Our Undead (17 page)

The boy holds true a moment
longer, but he sees that the girl is right. She should be getting
torn apart by now. Convinced but confused, he cautiously lowers his
aim and lets the string become relaxed again. Margaret breathes a
sigh of relief and slowly gets to her feet. She helps Abe up as
well, and the boy watches in silence as Margaret dusts herself off.
She gives Abe a good dusting too, and then turns to the
boy.

Margaret:
Hi… my name is Margaret. This is Abe.

The boy says nothing, and
his face is stoic.

Margaret:
He really is harmless… Actually, I uh… I trained him. He
won't attack anything unless I say so, and he's even saved my life
once. That's why I couldn't let you kill him.

The boy doesn't say
anything, and it's extremely hard for Margaret to get a good read
on what the kid might be thinking. She'd never seen a more
poker-faced child in her life. He glances back and forth between
her and Abe. It is quite clear from the outside looking in that
both of the strangers are still sizing each other up, trying to
figure out whether or not the other is safe to be around; stable.
Margaret can only imagine what the kid must be thinking. Who would
ever expect a zombie to be as submissive as the one that stands
before him? She suspects the kid is probably in a state of shock or
denial. That
must
be why he's not talking. She concludes that it would be best
to make him feel as comfortable as possible. He might damn well be
insane. He sure dresses like he's insane. The girl doesn't want to
say the wrong thing and have the kid suddenly snap.

Margaret:
Look, kid. I promise you. He's safe.

She reaches out to Abe and
touches his face to prove that what she is saying is
true.

Margaret:
See? He won't do anything… Completely harmless, I swear. You
can even see for yourself. Come here.

She motions for the boy to
come over, but he understandably hesitates.

Margaret:
Really, nothing will happen. Come on. You have to experience
it for yourself.

Still, he waits.

Margaret:
He's my pet. It's the coolest thing ever.

She notices a little
inflection in the boy's face. It's hard to see, but it looks like
the slightest spark of interest… or skepticism. He puts his arrow
back into the knapsack that is slung over his back and walks over
to Abe and Margaret, but still, slowly and with a very watchful
eye. Abe too, focuses all of his attention on the new human in his
life. The boy smells appetizing.

Margaret:
There you go. Come on. It's safe.

The boy stops in front of
the unfamiliar pair. Margaret encourages him further.

Margaret:
Go ahead. It's okay. Abe, this kid is going to touch you, so
you be nice.

She gives Abe a playful tap
on the arm and snickers in a nervous but reassuring fashion. Abe
and the boy are in a deadlocked stare down, both expressionless.
Margaret watches in silence, and without warning, the boy takes one
step forward and gives Abe a decent push with his free hand to the
gut. It's really almost more of a punch with an open palm. Abe is
unmoved, and the boy steps back to where he was, about a foot and a
half away. The two of them never take their eyes off of the
other's.

Margaret:
See? I told you. He's fine.

The boy passes a fleeting
glance at Margaret then returns quickly to Abe. His stance relaxes
and so does his expression. It changes from one of caution to one
of curiosity. He takes a couple of smalls steps in Abe's direction
and grabs the zombie's arm. He begins shaking it back and forth,
slowly at first but gradually picking up speed. Margaret lets it go
on. She doesn't think it such a big deal. Abe is brain dead so what
does it matter if he gets his arm shaken? He probably doesn't even
notice.

The boy continues to shake
Abe's arm more vigorously while Abe stares down at him, blank
faced. He looks up from Abe's arm and into his grey pupils again,
and as if by instinct, Abe's jaw opens wide. It opens so wide, it
looks as though it has come unhinged. He wears the alternate to his
tired expression now and begins lowering his head to take a bite
out of the bothersome little boy. Margaret sees this and inserts
herself in between them right away, pushing the boy back a few
steps. Realizing that he might have just become zombie food, the
kid looks a little shaken up.

Margaret:
Hey now! Okay, that's enough. Relax, Abe. It's all right,
buddy.

She pats Abe on the
shoulders and chest, and he calms down with almost no
delay.

TheBoy:
I
thought you said he was trained.

Margaret turns from Abe to
the boy, her face perplexed. He
can
speak.

Margaret:
He
is
trained… Mostly… But you tell me, who introduces themself to
someone the way you just did? Can you blame him for wanting to bite
you?

TheBoy:
He's a zombie.

Margaret:
He's not just any zombie. Isn't that obvious yet? You're just
a kid, but I assume you must be smart if you're surviving by
yourself out here. You
are
by yourself, right?

TheBoy:
……Yes.

Margaret:
Dang… You have a name?

TheBoy:
My
name is Billy… Billy Tell.

Margaret:
Billy Tell?

There's something strange
about the name. Margaret is almost certain that it's a fake, but
she doesn't bother interrogating the kid about it. There are more
important things to find out.

Margaret:
It's nice to meet you, Billy. Like I said before, I'm
Margaret Sinclair and this is Abe… Just Abe.

Billy Tell nods in
salutation, but says nothing.

Margaret:
Uhh, so Abe and I are heading to Portland.
We-

Billy:
I
wouldn't do that if I were you.

Margaret:
Why not?

Billy:
That's where I came from. The place is your basic dead-zone
now.

