Zombie D.O.A.

Dead City

(Book
One
of the Zombie D.O.A. Series)

by

J.J. Zep

PUBLISHED BY:

JJ Zep

Copyright © 2012

www.jjzep.com

Monday
morning
started like any other.
I left
my
apartment at 5.30
for my
usual
run
. I had a fight coming up in Atlantic City that my manager assured me was going to get me noticed. Low down
on the bill, but with a middle
weight title fight as the main event
, TV coverage, the whole shebang, as he
liked to say
.

And
it paid well
,
which was what really mattered
to me
. Rosie was due any day now and even before the birth I was finding out
just
how much kids cost
.

A lot of fighters I know hate roadwork, but I
used to
love it. I enjoy
ed
being out when the air is crisp and the city is quiet. Stamina
was
an important part of my game pl
an because I’m not a big hitter.
I’m a mover, a counter puncher and although
I can take a
beating as well as the next
fighter
, I just prefer not to
.

When I got back fro
m my run, Rosie was still in bed
, propped up with 4 pillows, her belly prominent beneath the covers. The TV was on.

“Hey
Sugar
,
” I said
leaning over and
planting a sweaty kiss on her cheek
. “Sleeping in on a weekday?
”

“Can you believe this shit?” she answered.

“What shit?” I said, stripping off my t-shirt an
d
heading for the shower.

“T
his guy, this Japanese guy, get
s attacked
in Times Square
.
”

“Uh hu
h” I mumbled, thinking it must
be a slow news day when a tourist getting
mugged in New York makes the morning bulletin.

“No, wait honey,
there’s more
,
you gotta see this.”

“I gotta
take a shower
, is what I gotta do
.”

“No, se
riously, you’ve…” Rosie started, before being interrupted by someone
knocking at the door.

“What the hell,” I said, “At this time of the morning? You want me to get it?”

“Nah” she said, “Probably Mrs.
Kranski
, we can’t have her seeing you half naked now
,
can we?
Her old man has a bad back.
”

She slid awkwardly out of bed, pushed her hand into the small of her back and gave a
n undignified
gru
nt. Her belly looked enormous
under her night
dress. “Do I l
ook fat in this?” she giggled.

The knocking at
the door was louder, more insistent. “Yeah,
yeah, keep your corset on Mrs. K
.
,
” Rosie said and waddled out of the room.

I turned towards the bathroom and momentarily caught a picture on the TV of a hospital parking lot crowded with police cruisers and emergency vehicles. The news reporter was saying something about an unpro
voked attack on hospital staff by a seemingly deranged patient.

I pressed mute on the remote, stepped out of my sweat pants and headed for the shower.

As I did, my cell phone started ringing, so I went back and picked it up. It was Blaze, my manager. Well, he could wait until after my shower.  I set the phone down on top of the john, just like Rosie always
told me not to
.

I
walked
into the cubicle and turned on the water, fast and hot,
the way I like it. The water
felt good against my tensed muscles and I let it run that way for a
minute
before switching it to cold and letting out my usual “yee
ha” rebel yell, at the sensation.

That little morning routine often had our neigh
bor Brad, who worked night shift
,
thumping o
n the wall.
I’d apologized to him a number of times before, but I just couldn’t help myself – it felt that good.

A few seconds of the cold water and I shut the jet off
,
toweled myself dry
and dressed
.

Rosie was being awful quiet, which I
remember
thinking was unusual. Normally at this time she was rustling up some breakfast and I was used to hearing the clatter of pans and plates and cutlery over her tuneless singing.

Her favorite was “The Greatest Love of All”, and she used to enjoy belting it out with a spoon for a
make
believe
microphone.

But this morning it was qui
et
and I reckoned she was probably
watching
the news story she
’d been
following
. We had a
small counter top set
in the kitchen
.
I figured she was watching in there.

“Hey Hon, you about ready,
we gotta hustle
,”
I shouted
. No reply, she was definitely engrossed in the story. “Hey Rosie, our appointment’s at 9 remember, better get shaking.”

I said this walking from the bedroom down the short passage towards the front room.

T
he front door was open
, and I recall wondering if Rosie had stepped out into the hall to speak
with
Mrs. Kranski
.
The old woman had some crazy ideas and phobias and it would be just like her to want to talk in the hall rather than come into our apartment.

That was
when I saw Rosie
lying on
the floor
, and
my life as I knew it, ended.

“Jesus
, Rosie”, I said running to her.
“You okay? D
id you fall
?
“
But immediately I knew that this was no fall, not with that much blood. Her nightdr
ess was
soaked in
it. It was on the floor
, the walls
, the door
. And yet somehow Rosie was still breathing, a harsh jagged breath, but a breath, a hope
,
no
nethe
less.