REWRITTEN 2/23/15

Minka and Onyx

Before I moved out to find the first member of my elite zombie hunting force, Minka, I snatched the gun up from its pile of snow and ran over to the nearest police officer, the one who had taken my advice about shooting the undead in the head. I held out the gun innocently. "How do you load this?"

She took the gun from my hands hesitantly, giving me a confused stare. "Weren't you the one up on the roof?"

"Oh yeah." I scratched at the back of my head. "I thought you guys could use some advice."

"You couldn't have just shouted it out a window?"

My face froze, and after a moment, I puffed out my cheeks. I hadn't thought of that. "Nobody has ever called me smart," I answered, trying to pretend that I wasn't as embarrassed as a swimmer whose suit had fallen off.

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, stay inside and be safe until this whole thing blows over?"

"Probably." I grinned cheekily. "But where's the fun in that?"

The officer's eyes almost disappeared inside her head when she rolled them towards the sky. That was an impressive trick. I should learn how to do that. It could be my new party trick. That combined with my moveable hair would make me a force to be reckoned with.

I flapped my hands towards the gun, urging the police officer to get on with loading it. She heaved a sigh that could probably move entire continents across the ocean. I watched closely, the steps dancing in one eye like they were ready to move in and stay but promptly slipping out the back door as soon as my back was turned. Probably not a good sign.

As soon as she was done, I snatched the gun from her hands with a word of thanks then dashed away across the street before she could try to convince me to go back inside like a good child. I heard her short inhalation of breath like she was ready to protest, but it shriveled up and blew away in the wind.

I jogged down our alleyway, boots crunching in the snow. My eyes darted left and right. The shadows in the bushes and fences were deep and dark, keeping their secrets locked up tight. At any moment, something was going to leap out at me; I was sure of it. I always thought something was going to leap at me, even before the walking corpses actually appeared. The gun already felt awkward in my hands. I was either going to accidentally drop it or fire it, probably into my foot.

I skated across a patch of ice and ran into the side of our clown yellow shed. Surrounded by the night, it looked like a child's drawing of a sun wearing glasses. I glanced over my shoulder before setting the gun down and turning my attention to the lock. It was iced over, as always. Just my luck. I breathed onto the padlock, the air steaming in the cold, and rubbed at the metal with my gloved hands. Eventually, the dial broke out of its icy prison and spun freely.

Something bumped in the night behind me. A rock clattered quietly across the ground. Heart in my throat, I turned my neck to peer down the dimly lit alley.

It was empty but for the snow swirling in the breeze.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. It was a never-ending drumbeat determined to drive me bonkers until I jumped at every sound and got myself killed.

It was extremely likely that I was going to get myself killed.

Trying to breathe slowly, I fixed my eyes on the lock, barely able to see the tiny white numbers. I spun through the code, my tongue poked out, and yanked violently on the lock as soon as I finished the last number. The padlock rattled against the wood but didn't budge. It never opened on the first try.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, wondering if they disappeared inside my head like the officer's had. I spun the dial again and gave the lock another yank. It yielded to my pull, and I opened the door just enough so I could slip inside.

I grabbed my black and yellow bike and wheeled it out of the shed, hoping that the tires still had air in them. I barely used the thing. Glancing around, I picked the gun up in one hand and tossed my leg over the bike. The gun strap went over my shoulder and leaned against my side, a dead weight stuffed chock-full of explosives.

The bike wobbled on the ice but caught its traction after a moment, and soon I was coasting down the alleyway. I turned onto the street. The police officers were still there, on the lookout for more corpses. The undead were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were gone, all exterminated by the crack police force. Or maybe they just weren't in the vicinity yet, though they were slowly stumbling towards us with hunger in their bellies. Well, it wasn't really a true hunger. But same difference.

I cruised down the street and turned the corner, coasting down the shallow hill and angling towards the opposite side of the road. I hopped off before the bike had a chance to stop moving and dumped it on Minka's front lawn, dropping the gun too. She literally lived about 200 feet from me in a cute purple house. It was a much better color than my clown yellow home.

