a short story
This is just something I wrote a while back that kind of ends abruptly and has a tentative title...Part of the theme comes from the idea expressed here:
But why do we love zombies? While undead creatures such as vampires and werewolves have magical powers, friends and adventures, zombies lead a "lifeless life." And perhaps herein lies our fascination. We all fear leading a monotonous existence filled with boredom, emptiness, and loneliness: being one of The Walking Dead.
Unfortunately, we can’t avoid these feelings any more than the humans in The Walking Dead can avoid "walkers." As lead character Rick Grimes informs the audience, “We are all infected." Boredom, loneliness, and emptiness are in every part of our lives—work, marriage, family, daily routines. One of the reasons the show is so successful is because the writers depict how people can struggle against living an “undead” life—and can do so with some success.-- Michael Friedman, Ph.D. Psychology Today
She had been feverish and more quiet than usual when she started talking about the apocalypse...no real surprise since we were smack dab in the middle of one and living out what could be the rest of our days in the middle of our small, barricaded apartment (the one we had shared in ninety percent bliss for the past five years.)
"I want you to shoot me in the head immediately. No questions asked." She paused, her sad eyes looking straight into mine with fear, conviction and the love that always, always took my breath away. "You can do it now...or when I start to change."
She seemed to be nodding to herself...and then, as she had been doing more and more lately, went somewhere else (where no one, not even me, could reach.) She often did this after saying something mysterious, something that thoroughly exhausted her.
This was not something new that the apocalypse had brought, but part of the crippling depression that had hit her about two months before all Hell broke loose.
As recently as a week ago, this would have been a joke, one that only now would have seemed in bad taste. Zombies, after all, weren't real...It wasn't like her becoming one was ever something we'd had to worry about, right?
Even in the darkness of the living room, with only the brightness of the screen of our tv (paused on a dvd and working off a power supply I was amazed was still viable and which I imagined couldn’t possibly last much longer) reflected off her face, I could see just how much the zombie thing was bothering her. Her eyes were wide with alarm and she wouldn't (couldn't) stop running both her hands through her long brown hair. She sat up, then sat back down, turning to face me directly.
She became fidgety and overly affectionate, two things she normally wasn't. She leaned her forehead against mine and whispered, "I don't want to watch this anymore." She looked downright scared...terrified even....and when I went to hug her, she threw herself in my arms with such force I almost fell off the couch.
Never before had she shown weakness nor a need for protection and even though it broke my heart to see her this way, it sort of felt good to be the one sheltering for once. She had fought fearlessly for me in the past and now it was my turn to do the same.
"It's okay," I said, pulling her closer, inhaling her soap and somehow her smell of vulnerability. I stroked her hair and just kept saying, "It’s okay" over and over like an idiot, not knowing what else to say or do, but desperately wanting to make her better.
Part of me had to refrain from closing my eyes and just staying like this forever. It had been days since she'd reached out to me in any kind of way and she'd been so distant lately I was terrified she had been working up the nerve to say things were over.
I felt sick and somehow horribly guilty at the thought that zombies might be what brought us back together, the way we used to be for four of our five years together. Zombies could be the end of the world, but not the end of us.
I heard words that sounded like "don't leave me," but since her face was pressed up against my neck, I wasn't sure. Her forehead was hot and her hair slightly damp, which only freaked me out more because it was the middle of winter and she had just been shivering a few minutes ago.
Her arms tightened around me, clinging more than encircling. "Don't leave me." She still whispered, but it was clear now what she was saying. “Please?!”
"Of course not, Kyra. Never! But you’re burning up, really burning up."
"Promise me. Promise me when it happens you'll do it. You won't hesitate."
"But I CAN'T promise you that!" I was horrified; this was escalating with each passing second. "And besides," (wondering why I didn't raise this point sooner since the mere idea of it was ridiculous!) "so far we've been lucky...AND we don't even own a gun AND I would never use it…ever!!!”
I wasn't sure if maybe there was something to fear. Maybe not even the zombies, but something far more frightening. In the past two weeks, one of the leading presidential candidates (with the election just months away, if there was still even any point in having an election) had spoken out loud and clear about her stance on gay rights and how she would NOT shy away from internment camps (or some other serious type of punishment) for anyone caught "in the act" or in any kind of relationship that did not "reflect traditional family values." Not surprisingly, unmarried straight people engaging "in the act" need not worry for they were exempt from such narrow-mindedness.
