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And oh! How thin the grandparents were! Emaciated as cancer patients. Shuffling on the asphalt in orthopedic shoes. The woman with long white hair coming out of her bun and an eggplant-colored polyester pantsuit; the man bald and bespectacled in a plaid shirt, cardigan, and jeans.
They were poster children for the old and fearful. A commercial for Celebrex.
They would be easy to overpower; the girl was another matter.
“I hope they let us in,” the woman said.
“Grandma, that’s like the fiftieth time you’ve said that in the last hour.”
“But what if they don’t hear us? What if there are zombies?”
“Grandma, there are zombies. That’s the way it is now. Like the Internet. Suddenly there it is and you’ve got to deal. Even if you are old.”
“Don’t talk to your grandmother that way, A
“The guy on the radio said this is the place and this is the way to get in. They’ll help us, you’ll see. It’s all good.”
Guts and I were restraining Ros and Guil, both of whom were ready to charge as soon as they caught a whiff of flesh. But without helmets, they risked getting shot in the head by pretty A
The best laid plans of zombies and men…
“Ohhh,” Ros said in his burbling rasp.
It was a loud trumpet. A
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Grandpa said.
“Our hearing’s not what it used to be, dear. You know that.”
“You guys stay right here, okay? I’m go
A
She could have been a student of mine, one of those postfeminists who eschew the label “feminist” although that’s exactly what they are. A lifetime ago, one such young lady had written a paper in my freshmen survey claiming that Spenser’s Faerie Queene was an allegory of cu
My shoulder felt like throbbing gristle-the meat by-product, not the industrial noise band.
It was Guts-our urchin, our orphan, our own li’l Webster-who came up with the plan.
His eyes met mine and he flicked them from Ros to Guil, then to A
We let go of Ros and Guil at the same time, and the pair went straight for A
“Watch out, dear!” cried Grandma and Grandpa.
Oh, poor zombies, trudging along at turtle speed. A
Meanwhile, Guts darted out on all fours, quick as a ferret, and bit A
“You shot my friend,” Ros gurgled.
A
“Says who?” Ros said. A
We must’ve been quite a sight for the girl. Me with my tweed jacket and pipe, Guts with his swift dexterity, and Ros with his exposed cranium and miraculous powers of speech. Her face went through a series of emotions: confusion, shock, disbelief, anger. It was like watching an actor practice her craft in workshop.
Finally, she hit determination, lifted her pistol, and aimed it, first at Ros, then at me. Cool as James Bond, I cocked my head, raised one eyebrow, and pointed behind her at Grandma and Grandpa.
“Brains,” Ros said. “Yum.” And strolled over to di
The old lady was on the ground, Guts crawling on her like a fruit fly on a moldy peach. Grandpa had an arm around Guts’s waist, trying to pull him off. Guts sank his teeth into Grandma’s chest just as Grandpa pulled hard; the duct tape and embroidery thread gave way and Guts’s guts spilled onto Grandma’s stomach. Grandpa let go and gagged.
As for me, I was jonesing hard for some of that ca
“Hey, kid!” A
She started to run to her grandparents, but her ankle gave out. Standing on one leg, she fired at Guts, hitting him in the back, but he was in la-la land, a feeding frenzy, the point of no return.
I wanted to bring Grandpa back to the Garden of Eden alive so that Joan, Eve, and Kapotas could have fresh meat, and I desperately hoped A
But a little snack first wouldn’t hurt anything.
I knelt down and took a bite out of A
A
“A
Great gobs of snot were bubbling out of A
“Well, I hate you, zombie scumbag,” she said, her finger on the trigger.
“Hey,” Ros yelled, looking up from Grandma, her blood smeared on his chin, “be nice, girlfriend!”
I inserted my finger in A
Four dead in Ohio. Millions undead all over the place.
“What the fuck is happening?” A
I took out pen and paper and wrote this: If you can’t lick ’em, join ’em.
“I’d rather die than be one of you,” she said.
Too late, I wrote. Already infected.
A
“Uhhhhhhh!” I yelled.
Grandma was lying open, bare, letting it all hang out. Ros and Guts were chowing down, but Guts looked up at the sound of my voice and in a flash our little trouper sprang forward and attacked, flying through the air like Wonder Dog and coming close to biting A
A
“One of us?” Ros asked, pointing at the girl, and I nodded.
Guts scrambled off of A