I spun in a circle, searching for threats, but the night was still quiet. At the back of my head, like the nagging, nasal voice of reason, I knew it couldn't last long. The undead would come back in greater numbers and munch on all our faces, overwhelming the entire city.

Hm, maybe that was what I could call them. Munchers. The undead always needed a nickname; the word zombie rolled off the tongue in a weird way, a drunk bumblebee struggling to find the pollen on the flower.

I examined her house, searching for a good way in. I didn't feel like knocking on the front door; that was boring. I spotted the large tree that grew just to the side of Minka's property. Its thick limbs reached high into the sky and arced over her roof. Perfect, I thought as I sprinted over, picking up speed. I shot up the tree like a squirrel and scampered across one of the branches until I was over the roof, and then I leapt off, hitting the snow covered shingles and slipping. I stumbled and collapsed to one knee but held my balance, nimble as a cat – in theory. My thump probably scared the bejeesus out of her parents. Opps.

Minka's window was on the backside of the house, and I clambered carefully across the roof, leaving footprints in the snow. I lay down on the shingles, my pants soaking through, and poked my head over the edge. Instantly, all the blood rushed to my brain. I clawed at the screen with my fingertips, somehow managing to pop it out of its frame. I let it fall to the ground below. Her window was unlocked, so I pulled it open, climbing onto my knees and sliding myself into the room. I tumbled over the dresser and landed on the floor with another loud thump.

Her room was dark, lit only by a single flickering night light. Minka was a dark lump on the bed, made bulky by a mound of blankets. She apparently hadn't heard the commotion outside.

"Minka!" I hissed loudly.

An incoherent mumble came from the shape on the low bed. I nudged it with my toe, hoping I wouldn't get brutally murdered. "Minka!" I yelled, leaning over into her ear. "Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!"

….I had no idea where that came from.

She rolled limply away from my foot.

I huffed and stood up. Time for drastic measures. I stepped up on the bed and began to jump as hard as I could. "Wake up, Minka! It's Christmas morning! Come see what Santa's brought you!"

…I didn't know where that came from either. I was not a morning person.

"Go away," she mumbled, barely able to form words that I could understand. They came out mushed together like mashed potatoes.

"You're going to miss all the fun!" I whined loudly, flopping down across the bed and making Minka bounce. "Me and Onyx are gonna go off and have a giant awesome adventure without you and eat aaaaaaaaaaaaaall the cookies!"

Cookies sounded really good right then. My stomach growled.

"Oh well." Minka rolled away from me to the far side of the bed, probably hoping I was just a bad dream and that I would go away soon.

Finally, I got fed up with her stubborn sleep and started to sing in a very loud, off-key voice – the only singing voice I had. "LALALALALALAL-!"

"What?" Minka snapped to shut me up, throwing a pillow at me as she cracked one eye open to glare in my direction.

I dodged, standing up to strike a pose in the center of the room. My flare was lost on Minka, though, since she had closed her eyes again. "I've been trying to get you up for, like, an eternity! Hurry up and wake up!"

She finally pushed herself into a crumpled sitting position, looking like a deflated balloon. "Wait…what the hell are you doing in my room, Enia?"

"I came in through the window," I replied.

"Why didn't you just ring the doorbell?"

I shrugged. "Didn't feel like it. Anywho, come on. Get up."

"Why?" she grumbled, flopping her hand around until she found her glasses and shoved them on her face.

"Seemed boring."

She was silent, probably rolling her eyes. "Why are you even here?"

I leaned against her dresser, my fingers drumming quietly against the wood as one knee jiggled in place. "You didn't hear the gunshots?"

"What gunshots?" she asked, puzzled. Fumbling, she tossed the blankets to the floor and got to her feet, leaning over the dresser to turn on a lamp. My eyes throbbed at the sudden light, and I turned away.

"You're kidding, right? Wow, you must be a heavy sleeper."

"I was up late," she answered, sounding disgruntled.

"I don't doubt it."

"Get to the point, Enia."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. There are zombies in the streets."

