Zombie Pink (21 page)

"Shit," Nick swore. "It was brutal. I lost the hammer in the struggle. But it's okay! I can get a better weapon that that. Like a hand gun off a dead cop."

"Hey!" Gina exclaimed, sounding impressed
. "That's a really smart idea!”

“Here’s the plan,” Nick said, emboldened by the girl’s confidence
. “We’ll tag along with another group that has guns, till we get our own.”

Then there was a noise...a ghostly sound rising eerily through the dark.

"Waaaaaa....."

"I HEAR HER!” Gina screamed. “SHE'S STILL ALIVE!"

"It's okay," Nick told Gina in a soothing voice. "She'll be dead soon."

“But I thought zombies were already dead,” Gina said, chewing on a piece of hair.

Shit, thought Nick.

But then Gina corrected herself, rescuing Nick in the process.

“Oh wait!” she chirped. “This is a different kind of zombie! Like the kind on I Am Legend, with Will Smith. They’re not actually dead to begin with.”

“Uh, yea...” Nick agreed. “You could be right.”

“I know I am!” Gina stated. “I heard it on the news!”

Gina looked all around the dark neighborhood.

"We have to avoid mosquitoes," she announced. "If they bite you, they can be infected and then you can get it."

"Are you for real, girl?" Nick asked.

”
I heard that on the news," Gina confirmed.

"Damn," Nick swore. "You and your news!"

Thunder boomed all around them and a light rain started to fall. A truly wicked bolt of lightning hit the ground straight ahead of the couple which made Gina cling to Nick even more.

"Well, hey now... that's one good thing about this weather," Nick told Gina, relishing the feel of a warm young girl in need of his manly protection. "There won't be any mosquitoes around.
At least until it stops raining, that is."

Then Nick had a thought. A truly frightening thought that explained what happened back there with that woman and also made him more resolute about fighting this new apocalyptic war.

These zombies were evolved! They could think!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"H
EY, BABE! YOUR HONEY'S HOME
!
" Byron called out as he glided through the door at precisely 6:00.
"WHY ISN'T THE FRONT DOOR LOCKED?"

Byron didn't trust anyone and always insisted that his wife keep the doors locked whenever he wasn't home.

No answer.

"BABE?
" he called. "
BROOKIE?"

Tippy came rushing out and rubbed against Byron's legs, meowing frantically like he'd been left alone for a week.

"Hey, Tipster!" Byron greeted the happy animal, affectionately patting his fluffy orange head. "Where is everyone?"

Byron scooped Tippy up and offered his full watt smile to the purring pet. Byron poured his charm out on everyone and everything
, and non-humans were no exception
. He
carried the Tipster
into the kitchen, lightly set the animal down, and shook some kibble out into the animal’s food bowl. The hungry cat scarfed it down.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Byron asked again.

"BABE?" he called.

Byron didn't like to be ignored.
To be honest, he wasn't used to being ignored.

He glided up the stairs, checking every room.

"That's odd," he said, feeling
really irritated by this inconvenience.

His wife hadn't made the bed. That wasn't like her. She usually made the bed even if she was sick.

Even if she was on her deathbed she'd make the bed,
Byron thought, constructing a little joke in his head.

Byron liked things to be exactly as he expected them to be. And he expected his attractive doting wife and his
gurgly little daughter to happily greet him when he strolled through the door after a long day's work which included three crowns and two root canals and an old lady with the worst halitosis ever.

No note?

Suddenly, he spotted Daniella's new cross body purse she'd just purchased at Maybelline’s, her favorite retail establishment. That was really weird. His wife never left the house without it.

He glided over to the sparkly gold purse
. He
personally thought the purse looked tacky and wished his wife would start shopping at Nordstroms or somewhere more respectable
. Byron angrily
flipped open the tacky purse
.
Then he
dumped the contents onto the bed.

Wallet, lip-stick, keys...no cell phone.

Byron checked his own cell phone to see if there were any messages or texts from his wife.

Nothing!

He called Daniella's
number. It went to voice mail.

He sent a text in all caps.

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? WHERE THE HELL IS OUR DAUGHTER?

He waited a few minutes, angrily pacing the hardwood floor of their tastefully decorated bedroom suite.

Nothing! A man on a mission, Byron raced downstairs and glided menacingly into the computer room. He pulled up his wife's Facebook....no activity except for some decorating articles and a few pictures of Brooklyn and Tippy together with some stuffed cats.

He checked her E-mail. Just some advertising and a welcome message from a writing site called Story Space. Then the Internet flaked out, for some reason, and he didn't have a connection.

Not sure what to do, Byron called his parents. Come to find out, Brooklyn had spent the day with his mom and dad happily splashing in the kiddie pool and being plied with vanilla ice-cream.

"So...where's Daniella?" Byron asked his mom.

"I have no idea, honey!" Chloe responded. "But she looked absolutely horrible this morning. She had some weird rash all over her face. Maybe she went to the doctor?"

"No, her car's in the shop," Bryon stated, feeling more and more mystified by the second. "There's no way she could walk to the doctor. He's twenty minutes away by car!"

"Perhaps she's visiting a neighbor?" Chloe offered, sounding concerned.

"Yea..." Byron said. "I'll check on it. Could you keep Brooklyn until I find out what's going on?"

