Eve

Chapter 8

I lean back. The dorky kid gets up from the floor, dropping cans from his lap all over the inside of the kiosk. He reaches for his gun. "Stay back!"

"I know you don't have any bullets, idiot," I say, but I don't get any closer.

God, this kid loves the mall.

What? Yeah, I know I'm at mall too. So? Shut up.

Mushy meat is sprouting out of an unlabeled can by the other end of the display island, just by the kid's feet. My stomach howls when I spot it.

Mushy, crappy cooked meat. But still. Meat. With no engagement finger around it.

"Stay back!" the boy repeats.

I clear my throat. "I will, but can you give me some of that food, first?"

The boy frowns at my grunts. I point to the cans on the floor.

"What? What are you doing? What do you want?"

I point again, mimicking a spoon going into my mouth.

"You – you want that? The meat?"

I nod, enthusiastically.

He frowns so hard I fear his forehead might fold onto itself.

"You can... understand me?"

Again I nod. Then I point at the food again.

Come on, kid.

He crouches for the can, eyes still on me. Scoops a nice chunk with his hands, hesitates... then extends his hand across the counter.

I grab it and stuff it in my face like the fat disgusting zombie I am.

He lets out a nervous smile. Then offers me another scoop.

"So..." he ventures careful, as I eat away the cold, watery beef in my hands, "You're like... a good zombie?"

Please don't talk anymore, please don't talk anymore, please don't --

"Are there more vegan zombies?" Levon asks, leaned against his side of the kiosk, arms embracing his bended knees.

Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, I sigh.

God, kid, it's been an hour. How have you not realized I can't talk yet?

"Cause all the other zombies I've met tried to eat me. But you're cool. What's your name, again?"

"It's 'shut up and let me sleep.'"

"My name is Levon. Have I told you that already? Can you talk at all? Or all you do is grunt?"

Yes, zombie fact number six: It's three in the morning and it's wet outside. I needed a place to sleep and this kid has food. And he doesn't want to kill me. So I accepted his offer to spend the night. Sue me.

I'm regretting it already.

"I'm going to New York. Have I told you that already?"

"Yes. You are going to the safe haven paradise in New York, where everything is perfect and porn stars read Descartes. You told me that."

"They have a shelter there, I've heard, in New York," Levon continues. "Have I told you that? They have survivors and they are working on a cure. I'm going there to – what are you doing?"

I have my hands pressed against ears. I'm watching The Devil Wears Prada inside my head as he talks, that's what I'm doing.

"Mfff, mfff, mfff," Levon continues, his voice muffled and far away.