can’t leave a dangerous head out in the wild like that. What if someone is walking through here and doesn’t see it? What then? A dangerous head like that could kill someone.” I scowled and stood back up, releasing a hearty sneeze. “Go find the damn head.”
Nova stood back up, giving me a hard glare. “No, you go find the damn head if it’s so important to you.” She turned away and started looking through the pockets of another of the dead bodies at our feet, looking for anything useful. “No one would be stupid enough to walk through a field barefoot anyway. People wear shoes, Nina!” She pocketed several items, not bothering to show me what they were, which only pissed me off more, since we were supposed to be sharing everything.
“That’s a dangerous head, Nova. Go kill it.” I bent back down and started to fumble in my deader’s pockets, finding some gum and a lighter, plus a picture of a pretty woman. The picture did nothing to temper my growing anger. “Do they not deserve any goddamn respect?” I muttered to myself more than her. So I was surprised when Nova replied.
“No, no they don’t. I hate them all and they deserve to die a horrible death.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “You’re being a dick now.”
“Since when did you become a union leader for the Undead Society? These aren’t humans anymore,” she snarled.
“I know that,” I yelled and looked away, feeling my cheeks heat. What the hell was happening to me? A couple of months back in a real society and I’m turning soft. “Can you just go and get the damn head?” My voice softened. “Please.”
She scowled at me but stormed off in the general vicinity of where the head had landed, and I continued looting through the pockets of the deaders.
I remembered watching an old black-and-white apocalyptic film with my husband, way back before the world ended, and I remembered wondering why they never searched the pockets of the dead. I mean sure, it’s gross, but the whole world was gross now. Well, maybe not all of it. The world was actually quite beautiful now, without pollution and man destroying everything. Having been left to grow wild, Mother Nature had thrived and was truly excelling in her job description. But the rest of the world was ugly, and full of death and disease.
So a little looting from the dead? Pfft, that was nothing. If it meant living or dying then I’d gladly loot a hundred deaders. You never knew what crap people had previously carried with them, and on more than one occasion it had proved hugely beneficial. Unfortunately, every once in a while you found something utterly disgusting. Once I found shit in someone’s pocket—actual shit! It was disgusting and I couldn’t get rid of the smell from under my fingernails for days afterwards.
I slipped the photo of the beautiful woman back into the pocket of the headless deader and called it quits. Nova came back over, still scowling, but she had clearly done what I’d asked of her. I fell into step beside her and we continued our walk back to the truck in total silence.
SIX.
Our truck was still there, with only a few remaining deaders nearby, thankfully. Enough that it was a pain in the ass, but not so many that it was a major problem for us. We killed the ones closest to the truck—well, Nova did most of the killing, since she was so damn quick about it—and we climbed in hastily before the others got close enough to eat our brains, and then we pulled out of the gas station.
“It never gets old, right?” She laughed, offering me her hand for a high-five.
I cocked an eyebrow at her and scowled.
“Come on! You know you want to bump this.” She laughed even louder, but finally relented when I made no move to high five or fist-bump her. “You’re always so serious, girl,” she pouted. “You need to lighten up or this is going to be one seriously boring road trip.”
“I just don’t see any of this as funny or amusing, and I
Nova stood back up, giving me a hard glare. “No, you go find the damn head if it’s so important to you.” She turned away and started looking through the pockets of another of the dead bodies at our feet, looking for anything useful. “No one would be stupid enough to walk through a field barefoot anyway. People wear shoes, Nina!” She pocketed several items, not bothering to show me what they were, which only pissed me off more, since we were supposed to be sharing everything.
“That’s a dangerous head, Nova. Go kill it.” I bent back down and started to fumble in my deader’s pockets, finding some gum and a lighter, plus a picture of a pretty woman. The picture did nothing to temper my growing anger. “Do they not deserve any goddamn respect?” I muttered to myself more than her. So I was surprised when Nova replied.
“No, no they don’t. I hate them all and they deserve to die a horrible death.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “You’re being a dick now.”
“Since when did you become a union leader for the Undead Society? These aren’t humans anymore,” she snarled.
“I know that,” I yelled and looked away, feeling my cheeks heat. What the hell was happening to me? A couple of months back in a real society and I’m turning soft. “Can you just go and get the damn head?” My voice softened. “Please.”
She scowled at me but stormed off in the general vicinity of where the head had landed, and I continued looting through the pockets of the deaders.
I remembered watching an old black-and-white apocalyptic film with my husband, way back before the world ended, and I remembered wondering why they never searched the pockets of the dead. I mean sure, it’s gross, but the whole world was gross now. Well, maybe not all of it. The world was actually quite beautiful now, without pollution and man destroying everything. Having been left to grow wild, Mother Nature had thrived and was truly excelling in her job description. But the rest of the world was ugly, and full of death and disease.
So a little looting from the dead? Pfft, that was nothing. If it meant living or dying then I’d gladly loot a hundred deaders. You never knew what crap people had previously carried with them, and on more than one occasion it had proved hugely beneficial. Unfortunately, every once in a while you found something utterly disgusting. Once I found shit in someone’s pocket—actual shit! It was disgusting and I couldn’t get rid of the smell from under my fingernails for days afterwards.
I slipped the photo of the beautiful woman back into the pocket of the headless deader and called it quits. Nova came back over, still scowling, but she had clearly done what I’d asked of her. I fell into step beside her and we continued our walk back to the truck in total silence.
SIX.
Our truck was still there, with only a few remaining deaders nearby, thankfully. Enough that it was a pain in the ass, but not so many that it was a major problem for us. We killed the ones closest to the truck—well, Nova did most of the killing, since she was so damn quick about it—and we climbed in hastily before the others got close enough to eat our brains, and then we pulled out of the gas station.
“It never gets old, right?” She laughed, offering me her hand for a high-five.
I cocked an eyebrow at her and scowled.
“Come on! You know you want to bump this.” She laughed even louder, but finally relented when I made no move to high five or fist-bump her. “You’re always so serious, girl,” she pouted. “You need to lighten up or this is going to be one seriously boring road trip.”
“I just don’t see any of this as funny or amusing, and I
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