I said it so casually, like how someone might comment on the traffic, that Minka just stared at me with her dark eyes, blinking only once. And then again.

"What?"

"Yeah, zombies. In the streets." I started to pace back in forth across her small room, tapping the wall each time I reached it. "I saw them. Like, actually saw them. And I saw them eat people, and I saw the police shoot them in the chest, and I saw them keep moving, and I saw them…I saw them. Holy shit, I saw them. Holy shit, zombies."

My heart thudded in my chest. This was…actually real. It wasn't my books. It wasn't my movies. It wasn't the Walking Dead where you could cover your face with a pillow if things got too intense. There were actual walking corpses in the actual streets in an actual town – my town – eating actual people. I joked about how cool a zombie apocalypse would be – how I would kick undead ass and be totally awesome – but here it was. For real. And people were going to die. For real.

I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Hurry up and get dressed," I practically ordered, my fists clenching inside my sleeves. "We're going to find Onyx, so we can form an elite zombie hunting force and stop this thing."

She stared at me for another moment, deliberating. "Okay," was all she said.

I studied the wall as she rooted around in her dresser and pulled on her clothes. "Alright," she said to let me know she was done.

I turned around. She had on a dark blue zip-up hooded jacket that hung well down her thighs and over her hands, sewn with patches for bands and other stuff that I didn't know. Her black jeans were tattered around her knees and at the ends where they met her black Converse. She had tied her dark, thick, wavy hair back in a pony tail that hung down her back, her glasses pressed firmly on her face.

"Good to go?" I asked, and she nodded. "Sweet. Want to go out the window?"

Minka shrugged. "Sure. Why the hell not?"

I shoved the window open all the way and poked my head out, looking around to see if the coast was clear. I swung my legs through and jumped, landing lightly on the snow covered ground. Minka landed with a thump beside me, cursing under her breath at the cold.

"I've got my bike out front," I said. "Why don't you grab yours and meet me on the street?"

"Okay," she replied, nestling her chin down into the collar of her jacket. "Give me a minute."

We separated. She walked towards her garage, hands in her pockets, and I jogged down her driveway in the opposite direction. My bike lay where I left it, untouched but half buried by the windblown snow. I picked it up and dusted off the seat, resettling the gun on my shoulder.

Minka coasted down the driveway, and I hopped on my bike, meeting her on the street. We took off, riding side by side. I stood up on the pedals as we climbed the hill, wobbling on the ice hidden by the darkness. The wind whistled loudly in my ears, a rushing wave of sound that deadened every other noise more effectively than a pair of earplugs. There was a low hum mixing in with the high pitched whistling, undulating in volume like a snake weaving through the grass.

Shapes came stumbling out from between the houses, indistinct in the darkness. They lurched drunkenly, slipping in the snow, some of them stopping to pound on the windows. The others staggered in uneven lines towards us, arms reaching. The low hum wasn't part of the wind; it was the hungry moaning of the undead.

The nearest muncher tripped over the curb and onto the street, reaching for me. I pulled the crowbar from its sheath and held it out, sharpened edge level with the corpse's head. It was a man missing the left half of his face, bloody bone shining in the moonlight, its large yellow eye spinning in its dark socket. It swiped a curled hand at me, but the crowbar smacked into the side of its head.

The sharpened metal sheared straight through the muncher's skull, though I almost toppled off my bike from the sudden jerk in my arm. I wobbled, fighting to hold my balance with only one hand on the bars. A few droplets of thick rain splattered my cheek as the top half of the muncher's head flew through the air. I craned my head around to watch as the body folded in on itself and collapsed to the ground, shredded bits of gray brain leaking out onto the street. I waited for the guilt to hit, but only a faint feeling of nausea from the gore swirled in my stomach. There was no remorse to be found in killing a thoughtless monster inhabiting an empty shell.

Suddenly, my bike lurched violently to the side, and I was jerked out of my reverie. My hand grappled for the handlebars, struggling to grab onto them and the crowbar at the same time. The tires screeched across a sheet of black ice as I cursed under my breath. I veered alarmingly towards Minka, threatening to crash into her, but she managed to jerk away. "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry!" I yelped. The tires bit into rough pavement, and I was able to regain control. I let out a pent up breath.

