NOT DEAD YET
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth
Entry: 02
When I woke up, that crazy bastard was sitting right where he had been last night and smiling his big, dopey, smile but this time, something was different. Scarlet blood had left dry trails down his shirt, starting from his mouth. I instantly checked to make sure I still had all my limbs and sure enough, I did.
"One?" I asked hesitantly.
"Hm?"
I used my hand to gesture to the carnivorous mess that had over-taken his face. It took him a minute but he got the hint and his smile became bigger. "Onee make Whuuds oh-ke."
He made me okay? What? His face didn't offer any answers other than pride in whatever work he had done. When I asked him what happened, he said "Make Whuuds alv."
"Was I not alive?" When I sat up, I got a real kick from that bum shoulder of mine. Pain makes you miss the adrenaline that helped you forget it.
"Da…Tha…" He looked around; trying to come up with the word he was looking for, "Tha…zoomee…"
"Zombie?"
"Ysss! Zoomee!"
"What zombie?"
"Zoomee heer." He pointed over to a cluster of trees to his right.
"Wait. There was a zombie here!? Other than you!?"
"Yss! But Onee make Whuuds alv!" He proclaimed with pride.
"You…" I examined our surroundings, wrapping my brain around this. "You fought off a zombie!?"
"Ysss! Onee watch sooo goohd!"
"Wait…look me in the eye." I ordered sternly. He obeyed, happy as all hell. "So a zombie came here and you killed it?"
"Klld it sooo goohd!" It was horrific how he could sit there, painted with blood, and act like everything was glitter and sprinkles. It was as if killing was the same as making cupcakes to him. I was astounded…blown away… this thing…it cared. It wasn't a zombie. Either he was the human I had been praying for the existence of or he was the smartest zombie that I've ever met. Either way, this meant that there were others on this planet who weren't mindless.
"What. Are. You?" Was all I could think to ask him. "You protected me… you kept me safe at your own expense… why? What makes you different?" He cocked his head, not seeming to understand. I spent a while just studying the features of his face and suddenly, they seemed more human than before. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Onee~"
"Onee? Is that short for something?" My interest in the immune suddenly increased ten levels.
"Uhh…fur-ghetts."
"Huh…okay. Well-" I stood up with a heavy heave. "Let me know when you remember." I picked up the bottle of shampoo and stuffed my revolver into its holster. One struggled but managed drowsily to his feet. His posture was just awful.
"Get?" One asked, grabbing the handles of each jug of water. He was just asking if he should get the jugs for me but I knew there was more than that. If I let him get the jugs, I'd have to let him carry them home for me and then I'd have to offer to let him stay a night or two. I couldn't commit to that… BUT I could have him carry them at least until we got close. I couldn't take them all because of my bum arm and it sure beats burying them and coming back later. I rolled around the idea for a while before finally agreeing. Can't blame a zombie fighter for getting lazy every once in a while.
He picked them up, his whole body slumping further as he did so. "Are you sure you can do it?" I asked, seeing how the jugs were practically dragging.
"Caaann~" He boasted, straightening his back as much as he could.
"Alright then, I guess you can." And with that, we started off. I kept having to turn around and yell at him for dragging his feet and breathing heavily. It's not like he could help either, especially with the chore at hand but he would huff at me and do a little better. I called the first break, not because I needed it but because he did. I thought his arms were just going to fall right off (believe me, I've seen it). "Sit down." I told him and he obeyed. He gave me a short, thankful look.
"Idiot, you could have just said that you wanted to stop." I told him as I dropped my bum on a log. He shrugged carelessly. I shrugged back, took an energy bar out of my pocket and unwrapped it. I ate the whole thing before noticing how longingly One was watching me. I tossed him my second bar (his instincts weren't good enough to catch it but he picked it up from the forest floor after it bounced off his face). "Can you eat that?" I asked, my mouth full of thick oats, and got my answer in the form of another shrug.
I took it back from him and opened it. Why was I sharing my sacred food with this immune? Well… I dunno…I guess I could just say it's a bit of repayment for saving my life. When I handed it back to him, he just watched it blankly. "What can you eat?"
