites and scratches.” They got dressed. “Go get Pious Kate.”

“You go get Pious Kate,” Q said.

“No, you go get Pious Kate.”

“What did you call me?”

It was Pious Kate. Her skin had a gray tint and there were huge dark marks beneath her eyes. And the smell! It had morphed from old licorice to ancient vegetation.

“Nicest Kate?” Q said. “We called you Nicest Kate. It's a nickname we have to distinguish you from all the other Kates we know, who aren't as nice.” She nodded at Angela. “Go on. Tell her.”

Angela glared at Q. “Thanks. Kate, we all agreed to check each other for wounds.”

“Wounds?” said Pious Kate.

“We need to see that bite mark on your hip you told us about,” said Angela.

“Yeah,” said Q. “Chill out, strip off and bend over.” She leaned over to Angela and whispered. “Was that weird?”

“Yup, that was weird. Kate,” Angela began, “we have to see if it's a bite from a zombie in case you've been infected with the spleen virus – why does it sound silly now I have to explain it to someone else?”

“Cynics make fools of us all,” said Q.

Pious Kate was impassive. “I am not taking my clothes off in front of this freak and no one is coming near me. I didn't agree to anything.”

“We made a group decision,” Q said. “It applies to the whole group. Even you.”

“Bite me,” said Pious Kate. She walked over to join the Scarlet Terror by the fire.

“Shoot her in the head?” Q asked.

“Shoot her in the—no!” said Angela. “I don't know. But no.”

They returned to the campsite. To Q's disappointment (in Rabbit's case) and relief (in the case of Dave and Sheath), the boys had also finished their inspections and were fully dressed.

“You guys all clear?” Q asked, her throat tight. What if Rabbit wasn't? What if something had happened to him during the day and he'd been infected? She'd have to shoot him. Worse, he'd let her. He'd be supportive and sweet about it.

“Clear,” Dave said. “You?”

“Clear,” Q said.

“Except that Kate wouldn't let us check,” Angela said.

Pious Kate scowled. “Of course I won't! The whole thing's ridiculous! I'm not one of those things. Michelle and Christine were both bitten yesterday, and they turned into monsters. I was bitten ages ago and I'm still okay. It's not the same.”

“She's got a point,” Rabbit said. “Poor Kate's been off-color for days now.”

“Some might say her whole life,” Angela said.

“She has flu,” Rabbit said. “We should look after her.”

Pious Kate smiled at him. “I do feel faint,” she said. “Come sit with me?”

Rabbit sat beside and took her hand. “You're cold, Katie-G. Here.” He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, then got a cup of water for her.

“What causes it?” Angela said. “Dead people walking around?”

“The traditional explanation is that hell's full,” Q said.

“That's ridiculous,” said Sheath.

“I know,” said Q. “I'm sure they made it big enough for all of us.”

“Things like this don't just happen. There's a cause. A bacteria or a virus, or something environmental. Maybe solar radiation or nuclear fallout.”

“Why does it matter?” Q said. “We can't do anything to stop it. We have to focus on what we can do.”

“We need to understand what we're up against,” said Angela. “Otherwise how can we beat it?”

Q glanced at Dave, who was looking as incredulous as she felt. They couldn't beat a zombie outbreak. The best they could expect was to survive it.

“Whatever it is, I don't have it,” Pious Kate said, snuggling against Rabbit. He draped a protective arm across her shoulders as the others continued a discussion about whether childhood immunization was involved.

Q kicked her boot in the dirt. Why was Rabbit falling for Pious Kate's helpless act? And why wouldn't the rest of the group concentrate on the problems at hand? Hadn't they seen any decent movies?