Pathogen, Ch. 6

"Pistol?" Julian called, scaring Marnie half to death. She was so locked into her staring contest with Zombie Trevor that she forgot Julian was even there. Zombie Trevor's head cocked sideways at the sound of Julian's voice, breaking eye contact with Marnie at the same time.

This was not good.

"Julian... head to the door," she said, her voice as quiet and calm as she could make it. "Do it now, but go slow. Okay?"

"Uh... why?" Julian asked, not bothering to whisper like Marnie. "In here, safe; out there, flesh-hungry psycho lady! Remember?"

Marnie's heart hammered behind her tonsils as she watched Zombie Trevor crawl toward her on all fours, his movements thankfully slow but unnaturally jerky like he didn't have full control of them. "In here not safe!" she hissed, trying very hard not to shout. "Just do what I said, and don't ask dumb questions!"

"Pistol, you're starting to scare me," Julian muttered. She heard him scoot closer to her, until he entered her peripheral vision a few seconds later. His hands appeared on the counter beside her, and shortly after the top of his head peeked over them. "What is it? C'mon, I'm a big boy. I can handle - Holy crap on a cracker!!"

Before Marnie could clap her hands over Julian's face to muzzle him, Zombie Trevor skittered across the floor like a cockroach on a hot griddle. She hardly had time to yank Julian out of the way before Zombie Trevor vaulted over the counter in a single bound, his teeth narrowly missing the top of Julian's left ear. This was just her luck: Marnie had never given much thought to surviving a zombie apocalypse, but was confident she could outwit or at least out-maneuver a slow zombie. Why did Trevor have to turn into a fast zombie? It just wasn't fair.

By the time that thought had crossed her mind, Zombie Trevor had chased them across the butcher shop lobby. Marnie always thought zombies were stupid - at least, that's what Hollywood and countless video games led her to believe - but Zombie Trevor zipped around them a second later, blocking the door with his body. Marnie's mind worked a mile a minute, trying to find another exit, while she kept one eye trained on their undead classmate. The front door was no longer an option, but there were a lot of windows around. It would be easy enough to break one, but Zombie Trevor would probably eat them before she could. The next obvious choice was the back door, leading into the alley. The problem would be distracting Zombie Trevor long enough to haul ass toward it. He was still faster than both her and Julian, though, meaning at least one of them wouldn't make it out.

"H-Hey, Trev," Julian gulped, a nervous smile on his lips. "Y-You remember us, don't you? We're friends. Friends don't eat friends, right?"

Marnie started to tell Julian to cork it - she was trying to think after all - until she actually looked at Zombie Trevor again. His head was still tilted to the side like a St. Bernard puppy, while a mixture of drool and meat juice dribbled from his gaping lips. Either she was crazy, or Zombie Trevor was actually listening to Julian.

"Fruh... Frenn...?"

The gargled, snarling noise Zombie Trevor made barely sounded like words to Marnie, but Julian nodded ecstatically.

"Y-Yeah, Buddy," he said. "Friends. That's right! G-Good Zombie... Little Trevvie want a snack?"

The droopy corners of Zombie Trevor's mouth curved upwards in the most gruesome approximation of a smile Marnie had ever seen. "Snaah," he growled, the bones in his neck cracking as he wobbled his head up and down. While Marnie was still in disbelief that any of this was even happening, Zombie Trevor lunged at Julian again.

"No!" Marnie snapped. Without thinking, she grabbed a folded-up newspaper off the counter behind her and rolled it up, smacking Zombie Trevor in the forehead with it. "Bad Trevor! Friends are not snacks!"

Marnie was sure she'd signed her own death certificate, but to her surprise Zombie Trevor backed off. With a whimper that was almost pitiful, he rubbed his head where she hit him, then dropped to the floor like a glum toddler. "Suh... Saw-wee..." he garbled.

"Aww, it's okay, Buddy," Julian cooed, kneeling in front of the pouting zombie. "We know you can't help it, and we're not gonna hurt you. She's very sorry she hit you. Aren't you, Pistol?"

"Julian, have you lost all your marbles?!" Marnie hissed. "You're talking to a man-eating, flesh-hungry monster like he's a dog!"

"He just doesn't know any better," Julian snapped back. "How would you feel if you just woke up dead and ravenously hungry one day?! My guess is not great!" With obvious hesitation, Julian slowly moved closer and stretched out his hand toward Zombie Trevor's head. When his fingers brushed their undead friend's straw-like brown hair, Zombie Trevor jolted and recoiled at first. After a few minutes, though, he accepted Julian's touch like a half-feral cat. Before long, his tongue was hanging out and his right foot was tapping the floor to the rhythm of Julian's gentle scratches on his scalp.

"See?" Julian grinned. "Who's a good zombo? You are! Yes, you is! Good Trevvie... nice Trevvie!" With that nervous smile still fixed on his face, Julian glanced up at Marnie. "Pistol, get Trevvie Boy a snack, please," he said, allowing the fear in his voice to be heard. "I mean... j-just in case."

***

"Julian, you can't be serious about this!" Marnie snapped. "He's a monster, not a stray cat!"

Julian stopped adjusting the belt he'd fixed around Zombie Trevor's neck and looked up at Marnie, a defiant scowl on his face. "Someone has to watch him, Pistol," he argued. "We can't just let him run wild in the streets. Look at him: he's hungry and scared... and besides, people could get hurt!"

"Okay, we agree on that last point," she muttered. "It just doesn't seem like a good idea to bring him to your apartment! What would your dad say?!"

Julian bit his lip and looked away, offering Zombie Trevor a raw meatball from the bin beside him. "Um... I was actually thinking we take him to your place," he mumbled.

If this was a dream, Marnie would very much like to wake up now. "My place?!" she squawked. "No way, Dude! Nuh-uh!"

"C'mon, Pistol," he begged. "You can lock him in the basement or the garage. Your mom won't even know he's there, and he'll be totally safe. It's a win-win!"

"Then why do I suddenly feel like a loser?" Marnie grumbled.

Julian offered no rebuttal. For a moment, Marnie thought she'd talked him out of the whole nutty idea, but - as usual - she was wrong. Before she could stop him, Julian put his arms around Zombie Trevor and pulled him into a sideways hug. His puppy-dog brown eyes grew as wide as he could make them while his lower lip trembled, and he let out a small whine that would soften the heart of the coldest and cruelest politician.

"Pwease, Marnie?" he begged, batting his eyelashes sweetly. She couldn't swear to it, but she thought he actually had tears in his eyes.

"Okay, fine," she groaned. "Just knock it off! I can't, with those eyes and that face!"

Like magic, Julian dried up and leapt to his feet, a huge smile on his face. "Really?! Thanks, Pistol!" The next thing Marnie knew, Julian grabbed her in a hug and his lips were on her cheek. "You're the best," he giggled. "I'll make it up to you soon, I promise!"

Marnie pushed him off as fast as she could, ignoring her flip-flopping stomach and the kiss tingling on her cheek. "Don't thank me yet," she muttered. "First, we gotta figure out how to get him to my house. The fewer people that know about this, the better."

Julian sat down on the floor again pensively and fed Zombie Trevor another meatball. A few seconds later, he pulled something out of their living-impaired friend's breast pocket. It looked like a heavy piece of cardstock - maybe a business card or a small photo - but Marnie couldn't really see what was on it. Whatever it was, it made Julian's eyes sparkle with inspiration.

"I've got an idea," he sighed, "...but you're probably not gonna like it."