"Of course," Byron's Mom said. "She can stay as long as she needs to! Good luck, honey. Hope everything's okay!"

Byron didn't know Sandy's phone number. He didn't even know her last name.

Luckily, he knew where she lived, which was right at the end of the
street.

Feeling aggravated that he had been put in this awkward position by his wife, Byron sailed up the road to the yellow raised ranch with the angel statue in the front yard. At the door, he was greeted by a plain woman with long graying hair pushed behind her ears
, no make-up, and a severe overbite.

Someone needs a makeover,
Byron thought sarcastically.

Nevertheless, he smiled. He dazzled. He manufactured the Byron Charm out of habit. The woman, Sandy, responded very nicely, although she was one of those down-to-earth women who didn't have a flirtatious bone in her body.
This always frustrated Byron, who was used to his exceptional height and good looks making women inwardly (and often outwardly) swoon in his presence.

Sandy told Byron that she had absolutely no clue where Daniella was, and she had
tried her cell phone but didn't get any response.

However, Sandy did offer one piece of very interesting information. She said she had seen Daniella walking up Lamplighter towards Heathcliff, early this morning.

Sandy didn't add that she thought Daniella looked a bit "off" and was sporting pajama pants along with a weird rash on her face. She thought it w
ould be way too presumptuous to offer such personal details. Sandy also didn't add that she had tried to contact her friend three times that day, all to no avail.

"Hey thanks, Sandy!" Byron said, the megawatt
charm never leaving his voice or his smile. "She probably just felt like getting some exercise, and uh....oh, I know! She probably walked over to my mom's. My mom has
Brookie for the day."

"Oh! Sure! That's probably it!" Sandy said, sounding a bit unsure yet
, wanting to seem polite.

Why would she leave without leaving a note
? was the unspoken question.

"Would you like to say hi to Martin?" Sandy asked, still sounding unsure. "He's just around back with Kimberly....I can go get him...."

"No, no...next time!" Byron exclaimed, trying to keep his voice upbeat. "We'll have to do a barbeque soon!"

"Sure!" Sandy agreed.

Her eyes looked worried. Could she see through Byron's act?

"Well, we'll be in touch!" Byron promised, as he strode off with a wave.

"Bye! Have Daniella give me a call when she gets home!" Sandy called after him.

Byron had lied. There was no way Daniella could walk to his parent's house. His parent's house was at least an hour away by car.

As Byron angrily glided back down Lamplighter Avenue, he had one thought on his mind and one thought only.

Jimmy, the guy from the front office...his wife's pal from "Joisy."

Byron hated to admit it, but he often thought of New Jersey as the loser state of the nation and everyone who lived there acted like Snooky and the gang from Jersey Shore.

Not that he'd ever watched that trashy MTV reality
show However, Byron
knew enough about it to get the gist
... everyone drank too much and engaged in one night stands while sporting crass tattoos and fake orange tans
.

Cheap, low-life, and tacky were their middle names.

Yea, his brother lived in New Jersey because he'd been transferred by the employment agency he worked for. But Devon wasn't originally from New Jersey, so that made all the difference.
Besides, he lived in a very nice upper middle class neighborhood in Basking Ridge.

Daniella though...she
came from a lower middle-class blue collar family that was totally devoid of style or class.

Even still, Byron had believed Daniella
was different. He had given her the benefit of the doubt.

It didn't hurt that she was so damn hot to look at, either.

But maybe he'd pegged her wrong. Maybe she was just like
Snooky... minus the fake orange tan.

His wife was having an affair.
A fucking affair
!

That was the only answer. That was why she'd asked Byron's Mom to take
Brookie for the day, and even went so far as to fake being sick
!

That was why she acted like she was a million miles away whenever he tried to talk to her l
ately. C
lassic symptom of the cheating spouse.
His skanky New Jersey born wife had been fantasizing about another man.....she'd been planning this little tete-a-tete all along, the ungrateful bitch!

You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can't take the Jersey out of the girl
, Byron thought as he furiously glided down the street.

Oh, he was angry, alright! After all, he'd never cheated. Sure, he'd had plenty of opportunity. But he always wanted to be the
decent husband.

AND THIS WAS THE THANKS HE GOT
?

"HA!" Bryon snorted, as he glided into their house.

Absently petting the cat, he grabbed his keys and his club house I.D before changing into his Sperrys. It was 6:45....Byron
had fifteen more minutes before the golf course closed.
That buck-toothed girl with the big tits better be there, because she was about to be treated to the ride of her life!

Byron locked the front door and hopped into his Infinity. His golf clubs were already in the back. They always were.

Then he roared on over to the nine hole course. On the way over, he realized something was itching his neck like mad.

After parking in the lot next to the carts (good, he could see her tits behind the bar) he checked his neck in the mirror.

"FUCK!" he swore.

It was a stupid mosquito bite the size of Machu Picchu!

Byron slammed the door of his jet black Infinity behind him, then glided determinedly into the golf club house.

"Oh hi there, Mr. Blackwell!" the girl greeted him.

She was smiling so strenuously that Byron thought she would break her face. The girl did have nice white teeth, though
...
aside from that slight "buck tooth" problem. Hell, he could fix that for her...for free...
t is...