Love Charms (23 page)

A
woman stares off into the horizon.  I imagine she's the mother to the child,
letting her little girl play before they go home for the day and sit down to a
nice family meal in their cozy dining room.  I don't actually think that's
going to happen, but it's nice to think it.

I
used to attend college nearby, so I decide to walk there.  A quick, brisk pace,
no shambling or stumbling.  One foot in front of the other, watching myself
walk, forgetting about anything else.  I walk with a purpose, with determined
strides.  At the front of the college, I stop for a moment and peer into the
front gates.

The
gates are chained shut to keep the students in and unwanted intruders out. 
That's how it's supposed to be, anyways.  Maybe I wasn't the best example of a
student, but we used to slip out of our dorm rooms late at night and climb over
the campus walls.  It wasn't very safe, nor was it a great idea, but we did it
anyways.  Making my way alongside the walled off college campus, I head through
an alleyway leading to the back of the building.  Who knows why, but there's a
small park here with a couple of trees and a bench, hidden away in between
houses and society.

I
stand on the bench and reach for the lowest branches of the tree, pulling
myself up.  It takes awhile, but I manage, and in a moment more I have my leg
up and over the wall.  Then the other, pulling myself up higher, sitting,
and...

I
jump down and land inside the college campus grounds.  No one else is here
since the gates are locked.  I don't think anyone knows how to get in here, but
I wonder about that.  It honestly shouldn't be too difficult to break the chain
or the lock since they aren't the best quality, but I suppose no one really
cares.  Why should anyone want to go to college now?

Because,
I think, it's nice.  Quiet and alone, I walk down the pathways winding through
the different enclosed buildings.  I used to sit outside on nice days and
pretend to study while watching cute boys walk by.  And if I actually needed to
study, the library was close to my dorm room.  We had an elevator, but I liked
to use the stairs, so I could just skip down them, out into the open fresh air,
take a short walk, and there the library was.

Through
the large glass windows of the library, I see someone sitting at one of the
tables reading a book.  My feet stop, frozen in place.  Is that really a
person?  What are they doing in there?  Why would someone else come here
besides me?  The windows are tinted and I can't see through them clearly, but
this man doesn't look like the others I'm used to seeing.

* * *

Evan
knew Alex wouldn't appreciate him leaving like this.  He knew he shouldn't do
it, either, but he needed to.  Just for a little while, and after that he'd go
hunting for deer and bring back something for the camp to eat.  Alex was a bit
difficult to deal with sometimes since he was ex-military, but he knew what he
was doing.  If not for him, Evan probably wouldn't have survived this long.

Or,
actually, he knew he could survive on his own, but the social interaction
really saved him.  You never realize how much you miss talking with people
until there's no one to talk with.  He only had to deal with that for a few
days before joining up with the survivor's group, but those few days were some
of the worst of his life.  Confusion and chaos, hoping everything would calm
down and return to normal, except it never did.  Situations escalated, people
panicked, droves upon droves of craziness.

In
the movies you always saw zombie situations dealt with using extreme force. 
Bombs and military blockades and things like that.  Except this wasn't that. 
Would anyone expect the military to go around shooting hospitalized plague
victims?  He doubted it, and he sure wouldn't, though a lot of people he talked
with now wished for that very thing.

Anyways,
better not to dwell on it, he thought.  He needed to study fast.  Sticking his
nose into the copy of
Robbins Pathologic Basis for Disease
he found in the
library stacks, he continued reading as much as he could as fast as he could.

Something
caught his eye outside, though.  Looking out the window, he saw a woman
standing in the courtyard.  She looked back at him, blinking, eyebrows crinkled
with a slight smile on her face; the sort of look that asks something like
"What exactly are you doing here?"  The glass was tinted, so he
couldn't see her too well, but she looked nice.  A little ragged, but everyone
looked like that now.

Evan
waved to her and gestured for her to join him if she wanted.  Would she?  He
didn't know.  The offer was there, though.  Smiling bright, wondering what kind
of person besides him would come to a college campus during a zombie
apocalypse, he set himself back to his studies.

* * *

The
man in the building waves to me and gestures me inside.  I don't know what he's
doing there, but he seems different.  Maybe I'm dreaming, and I don't think
it'd be the first time.  If I came here for a reason, maybe he's it, though.  I
do need to go to the doctor's and I forgot my keys, so I should ask him for a
ride.  Is that weird to do?  No one else is here, though.  The worst he can say
is no.

I
stumble on a rugged piece of the sidewalk while making my way to the front door
of the library.  It must be a nice day outside because someone's propped the
door open with a rock, letting the fresh air inside.  The light wind brushes
against my cheeks and sends my hair aflutter.  Sighing, wistful, I step inside.

I
feel very cold, but I think it's just the air conditioning they keep on in the
library most of the time.  It's funny because sometimes during the winter the
central air system would kick on by accident and chill the place to near
freezing.  It never happened for too long because the librarians called up the
maintenance man in a huff, but whenever it happened it made me laugh.

Is
it winter now?  It
is
very cold, but I don't see any snow on the ground
so I doubt it is.  Autumn, probably, or a chilly summer day.

I
believe the man I saw must be a medical student; he was sitting in the health
sciences section at any rate.  No one's sitting behind the front desk which is
a little odd.  No one is anywhere, though, I remind myself.  I walk through the
turnstile into the library, holding onto the railing for support, and notice
the pale blue color of my hands.

Everything
changes.

No,
I can't.  The turnstile clinks behind me as I walk through and I pause at the
other side, fearful and frozen in time.  I don't belong here, not with him.  I
belong outside with the others, somewhere far away.  If he sees me, he'll
scream and panic.  If he sees me, he'll run, and if he can't run fast enough
they'll catch him.