Margaret:
But how? That's where everyone in Bend was told to go. The
circulating word was that it would be the safest place. How could
such a large place have been so badly protected?

Billy:
The
large areas are always the first to go in these type of
situations.

Margaret:
What?

Billy:
Anytime there's a zombie outbreak, people flock to large
places, like malls and police stations, or their major cities. It's
usually that or they all congest the highway. I think when
presented with a choice, most people would rather die in a large
group than fight for survival with no one else
around.

"Anytime there's a zombie
outbreak"?
Did she miss the first ones?
Margaret doesn't know what to make of the kid. She is seventeen, so
he couldn't possibly be more than thirteen, maybe fourteen. He
looks ten really, but how could a ten year old be fending for
himself out here. To have met up with her at this point, all the
way from Portland is incredibly impressive. It's beyond incredibly
impressive. It would be that for a grown man, but for this kid,
it's more like a divine miracle.

But maybe it isn't as
magical as she is making it out to be. Billy is obviously well
equipped, and he had just taken an unbelievable shot with his bow
and arrow. He is also exceptionally quiet, so stealthy that
Margaret is sure Abe would be much less alive if she hadn't luckily
spotted Billy's arrow glistening in the sunlight. It's clear that
the boy knows what he is doing. He is different. Even the way he
talks, so straightforward and unemotional. Not like any thirteen
year old she's ever seen. It's kind of awkward.

Margaret:
Hmmm… I see. And so you just left? What happened to your
friends? Your family?

Billy:
I
used to live with my foster parents. When news came of the
infection, it came fast and without warning. In less than a day,
the city was overrun with walkers. Radio transmissions and police
officers with megaphones were telling citizens that the safest
places in the city were the hospitals. It was the most backward
thing I'd ever heard, but my foster parents wouldn't listen to me,
and the three of us along with eight others, our neighbors, began
to make our way to the Health and Science
University.

Margaret watches and
listens attentively. His story is highly comparable to what she had
gone through back in her hometown. It was especially odd to her
that the outbreak spread so rapidly. What had happened? Billy
continues.

Billy:
On
the way there, our group of eleven got ambushed by a hoard of
walkers. We tried to escape as a group but got flanked by another
large hoard and wound up having to split up. The group I was in was
able to escape and hide out in an empty basement that was nearby.
Inside, we took a head count and saw that we only had six people
with us. Unfortunately, my foster mom wasn't one of
them.

Margaret:
I'm sorry to hear that.

He ignores her
sympathy.

Billy:
My
foster dad was pretty shaken up by it. The group decided it would
be best if we waited the night out in the basement before
continuing on, but as the hours went by, my foster dad couldn't
wait any longer. In the middle of the night, he decided that he was
going to go out and search for the other group. The rest of us
tried to convince him to stay, told him that we'd search in the
morning, but simple logic just wouldn't get through. He told me
that I had to stay and that he would be back by daylight, but he
never did come back. The next day, the group waited. We waited
until midday, but neither of my foster parents came back. We
couldn't wait for them any longer so we continued on to the
University. When we got there, it was just as pointless as I had
suspected. We couldn't even get within two hundred yards of the
building with the sea of zombies that surrounded
it.

Margaret has flashbacks of
her own experiences. She remembers the chaos of the city she was in
and how she had to escape. Hearing that the same things were
happening in other major cities makes this nightmarish ordeal seem
that much more real. It makes everything seem significantly
heavier, like closing in all around her. Her breaths deepen, but
Margaret says nothing, and the boy concludes telling his
story.

Billy:
That was when I decided it was pointless to stay with them,
so I left.

Margaret:
You just left?

Billy:
Yea. My foster parents were dead, and I've always wanted to
go to California.

Margaret:
Hey now, you don't know for sure that your parents are
dead... but.. why are you going to California.

Billy:
My
foster
parents. They're most likely dead… or undead. Either way… I'm
going to Hollywood. I've always wanted to go to Hollywood. I might
as well go now.

Billy takes his knapsack
off and rests it and his bow on the ground, then he walks by
Margaret and Abe, over to the tree with the arrow stuck in it.
Because of his short stature, he has to go on his tippy toes to
reach and wiggle it out.

Margaret:
Hollywood.

Billy:
Yea.

Billy walks by them again
and props his bag up. Sliding the arrow in and opening up the
zipper, he continues speaking.

Billy:
But
I'm going to rest for a sec.

Margaret:
Oh… okay.

Margaret is at a loss for
words. Back before the outbreak changed everything, if she had met
Billy, she would think him a bit strange. Actually, a
lot
strange. She would
think him a nerd, a geek, a regular neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie, short
and harmless. All of those things were probably true of Billy too,
in the old world, but in this world, the one that is ruled by the
living dead, Billy Tell is an eccentric and intimidating maverick
of sorts. She finds herself in awe of his character, watching him
pull items out of his bag; a canister of what she guesses is water
and something wrapped in a white plastic type of packaging with
bold writing on it. It looks like something out of a
hospital.

Margaret:
What is that?

Billy:
ER
Bar.

Margaret:
ER Bar?

Billy:
It's an emergency food ration. It's got all your fundamental
nutrients. I have a lot. Would you like to try
some?