WE CAN SHOOT IF WE WANT TO, WE CAN LEAVE OUR FRIENDS BEHIND
'CAUSE OUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD, AND IF THEY'RE NOT DEAD,
WELL THEY'RE STILL A WASTE OF TIME
Winnfield stood in awe of the massive metal machine. It was perfect.
"God, can you imagine?" she muttered to herself.
"A tank?"
Tallahassee stood behind her, his eyes considering the broken down heap of junk. "Now, if the people driving this thing couldn't use it to take down zombies, what makes you think that you could?"
"I was just saying...It would be awesome."
"It would, but good luck gettin' around those tight suburban corners." He moved his hands as though driving a car, as he said this.
"Who needs corners when you have a tank?"
He nodded as he considered her point.
Remaining a spectator to the conversation, Columbus thought back to the new pair of survivors they had crossed paths with only hours ago. Despite being weapon and car-jacked by the two, the older of two sisters, Wichita, had caught his attention and now he couldn't stop thinking about her. Aside from Winnfield, she had been the first girl he'd seen since his neighbour had taken shelter in his apartment; only to turn into a zombie and try to eat him. He wasn't having the best luck with women. Plus, he couldn't see himself starting that kind of relationship with Winnfield. She was probably too old for him and he assumed that Tallahassee would probably shoot him – or in their current gun-less situation, clobber him to death with the rock he was holding – if he were to show that kind of inclination towards her.
The first young woman he comes across who seems potential girlfriend material and she leaves him for dead.
He broke from his thoughts as Winnfield and Tallahassee made their way back towards him, Winnfield laughing at something Tallahassee had said.
"Find anything yet, kid?" she asked him.
He shook his head.
"Ah, well. It's not that bad walking. A little slow, sure, but- Whoa, look at that!" she interrupted herself. She jogged over to a spot a few metres away from them.
Catching up to her, Columbus spotted the body of a zombie with a foot clenched in its mouth, stuck under the tires of a small Daewoo.
"Hey, that kind of reminds me of something," Columbus began once they continued walking down the road, "I saw this guy, a little while back, riding one of those 'serious-Tour-de-France' bikes, and he's peddling and the zombies head is like caught in the gear. You know, with the hair in the chain just like going around". He made a circular motion with his index finger.
"That is cool", Tallahassee laughed, "but I once saw this construction worker, I shit you not, and he's on a steamroller. You ever roll a tube of toothpaste up from the bottom?"
"Yeah, I always roll it up from the bottom", Columbus replied as if it was a stupid question.
"Well, the zombie's head is the cap."
Winnfield's expression flickered somewhere between amusement and disgust.
"Are you one of those guy's that always tries to one-up everyone else's story?" Columbus asked.
"No," Tallahassee defended, "I knew a guy way worse at that than me."
"Whatever, let's just find a car."
"Oh yeah, which reminds me. I never had headaches like this until your ass came on board. See Winnfield here? Quiet. Smart. Knows how and when to keep her yap-trap snapped..."
She looked over at him as he said this then exchanged glance with Columbus before facing forward once more. She was beginning to feel sort of useless; without any guns to shoot, no zombies to dispose of, or at least something to lug around with her, she was almost bored. Tallahassee was carrying her bag for her, having unloaded his own onto Columbus and all she had to carry was that same old pick-axe from earlier. And it wasn't even that heavy.
"...I mean, do what you want with a man, but do not fuck with his Cadillac."
"Hey, there's a nice minivan."
Columbus stopped near the dark-green vehicle before beginning to approach it for a closer look. As long as it wasn't harbouring its previous driver, previously-living driver, there was a fair chance that they could get it running and be on the road within a few minutes time.
But good-condition or not, it was still no Cadillac.
Tallahassee finally found some use for his rock, throwing it so hard through the back window that it managed to make it through to the other side. Spotting a crowbar by the van's front tire, he climbed up onto the bonnet and got to work on the other windows, the lights and whatever else he found smash-worthy.
Winnfield stood looking-on, with her arms folded across her stomach and that little, amused smile back on her face. Beside her, Columbus waited for the tantrum to be over, checking his watch and glancing around for something more interesting to look at.
"I want my Caddy back!" Tallahassee cried whilst taking out the taillights, "Stupid bitches!"
"Better out than in," Winnfield said to Columbus. He could only agree with her, hoping that this release of steam would stop Tallahassee from committing any heinous acts of aggression against him.
"He looks like a Neanderthal," Columbus commented. Tallahassee tossed the crowbar into the air behind him and jumped down.
"Yeah," Winnfield agreed absent-mindedly, with her eyes on the man in a different way.
"I think I pulled something," Tallahassee groaned, clutching the back of his thigh.
"Feel better, though?" Winnfield asked, clapping him gently on the shoulder.
"Much," he told her.
They walked on for a couple of metres before it became apparent that Tallahassee was not about to let go what had happened.
"You think the three of us are smart enough to come up with a con like that?"
Winnfield and Columbus exchanged doubtful looks.
"Oh, man. You hesitated," Tallahassee caught on.
"I don't understand people sometimes. It's not like we have to compete for anything. It's a giant free-for-all now."
"Did you ever see Dawn of the Dead?" Columbus asked, "People started turning against each other 'cause they're scared. I mean, how much do you really trust us?"
Tallahassee looked at her, waiting to hear her reply. She considered him, then smiled.
"I trust you guys. It's like war; you got my back, I got yours, no man gets left behind. I guess it's just easier to stick with what and who you know than to take a chance."
