The Happy Zombie Sunrise Home

Chapter 13 (Part 2) - Okie

I saw her watching. I mean, I’m not a total idiot.

Hughes tasted kind of musky, like mushrooms and woodsmoke and beer, obviously. And he felt nice. Strong, muscley arms. Safe. It’s not that I haven’t had boyfriends before – I’ve totally made out with about three other guys. Well. Exactly three. But no one since the zombies. I think it feels nice to just have someone else’s arms around you.

So yeah, there was all of that. Feelings. And out of the corner of my eye I saw the kitchen curtain twitch. And there was no wayI was going to be having a second kiss with Grandma watching. So I took Hughes by the arm and led him down to the end of the garden, where there’s a place with vines and trellis. I used to climb up in when I was, like, ten. We climbed over into the next-door garden.

The place was a mess. The pool was full of, like, parts. Everything was a rust-color, and it was starting to smell. I knew where the controls were, so I twisted the “drain pool” knob and we went inside. It was OK in there. I mean: tacky. Leopard skin couch, zebra wallpaper and a leather floor in the den. But no blood or anything.

I turned on the TV – power’s still working so that’s something. Hughes sat on the couch. I lay with my head in his lap and used every bit of grit and determination I ever inherited from Grandma Clio not to say “so, are you my boyfriend now?” Did not ask that. No way, no how.

Instead we watched TV a bit and his hand was resting on my belly and it was good.

There were reruns for a while – Friends and Cheers, and it always seems so weird after everything that happened that all those characters are just the same and Ted doesn’t even know that Diane’s going to end up getting eaten by a zombie. We made out a bit more, while Ross and Monica were running around freaking out about something, just as if there was anything left to freak out over.

And then the news came on. That was how we heard that the airports were closed. Indefinitely. The infection risk from Canada has been deemed too grave by the international community, said the newsreader with a completely unwarranted smile. We’re on our own, folks, he said. 

I checked the websites from my phone. The news was right. No flights leaving Canada. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Crap,” I said, “we’ll have to drive back to New York. Get mom on a plane there.”

Hughes shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. Even I can’t make British Airways take a zombie to England. Small charter plane from Toronto was your only way.”

“But…” I said, “but… the Happy Zombie Sunrise Home. Where mom was going to gambol in fields and get taught wiener-based crafts!”

He hugged me and said: “we’ll figure something out.”

We. I liked that.

We sat at the long table in the kitchen, me and Hughes at one end, Grandma Clio at the other. Mom tied to a chair in the middle, rolling her eyes but not making too much noise. Grandma had baked up a storm in our absence. Rhubarb pie in the centre of the table, but also peach cobbler, almond brittles, a loaf of freshly-made crusty white loaf and butter.

I couldn’t help it. She knows me too well. I had some pie.

I saw her smiling in a satisfied way at me. She’d told me her whole story about how mom got the Glowing Skull but I still don’t know if I believe her. Still, she does love me.

“How do you even have the, like, flour and stuff? To make the pies with, Grandma?”

“Oh,” she waved her hand airily, “your grandfather and I always kept good stocks in. You never know what the future holds. No civilization goes on forever without an apocalypse of some description.” She sniffed, “I was expecting it to be bird flu.”