And the most shocking thing was that no one, especially not the press or the current administration, had expressed any kind of shock or outrage. Public polls, in fact, suggested that people would gladly look the other way. No one, it seemed, wanted to take the time to understand. They had their had own specific “my way is the only way” definition of love.
How COULD you hurt the first and only woman you ever fell in love with? Kyra had sealed our fate together the night she pushed the hair off my face and leaned in to kiss me, her lips so gentle and sweet I thought I'd pass out right there and then.
It wasn’t even French, just sweet and quick but I had, in fact, passed out because I'd been so nervous about the third date rule (which I didn't really believe in, anyway) I hadn't eaten all day nor the day before, plus I had locked my legs together and almost stopped breathing.
When I'd woken up inside her apartment, on her couch, she'd smile wickedly and bragged (jokingly) about her amazing effect on gay women I knew I was in serious trouble. But she also looked worried and when she asked me why I seemed so scared I told her how much I hated the third date rule. My face was aflame with shame.
"The third date rule?"
"You know..." I let my voice trail off, way too embarrassed to finish.
"You don't really believe in that silly thing, do you?" Her voice was as gentle as her mouth had been just minutes ago.
"No...no, I..."
"We have all the time in the world; we don't have to rush things."
She was just as wary of rushing as I was, only for different reasons. Soon after we became closer, Kyra would confide in me that she had major trust issues. A fine pair we made since I had come into this with severe physical intimacy issues if things went beyond chaste kisses and warm cuddling at night…
Now, all this time later, I was trying to reassure her. Her forehead continued to burn feverishly and we were now in the bathroom, waiting out the quiet before the next throw-up storm.
Though the latest news about the zombie thing indicated it was probably going to get worse before it got better, electricity and politicians were functioning business as usual. Round-the-clock curfews were strictly enforced until the government (or so they said) could get everything under control. Kyra's fears were intensified by the anxiety from her depression, not any real life zombie bites.
When she stopped throwing up, I wiped her face with a warm cloth and brushed her hair back again, kissing her forehead gently. It seemed to me that there had been a time not too long ago when our roles had been reversed in this very same situation (minus the zombies and depression.)
"I won't let anyone hurt you, not one single person, not an angry zombie or an angry politician or an angry anyone, period!! They'll have to come through me first!" And I put my arms around her so tight, I was afraid I'd hurt her, but she immediately welcomed the embrace and leaned into me as I rocked her back and forth.
“Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” She just kept whispering as I continued to stroke her hair.
It would be hours before we'd set up “night camp” again in the living room like we had been for the past few days, away from windows that would be boarded up anyway, but somehow we still shied away from.
Later, both of us trying to fall asleep under the covers on our pull-out bed, Kyra lay with her head on my shoulder as I tried to figure out how long the food we had in our pantry and still-working refrigerator would last. On the rare times I also fell asleep it was only because Kyra's presence gave me the only comfort that could be found these days. When I'd wake, I'd always find her scrunched up to as close as possible and me her. It gave me such hope for the future if we could just survive what was right in front of us.
We had trekked to the local grocery store just the day before the first Emergency Broadcast System alert, Kyra seemingly starting to find the energy and heart to leave the house, even brazen enough to risk affection by kissing me on the cheek as a song we both loved came on the radio.
“It’s going to be okay, Sam. Really, it is. I love you so much. Have I told you that lately?”
I almost said no, but realized that would be cruel and petty when Kyra had no control over how she been since she stopped taking her medication.
“I never get tired of you telling me.” And my voice sounded dreamy in a way I normally would laugh at or mock.
She reached out and touched my cheek and it just stunned me. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d done such a thing. She was looking at me with wonder and I almost swerved the car it unnerved me so. This sweet innocence was a new side to her.
“It will get better. I’ve made an appointment to start seeing Doctor Mathers again. I think she can help, that maybe I was wrong to stop taking my pills so cold turkey like.”
I took my right hand off the steering wheel and grasped her hand quickly before returning my attention to the road.
“We can go together if you like. I’d like to go with you…” My words were hesitant…maybe she didn’t want me there or would find it awkward and intrusive.
But she blinked in surprise and rare delight and smiled. “I would love that! I would.”
And that was our first and last moment of pure happiness we’d had or would have in quite some time. We were pulling into the store parking lot and Kyra started rattling off things she wanted to get to make dinner and breakfast and lunch and “all our meals together forever.”
I guess if I hadn’t been so happy, so giddy really, that she seemed okay again and wanted to be with me 100% I would have noticed that something was wrong right then.
