Head Full of Ghosts

Chapter 4 - Trace of a Stranger

Zahra's heart pounded frantically in her chest, her mind screamed at her to run, but her body remained frozen in place. For nearly two years she had been coming out here, and for all that time she had yet to run across anything vaguely human. Neither living nor dead. Nor undead. However that worked.

But now there was something, heralded by that grating sound, that sounded like something being dragged. And it was growing louder. Getting closer. It would be on her in moments, or else, more preferably, pass her right by.

She didn't know what to do. If whatever was approaching was human, then she had no clue what to expect. If it was a zombie, it might be best to find out now. She could probably outrun it, get back to town, and warn everybody what was coming.

Either way, it might be best to hide somewhere that she could observe the thing, and go out again when the danger had passed.

She turned back to the door, but it was locked. Of course. She had locked it. She fumbled for the key, and realized she couldn't remember where she had put it.

The matter was taken out of her hands entirely when down the street, from around a corner, emerged the figure.

It was a man, not a zombie. That much was apparent right away. As he drew closer, she could tell that he had to be pretty young still, not a whole lot older than her. His clothes were ragged and dirty, his hair a mess, and a clumpy brown beard curled around his lower face like the hairs were grabbing on to his chin for dear life. Strung over his shoulder was a long chain that he grasped in both hands, and the chain trailed behind him down to where it wrapped around a long, rectangular box that rested, along with a small assortment of bags, on something that looked like a big, homemade skateboard.

He saw her and stopped. The skateboard thing continued to roll, though, until it bumped into the back of his legs. He didn't seem to notice.

For a long moment, they both just stood there, staring at the other, as if waiting for the other to strike. He was breathing hard, his chest and shoulders rising visibly even across the distance with every great heave of his lungs. She barely dared to breathe at all.

The stranger smacked his lips, and moved his mouth in a weird way, like he needed to work up the saliva to be able to talk.

"Aren't you afraid of zombies?" he asked.

Zahra blinked in surprise, her head jerking back a little as if struck. "Aren't you afraid of zombies?" she shot back, without really thinking about it. "With all that noise you're making, they must hear you coming from miles off."

"I don't think zombies can hear," he replied simply, and then started moving again.

She watched him for a moment, continuing on in the same direction he had been going, looking past her as if he'd already forgotten she was there. For some reason, that deeply annoyed her, so she skipped on ahead of him to get in front of his path, forcing him to stop again.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, clearly irritated. "Haven't you ever heard of stranger danger?"

"No. What's that? Is it a band?"

"No, it's not a-" he stopped and stuttered for a moment before continuing. "I mean, it might be. It certainly sounds like something a punk band would name themselves. But that's not what context I was using it in."

"What you got there?" Zahra asked, looking back at the cart and box, already bored with the conversation. He took a step and leaned over, blocking her view.

"That's... none of your business. Get out of the way."

"Whatcha doin out here?" She asked next.