Eve

Chapter 20

"I'm a good zombie! I'm a good zombie!" I scream, as the shotgun blasts again and again all around me. The bald dude takes a step forward, and I peguincrawl my way across the self- checkout computers. Cringing under another blow, I roll down behind the main counter.

"What the hell is it doing?" the man asks. I raise my hands above the cashier, one touching the other perpendicularly for 'time out'.

"Grrrrr!" I grunt. The shotgun blasts again, and I pull my hands back down in a hush.

"That's the weirdest freaking zombie I've ever –"

"She's.... ok."

I turn around. By the tumbled Mountain Dew display, Levon is dragging his body past the broken glass doors, forcing words out of his mouth like he's drunk.

"Dad, there's a zombie boy there!"

The bald guy turns the gun towards Levon. I grab a piece of receipt paper and a pen by the cashier and start writing.

"Not... zombie. Normal... boy," Levon gasps, from the floor.

The man takes a couple of steps towards him. "Who are you?"

"The zombie... behind... counter," Levon mumbles, on his hands and knees, "not... dangerous... cool... girl."

He collapses face first on the floor, his hand extended in front of his body like he's waiting for rescue. I peek over the counter. The man turns my way.

Trying hard as I can to smile, I rise, showcasing the paper in front of my chest.

I'm cool =D.

The man stares at me for what feels like seventeen weeks, gun still pointed straight to my chest. He frowns, then he unfrowns, then he frowns again. His kid takes a step forward.

"I say shoot her anyways, dad!"

"Well fuck you, too," I say, still smiling.

"We've been on the road for four months, now," Patrick says, sliding his back down the wall to the floor with us. "Got all the way from San Diego to here. Walked most of the way."

By my side, Levon's sleeping under the window, the moon cutting a piece of his face in bright silver. He looks peaceful.

I scribble to Patrick:

Where are you going?

"New York," Patrick replies, simply. "They have a safe port there, my friend Jeremy told me. He was in the army, before it all –" he pauses, taking a deep breath. "Listen, I gotta ask... are all zombies like you? Can they all think and talk?"

Yes, I scribble.

"And they still go around killing people?"

I shrug.

"Jesus..."

We found antibiotics, after everyone had time to calm down and Patrick was finally convinced I would not eat his son. We also found bandages, and, in another amazing act of kindness by the universe, Patrick told us that he was a doctor.

Well... a veterinarian. A retired veterinarian, actually.

Levon was reluctant, but Patrick actually managed to get the bar out of his leg and bandage the wound pretty well. We didn't find any anesthetics, though, which I suppose is why Levon is still passed out.

Is there really a colony... New... ork? I scribble. It's getting hard even to scribble, now.

"So said Jeremy," Patrick answers me. "There better be, because otherwise..." Patrick looks from me to his son, asleep with his head leaned on Levon's shoulder.