Eve

Chapter 12

I wake up with an itch on my head. I raise my hand to scratch it.

No. I raise. I raise... I raise my --

God damn it, what is –

My hands are tied behind my back.

I look around. I'm in an empty warehouse. Boxes scatter around make a sort of meter-high maze across a hay covered floor.

I try setting myself free again. Nothing. By my side, Levon wakes up in a sudden movement.

"-- finish him!"

He looks around like the idiot that he is, eyes wide.

"Over here, idiot."

"Eve! What's going on? Did you do this?"

 I blink. "Yes, Levon. I tied you up. Then I tied myself up. I'm really into doing some fifty shades of zombie with your dumb ass."

 "What?"

I try breaking free from the ropes again.

Hey! Remember when I was just hungry? As opposed to hurt, tied to a chair in the middle of Roadside, Anywhere with a random kid? And hungry?

There's really no such thing as a free meal.

This damn knot is sealed shut worse than a nuns –

"Looks like Lassie's up."

By the large front entrance, the bearded man slow steps inside the warehouse, making way across the strips of sunlight on the hay towards us. On the chair by my side, Levon shivers.

The man stops between the two of us, eyes on Levon.

"So..." he starts, with a smile, "what's the deal with zombiechick here? Old girlfriend?"

"Ew..." I whisper.

Levon doesn't answer. With a confident step, bearded man crouches to his eye level. Coming from the front door, his two bouncers make their way towards us.

"Where do you live?"

Again, Levon is silent. He turns his face away like the man has bad breath, which he probably does.

Bearded man drags Levon's gaze back to him with a pull of his hair. "Are you with doctors? Do you have food?"

"It's cool, Levon," I say. "These guys are after food and supplies, that's all. They're looters. As long as you don't piss them off, they won't –"

"Fuck you," Levon says, spitting on the floor next to the man.

Alrighty then... Look who's decided to go all macho.

The two men behind laugh, and bearded man slams his fist against Levon's face.

"Ok," he says, rubbing his knuckles. "So... what? This is just your regular zombie? Regular, day-to-day, flesh-eating, grunting, foul smelling walking dead?"

Levon raises his eyes, his nose dripping in blood in that way that makes you look cool if you're already attractive, but like a dork with chronic nose bleed if you're not.

"It's just a zombie," Levon says. He looks like a dork.

"Why are you keeping it captive?"

Levon doesn't answer.

"Well," bearded man says, turning to me. He pulls the .38 and raises it to my forehead. "If it's just a zombie, I guess I can –"

"DON'T!"