And sometimes it turns out better to take that chance, she wanted to add, glancing at Tallahassee again. As he turned his head to look at her, she flicked her eyes down to the road, pretending not to notice his smirk.
"Question: Is it better to be smart? Or lucky?" he suddenly asked.
He took off at a fast jog, Winnfield not far behind and Columbus trying his best to keep up with both Tallahassee's duffle-bag and his own suitcase in tow. They were moving into a more suburban-looking part of the town, near houses and parks. Winnfield spotted what Tallahassee had been talking about and was now grinning.
Slowing to a walk, Winnfield approached the big yellow Hummer eagerly, but Tallahassee put his arm out to halt her.
"Whoa-o-o," he stopped. Approaching the driver's side door cautiously, taking whatever chance he to act as 'the big-brave-man', he grabbed the doorhandle and pulled it open, revealing two severed hands still attached to the steering wheel.
"Heh-heh." He took a handkerchief from his pocket and attempted to pry the rigor mortised-hand off of its final position, but found that it had a rather tight grip. When he finally managed to remove it, he stepped back and showed it to Columbus, forcing up its middle finger at him.
"That's nice," Columbus frowned.
Winnfield took the opportunity to reach in past Tallahassee in order to remove the second hand. It came off just as smoothly as the first. Holding it under the wrist with a piece of cloth she'd found on the ground, she examined it curiously before turning to the man next to her.
"High-five!" he said. They slapped the pieces of dead-flesh together, then tried to get them to do fist-bumps.
"Hey, um, when you guys are done playing with some dead guy's hands, do you think maybe we could go?" Columbus asked.
Winnfield turned to give him a sheepish smile, but Tallahassee seemed to think it a good opportunity to use one of the hand's fingers to poke her in the cheek. She slapped it away and rubbed savagely at skin.
"That is so gross! You bastard!"
He dodged the hand that she threw at him and Columbus continued to look on, slowly growing used to the pair's morbid antics.
By the end of it, both parties were laughing like kids, but that wasn't the last of what their new vehicle had in store for them.
Realizing that he was going to be riding in the back again, Columbus opened the rear door, first checking for zombies, and noticed a large duffel bag on the seat.
"Hey, guys?"
"What?" Winnfield reached his side, her on his shoulder as she craned her neck for a look inside. Meanwhile, Tallahassee opened the opposite door and leaned in. Columbus unzipped the bag and pulled it open to reveal...a heck of a lot of guns.
"No. Way."
It was like Christmas had come early. Tallahassee was suddenly twelve years-old again. "Thank God for rednecks! This is a really big truck. And those are some really big guns."
He was absolutely beaming.
Winnfield leant against the driver's side door as she watched him shoot off a couple of Uzis, before turning around to get to work on starting the car. Within seconds, the engine roared to life.
"Have you boosted many cars before?" Columbus asked her, suspiciously.
"When you're raised by three brothers, well... You pick shit up."
She hopped into the driver's seat, thought about it, then slid over into the passenger side. She'd let Tallahassee take this one, even if was to make him just that little bit happier.
As they had all been hoping, minutes later they were on the road, driving towards...well, just driving, really. But with a glance over at Tallahassee every now and then, Winnfield could tell from his determined grin what he had in mind.
"How do you expect to catch up with them?"
"They gotta stop some time."
"You know," Columbus began, leaning forward from the backseat, "they say 'He who seeks revenge should dig two graves.' "
"Right, two graves; one for the big chick, one for the little chick."
"You are scary happy," Columbus commented.
Tallahassee chuckled and nodded, playfully pushing Winnfield in the shoulder as she sat in the seat next to him shaking her head. His high spirits were contagious.
"Why can't we just forget about those girls and head home?" Columbus asked.
"Home?" Winnfield frowned.
"Well, you know, wherever home used to be."
"You wanna talk about home?" Tallahassee's good mood seemed to evaporate before their eyes. "Home for me was a...puppy named Buck. Cutest little dog ever."
Winnfield smiled, but as she looked closer, she could sense something in his eyes. She had always been good at picking up on when guys were lying. Not so much when girls were, it turned out. Then again she had never grown up with sisters. Her brow creased but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"And then all those fuckin' zombies...I lost him. And there ain't no gettin' him back. So, uh, I guess I'm looking for a new home. By tomorrow, we could maybe be skinny-dippin' in Yellowstone River."
He looked to Winnfield for her opinion on this activity. She did a poor job of suppressing a smirk.
"Aw, look at her blushin' ".
"Asshole."
"Alright, alright. Then maybe we could be swingin' from the chandeliers in the Playboy mansion," he suggested to Columbus.
"Zombie-bunnies," Winnfield thought aloud. Columbus screwed up his face at the thought.
"But today," Tallahassee continued, "We got us a Vortec six-litre, fuckin' V8, a box full of hollow-points and, God-willin' a G.D. Twinkie. Gotta enjoy the little things."
With a nod of agreement, Winnfield turned her head to look back at Columbus, and found him jotting something down on a piece of paper.
"What's that you got there?"
He glanced up.
"Uhh. Oh, it's nothing really. I just have this kind of list. My rules for surviving Zombieland."
"Mind if I take a look?"
He gave her one his nervous headshakes and passed the bit the pit of paper to her outstretched hand.
She scanned the list of thirty-two items, nodding every so often in approval. She passed them back to him.
"Well, they seem to have worked out for you this far. But what do you plan on doing with them? Give them to the next generations?"
"Next generations?" Tallahassee asked, finding the concept of having to repopulate the world both amusing and attractive.
She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."
"I certainly hope that I do."
"Just keep driving."