Our Undead (19 page)

Billy:
You
could send him out to get things for you… Like, if a bunch of
walkers are ever surrounding a gun, you wouldn't have to worry
about getting it yourself.

Margaret sees that Billy
has a point. It probably would be a good idea to try teaching him
some new things. The advantages of having a zombie as an ally in a
post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested world are definitely in excess.
She feels that maybe she has been taking it for granted. It's time
for her to cut it out, but she won't admit that to
Billy.

Margaret:
Well, he did save my life once.

Billy:
Oh,
yea. How did he do that?

Margaret:
These two walkers got into my cabin, right? I was able to
kill one, but the other had me trapped up against a wall. While I
was struggling to get it off of me, Abe came up from behind and
grabbed the thing by it's shoulders. It wouldn't have been able to
get free if it were promised it's human life back. That's how tight
Abe was holding on to it. He gave me the chance I needed to kill
it.

Billy:
Wow. That's pretty intense… Unbelievable.

Billy looks back at Abe
with a look of esteem and also at Margaret. As usual, the emotion
is hard to spot, but Margaret thinks she's getting the hang of
him.

Margaret:
You better believe it, dude.

Billy:
No,
it's really extraordinary. You know I read about this stuff, and
never have I heard about a slave type subject like Abe. That is,
when the infection is started in a biochemical lab or by
scientists. Those types of zombies are usually enraged and
completely unruly. Abe's case seems to fit more into the Voodoo
scenario, where zombies are created through hypnosis or with
specific plant toxins administered by witch
doctors.

Margaret:
Maybe this infection is sort of a mixture of the
two.

Billy:
Exactly. It's all starting to make more
sense.

Margaret:
What is?

Billy doesn't answer.
Something has grabbed his attention not too far ahead of
them.

Margaret:
Billy? What's all starting to make more
sense?

Billy shushes her and
throws up a signal for everyone to stop. Margaret stays silent and
peers forward, although, she has no idea what Billy is looking at.
He takes out an arrow and pulls it back on the drawstring. Margaret
mouths something that looks like, "What the f…" but her silent
sentence gets cut off by the lightning quick release of the
string.

<><><>

Much further along now, the
three of them come to a dirt road at one of the forest's edges. As
usual, Abe follows from a few steps behind, but now his attention
is occupied with a furry snack. Opposite the forest is a tall
cornfield that stretches for miles in both directions. Margaret
stops on the dirt road to take a look around, waiting for the other
two to leave the trees behind.

Margaret:
Thanks for catching those hares for Abe.

Billy:
No
problem.

Margaret:
Sooo.. now where do we go? Is this field here freaking you
out as much as it's freaking me out? I feel like something is
liable to pop out of there at any second.

Billy:
We
just have to follow this path. It'll take us to the highway, then
we just have to follow that until we reach the border. It's the
easiest way, so we have to take it. Don't worry. We should be
okay.

Margaret:
Really? What makes you so sure?

Billy:
I
do.

Margaret:
Heh,. Cocky, much?
(huffs)
Fine. Whatever you
say.

As they walk along the dirt
road, sandwiched between the forest to their left and cornfield to
their right, they continue getting to know each other.

Margaret:
You
know, I don't mean to offend
you, so don't take this personally, but you're a little strange… in
a good way, though. I've never met a fifteen year old like you
before.

Billy:
It's okay. I know I'm strange. I didn't have many friends
because of that fact. Any, really.

Margaret:
How could you not have had any friends? You're not an asshole
or anything. Just odd. You're really nice.

Billy:
Mm,
I guess that didn't translate well with the kids in my social
circle. Actually, the assholes were usually the ones that did well.
The assholes flourished. I was nice, sure, but I think my geeky,
soft appearance typecast me in life as a
Columbus.

Margaret:
What's a
Columbus
?

Billy:
From Zombieland… Your stereotypical loser.

Margaret:
Oh! Tch, even if that is true, Billy, those people just don't
get you. You're a special kid. I mean, obviously. Look who's still
alive.

Billy responds with no
words. It's one of those responses you aren't really sure is a
response, however, Margaret can see that he is through with his
explanation. She knows that a good ten minutes of dead air is a
guarantee if she doesn't say anything, so rather than be bored, she
opens up.

Margaret:
I can honestly see where you're coming from, but from the
other side. I was usually the one doing all the bullying. See, I've
always been sort of a tomboy. My dad and I would always play sports
or make fun of each other, so I have thick skin,
figuratively
and
literally. I would totally take advantage of that
fact in the playground. No one messed with me, not even the
boys.

Billy continues moving
forward. Not once does he peek or even take a second to glance over
in Margaret's direction, as proper conversational behavior would
solicit. She now genuinely feels like she's walking with
two
zombies, but she's
still pretty sure Billy is listening. After all, he isn't an
asshole, he's just a little strange. She continues.

Margaret:
Speaking of boys, I got into high school and all of a sudden
I had eyes all over me. Like, I'd gotten attention from boys
before, but usually it was because they wanted something stupid,
like to cut in line or to pinch my legs. When I got to high school,
anytime I talked to a guy he got all dumb in the head. It's like
the whole male gender goes through some metamorphosis in high
school where they all become silly perverted cowards… or
showoffs.

