Outbreak

'Gross!'

All I can think of is that taste.

It tasted like skunk.

Or not so much the actual skunk meat, but what the smell of skunk spray would taste like.

Anyways, however you phrase it, it was nasty. But now I have an ally, and I know how to stop the apocalypse, or at least, to gain people back.

"Hey, would you get off your ass and help me? Those zombies are ready to break down the door and I doubt you can move your chompers fast enough to stop 'em all." My new friend, Bo, beckons over to where she is, packing various guns and bludgeoning weapons into the duffel bag I gave her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I sigh and walk over, "You taste like shit, you know."

She laughs heartily, her chest heaving vigorously. I would have never guessed she had once been dead. "I'm sure you're not much better, ho! No wonder you haven't been bit."

"Oh, piss off, asswipe!" I shove her playfully and stash the last of the weapons in the bag except for a couple bats with rusty nails. Just in time, too, because the final barricade to our shelter bursts with a great crack, and the stench of rotting flesh fills the air. Bo grabs the bag and I toss one of the bats at her. She grabs it in one hand and we make our way through the crowd, swinging at every beast in our way.

"We need to grab someone else to join us, we can't make it very long without more company!" I shout over the frenzy of swaying bodies and wet choking to Bo, who stands above most other zombies, a beautiful raven-coloured monument of resilience. 'What am I thinking? Focus!' "'Kay, let's head over there and see from above!" She motions over to an RV parked a few lengths from us, and I nod, making my way over.

Bo shoves zombies away from her left and right, keeping the bag of weapons out of reach of any zombie. She is covered with a thin layer of blood, sweat, and mucous, making her muscles ripple and glide under her ebony skin. Finally, when I begin to tire, we climb onto the roof of the RV and rest. She hands me a silver flask and I take a swig, surprised to find water in it, rather than liquor. She takes it back and drinks deeply, then puts it away in her bag.

"That one look good?" Bo points at a large, strong-looking zombie limping his way towards our RV sanctuary with blind intent. I knew him. "Nah, I think I've seen him in a bar fight somewhere." That wasn't the half of it. I could still smell his alcohol-ridden breath, his iron grip on me. I shudder, goose pimples washing over my arms. Bo seems to notice, but says nothing and looks on. "What about that one," I ask, pointing to a thin, fair-skinned zombie at the outer rim of the pack, "They could be easy to hold down while I bite them."

"I dunno," Bo shrugs, skeptical, "they could be a liability. It doesn't look like they have a ton of fighting capability." I nod, "That's true. They could be agile or sneaky, though. What do you think?" Bo narrows her eyes and purses her lips, then sighs through her nose, "Fine. But they're not high priority if they can't keep up with us. I get to try the bite this time, though."

I nod, a smile creeping onto my lips. 'Why has she got to be so damn attractive? Why now, too?' I hop down from the RV ledge and as I feel cold, slimy hands pull at me, I hear Bo thud down behind me. We slash through the crowd, moving inches at a time. My muscles ache and pull, my legs shake. I don't know how much more I can handle without a good day's rest. 'I wonder if zombies take Sundays off. Focus!' We near the edge of the horde and I can see the zombie turn their focus towards me.

It charges towards me, moving with a renewed speed. Surprised, I have no time to move before I'm tackled to the ground, the zombie's maw inches, now centimeters from my face. I wonder if Bo will be able to change me back. As their stinking teeth brush my cheek, I feel their weight pulled off of me, and I open my eyes to see Bo grappling with the zombie. I shout in giddy relief and wrench myself up shakily to help.

I take their arms and put them in a headlock so Bo can get a clear bite. She tentatively and hesitantly pulls one of their hands up, and, with a deep breath, bites with all she's got. She immediately gags and pulls away, vomiting to one side. Some unfortunate zombies are caught in the stream, and it's all I can do to keep my grip and not heave, myself.

'Something's wrong.' Why aren't they changing? Bo stops retching and dodges a zombie, who lands directly in the puddle with a splash. I groan and laugh, and Bo laughs too, spitting the last of her hurl and saliva at the zombie. I shudder and give myself a two second pep talk, then bite the zombie still trying to wriggle out of my grasp.

I spit and groan, "I don't think I'll ever get over that taste." The ex-zombie collapses and I pick them up. Bo holds out her hands and lifts them from my hands gently, "I got 'em." She slings them over her shoulder and picks up her bat, which was laying, forgotten, in the puddle of spew. She batters a couple more zombies who came too close, then we made for one of the many houses we knew were empty.

I had grown up in this neighbourhood. I knew the people next door, their two young children. I remember the stray cat I had named Scribbles. I wonder where he is now, if he's safe. I'm just glad that zombies wouldn't go for him. Their taste is for humans. We get inside the house and slam the door shut, using whatever furniture was in arm's reach to block it.

Satisfied with the barricade, we collapse onto one of the covered loveseats in the living room. Bo lays the now-human next to her, and I lay my head back, breathing in the new-paint smell still lingering and mingled with mildew. Bo begins to chuckle, then laugh hysterically. I soon join, and we are soon plagued with bouts of howling laughter. The tension of the day melts off us in waves, and relief settles in like a drug that fogs the mind.

"So what happened back there?" I ask, regarding Bo's failed bite. "I dunno. I bit hard enough. I remember that you didn't even draw blood, and all I could taste was spoiled blood, so it wasn't that. Maybe only your bites work?" I consider this. It was entirely possible, but still it was such an irritating possibility that I didn't want to entertain it. Unfortunately, she did have a point. "Maybe..."

"No sweat. We cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, rest." The sun is beginning to set, and with it, my adrenaline leaves my body. My eyelids droop, and the last thing I hear is Bo whispering, "I'll take the first shift." I feel so relaxed and at home here, lulled by her chest's rise and fall beneath my head and the smooth breeze moving my hair when she exhales.

I drift into a peaceful slumber, full of dreams of zombies, cats, and wedding dresses.