Love is Dead

The Unlikely Meeting with a...Zom-Boy?

A sudden noise drew my attention; a loud crash from the back of the store. My heart raced as I peered around the shelf. Another survivor? Or worse—more undead? I had to know.

Cautiously, I investigated toward the sound, trying to stay silent. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, to hide, but curiosity tugged at me like a stubborn weed. What if there was someone else? Someone who could help me navigate this hell? I was lonely- Its been months.

With one final breath, I turned the corner, ready for whatever lay ahead.

And soon my brown eyes met the brown and blue stare of the young zombie being behind the counter. His hair was an ashy white, his skin was grey and he was missing patches of his skin. His long bony hand reached out at me. And before I knew it, My hand had swung down on the creature with the long rusted pole I had clutched so tightly in my hand.

"Ew! Ew! EW! Ugh these things are just getting on my nerves! I can't believe I got my hopes up." I exclaim as almost attempt to shake the germs off the rusty pole of mine which had become my new weapon.

"Wait.." A raspy voice called out. My eyes widened and turned around to look for the person who spoke but my eyes met the undead mans' once again.

His eyes glimmered oddly—one a deep brown, the other an icy blue, giving him an unsettling yet oddly captivating appearance. I froze, the pole hanging limply at my side. Did he just... talk? Yeah... maybe not. I raise my pole again to knock the zombie down again when..

"Wait," he repeated, his voice a slurred mess but surprisingly coherent. "I'm not gonna bite you. I promise."

"Yeah, right," I scoffed, backing away slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. "You look like you just crawled out of a grave." I would've laughed at my own joke if I weren't scared shitless talking to a zombie. Zombies never talk in the movies, what the hell do I do now?!

"I kinda did," he admitted, a sheepish grin breaking through the decay on his face. "But I'm not like the others. I'm not here to eat you. Just trying to survive, like you. I need help."

"Survive?" I echoed, my skepticism laced with intrigue. "How do I know you're not just playing dead?"

He tilted his head, making a strange gesture that almost seemed endearing despite the grotesque circumstances. "If I wanted to eat you, I'd be all over you by now. Look, I'm just... not that kind of zombie."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Okay, so what kind of zombie are you?"

"Name's Logan," he said, his voice a mix of gravel and humor. "And honestly, I'm just trying to find some snacks—of the non-human variety, if you catch my drift." His half-skinned hand gestured to the cans and suddenly showed a can of chef boyardee in his other hand.

"So YOU're the one eating my favorite ration!" I exclaim mad but surprised.

For a moment, I couldn't help but smile. Here was this ridiculous-looking, undead guy just trying to get an actual good bite of food, just like me.

"So... you're telling me you're a zombie with taste?" I say trying to tone down my anger.

He shrugged, the motion exaggerated by the loose fabric of his oversized and ripped deep teal sweater. "Hey, a guy's gotta have standards, right?" He seemed to grimace. "Besides I find the idea of eating something in which I don't know what it has eaten or been extremely grotesque."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound strange and out of place in the bleak atmosphere. "I guess so. But what if you're just trying to trick me?"

"Then you're the luckiest girl in the apocalypse," he shot back, his tone playful. "Look, if I wanted you as a snack, I wouldn't be standing here, would I?" As his humor seeped through my apprehension, I realized I was tired of being alone. Maybe this was my chance to team up with someone who understood the madness of our new reality.