He opened his mouth but then looked me up and down before remembering that he had nothing to say. "Idiot, I know you eat people. Other than humans, what do you eat?" He thought about that question for a little while. When it came time to answer, he put his hand over where his beating heart would be. He clenched and unclenched his fist, chanting "P-pum-p-pum" As he went. I guess that means things with a heart. I nodded. It's so hard being friends with a cannibal. "Just eat the bar." I told him, making the offering more forcefull.
He ate it. One hand held the food and the other tore off pieces and then fed them into his mouth. I busied myself my sawing off a small arm of a near-by tree and skinning it. Believe it or not, you can eat a tree. I do not suggest it but if you chew slowly enough, you can eat a tree. It's bitter but it's not so awful when you get used to it.
The silence was kind. All around us, the forest lived vicariously though the small strums of wind blowing past the trees like violins. Images of subtle green surrounded us as if the world were one big, calm, oil painting. The symphony of nothingness was enough to bring any babe into slumber, so much so that it all felt like a trap. One would find themselves lustfully searching for this sanctuary of green until their mind had lost its good sense or until the filthy corpses of a generation past would drag them back into the Earth.
We got walking again in about fifteen minutes and didn't stop until One found a flung aside stop sign and insisted that we stop. "If it's like this-" I pointed a finger towards the sky, "It's a stop sign but if it's like this-" I turned my finger ninety degrees, "Then it's just trash. Forget about it." He didn't understand. "This is an apocalypse. Do you know what that means?" He shook his head. "That means that we don't have to listen to anybody, all the rules go away."
"Goo aw-ee?"
"Yup. We're free men, you and me. No one can make us do nothing!"
"Wha?" He paused in his tracks as did his very obvious trail of parted leaves, caused by him incessantly dragging his feet.
"Name something you don't like."
"Rats." He spat instinctively. That was a word he could pronounce perfectly.
"Well, no one can tell you nothing about rats! If you want to rip off their heads one by one, there's no PITA to stop you!" This made him so excited that he didn't know what to do with himself so he kicked a rock and dropped down on his bum in one swift thump.
"Jeez Christ!" I set down the bottle of shampoo and retrieved my fallen comrade. When I helped him up, I noticed something especially upsetting. "Aw, gross! You've got cooties!"
"Huh?"
I fingered through his thick, oily hair, examining the little wriggly specimens. I pulled one out to show him. "I've got bug soap in my house-"I sucked the air back into my lungs as soon as I heard my own words. Dammit, I had just invited him home. Dammit!
"Rats!" One cried, watching the insect squirm between my index finger and thumb.
"No, it's not a rat-"I tried to explain but he wouldn't have any of it. He grabbed fistfuls of hairs and tried ripping them free of his skull. "Hey! Hey, Stop that! Knock it off, let go!" I fought him and finally captured his hands, pulling them away from his head. "Shut it, shut up." I growled and cupped a hand over his wailing mouth. "Stop it!"
Beneath my hand, I could still hear the muffled cry of "Rats! Raaats!" I shushed him and pressed down harder on his mouth while praying to God that he wouldn't bite me. "It's. not. a . rat!" I told him but he persisted. "One! Please! Please! Shut up!" There was rustling somewhere in the far distance. It wasn't the rustling of butterflies or rodents. No, it created the kind of noise you could only expect from a bear or a pack of zombies. I prayed it was a bear. My eyes widened and blood suddenly coursed ten times faster through my veins. My instinct said, "Forget the corpse and run!" But this really annoying tug in my ribs said, "It's a human! The only other human!"
Dammit…Dammit! I ripped my gun out of the holster and gripped it tight, ready to fire. The combination of my pounding heart and heavy breathing set a rhythmic tune to the moment. Damn One…Damn him! He continued to have his little fit behind me while I prepared to save our sorry asses. Every second the noise got closer and I kept willing myself not to turn and run as fast as I could. Now, it was just a waiting game. The shrubbery rustles with the telltale innuendo of mammoth-sized predators on the hunt. So close… I took a deep breath and looked straight at the noise. Time to fight the beast.
There was two of those fuckers, walking all limp-like and starting at me with their muted, marbly orbs. Two men, or at least, I assumed they were. These ones were forest-dwellers so they had acquired all sorts of diseases, infections and disorders. They had been feasted on by rats, they been mauled and ripped and shredded by the cruel wilderness but yet they couldn't just die. No, they carried on their grotesque existence of unending hunger.
