Z-Nation Imagines

Doc

We walked amongst the rows of abandoned cars on the highway, scavenging for anything useful we could get our hands on. The rest of the group walked on ahead, picking around the other rusted skeletons of vehicles. Doc stooped through the passenger side of an old Trans Am, grabbing up a mostly empty package of cigarettes and a very crushed granola bar, still in its packaging.

"Score," I nodded at him, throwing in a sly smile.

He shrugged, pocketing the treasures, and we made our way to the next vehicle.

"God," I huffed, "what I wouldn't do for a whole pack of gum...unmelted gum," I amended.

Doc nodded, white beard swaying in the slight breeze that managed to reach us around the cars. "Remember fresh breath?"

I sighed wistfully, longing for the thing that used to be my addiction before it all went to hell in an undead handbasket. I used to chew so much gum my jaw would hurt and pop for days.

Doc fiddled with his crowbar and reached up to wipe some sweat from his brow. "Man, I'd kill for some z-weed right about now. If you find any of that, let me know."

I breathed out a laugh, then grabbed a handle of the dirty truck next to me and gave it a hard yank. It stuck a bit, then swung open to reveal a putrid-smelling Z. The smell of rot and undeath surrounded me in a noxious cloud as the creature growled and snarled, latching onto my shirt with its bony fingers. My hands came up to grip its neck and chest, keeping it from taking a nice juicy chunk out of my face. I stumbled back, trying to throw the creature off of me, but it clung on like an oversized tick. Swinging around rapidly, I started to lose my distance between its teeth and my flesh by inches at a time.

"Doc!," I shouted, panting with the effort of holding back the Z. My arms started to shake and I had just lost my grip, a bloody and crusty face lurching toward my own, when I was spattered with blood.

Doc yanked the end of his crowbar back out and I shoved the Z to the ground, disgusted by how close that was.

"Thanks, Doc." My hands trembled from the adrenaline that spiked through me. "Damn, remember when things died and, ya know, stayed dead?"

He grinned, eyes crinkling, before delving into the now-empty truck. His dirty chucks kicked for a second as he reached for something on the driver's side.

"Well lookie here," he sounded tickled, then emerged with a half-pack of mint gum. He handed the warm package to me. "For your troubles. It's a little melted, but...," he shrugged.

"You are just the sweetest. You know that?" I smiled broadly, then handed him a slightly melted stick. "For my hero. It's not z-weed, but you can't put a price on fresh breath."

He took the gum, smiling gratefully, before slinging an arm around my shoulders as we hustled forward to catch up with the rest of the group.