Orthodontics in the Zombie Apocalypse

4. Sad, Lonely Loner (2/2)

Mikah kicks aside a broken bone, probably half of a femur, cleaned of all flesh and meat. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he leisurely makes his way through the empty streets overshadowed by looming buildings.

"I have a confession," he says after a while.

"You're walking so slow because your legs are broken?" I grumble, turning around to look him in the eye. I walk backwards so that he doesn't think we're about to take a break.

"No. Actually, it's about Missy."

"Ah. What about her?"

"I didn't set spikes on the road because I needed a ride."

"No?"

"Obviously there were plenty of functioning vehicles around," he continues, ignoring my interjection.

I cross my arms. "Mm-hm?"

"You see, the whole zombie crisis has been going on for weeks where I come from. You probably only started seeing the news stories the past few days."

"No," I say, shaking my head, "not really. Didn't even know it was an issue until this morning."

"Oh. Well, either way, I've been making my way to LA—to see if my uncle made it through."

"That's reasonable."

"Yeah. But, the thing is, I've been going insane lately. Stir crazy, more like. At first I was with my brother and a few friends, but they split off pretty quickly when it got too dangerous, so I've been traveling alone. You know how being alone is; it's lonely."

My eyebrow pops up. "Let me get this straight. You killed my car so you wouldn't be a sad, lonely loner?"

"Pretty much. It was a good call, too. Have you seen yourself around zombies? You're vicious!"

Not sure how to respond, I shake my head and turn around. I tip my head back to squint at the clear, blue sky as a breeze rustles my hair and dress.

"In a good way," Mikah adds, concerned about my lack of response. "You're badass."

My eyes slide over to him. He flashes his straight teeth, making me instantly jealous.

"Let's just get to your uncle, okay?"

"You're grumpy," he mutters, and picks up his pace.

You killed my car, not because you're a run-of-the-mill idiot, because you wanted a friend? No, of course I'm not grumpy. Why would I be grumpy?

"You really had no idea any of this was going on?" he asks.

"Some of my classmates mentioned zombies, but I laughed at them," I reply monotonously.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

We walk along in silence until we hear the rumbling of an approaching group of undead people, moaning and groaning on their aching joints like a bunch of old men. We stride into a run and book it to the nearest shelter.

"You're not still upset with me, are you? About the car?" he whispers as we duck behind a dumpster in a parking garage. Though his words were spoken softly, like the faint rustling of a bird's wings as it takes flight, they echo off the cool, cement walls.

"It's been less than four hours, bud. I'm still in mourning."

His lips press together and he nods, looking away.

The roaring of undead cheers crescendos when the zombie party finally stagger into the garage.

I grip the pipe even tighter, turning my knuckles white.

"Ready?" I mouth to Mikah, not making a sound.

He shakes his head and holds up a hand, palm flat and facing me. He glances around quickly, stops to think, and begins gesturing around in a matter of seconds. He points to the open lid of the dumpster and then three fingers. He then points again at the dumpster lid and makes a slamming motion.

Close the lid on three, got it.

I nod to show understanding.

Mikah then pumps his arms in a running motion. He points two fingers at his eyes.

I nod again.

One finger.

The zombies make their drunken way toward us, smelling for live meat with their inhuman senses, hobbling along an uneven path.

Two.

I raise into a crouch, ready to spring at any moment. The zombies grumble and groan amongst themselves.

Three.

I jump up, slam the dumpster lid with a clatter and sprint toward the nearest exit of the parking garage, leaving Mikah in the dust. I don't stop until I know I'm away from the zombies. As much as I need Mikah to get my braces off, it won't be worth it if I become zombie chow.

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A/N

And this, folks, is the result of no sleep or chapter planning. There ya go!