One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie story

Chapter Twenty-Three: What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?

It's like my whole body's blinking really, really fast. All I can do is hang onto the leash and pray since Maxx, in his excitement, shows no signs of slowing down. We're moving fast enough that it feels like mere minutes before he stops. 

I assume it's still lunch time for the most of the world. I don't even know what KFC serves for lunch...maybe chicken biscuits? It feels like forever since I've eaten anything except brains, even tough it's only been days. 

"Maxx, you'll need to stay outside." I make a huge show of draping his leash over a nearby bush. I doubt anyone'll mess with him, but I kneel down. "Don't bite anyone," I whisper. "I can't afford a lawsuit." 

"Human flesh is bland," he answers. "I would not consume it." 

I swallow. I'm pretty sure my arm is not the only human flesh he's tasted. Part of me is super curious and part of me just doesn't want to know details like that. 

"All right, well, I'll go get you something and be back in a minute. Just...stay here, okay?" I don't wait for his assent, but pull open the doors to the restaurant and get in line. 

There are a lot more choices than I remember. I opt for a lunch combo. While I hate to waste everything but the chicken, I'm not giving Maxx any soda. He can try the French fries, though. I don't think they'll hurt him. It's potatoes, after all. 

"How'd you lose your arm?" A tiny boy asks, tugging on my empty sleeve. I look down. He's about four, maybe six. I'm no great judge of age, especially in little kids. 

"Hush, Marcus, that's not nice." I assume the woman at his side is his mother, but it could be his sister. She looks around my age, at any rate. 

"I lost it in a vicious dog walking accident," I say. 

The little boy's eyes get huge. "Honest engine?"

I smile and the woman laughs. "No dear, she's kidding. She doesn't want to talk about it. I'm sorry," she says to me. "He's just so curious about everything."

"It's all right." The question does make me wonder, though, if someone can fix my arm. I don't want people to see me as the local one-armed freak. 

"Order # 34."

I walk up to the counter, and take the bag from the cashier. It's a short walk from there to the soda fountain to get some water. The little boy waves at me as I put the lid on the cup and leave. 

Maxx looks up from licking his paw when I squat down and open the bag. "It smells odd." 

"That's because it's cooked and seasoned." I take the sandwich out, dismantle it, and hold the chicken patty out to him. I expect him to act like a typical dog and devour it, but he doesn't. Instead, he bites a piece off and chews it before swallowing.

"I like it," Maxx states. "Is chicken available everywhere?"

I nod. "Some people are strict vegetarians, but others just like a variety in their diet, so yeah. Pretty much everywhere serves chicken in one form or another."

"I approve of Atlanta," he announces. 

I laugh. "Are you ready to explore more?"

Maxx mouths the rest of the chicken from my palm, chews and swallows. "Yes. Where should we go next?"

I think about it. "Can you transport us somewhere you've never been?"

He shakes his head. "I must have a point of reference first." 

Well, that makes things a little problematic. With only one arm, I can't drive and only service pets are allowed on the MARTA system. "We can walk to the Marietta National Cemetery, if you like. It's not too far from here."