Or
maybe he isn't as fearful as that.  Maybe he'll see me and become angry.  Does
he have a gun or a knife?  I have no idea.  All I saw was a book, but who knows
what he had under the table.  And, even a book hurts when someone repeatedly
slams it against you.  It's hard to feel pain sometimes now, but I still know
it's there.  I have little cuts and scrapes, scars, from when I first became
like this and I don't want to feel that way again.  I don't want to look at
myself and know that I'm like this.  I don't want reminders of how horrible a
situation I'm in.

I
want to go home.  I want to eat something warm and steaming and lay in bed for
my half hour of warmth while reading my book.  I want to cry and know what
happens to Ally and Noah and I want them to be happy and live together
forever.  Is that too much to want?

Just
as I'm about to turn and leave, the man approaches me.  He left the book at the
library table and it's just him.  He smiles, sees me, and then stops smiling. 
Face contorted, confused, lips pursed, he stares at me.

I
don't know what to say.  I try to leave, try to turn away from him, but the
world is such a mess and I can't seem to figure out which way is which.

I
fall.  My foot catches on the edge of the turnstile and I begin to topple
backwards.

This
is going to hurt.  I don't know how much I'll feel, but I know it'll happen.  I
look up, somber, watching the ceiling as my body seems to crash backwards in
slow motion.  Everything seems slow when you don't want it to happen.  Slow,
but that doesn't mean you can change anything.  You have to watch it, wait for
it, feel anxiety and fear in the pit of your stomach as your heart races and
you worry.

I
fall, but he catches me.

* * *

Evan
didn't expect the woman to be a zombie.  He didn't even want to call her that,
but he didn't know what other word to use.  It seemed like a type of racism to
him, though.  If he said something like that would she be offended?

Casual,
Evan, he told himself.  Act casual.  She wasn't trying to eat him, which was
good.  He didn't actually know how that worked, since he tried to never to put
himself in that kind of situation, but the stories people told back at his camp
were never good.  Vicious, vile things, creatures of death and anger, chasing
people through the streets, and if they caught you...

Everyone
knew what happened if they caught you.  It was no secret.  Evan disliked it,
didn't want to believe it, but he knew, too.  He'd seen it happen once from far
away.  But why?

This
woman didn't do that, though.  She wasn't chasing him and she had no horde of
followers intent on trapping him in the library.  She was just herself and he'd
asked her to come inside.  He'd waved, friendly, gestured her in, then went
back to reading.  He'd invited her here, and she came.  There was nothing wrong
with that.

She
looked so uncomfortable, though.  Pale, blue skin and a worried look on her
face.  Grabbing the turnstile at the entrance to the library, she tried to turn
around, maybe to leave, but she slipped.

Fuck! 
Evan ran.  He had time, they weren't too far apart, and he just barely made
it.  Jumping the last few feet, he caught her in his arms and fell with her,
softening her fall with his body.  They lay in a heap on the floor.

Evan
laughed.  "Sorry about that," he said.  "I didn't mean to
startle you."

His
hand touched the side of her arm and she was soft to the touch.  And cold.  Not
too cold, but noticeably cool.  He eased her off of him slowly and stood up,
reaching a hand out to help her up.  She stared at him from the ground, looking
at him funny.

* * *

I
fell but he caught me.

So
tight and close, he must have jumped to reach me in time.  He looked athletic
from afar, more than capable of dashing forward and catching someone, but I
honestly didn't know why he did it.  I was so grateful, though.  I wanted to
cry for another reason now, but it felt so silly and inconsequential.

He
touched me, too.

It
sounded bad in my head when I thought of it like that, but that was exactly
what he did.  His gentle, warm hands held onto the side of my arms, rubbing up
and down, relaxing me.  His heat was like a blazing furnace to my cool body.  I
felt alive and warm under his touch, so wonderful and amazing.  I knew this was
how the others felt, why they rushed towards people in a frenzy when they saw
them, but I'd never felt it before myself.

He
helped me off of him and stood at my side, smiling at me.  Reaching out his
hand, he wanted to help me up.  I stared at him, still feeling his warmth,
curious and contented.

Like
them, all I needed to do was grab his hand.  He looked strong, but if I caught
him off guard while he helped me up I could squeeze his hand tight in mine and
pull him back to the ground.  His throat seemed to shine like some bright
beacon.  If I scratched, bit, killed...

I
took his offered hand and held onto it tight and let him help me up off the
ground.  He smiled at me more and moved in close.

"Are
you alright?" he asked.

I
squeezed his hand and pulled him towards me.  He came readily, watching me with
interest.  Lifting his hand up, I placed it on the side of my cheek.

Fire!

My
cheek melted under his touch, feeling so wonderful and warm.  I held his hand
against my cheek and smiled at him.

"Thank
you," I said.  "You're so kind."

My
eyes started to tear up and I knew I couldn't help myself anymore.  Why was I
crying?  So dumb and silly, but I didn't think I could stop myself if I tried. 
He grinned and wiped the tears away from my eyes with his other hand.  Warm,
like the heat from a sauna, a few stray tears slipped down my cheeks, but he
wiped those away, too.

"You're--"
he said, pausing, brow furrowed.  "Different."

"I'm
a zombie," I said, feeling like we should get that out of the way.

"I
didn't want to say that because it sounds prejudiced," he said with a
chuckle.  "I can call you that if you want, but maybe... do you have a
name?"

"Sadie,"
I whispered.  I hadn't used my name in so long, hadn't heard anyone call me
that in months, but I liked it.  I loved my name and wanted him to say it all
of a sudden.