I made fierce eye contact with each of them before they charged, revealing their true agility. The wailing behind me abruptly stopped as soon as they lunged for my head. The closest was tackled down by One as soon as it could get within an arms distance of me. He grappled onto it and tossed it to the ground, immediately beating the light out of it with full ferocity. I was taken aback but I got over it in time to click back the trigger on my revolver, sending a hard bullet spiraling through the second corpse.
Of course, one bullet isn't enough to kill a savage brute like this one. If anything, it's like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. It became enraged. I launched two more good shots at him, one skimming his side and the other taking home in his gut. There is one thing about zombies, they have wicked tough stomach acids. This doesn't seem like a good thing but if you get 'em good right in their bellies, the acids will eat them from the inside out which does more than landing a cap or two in their hearts.
This was strategic on my part but not over all necessary since One tackled it down like an all-star quarterback. It didn't put up much of a fight after that but I think that was because One had ripped a gaping hole in its chest and dug out its innards with his bare hands. He took handfuls and tore, breaking them free of their confines. Look, I hate zombies a-helluva-lot but what he was doing… that's psychopathic…
I turned away as soon as I caught of glimpse of his bloody, vengeful face. I didn't want to see that. That was the face of a monster, something I was trying to convince myself that One wasn't. The slushing, gurgling, sounds of devouring put me on the brim of losing my stomach. I heard the gushing of blood, the sick ripping of flesh and worst of all, One's grunts as he consumed the corpse. Time pasted between us but I didn't dare interrupt.
"Whuuds?" He asked curiously after swallowing a mouthful of raw meat. When I didn't respond, he tried again. "Whuuds oww?Whuuds?"
"No…" I answered, afraid of my own voice. "Go…Go wash yourself." I ordered and refrained from bringing my eyes to his. "Go to the stream."
"Whuuds com?" He wondered.
"No. Just go." I insisted. I heard the sound of his feet dragging as he left me and I released the breath I had been holding in my lungs. God, I was so stupid. He's not human and I'm just delusional. I'm such an idiot… I almost brought that thing home. I almost trusted it and took it into my house and cared for it as an equal. How could I have not seen? He looked like a human but he was just as dead as the rest. That look on his face was purely animalistic. His attack was the way his brain had been rewired into behaving like a savage, mindless, zombie. He was cold and dead, just like everyone else on this god-forsaken planet. God Lovino… What happened to you? You must be truly desperate. This is the toll of being the last human.
I put my gun in its holster and took a gallon of water. I didn't want to be around when he came back. It would be easiest just to never see him again, never be reminded. I walked as stealthily as I knew how. I wanted to forget as soon as possible about my glorious misunderstanding.
It was just wishful thinking. There are zombies and there are humans, nothing in between. What's the difference? Everything but the form and the desire to eat. Humans live to learn things, to fall in love or have families, to make the world a better place. Immunes live to eat. Period. End of story. They don't care about others, humans are food to them, they don't have a conscience or feeling. No matter how much I had denied it, One was an immune. THIS is why I keep my window blocked and my eyes forward, so I don't get so fucked up believing that zombies resemble humans in any way.
Yet… that tightness in my chest increased. I still wanted to cling on, I still wanted to believe in life.
"WHOODS!?" A familiar voice called. I ignored it, walking faster. He was too stupid to find me. He'd end up getting lost in the trees and he'd forget about me just like he forgot about everything else. "Whooo-oods?" The sing-song voice rang again. Those deep, emerald green orbs flashed through my mind. They wouldn't stop looking at me. They knew the secret of his existence. They saw an answer to my missing species but they were bound to secrecy. His eyes… they haunted me.
I don't know how he did it but he caught up, dragging the water and shampoo with him. "Whoods?" He asked, confused. He had indeed cleaned his face but it seemed more like dunked his head in the river then slapped handfuls of water onto his shirt. That animalistic venom had drained from his face and he was back to being innocently idiotic.
"Go away." I ordered.
"Wha?"
"You heard me. Turn around and walk."
He contemplated this order for a painfully long time before shrugging and asking "Wha?" again.