Minka gave me a sideways look. "Infinitely graceful."

"Thanks."

She glanced over her shoulder at the uneven shapes lurching through the night, steering her bike with one hand. "Should we deal with them?"

Suddenly hesitant, I looked back too. The munchers were clustered around a couple of houses, banging on the walls and windows. There weren't many of the reanimated corpses, and the police were carefully advancing towards them, guns outstretched.

"I…" I paused. "I think the police can handle it. I want to find Onyx. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan."

We pedaled harder. The city grew quiet, illuminated by flickering street lights. The houses dashed past us like a crowd fleeing from something in the distance that we couldn't see, yet we still barreled towards it, brave in our stupidity.

The ride was long and cold but uneventful. I cursed like a sailor all the way up the last steep hill. We crested its peak, puffing heavily, and let ourselves coast down the other side. The cemetery flashed by on my right side. I stared at it, and even though I knew it wouldn't happen, I half expected to see a gnarled, rotten hand stretching up from the ground, grasping at air as lightning crackled in the sky. The headstones stood like silent sentries, and the ghosts watched our rapid progress down the hill, glad that they didn't have to face the hungry dead.

Minka and I turned onto Onyx's driveway and hopped off the bikes before they had a chance to stop moving. I dumped mine to the ground and left it in the middle of the driveway, and together we jumped up the steps to Onyx's back door. I knocked.

We waited.

And we waited some more.

We waited so long that my short hair grew down to my feet and curled into piles on the ground, turning from brown to grey to snowy white, and my skin turned wrinkled and collapsed in on itself, and my bones became so brittle that the breeze threatened to break them.

The night was quiet, but the back of my neck prickled. The munchers didn't seem to be roaming this part of town yet, but they were coming. Somewhere along the way, one or more had caught our scent and were moving their slow but steady way towards us, the sweet scent of our flesh wafting on the crisp winter breeze and drawing them closer like a homing beacon.

I glanced behind me to make sure the landscape was still empty, my hands sweating inside my gloves. I still had the crowbar clenched tightly in one hand, and the strap of the shotgun was slung over one shoulder, the weight leaning uncomfortably on my body. I unslung the strap and set the gun against the side of the house. Minka grumbled something under her breath and knocked on the door again, louder and more insistently than I had.

Enia, turn around, a voice whispered in my head, quieter than an ant murmuring to a blade of grass. I barely registered it, irritated by the fact that no one hand answered the door.

Minka was staring wide eyed at something over my shoulder. "Fuck, shit, Enia! Look!" Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm, spinning me roughly around. The crowbar slipped through the fabric of my gloves and thudded to the ground.

I let out a garbled string of curses. A muncher staggered gracelessly up the driveway, struggling on the incline. Its face was covered by tiny shrapnel cuts, making it look like a spotted clown. Its throat had been torn out, and the blood stained the entire front of its shirt, looking black in the moonlight. It stretched its hands out towards us, struggling to reach across the distance and sink its nine fingers into us.

I cursed again ad grabbed for the gun, not thinking. The crowbar was out of sight and out of mind. I clicked off the safety and brought the gun to my shoulder. I had no clue if I was even going to be able to hit my bobbing, lurching target.

With one last muttered curse, I pulled the trigger.

The recoil sent me staggering back, and I slammed into the side of the house, deaf and blind and sure that the stock of the gun had gone straight through my shoulder and out the other side. The thunder of the blast rolled in all directions, shaking the snow on the ground. Through the haze of smoke, I saw the muncher crumple.

"Bull's-eye," I muttered blearily.

In every window, lights snapped on, flooding the night with rectangular beam of light. As I leaned heavily against the house, struggling to regain functionality, Minka banged on the door again. "Onyx!" she shouted. "Open up!"

The sound of footsteps thudded through the house, clattering down the stairs. A second later, the door opened and Onyx poked her disgruntled face out, red hair tangled around her head. "What?" she snapped.

