said tentatively, not wanting to give the wrong impression regarding her intentions. "I was thinking about what you said, about the ZRA gaining credibility and support."
"It will happen," he said, sounding a bit too eager. "Unless someone does something about it."
Now she let an edge creep into her voice, unwilling to be led like so much cattle. "And what do you plan on doing about it?"
"Can you meet with us tomorrow night?"
"Us?"
"There are six of us, including the two parents that I mentioned this afternoon."
"Peter, I'm not going to fight zombies. That's a job for the police."
"We're not fighters," he said. "I swear. We're working on a campaign to combat the ZRA ."
"Okay then," she said. She'd have to lie to Martin. "I'll come."
He was overjoyed. He quickly gave her the where and when, which she sloppily scribbled onto a tissue, and then hung up. For a few moments, Abby just stood there, phone in one hand, tissue and pen in the other. She was breathing heavily, so frightened of the risk she was about to take. It wasn't the zombies that scared her. She wasn't going out to fight zombies, just fight against them. But the risk to her relationship with Martin might be more than she could bear.
Later, when she was at home and sitting at the table with her husband and her son, her mind kept floating back to the meeting that next night. She told Martin that she had to work late to clean up a mess that she herself had made. She promised that it was a one-time thing even though she knew it wouldn't be. Her lies sounded transparent and ugly, but Martin didn't question her. Why would he? She had never been dishonest with him. Not even so much as a white lie had ever crossed her lips. If he sensed her tension, he ignored it. Sammy was his usual two year old self talking about Diego and Thomas the Tank Engine .
When dinner was over, they cleared the plates and put Sammy to bed. Abby desperately wanted to be alone but curled up on the couch next to Martin anyway. They sat there in front of the television, two people in completely different realities. When they finally went to bed, Abby couldn't even say which shows had been on, let alone what they were about. It took her a long time to fall asleep and when she slept she dreamt of the undead.
***
" WHITAKER , I need a favor," Abby said when it was close to the end of her shift.
He looked up at her, the shadows under his eyelids deepening. He did not like it that she would ask him for a favor. He really didn't like it that he felt as if he couldn't say no.
"I told Martin that I'm working late. If he calls, I need you to tell him that I'm in the bathroom and then call me on my cell phone immediately."
Whitaker's eyes widened and the shadows fled. "You want me to lie to your husband?"
"He probably won't even call."
"Where are you going?"
"That's none of your business," she said firmly.
"Really?" he asked with a knowing tone. "I guess not."
Abby huffed. "His birthday is coming up and I need some time to buy some things. Are you satisfied?"
Whitaker looked at her doubtfully. "Is that all?"
She jabbed a finger into his face. "If you say one word to Martin, I'll string you up by your pinky toes."
"Okay, fine. But we're even after this," he said.
"Whatever," she said, not caring for any leverage she might have had over him. She would never have used it anyway. It wasn't her style.
When 5:00 came, she grabbed her coat and left the gym with a quick reminder to Whitaker regarding their deal. He nodded ( yeah, yeah ) and walked away. There were two hours before her scheduled meeting with Peter. The meeting was in Queens. The train ride would take about forty five minutes, which gave her plenty of time to have some dinner before running out there. She went to one of her favorite delis and ordered one of her favorite hot sandwiches. But she wasn't very hungry. After the
"It will happen," he said, sounding a bit too eager. "Unless someone does something about it."
Now she let an edge creep into her voice, unwilling to be led like so much cattle. "And what do you plan on doing about it?"
"Can you meet with us tomorrow night?"
"Us?"
"There are six of us, including the two parents that I mentioned this afternoon."
"Peter, I'm not going to fight zombies. That's a job for the police."
"We're not fighters," he said. "I swear. We're working on a campaign to combat the ZRA ."
"Okay then," she said. She'd have to lie to Martin. "I'll come."
He was overjoyed. He quickly gave her the where and when, which she sloppily scribbled onto a tissue, and then hung up. For a few moments, Abby just stood there, phone in one hand, tissue and pen in the other. She was breathing heavily, so frightened of the risk she was about to take. It wasn't the zombies that scared her. She wasn't going out to fight zombies, just fight against them. But the risk to her relationship with Martin might be more than she could bear.
Later, when she was at home and sitting at the table with her husband and her son, her mind kept floating back to the meeting that next night. She told Martin that she had to work late to clean up a mess that she herself had made. She promised that it was a one-time thing even though she knew it wouldn't be. Her lies sounded transparent and ugly, but Martin didn't question her. Why would he? She had never been dishonest with him. Not even so much as a white lie had ever crossed her lips. If he sensed her tension, he ignored it. Sammy was his usual two year old self talking about Diego and Thomas the Tank Engine .
When dinner was over, they cleared the plates and put Sammy to bed. Abby desperately wanted to be alone but curled up on the couch next to Martin anyway. They sat there in front of the television, two people in completely different realities. When they finally went to bed, Abby couldn't even say which shows had been on, let alone what they were about. It took her a long time to fall asleep and when she slept she dreamt of the undead.
***
" WHITAKER , I need a favor," Abby said when it was close to the end of her shift.
He looked up at her, the shadows under his eyelids deepening. He did not like it that she would ask him for a favor. He really didn't like it that he felt as if he couldn't say no.
"I told Martin that I'm working late. If he calls, I need you to tell him that I'm in the bathroom and then call me on my cell phone immediately."
Whitaker's eyes widened and the shadows fled. "You want me to lie to your husband?"
"He probably won't even call."
"Where are you going?"
"That's none of your business," she said firmly.
"Really?" he asked with a knowing tone. "I guess not."
Abby huffed. "His birthday is coming up and I need some time to buy some things. Are you satisfied?"
Whitaker looked at her doubtfully. "Is that all?"
She jabbed a finger into his face. "If you say one word to Martin, I'll string you up by your pinky toes."
"Okay, fine. But we're even after this," he said.
"Whatever," she said, not caring for any leverage she might have had over him. She would never have used it anyway. It wasn't her style.
When 5:00 came, she grabbed her coat and left the gym with a quick reminder to Whitaker regarding their deal. He nodded ( yeah, yeah ) and walked away. There were two hours before her scheduled meeting with Peter. The meeting was in Queens. The train ride would take about forty five minutes, which gave her plenty of time to have some dinner before running out there. She went to one of her favorite delis and ordered one of her favorite hot sandwiches. But she wasn't very hungry. After the
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