Our Undead (13 page)

Margaret takes the last
couple of pieces of pasta into her mouth and drinks off the rest of
the sauce left behind by the fork, mouth to can. She swallows it
all up and looks to our zombie.

Margaret:
Not until now.

She puts the can, with the
fork inside, down next to the rest of her stuff. Then rests her
elbows on the sides of her knees, and her chin in her palms,
staring at her new pet inquisitively.

Margaret:
So, what d'you think about that name, huh? Abe? That'll be
your new name.

OurZombie:
rrrrrrRRRmmm… aaapAAooommmm...

Margaret:
(picking up her big stick)
Yeaaaa well, you're gonna have to get used to it,..
Abe
.

Holding the stick in her
right hand, Margret smacks the makeshift club into her left palm in
a very intimidating fashion, and then starts getting to her
feet.

Margaret:
But unlike Abe number one, you're gonna learn what I teach
you.

She starts limping over to
our zombie, to be known from here until the end of time as "Abe".
The rabbit she had caught the day before still lays in a clump of
fur on the floor in between them, and she picks it up as she walks
over to him.

Margaret:
I feel like today is gonna be a better day for you,
Abe.

She stops at her safe point
and waits.

Margaret:
Right? Just remember, I am
not
a meal.

Margaret waits for a
response again, and Abe gives his normal babbling reply. She knows
that he probably has no idea what she is saying, but the feeling of
having a normal conversation is one of the last things keeping her
sane, giving her the sense that there is still something familiar
left to hold on to. Looking even deeper, if she actually believes
that she can train this undead creature, then she must also believe
that there is a possibility that the beast can comprehend. But it
doesn't matter. She will continue her training course until the
zombie learns, or until it breaks out and kills her. Maybe it's
because she believes he can learn, maybe it's because she has
nothing better to do… Maybe she's lost her mind. No matter, she
will train this zombie.

Margaret:
Ready?

She pauses as if to wait
for a response again, and then they begin their second day of
training.

By midday, it seems as if
Abe is getting nowhere, and Margaret is starting to get tired. She
is sweating bullets, and her grimy blonde hair is soaked through.
Interestingly enough, it looks like Abe is getting worn out as
well. His left arm swings at both targets, but just barely. Maybe
Abe might not be trainable after all. She tries one more time to
see if he will attack her, and when she flaunts herself, his arm
comes up. It comes sloppily and fatigued, but it comes nonetheless,
and she is forced to give the undead creature it's punishment for
disobeying for the umpteenth time.

Margaret:
Aaargh!! You stupid zombie!!!! You're supposed to go for the
stupid hare, not me!!! Ugh!!!

She pants and stares at her
disobedient pet in disappointment, shaking her head at him, then
she takes a deep breath and sighs it out slowly in an effort to
calm herself down.

Margaret:
But I'm not giving up on you yet…

She rubs her tummy. It's
been three hours now that she has been trying to train Abe,
possibly more, and she had forgotten to feed herself.

Margaret:
I am, however, going to get something to
eat.

So she turns around and
limps her way back to where her duffel bag has been laid. Beside
it, she puts down her big whooping stick and the dead hare, and
then takes her seat on top of the blanket she has set for herself
to rest upon. She rummages through the bag to see what she has
left. It's still quite a bit, as she is always sure to not eat more
than she has to. For this meal she decides to allow herself a few
slices of the first loaf of bread that is now about three quarters
finished, but as soon as she takes the bag of bread out, she
notices her dirty hands and the dead hare she had just been holding
in them. She decides to wash up in the kitchen sink. Abe grumbles
at her as she limps over and turns on the tap.

Margaret:
Yea, yea, I know. It's the end of the world. I guess some old
habits die-hard.

She finishes washing her
hands and limps back to her spot.

Margaret:
But wouldn't it be ironic if I died from something silly like
salmonella, instead of the infection that happens to be.. or pretty
much
HAS
destroyed civilization as it stands… as it
stood.

She sits down and proceeds
to take her three slices of bread out of their plastic
bag.

Margaret:
Gaaawd, I can't let that happen. I'd be the laughing stalk
of… well… of myself.
(takes a
bite)
I'd never be able to let myself
live it down. Uh, that is until the salmonella actually killed me,
then I would have no choice but to live it down, I
guess.

She chuckles to herself
about the little joke she cracked and takes another decent bite of
her bread slice.

Margaret:
But then I wouldn't be "
ALIVE"
to "live it down" now,
would I? I guess I would have to "die it down".

She chuckles a little bit
more, but it's hard even for her to sympathize with her bad joke
telling capabilities. She stuffs more bread into her mouth,
glancing up at Abe while munching and forcing out a few more
contrived giggles.

Margaret:
What's the matter? Don't get my humor, huh? I know, it's a
tad grim, but if anyone can relate it's gotta be you, right? Meh…
I've never been a comedian anyho-

Mid-sentence she takes a
serious note of how sluggish Abe is becoming. He's still moving
around in the door like a caught trout, but hardly. For the first
time, it's deadly clear to Margaret that her pet is losing energy,
much faster than she thought he would.

Margaret:
You don't look too good. You must actually be getting hungry,
huh? Mmmmm… Well, it has been a little over a day since your
last..
(ahem)
meal.

When she says this her head
and eyes involuntarily look toward her mother's dead
body.

Margaret:
I guess… if there
is
any human left inside of you, it must be pretty
hungry by now.

