ZombiePalooza - Anthology

#TeamInsidesAndEntrails Pt. II - @tamoja's "Rena"

She strolled into the cafe and straight to the back where the food was. Her fingers rub the cool metal of the shelves that mostly collect dust now that no one added cans or bins or bags of flour to them.

Peaches. There were peaches left. Six large cans to be precise. She should have spread them out. She should have made herself eat them between the good things so it didn't seem so depressing. She takes down a big can and grabs the opener. Tomorrow she'll bike further and take the wagon. There was still plenty of food around, you just had to be in the right frame of mind to go looking. It was a dangerous job, you'd think the monsters left over wouldn't care about cans of food they were never going to eat, but they did. They never let you have anything without paying the price. And the price was putting them out of their misery, or letting them put you out of yours.

The open can reeked of blood and tin, and the fat orange peaches slipped around as her fork chased them. Slimy. Acid tasting. Wet. She closed her eyes and remembered Robbie. Robbie with the dark hair and black square glasses. Robbie with the freckles across his nose and the dimples in his chin. Robbie who wanted to be a marine biologist. It worked for a few minutes, thinking and chewing. Until the peaches grumbled on their way down and threatened to revolt. It wasn't worth puking over. That was enough to get through today anyway. The slimy taste still coated her tongue, and she gagged. She walked into the kitchen in search of the vat. There was still quite a bit of the grey solid grease in there. She dipped her finger in and coated her mouth. The texture was horrid, but the taste was wonderful. Bacon and burgers and greasy things that used to be her favorite. Peach-problem solved.

The sun was high. The heat of the day. Uncle Matt said never stay outdoors in the heat of the day unless there's an emergency. There isn't enough water to replace what you lose in the hot hours, and it was a good time to go to work.

She trudged down to the butcher's, pedaling as slowly as she could without having the bike tip on its side with her underneath it. She worried about that sometimes, being trapped beneath the bike. They'd come for her. They'd come and fight over bits of cheek and bone and pick pick pick until there wasn't much left. And then she didn't know what would happen after that. She couldn't get the sickness, mama and the bus people proved that. She used to go visit mama every day on that bus. Just stand in the front and talk to mama about how many things were changing. But after she tried to hug her, she knew, mama wasn't mama anymore and didn't give a rats ass about her visits. It took three weeks for her missing skin to heal up, but it was a lesson she probably needed. Now, being alone, and with God dead and all, she supposed she'd just stay pinned under that bike for eternity if she got pinned. It was a good bike, but not eternity good.

The butcher's store was one of her favorite places. Shining metal and lots of space. It was the one place that never looked like it was waiting for someone to come in and have a seat. People didn't sit at the butcher's. You ordered from the counter and went on your way. Momma used to flirt with the butcher. She called it 'being friendly', but it was the same thing. And her cheeks always turned pink when it was her turn.

They went out once. Rena remembered her mum putting on makeup and wearing a sparkly dress that puffed out when she spun in a circle. It was blue, like the sky on a good day, and Rena told her she looked like a movie star. When he came to pick her up, Rena remembered being shocked. Without the white clothes and the apron, he looked dashing. She didn't know how her mom knew he would, but mum was always pretty smart about things.

She opened up the shop and trudged quietly into the back, not stopping to run her fingers across the cool metal. Not today. Today is about getting the work done. She takes a big clean breath and opens the freezer. Closet. It didn't seem right calling it a freezer now that it wasn't cold. Now it was a meat closet.