BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 23 | Thread

"What is this, birdpoop?" said Hazel, studying my vomit on the floor.

"Well, excuse me for starving these past few days," I said, leaning against the doorway and wrapping my arms around my stomach. Ethan was kneeling next to Stephen's...body parts, studying them. I had no desire to have a second look. The first one was bad enough.

"Pulled out one of his eyes, peeled off the facial skin, tore off his limbs and gutted him deep," ticked off Ethan, counting it with his fingers. "And that's not the worst part. She broke off his ribs too, and stabbed them one by one through his heart like some kind of sick voodoo doll—"

I clapped a hand to my mouth, turning around and heaving dry air.

"Parental Guidance narration, Ethan," said Hazel, giving me an amused look. "And innocent child, cover thy ears."

I could have done it better, sniffed the voice. At the very least, I would have tortured him slowly.

I didn't know what sickened me more—Kailey's apparent brutality, or the fact that I was about to do the same things to Stephen earlier if Hazel hadn't stopped me.

"This still leaves us a great puzzle to solve though," said Ethan, standing up.

"Where's alpha male?" finished Hazel. She sighed and stretched her arms, unwinding her limbs like a sleepy cat. "I wish this soap opera drama is finally ending. I'm cranky, tired, and quite frankly, fucking starving. Ethan's looking more and more like a chicken drumstick from where I'm standing."

"Hey!" exclaimed Ethan, offended. "I'm at least a T-bone steak, with garlic butter sauce."

All of our stomachs grumbled.

"Roasted," said Hazel.

Ethan shook his head. "Fried."

I disagreed with them both. "Stewed."

We stared at eachother and broke into laughter, as the idea of being able to eat a T-bone steak even when all of this is over was too ridiculous to contemplate. There were few food resources left, and even fewer options on what to eat. The era of cheesy pizzas, red spaghetti, flavored doughnuts and salty french fries were over.

Now, we were stuck on stale canned food and bitter weeds.

"But this must mean that she's near," I said, torn between relief and trepidation. "And if she's near, so is Christian."

There was a sharp sound of something snapping, which turned out to be Hazel stepping on the lampshade and breaking off the 'lamp' part, which left her with its long, metal rod. She held it aloft with one hand like some kind of a harpoon, gazing at it with a critical eye.

"Meh, good enough." Then without warning she thrusted it forward, giving Ethan a heart attack as it nearly impaled him.

"Watch what you're doing!" he yelped, swatting it away. "I don't quite love you enough to enjoy dying at your hands."

In answer Hazel batted him at the side of the head with the rod, laughing as it collided with a hard thunk.

"I feel pity for your marriage counselor in the future," I said, watching as Ethan picked up the nearest object, which turned out to be Stephen's little toe, and threw it at her.

Fortunately it missed, and soared high above Hazel's head to shoot perfectly straight into an empty vase behind her, with a sick plink that hinted there was still water inside the maroon-colored ornament.

Each caught the other's eye, and I shook my head as they broke into laughter, apparently finding it hilarious.

"Come on, kids," I said, wanting to leave the gruesome scene behind. "Let's go and find Christian."