"Get!" I scolded. His look of confusion shifted to surprise then sadness. "Go away, One!" He didn't understand at all, not that I could blame him.
"Go aw-ee?" He clarified. "Onee go?"
"Yeah, you. Get away from me, zombie."
"Zoomie!? No zoomie! No go aw-ee." He insisted.
"Yes, go away. I don't owe you anything anymore, life debt over. Go away."
"No! No go aw-ee! Onee make Whoods oh-ke! Onee make goohd watch!"
"I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm a human. You are a monster. You destroy and ruin and kill."
"No, Onee kill zoomie, no kill humn."
I gave up, he wasn't going to understand. "Sit down."
He followed my instructions dutifully. It was more like a collapse than a sit but he was down none the less. "Now listen," I told him and waited till his bright green eyes met mine. "I want you to stay right here. Got that?" He nodded. "Repeat."
"Whoods no go." He said.
"No. Say what I say: I will stay right here."
"Whoods NO go."
"Say it."
"I… steey…rit her."
"Good." With that, I turned and took my leave, not even bothering with the other jug of water or the shampoo. After a few meters, I dared to glance back just with the corner of my eye. No one was there. No one was anywhere. At that point I made a complete turn and scanned around the whole area. Tree, tree, tree, tree, tree with arms. That stupid bastard. "Don't follow me." I scolded in my harshest tone. He didn't move, not even a twitch. I began to walk again.
This time I walked for a good while, twisting between trees and going through the hidden groves. I turned around once I felt like I had lost him and rescoped the area. Trees (none with arms), clearing, bush, bush, idiot sitting in a bush. "I see you." I noted. His eyes followed me but he didn't budge. "Get out of that bush." I called. So, it's going to be the hard way then. I gave him a chance… I tried.
He stood up and retreated to my side. I ordered him to follow me, my voice little and regretful. I shouldn't feel bad, this was his own damn fault. If he had just stayed put, it wouldn't have come down to this. He followed me into a little green cove where I sat down on a fallen trunk and he did so as well. I asked him to look out towards the stream and when he asked why, I gave the excuse about wanting to tell him a story about the river. "Don't look away from the river now." I ordered and he nodded, his head turned away from me. "You see, there was a princess once." I slipped my revolver out of the holster and cocked it silently.
"Nem?" He asked, focused on the river.
"Hush. Don't talk. Her name was Princess…Bumblebee." I improvised. "And she had four sister who all liked to dance but she liked to sing." I made sure the neck of the gun was aimed right into the back of his skull. It would be quick, no pain. "And they decided to have a contest at the river once to see if…uh, if their dancing was better than Bumblebee's singing." I found a comfortable hold for my finger against the trigger. My hand was raised, the gun was loaded, it was all ready…but my hand was far too shaky. I switched hands but the other was just as bad. I couldn't focus. That's when I realized that my eyes were unfocused too. In fact, my arm shook and my ribs ached. Why couldn't I do it? Why? He was right there! It was perfect! He wouldn't feel a thing.
"Whoods?" He asked to fill the absence of my voice. The man's head shifted, his eyes looking to me then the gun that was being held to his face but wobbling back and forth nervously. His eyes traveled back up to mine, scared and disappointed. That's what finally got the weapon to slip from my hand. Those poor eyes…so betrayed…so human…
"GET OUT OF HERE!" I yelled and covered my face from his view. How on Earth could I get emotional for a god-damn-son-offa-bitch-corpse! That bastard! He fucked me up! He screwed with my brain. When I didn't sense his movement, I tried again so that he wouldn't see the shudder of my body. "GO AWAY! GET OUT OF HERE, YOU STUPID ZOMBIE! I FUCK'N HATE YOU! YOU HEARD ME, GO AWAY!"
"Whoods…oww?" He mumbled quietly. He was clueless, just and scared and confused as I was. My frame endured one more violent jerk before releasing those long prolonged water marbles. It had been so long since I was reduced to this level of patheticness. What shit! This god damn bastard did this to me, this god damn bastard. The apocalypse does some crazy shit to you, knots than can never be undone unless cut through with a bullet.
"Whoods oww so…Whoods want Onee oww insed..." He guessed. "Oh-ke." He decided. "Oh-ke, Whoods. Onee oww insed."