Minka pointed at the corpse lying in the spreading pool of blood.

"Aw, hell no. I'm not helping you cover up your crime." Onyx folded her arms across her chest, glaring at us.

"It's a zombie, Onyx," I said. I pushed myself off the wall and rubbed at my still throbbing shoulder, grimacing. I gingerly se the gun on the ground. "They're all over town."

Onyx stared at my face, searching for the joke. I had been obsessed with zombies for years, and Onyx obviously thought this was just another one of my bad jokes. Finally, she looked to Minka for answers.

Minka nodded, shoving an escaped hair out of her face. "There really are reanimated corpses wandering around town."

Onyx's eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, that's basically where we're all at right now," I agreed.

Onyx left her doorway, socked feet quiet on the cement, and padded over to the corpse. She stopped just outside the pool of blood and stared down at the muncher. "Damn," she said absently. "It's ugly." She turned and walked back to us, hands stuck in the pockets of her pajamas. "So, let me guess. You want us to form an elite zombie hunting force and head out to save the world, right?"

"You're psychic," I said, grinning. "So what do you say?"

She shrugged blithely. "Why not? I don't have anything better to do."

"Cool. You still got those machetes?" I asked. Onyx had a cache of machetes in her garage. I didn't know where she had gotten them, and I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. "And grab whatever other random shit you think you need."

Onyx gave me a little mock salute and ducked around us to get back into her house. We followed her in and shut the door behind us. I shuddered violently as the warmth pushed its way through the cold that had wrapped itself around my clothing.

"Grab me something a machete too, will you?" Minka asked, blowing on her hands. "I don't have one yet."

"No problem," Onyx promised.

"What's going on?" a new voice stuck itself into our conversation. Onyx's mom stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at us, looking worried. "What are you two doing here? Why was there a gunshot?"

"Oh, not much. Just the end of the world," Onyx replied flippantly as she bounded up the stairs. "The three of us are going to be dumbass heroes and try to stop it."

Her mom floundered for a response, hands flapping helplessly at her sides.

Onyx pushed past her and disappeared from sight. I could hear her rooting around it her room. I tried to smile comfortingly at her mom. "No worries. We know what we're doing."

"Do we?" Minka muttered in my ear.

"Not really," I replied out of the corner of my mouth, smile plastered on my face.

Onyx's mom didn't look very reassured.

Onyx reappeared, black backpack slung over her shoulders. She carried two sheathed machetes in one hand. She had on her black winter jacket and a grey hat pulled over her long, red ponytail. Her pants were checked with white and black squares, and she wore her battered gray Converse on her feet. The laces had been replaced by multicolored string.

Onyx ran down the steps and passed one of the machetes to Minka. "Bye, Mom!" Onyx said, waving. "See ya later."

"What!" her mom protested. "I never said you could go!"

"We didn't ask," Onyx replied. She opened the door for, and Mink and I stepped back out into the cold. I grumbled under my breath, unhappy. Onyx shut the door and tucked her chin down into her coat, looking like a turtle. She looked at me, one eyebrow arched. "So, what's the plan?"

I glanced around awkwardly. "Uh…"

Onyx rolled her eyes. "Of course you don't have a plan. Why did I even bother asking?"

I tried to grin and look cute as if that would make things better. All it got me was another eye roll.

"Why don't we head back to your house, Enia?" Minka suggested. "The police might still be there. We could help them or something."

I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. "It's a plan."

Onyx cast her eyes at the night sky. "We are so gonna die."

Enia: I've got a couple of things I'd like to mention, if you don't mind listening. First, some exciting news: I've been accepted to Kenyon College and am enrolled there. I plan on studying English with a creative writing major. Maybe sometime in the next few years, you'll see me on the shelves. Wouldn't that be cool?

Second: I want to make it clear that this story isn't meant to be realistic. Or logical. If you want something serious or something that makes sense, then I wouldn't recommend continuing. But if you want something random and fun, then maybe this is the right place for you to be.

Thanks for reading and please read a review.