She sits for a minute and
continues munching, then she sees the rabbit and thinks to herself
briefly before speaking again.

Margaret:
I really shouldn't do this. I mean, you haven't learned a
damn thing since we've started your lessons, but…

She ponders a few seconds
more, looking from the rabbit to the zombie, from the zombie to the
rabbit and back again. Then she makes her decision.

Margaret:
Aw, fuck it. This hare is bound to turn soon… or something.
You might as well have it while it's fresh.

It may just be an excuse to
fulfill her curiosity for wanting to actually feed him, see what
it's like. Maybe she actually cares. Regardless, Margaret puts the
last corner of her second slice of bread into her mouth, dusts the
crumbs from her hands and picks the dead rabbit back up. She brings
it back over to Abe, who perks up ever so slightly as she
nears.

Margaret:
One more try for kicks, yea?

Margaret leans her head in
passed the safe point, and right on cue Abe lazily swings his left
arm for her face. She dodges it and sighs in
disappointment.

Margaret:
Oh, well. Here you go.

This time she extends her
hand that holds the dead hare. Instantly Abe's left arm comes up,
but this time, instead of being met with a fist full of air, his
palm makes contact with the day old hare carcass. He rips it from
Margaret's hand with an energy she thought he had run out of, and
rams it into his longing mouth. The rabbit's guts begin to pour out
as Abe withdraws his clamped jaws, full of fur and insides.
Margaret wretches at the sight of it.

Margaret:
Ugh… That's disgusting.

Forgetting to wash her
hands this time, she turns around and hobbles back to take her spot
on the floor so she can eat the last slice of bread that would
complete her meal. She takes a bite and this time, for some reason,
the bread doesn't taste as good. It's plain white flavor, that by
this time is starting to get a little stale and hard, rubs itself
into her tongue like a cat into a cushy rug. The more she chews,
the pastier it becomes, and she finds it very
dissatisfying.

Margaret:
It's disgusting but… you're lucky. At least you get to eat
some meat. I'd kill for a big, juicy burger right now… Oh my God,
from Jake's Diner.
(sighs)
I miss that place.

Margaret swallows her
tasteless portion and stares, almost jealously, at the rabbit
currently having another bite taken out of it.

Margaret:
I wouldn't even mind if it were a rabbit burger. I bet Jake's
could make a delicious bunny burger if they wanted
to.

She stares on with
unblinking eyes at Abe continuing to eat the rabbit in his vicious
fashion. It hardly looks like a rabbit anymore, just a clump of
gooey fur held drooping in Abe's fist.

Margaret:
Argh, what's the matter with me!?

She shakes herself back to
reality and takes another bite of her mediocre midday
meal.

Margaret:
I'm getting jealous over a dead rabbit. I think I'll stick
with my tasteless bread, thanks. It's cardboard flavored;
delicious! OH! And it's got some flour flavor in there too. What
flavors they are, dancing across my tongue in a gingerly waltz. Oh,
how I do love this bread!

Abe isn't paying any
attention to her sarcastic attitude, so Margaret continues watching
him eat while eating, herself. As mentioned, there isn't much left
of the dead hare, but the famished zombie still bites down into its
skin and coat with an excited energy. It's surprising to Margaret,
and a little appalling.

Margaret:
Holy shit… There's nothing left of that thing. You must've
really been hungry. As a matter of fact, you must still be hungry.
I'm going to have to go out and catch you more training food. Heh.
Actually you'd better enjoy that meal because when I come back, we
get serious again. So yes, take your time, mister. Savor the
flavor.

Abe takes a few more
tearing bites of the dead hare, and then lets his left arm fall
gently back to it's natural resting position, still clutching the
thing. Looking directly at Margaret, he holds it momentarily then
releases his grasp, letting the rabbit fall. It makes a plopping
sound when it slaps against the floor.

Margaret:
Oooh, so
now
you're finished, huh? …I guess I am
too.

She puts the last of her
third bread slice into her mouth and brushes her hands against
themselves to dust the crumbs away.

Margaret:
Okay, I should probably get going then, before it gets dark.
It's not like I have anything better to do.

She takes up her big knife
and heads for the door. Before exiting, she turns around to face
Abe who has started swaying back and forth again, as if trying, but
not
really
trying, to get free from the door. It's more like his body is
twitching spontaneously, an automatic reflex, possibly from the
disease and fatigue.

Margaret:
Don't go wasting all of your energy, now. You're going to
need it when I get back. Take it easy, Aaaaabe.

She bids him adieu and
saunters out the door. Once again, Abe is left alone in the cabin,
slowly and mindlessly, swaying to and fro.

<><><>

When Margaret returns, she
returns with a bang. The cabin door swings open and slams against
the cabin's inner wall.

Margaret:
I'm hooooome! And check this out!

She had to kick the door
in, and it becomes apparent why. Both of her hands are occupied,
clutching two hares each by the ears, four ears a hand. Her big
knife is nestled appropriately in the front of her grungy black
shorts.

Margaret:
I'm really getting the hang of this.

She places the hares down
by her bag and goes to the sink. Her hands are caked in mud, and
she shakes her head at their filthiness as she turns the water on
and begins to rinse off the dinge. When they get as clean as
they're going to get, she uses them to rinse her mouth out, getting
a good drink at the same time. She splashes some water into her
face as well, and shakes some around in her mouth, then walks back
to her stuff.