"You stupid idiot." I growled. "Just go away…"
"Onee no go. Onee make Whoods oh-ke."
"GO."
"No go~"
"One, GO!" I uncover my puffy, swollen eyes so I could shove him off the log.
"Whoods oww~" He noticed, reaching up to touch my face but I slapped his fingers away before they could make contact with my burning flesh.
Tell yourself he's a monster Lovino, say it! It's true! Even you aren't stupid enough to ignore that. There are humans and there are zombies, get that straight. There aren't compromises or contracts of trust. The day we all sit around a camp-fire singing Kumbaya will be the day we all meet for the last time in Hell. I can't like him, I can't believe he's anything other than a corpse. It's suicide.
I used to be so smart. If I were the man I had been a month ago, I'd have put a bullet in his head the moment I knew he was near. Now I've become a crazy bastard just like all the ol' hippies who rallied, saying that zombies were just different. They'd picket outside the military bases and call us murderers and I'd always tell myself that those crazy bastards didn't know the sun from the moon but look where I am know. I'm one of them myself.
"Whoods…" A voice interrupted me, making me toss my eyes over to him and almost feel a flinch of pitty.
"Go away." I repeated bitterly. I told myself that I hated him and tried to make myself believe it too.
"Onee sry…" He mumbled.
"Sorry? Do you even know why you're sorry?"
He shook his head and I lowered mine into my palms, too frustrated to fight any longer. "Because you're a zombie, that's why. Zombies killed everything, including my family and my friends and the friends I might have someday otherwise made. There was a whole group of people…just people… people like me and my brother who used to live here, on Earth. Then there was a war and then there was you. In just a blink of an eye, we became extinct. That's why you should be sorry. Because everything I ever knew is gone. That's why." I spat with the all too familiar memories flashing in and out of my mind. Images of my look-alike sibling, the remembrance of armed soldiers waiting on the border of town. I remember a piercing light being shown into my eyes to ensure that no immunity had snaked into my veins. I remember watching my grandfather shoot an immune from the car window even though I was told not to look. They were just seconds of footage but all were precise and clear.
"Onee humn…" The corpse offered and sufficiently earned my attention.
"You're not a human." I looked him up and down as if checking again would somehow make a point.
"Am Humn. On-lee zoomie n' foo'd."
"Only zombie in…food?"
"Foo 'DT!"
"Foot?"
"Ysss! On-lee zoomie n' fooht."
"That doesn't make sense. If I had any good sense left in my brain, I'd put you out of your misery." I huffed.
"No, Onee want alv."
"Yeah but that's only your stomach speaking. If you had any good sense left in your brain, you'd realize how shitty this all is and find a nice, willing human to take care of it for you. Like this." I formed my hand into the shape of a gun and lazily demonstrated shooting myself in the head.
"No. Onee liv nd go hom." He told me proudly just as my mind snapped back to life.
"Wait, go home? You live and go home? Where's home? Are there other humans?"
"Ho-me?"
"Yeah, you just said that you wanted to live and go home. What home? Were there people like me there?"
"Pee-pul leek Whoods? Uh…" He looked up at the sky and searched it for answers. "Uhh….furghetts…" He decided.
"But you just said you were going home! What home?!"
"Furghetts."
"But…" I stared in awe at the up-facing palms of my hands. He knew something… he knew something about the humans, I was positive. Maybe I actually had a channel into my kind for once after two years, through him. It was right in my hands! Just a little out of grip but not completely-
No. I snapped the thought away with a scowl. Don't trust him. He doesn't know what he's talking about, it could have just been a slip of the tongue. Who knows? The poor bastard's crazy!
"Do you think you'll ever remember?" Damn me and my curiosity. I'm telling you, I used to me smart. I had my good sense about me but I just can't stand tall when I get that quiver of hope.
"Uhm…mee-bee. Sumtems Onee un-furghetts."
"Sometimes, huh?" I mauled around the idea. Was it stupid and crazy? Yes. Was it delusional? Yes. Was I scheming to take home a proven monster in attempt to resurrect a hopeless (possibly non-existent) memory?...Maybe…
"So…How much do you remember."
"Bout wha?"
"Just about things."
"Uh…'member Whoods."