Billy:
Ever think that it might've been
you
who went through a
change?

Margaret:
(looking down at her bosom)
Okay, you may be right… But yea, I started to see the
advantages of acting girly, so I started buying mini skirts and
stopped hanging out with my dad. I moved up from bullying everyone
to bullying boys and stupid girls who thought they were much cooler
than they actually were. I wasn't a slut or anything. I would just
get a drive somewhere if I needed one, and guys were just generally
nice to me cause I was nice to them. I flirted. There's a thin line
between being nice and flirting. I had a tendency of blurring that
line to get what I wanted.

Billy:
Sounds devious.

Margaret:
No no no. More like smart. I never hurt anyone, and trust me,
I could have. I actually got to hang out with the popular kids, so
I know what some of those people are capable of. I've seen it from
behind the scenes, gotten the inside scoop. Luckily, my parents
taught me well, especially my dad.

Billy:
He
definitely gifted you in the ways of speech.

Margaret:
Is that your way of telling me I'm witty?

Billy:
……
I guess.

Margaret:
Thank you! It's gotten me out of many sticky situations. Like
this one time in grade ten, I was making out with this guy in one
of the stairwells at my high school… I didn't do that a lot, by the
way. I actually liked this guy. His name was Kevin… Kevin
something. Whatever. Anyway, this teacher named Mr. Lambdenson
caught us, and he tried to send us to the principal's office. Well,
you should've seen the show I put on to get out of
that
jam. My top
already had a few of the buttons undone, so I just puffed out my
chest, brought my chin down a bit so I could look at him all cute,
and begged him not to send us to the office in the most seductive,
sexy way I could think of. It's embarrassing thinking back on it
now, but the crazy thing is that
it
worked
! I swear, if I wanted to, I
could have had that teacher join in, the old perv. A little playful
poke here, and a soft whisper there. He would've
been…

Margaret hears Billy clear his
throat, an unintentional clear. She looks over at him and notices
him swallow a bit heavily. It is easy to see that his level of
comfort is dropping at a steady rate. She had forgotten that Billy
is only fifteen, the same age as Kevin Whatever was in her story,
but tons more timid. Maybe things are getting too X-rated for the
shy fellow. Maybe it would be best if she cut it short.

Margaret:
Buuuut yea... I know how you feel. People can be real
jerks.

A few of those awkward
seconds that Margaret was trying so hard to avoid, make themselves
known, but she doesn't let them last for long.

Margaret:
And you know what? I think they got worse after the infection
started...
people
, I
mean.

Billy looks up at her. It
seems that her comment has sparked some sort of genuine interest
inside him this time. The subject matter seems unquestionably more
up his alley.

Margaret:
Cause.. I've seen bad things being in the popular cliques at
school; betrayal, lies, backstabbing, even some beat downs. All
this zombie infection has proved to me is that those shitty traits
in people are just amplified when things get
harder.

Billy:
You're speaking as if you know from
experience.

Margaret:
That's because I do. My father was infected, but not because
of some mistake he made. It was this spineless, fat, bastard we
were travelling with.

Margaret begins telling the
story of how her father got infected. Her flashback brings us to a
frenzied city. A group of seven are running through a crowded
street, filled to capacity with walkers and others who are running
every which way just trying to escape. Margaret is among
them.

<><><>

"When my family and I fled
the hostel, the streets were in chaos. We were in a group with four
other people; a girl named Lynn, her mother, a young Australian
guy, and a dumpy old bastard named Roger that I'll never forget. We
all kind of randomly ended up running together, probably because we
all escaped the hostel at the same time, but none of us really knew
where we were going. The Australian guy and I took lead and stayed
a bit ahead of the rest because we had weapons; some bats, and we
used them well. My dad had a big enough lead pipe and was taking
watch over all the people in the back, so; my mom, that girl, Lynn,
her mom, and that fuck, Roger.

"We were lucky enough to
find an alleyway a few blocks away from the hostel that was
practically vacant. There were only four walkers in it, and they
looked confused, so we decided it would probably be our best chance
to get off of the streets. The Australian guy and I ran in ahead of
the group and killed the zombies before checking the doors of the
buildings that were on each side of us. The last one I tried was
open, and the coast seemed clear enough on the inside. I figured it
would be better than being out where were, so I signaled the rest
of the group at the mouth of the alley that it was safe to come
over.

"Right at that moment, a
group of about ten to fifteen zombies appeared behind my family and
the rest of our group, out of nowhere. Must've broken off from the
chaos of the streets. And they were the good ones; the ones that
could get a good jog on, you know what I mean? So everyone started
running toward the Aussie and me, who were waiting at the door, and
they were doing fine, well ahead of the ten or fifteen. Even that
dumpy fuck, Roger was keeping up. He was lagging behind a bit, but
I knew he would make it if he just kept at up his dumpy little
pace. My dad, on the other hand, couldn't help but play the
protector. He freaking turns around to see how Roger is doing and
sort of, you know, reaches out a hand of encouragement to wave him
along… That fat asshole grabbed my dad's arm and pulled it so hard
in an attempt to get ahead of him that he sent my dad to the ground
on his hands and knees.