My Zombie Girlfriend

Interlude: Owen

Palos Verdes was way better than Florida. Owen couldn't even imagine what a zombie apocalypse would be like there. So many old people. Barely even a challenge.

Here in California, though, life was better than a video game – a game where he had IRL friends instead of just randos he met online who were probably ancient perverts.

"Three o'clock," Jeff gasped, and Owen swung the crossbow up to his shoulder as he swiveled. The bolt fired and nailed a kid about Zane's age right through the forehead.

This kid didn't look anything like Owen's big brother – Zane would never wear a t-shirt that baggy. Zane liked to show off his pecs. Owen couldn't really blame him; if he was ripped like that, he'd wear tight t-shirts too. This zombie's pants were way too baggy as well. He looked nothing like Zane. But Owen was still thinking about his big brother being home all alone with Harmony Gutierrez, who everyone said was basically a druggie, and he knew Zane didn't have any survival skills. Zane was practically a vegan and was going to get himself murdered by zombies if Owen didn't save his ass.

Saving Zane had been Owen's bargaining chip to get Jeff out on the streets with him, that and the opportunity to kill a few zombies. Jeff hadn't seemed as confident as Owen felt about venturing outside, despite his earlier bravado. "The TV says we should stay inside," Jeff had argued.

"This is my brother," Owen had said. "Besides, I brought weapons."

The crossbow had been bought with his Christmas money last year, since the only zombie-themed gifts he'd received were a Daryl Dixon bobblehead and the game "Plants vs. Zombies," which illustrated perfectly that his parents had no freaking clue. He'd been careful not to let his parents know about it, only practiced when he was home alone. Hiding it during the move had been crazy hard, but it had all paid off in the end: he was the real-life Daryl Dixon now.

Jeff's parents had a gun, and Jeff and Owen had both armed themselves with knives, of both the hunting and kitchen varieties, because you never knew when you'd end up in close combat. "There won't be that many zombies yet," Owen had continued, even though Jeff had already agreed to be his backup on the mission to Save Zane. "We're miles away from Ground Zero."

"Ground Zero?"

"The hospital," Owen had explained, suppressing an eye roll. "Might be one or two out there, but we're in the burbs. We probably won't see any zombies."

"Isn't your brother on the football team?"

Owen had known what Jeff was saying, but he chose to ignore it. "Yeah. Won't we look like the heroes when we swoop in and save his ass? We'll be kings, man."

They had only gotten to the end of Jeff's street before Owen knew they wouldn't be kings. "They." Ha.  Owen would be the sole king. And he would never let Zane forget this day.

There had been two zombies on Jeff's street: an older man with steel gray hair and a hospital johnny flapping in the wind, and a young woman with an atomic-looking tan and bleached blonde hair extensions wearing a neon green bodycon dress. Owen had offered up the woman to Jeff after he'd bolted the man through the head without thinking. "On second thought," Owen said when Jeff hesitated, "shooting off a gun might bring more zombies. Better to save the bullets."

At least Jeff was good for warning him. There hadn't been anymore zombies until the baggy clothes boy, and they were nearly to Owen's house. Three clean kills, Owen thought with pride. He might have to search his bedroom for a belt so he could carve some notches into it. His crossbow had a strap but it was nylon and he didn't want to destroy its integrity.