"Other than me."
" 'Member…oh! 'Member foodt!"
"What about your foot?"
His awkward hands fumbled with his boot, trying to pull it off. When I got tired of watching this endeavor, I did it for him. I admit, I was slightly curious about his zombie foot. He really should air his feet more. They stunk of bacteria and were crumbly pail after being trapped in the boots as he sludged through rivers and mud. After momentarily mentioning how disgusting his feet were, I let him take one in his hands and show me the bottom, where he displayed a four-inch long scar. At first, I thought the scar was just another of the many wrinkles caused by excessive water exposure but then I noticed that it was the epicenter for all of his ashy blue veins.
"What is that?" I asked, lightly tracing my fingers over it. The foot squirmed as I made contact with the sensitive area. I mumbled a careless apology.
"In furrist nd…nd tek o-off bhoot…" He said, fighting for the words that he could barely remember never mind pronounce.
"Why?"
"Wha?"
"Why did you take off your boot?" I reminded him. "You were walking in the forest and you took off your boot."
"Uhhh…oh! Tek it off…t-to wish foodt."
"Wish?"
"No." He corrected and nudged toward the stream. "Wish foodt een waaaahtr."
"Oh! Okay, continue." Washing your foot makes more sense than wishing it. Maybe he wasn't crazy.
"B-but…grund make foodt oww so pud it n' 'da waahtr."
It took me a while but if I decoded it properly, he said he that somehow hurt his bare foot on the ground and decided to put it in the water. I guess that checks out. "Was this before or after you were a zombie?"
"Uhhh…No, Onee alv."
"Alright. Then what?"
"Um… 'Den dissy nd furghetts." He frowned.
"You don't have anything after that?"
He considered this question. "I 'member Whoods. 'Member sooo goohd." He smiled and weakly tapped a finger against his cranium.
"Yeah, me too but that's not of importance right now. What I need to know is where you came from before this." I helped his foot back into his boot.
"Furghetts."
"I've got that much but do you think you could somehow…bring back those memories? Will you ever remember?"
"On-lee sumtems."
I sighed and let my head again fall into my hands. I had a tough decision to make. Do I take him home with the chance of learning that I wasn't alone or do I raise my gun again? Am I horribly mistaken in my trust of him or is he really the act of mercy I had prayed for? Is this corpse a miracle or a curse? When I raised my head, I got my answer in those deep, wise eyes.
"Alright, let's go." I called and lifted myself wearily from the log. Without questions, he did the same and took to my side (more huffing and groaning on his side though. It's that whole zombie thing, ya' know?).
He didn't speak for the first ten minutes, it was a nice break. "Whoods?" He finally asked, breaking my mellow state of mind.
"What?"
"Say…Say 'bout 'da humns."
"Say what about them?"
"Say…how 'dey wz alv." He requested.
How they were alive? Like, before the rapture? "Well, there were more than there are today. Actually, a lot more. People weren't zombies unless they'd gotten themselves up on something crazy. Stop dragging your feet." He huffed at me but did a little better to silence his steps.
"Whoods bruthr?" A tightness gripped my chest.
"Yeah, I had a brother."
"Wher?"
"Some stuff happened and he's not here anymore. That's all."
"Wher?"
"That's all." I repeated sternly.
He did his best to respect my wishes by taking back to silence but not for long. "Wha 'dis?" He poked a finger at the embroidery on my sleeve of my thick army jacket.
"It says: Vivere senza paura dei morti. We all got them in our native language when we joined the Forces Against the Immune and it means, Live without fear of the dead. It's kinda like their motto. Hey, bet you didn't know that I was there for the Battle of Thermopylaye." Of course he didn't but I wanted to tell him anyways to fuel my pride.
"Oh?" He asked, proudly pretending that he had the slightest idea what I was talking about.
"Yeah. It was a time when the government gave up on solutions and just handed out guns to everyone. It was a big game to see who could kill the most zombies. Of course, it didn't really work."
"Wha?"
"Well, if you arm every hysterical, PTSD blubbernut, you'll end up with a world full of crazy people. Every neighborhood becomes a war zone, the police become useless and the only way we can control large masses of people is through more gas. Not a good idea but I was part of the team that finally brought it to an end."
