Keep Busy

18.

Jane could see shadows undulating against the dense canopy of trees overhead.

The fire still burned but all the talking had stopped. It felt like decision making time.

The big guy, Jed and his creepy daughter, had come by earlier and grilled her, stripped her, checked her for injuries and left her stark naked in a cage with a group of other zombies. She'd watched as Jed had gone into a nearby trailer for fifteen minutes, then come out looking extremely agitated. He'd been angry when he was talking to her... now he seemed absolutely livid. Frank must be in there, she deduced. He did have away about him that could be considered abrasive. Whatever he had done, it sure seemed to boil Jed's blood. He was puffed up and grimacing beneath his beard, his eyes were hooded and glassing over with rage.

It was just a matter of time before the hammer fell.

There were about six other zombies in the pen with her.

They were on their way out. Most of them could barely stand much less endeavor to attack a human. Rotting sacks of meat—is how they looked, probably how they smelled and were just about as threatening. Their milky eyes lingered on her from time to time as though they recognized something they'd known a long time ago, then they'd droop back to the ground.

Jane guessed they probably didn't normally have a sentry on duty but after putting her able and now naked body in with the bloated shells of decaying flesh, they must have thought it prudent.

The pen, after all, was nothing more than an old chain link dog run with a padlock—about 20 feet long, 6 or 7 feet wide. With a descent amount of time and no watchful eyes, anyone would've been able to figure a way out.

But with the guard standing by, Jane needed to devise a different tactic.

"Hey Cooter," she said to the man with the rifle.

He glanced over his shoulder but said nothing. He looked back to the congregation around the fire circle, straining his ears in the darkness to try and garner some idea of what was happening over there.

The voices had picked up again, only softer and more ordered—conspiratorial.

"Come on Cooter, I need to talk to you for a second."

"My name isn't Cooter."

"Alright. What's your name then?"

"No reason you need to know." He still wasn't looking at her.

"Okay, okay. Look I..." She was still trying to figure out where to go with this. "I gotta pee."

"Pee then," the man said, disinterested.

"Listen—I know you think I'm just another zombie but I'm not. I'm a real girl. And I'm cold and I have to pee."

"You're right, you are just another zombie," he blurted. "And I couldn't really care less if you rotted in a heap of your own piss and shit."

"Wow. That's pretty harsh."

"Yeah... well." The man leaned against a tree, still with his back to the cage. "This is bullshit," he hissed as he looked at the congregation around the fire. "I should be over there helping with the plan—not keeping watch on some zombie slut. I'm like... second in command here."

Zombie slut? Okay, I can do that.

Even though she was technically dead, she was still pretty confident about her body. Sure, her skin didn't have that healthy glow, but she was still a mid-twenties naked girl in a cage. Any guy would have to respond to that. Frank would've been beside himself.

"Look at me. Do I look like a zombie to you?" she said, holding out her arms.

"I don't need to look at you to know you're dead."

She faltered a second, then said softly, "You wanna... touch me?"

"What did you say?" He finally turned.

"I'm still warm. Outside and inside. Come here, I can prove to you that I'm still alive."

He walked over to the cage on stiff legs. "What in the hell did you just say to me?" He looked deeply disturbed, brows creased with animalistic fury. Maybe she'd gone too far... but she continued in desperation.

"Here, give me your hand," she said reaching hers out.

"I outta kill you right now for talking that trash. The good lord in Heaven must've left the room when they created you—talking like that. I don't need some fucking disgusting zombie tryin' to throw their moldy pussy at me." He banged the butt of his rifle against the cage.

She lowered her hand.

Fuck. He's a God head.

Now she just felt embarrassed.

"You are goddamned revolting," he said, making his way back to his leaning tree.

If she could have blushed, she would have.

She'd actually been ready to use those three years of dance lessons her mom made her take in Jr. High to put on some kind of beyond the grave stripper show. She sat heavily on the dirt next to the other swaying sacks of rot and put her face in her hands.

God.

She couldn't believe she'd even considered letting this backward hillbilly touch her. Evidently, not every guy was as obsessed with sex as Frank.

Out of morbid curiosity, she let a hand drift down between her legs. Nothing even coming close to resembling a sex drive had been evident since she woke up dead but still... it was worth finding out for sure.

It was cold.

"You know," the man said from the tree, "God sent this plague—he sent you demons to rid the world of sinners. He, in His mighty wisdom, decided it was time to start with a clean slate. Now the time of judgment has passed and it's your time to die. God's sending all you demons back to hell. Jesus will walk the earth again and He will rebuild. So, you just get nice and cozy with your friends there—you'll have plenty of time to whore yourself out while you're burnin' for all eternity. Jesus is about to make things right again."

He crouched down with the rifle between his legs and smiled cruelly.

Jane looked up. "Ya know... Jesus was a zombie," she said.

He slowly turned his head, mouth agape. "My god woman, you are asking for trouble."

"No, think about it. He died and came back. And if he comes back again that would make him some kind of... double zombie, I guess."

"Jesus wasn't a goddamn zombie," growled the man. "He was resurrected by God himself."

"Right, which would make him a zombie." Here we go, she thought. She swallowed hard. "Or, I mean, he would've been... if he'd actually existed."