"Was 'dis?" He twisted his head around, doing his best to see the tag across the back of his jacket.
"It says… First commission: Twelvemile Beach." You see, back in the day, Michigan was the zombie hub for the U.S and there was a huge battle that took place on Twelvemile Beach against the corpses. The human forces won, finally killing off all the immune that they could track down in a ten-mile perimeter. This battle was practically a legend; they had songs written about it. "This is an Immune Platoon patch. Hey, were you here?"
I felt a bit of excitement when I saw some trace human in his blood, however far gone it was now. With a big smile slung over his face, he jabbed his finger at the red patch on his other sleeve. "Carr-i-e-do." I read, sounding out the badly aged and weathered print. "What's that? Is that your name?"
"Uh…Yss! Yss! Un-furghetts!"
"Really!?" That animated glow in his eyes was all too contagious and soon I was just as thrilled as he. I hadn't known him more than a few hours and I was already taking pride in his accomplishments. Man, I am one crazy son-offa-bitch.
"Yss! Onee Cahree-do!"
I swear, for one split second, I felt like kissing that damn bastard right on the smackeroos. I brushed this off by telling myself that the branch I was chewing on must have been a little funky. I'm slightly high, that's all. Nothing else. "Alright Carriedo, let's see what else you've got. How about…" I searched his body for any more suspicious hints of a story. "How about this?" I pointed to the patch with an image of a bull that was sewn onto his breast pocket. Above it were needle holes, suggesting that there had once been more patches decorating the uniform.
" 'Dat…hmm." He puffed out his chest some more to see it slightly better. " 'Dat is…im-pertnt." He declared and gave me his defeated, pathetic eyes.
"Important? Is that all you've got?"
"Yss, furghetts…" His head suddenly became heavier as he realized his roll was over.
"Hey, common, Big guy. You'll get it later." Jeez…was I trying to motivate a zombie? What happened to me?
So we went on and made it back to Mansion a-la Lovino within the hour. God, it was a dump. I did my best to keep it clean but lemon Pledge is hard to come by in a rapture. I really should upgrade. People would respect me more if I upgraded. Then again…no body was around to be unimpressed anyways. Just me and the freak show they call Carriedo. Better than nothing I guess.
The front door squealed sickly when I swung it open and the floor boards wheezed under my familiar leather boots. I set the jug on the "dining room" table before instructing One to do the same. Home isn't home unless it smells like rotting wood and fresh rain. In the cuppord, I retrieved my bug shampoo. It was meant for dogs and probably way out of date but it was better than bugs. "Bathtime!"I called. He gave me an interested look that I caught out of the corner of my eye. "For you, not for me. look, I've got a clean towel and soap. Living the life of a prince, I know." I took him outside to the tub. It was actually a blue, plastic, kiddy pool that didn't hold much more than a few gallons but you really can't trust the river. Immunes leave all sorts of diseases in the water ways. Here's a tip, get it from the sky. Acid rain is better than a stream swimming with Polio, Cholera and Ebola.
Thankfully, it had rained only the day before and I tarped it to cut down on Malaria. Perfectly safe, a baby could drink it and better yet, a zombie could bathe in it. He stripped down and got in but not without complaining about the temperature. He whined and pouted and kept trying to inch out of the water. "Man up, ya' weenie." I growled, taking a shoulder and pushing him back in. if I cried every time I had to face cold water or a stubbed toe, I'd have been corpse chow every time I opened the door.
"Owww…" He continued.
"You know what Gernal Ford at my base used to tell all us soldiers?" He shook his head. "He'd say: Tuck yur' balls in 'cause they ain't get much prettier, tootsie pops." I'm not sure if I actually smiled or if it was just a muscle memory, sparked by my recollections of training on the base. Back then, it felt like hell but now I envied it so much.
I dragged a tire beside the pool for me to sit on and began to dump water over Carriedo's head with a shambly, little pail. "He once hit a guy so hard that he lost a tooth. The guy, not Ol' Ford. Just popped right out and skitted on the floor."
"Why?" He asked. Turning to look at me just as another dump came down. He squinched up his face and rubbed his eyes afterwords. I almost laughed…almost.
"Geez, I don't remember. He was…I think the guy was sassing him about something. That's usually the case. Even if nobody said nothing, he'd still think he was being sassed." I doused his head in shampoo and began to work it through his hair. He wasn't a fan of this either. He'd stay put for a while and try to be good but eventually, he'd shift away while complaining that there was soap on his face. He was especially devastated when I told him that he actually had to keep the tingly shampoo on his head for thirty minutes. I tried to make it a tiny bit better by getting a rag from inside and washing off his face for him.
After scrubbing for a little over a minute, it was apparent that dirt would just come off in sudsy heaps. If he had been bathing himself, then he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Under his fingernails were glaciers of built up dirt and grime. He was practically black behind his ears and he could use a haircut.
He giggled and squirmed when I cleaned his sides then winced and whined when it came to the scars on his back. True, he hadn't lived without getting his fair share of damage. "How long's it been since you seen your skin?" I asked and chuckled, rubbing the rag over his knobby knees. The only answer I got was a shrug since he clearly didn't understand the joke. I hummed the forest song and he tried to follow along without actually knowing any of the tune. Finally, the time came to relieve the poor baby of his torture. "Any bugs that were in your hair before should be very much dead now." I announced and poured the first pail-full over those thick, cocoa, locks. The water itself had become muddy with his filth so instead, I started using my reserve rain water. It only took about one canister once I washed his hair and rinsed his entire form and that's about one day of collection so I didn't feel too scammed.
I dried him off before he could go back into the house. I tried to let him dry himself but the stupid idiot can't so anything right, he just patted it on his chest and legs and called it done. I hadn't had a chance to do laundry so he had to wear one of my few outfits. He should have thanked me, no woman can resist a zombie in a Joe's Crab Shack T-shirt and cargo shorts. He wanted to put his boots back on but I told him that his feet needed some time to re-coop from their agony. He kept arguing with me about it until he finally admitted that he was afraid of someone stealing them so I let him keep them inside (even though they smelt like dead rodent). Damn, I'm becoming a push over.
After that, we sat down in front of the fire place and I scavenged his head like an ape, pulling out every minuscule cootie or egg. It was torture. I would part some hair, pinch a buggy corpse and lay it to rest on a piece of newspaper. That night, I learned how jumpy One could be when he's bored, frustrated and tired. Telling him to shut up and keep still as little to no effect. It took me what I assume was a million hours to finish with him and toss the newspaper into the fire. The last thing I want is immune lice.
Then, we ate. Well, I ate. He was still full from those two corpses in the forest so it was just me. I wish I could say that I popped open a can of beans or even a packet of ketchup but no, I was on a Timon and Pumba diet in which I feast on a bird egg and a twig. Hunger isn't a new feeling, it's something I have to live with. I have non-perishable goods but I'm saving them while I'm still lucky enough to have nature to feed me. Bugs aren't that bad.
It came time to sleep when Carriedo realized that he wasn't sleepy at all. "Whoods, cn't watch goohd." He said, proving his point my trying to look out the boarded up window then looking back to me once he had proved that this wasn't possible. He's quite the genius, I can assure you.
"Just sit by the door then. If someone tries to come in, you'll know." I un-did the button on my pants then slid them down and got under the covers.
"Whoods." He continued.
"What?" I snarled.
"Whoods, guhn." He pointed to the revolver under my pillow. "Not oh-ke."
"Oh, leave me alone, will 'ya? It's there for safe keeping. How do I know you won't take it and shoot me in the middle of the night?"
He thought long and hard about this question. "Onee c'nt make guhn boom." He explained. I guess that was true. I'd never seen him work a gun in the whole day I'd known him.
"Yeah, well, I want it there."
"Not oh-ke." He objected, shaking his head.
"It's okay if I say it is."
"No guhn."
"Yes gun."
"No guhn."
"God damn it, Carriedo. Leave me be, I need to sleep."
"No guhn!" He insisted.
"Fine, dammit! You can hold onto it until the morning. Just don't go shooting things, okay?" I tossed it over to him and this time he actually caught it.
"Oh-ke! Seep, Whoods! Onee make whoods oh-ke~"
"Yeah, whatever. Goodnight." I grumbled and threw the blanket over my head. Not a moment later did everything go black as I was lured into the numbing world of unconsciousness.