…
Kyra, who had traded resting her head on my shoulder for wrapping her arms around my waist and snuggling against the side of my neck, snored ever so slightly and I would have melted ever so slightly, if things had been different. But as long as we were together things could never be as bleak as before I'd met her.
The government hadn’t explained much about what was going on…just that bio-terrorists had struck in major United States cities, releasing an air-borne toxin that basically turned humans into rabidly crazed, but slow-moving creatures.
Apparently the rabid part had worked quite effectively when they were whipping up whatever it was in their wherever it was located lab, but the toxin also had a numbing (almost paralyzing) effect the scientists hadn’t counted on.
Thus the word “apocalypse” technically didn’t apply…yet. The 24 hour curfews and constant “zombie alerts” being issued gave people the advantage of anticipation…and with a slow contagion rate, there was still a glimmer of hope…as long as people stayed indoors at all times, their houses or apartments battered up more tightly than they would be for a hurricane. It was bad, real bad, but not at horror movie level, yet.
So why were we living life in the dark, non-stop? in constant fear? The zombies, slow-moving and quite imbecilic, had nothing on the politicians out for gay blood. Kyra had been paralyzed by the zeal that had accompanied the zombie outbreak, become someone I barely recognized, but loved just the same. I would do anything for her, even deny her, if it meant she could someday get through this and live a happy life.
Through the light coming in the cracks of the venetian blinds I could just make out my favorite framed picture of the two of us that rested on top of the mantel. We were both sitting, Kyra on top of a picnic table, me on the bench pulled up to it, directly in front of her. Her legs wrapped around mine and her arms enveloped me in a bear hug and both of us grinned at the camera like fools. A kind elderly woman had offered to snap our photo and commented on how cute we were together. Almost four years ago, long before both the zombies and the politicians threatened our freedom and our happiness. But still, even then, someone her age finding joy in our joy had given us hope for a future that would surely improve when it came to gay rights.
So sure Kyra had meant the zombies I wondered now if she meant something else. "Shot me if I start to change." Was she sick with worry because she didn't know if she'd be strong enough to face whatever happened if we were caught together? Was guilt at betraying, not the thought of becoming a zombie and killing, me making her ill?
She had been less and less lucid these past twelve hours and it scared me. I hugged her tight and whispered again it would be okay and she sighed and settled in even closer, reaching out clumsily and patting me on the cheek. "Together forever." She whispered and my heart skipped a beat and broke at the same time.
"Together forever." She had said it long before today or that day we went to the grocery store.
The first time had been the night we realized neither of our families were ever going to talk to us again. We'd met at my parents' house, asked hers over as well, and broken the news together. It had been horrible, horrific. Lots of tears on all counts and lots of screaming on some. When we'd gotten back to the apartment, Kyra having driven because I couldn't see through my tears, she'd taken me into one of her wonderful bear hugs and just let me cry it all out.
Funny, neither of us had ever come out to our parents before. For that we blamed ourselves and tried to give our parents some slack.
Kyra was the first gay woman I'd ever been in a relationship with who completely understood coming out was not an automatic given for everybody, that you didn't always come complete with a history of countless women and lesbian expertise. She was also the first woman I ever fell in love with who loved me back.
"From now on we're all the family we need."
We had fallen asleep that night, arms wrapped each other, fully clothed, no need to exchange anything more than a kiss because we were both so tired from crying and didn't need to talk to share our thoughts.
Back in the present, I found I wanted to cry, desperately and hard. But I couldn't. She needed me like I had needed her the weeks and months that followed both our families' ardent commitment to keeping us out of their lives.
In my head, I ran numbers and tried to remember the cans and boxes and bottles the pantry and refrigerator held. If there was one thing we had tons and tons of it was water and canned food. Boxed cookies and bread and anything else that either could last indefinitely or at least a few weeks. Food might not be our biggest worry, really.
Our biggest worry was right next to me and I loved her so so much that it scared me more than zombies or far right homophobes or the night I knew I had to tell Kyra the truth about me.
"I've never been with anyone before," I confided to her the night I asked her over for a candlelit dinner, hoping I had created a subtle, but very romantic atmosphere. Immediately after the words left my mouth, I flinched. Surely, this would be a deal breaker. Surely, her face would wrinkle with disgust and she'd be out of there with the snap of a finger.
But she didn't leave. She just reached across the table and took my hand in hers. "I know. And I think it's lovely."
“Lovely?” My voice, full of disbelief, actually shook. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I know how you feel about love and sex and you told me you’d never been in love before, so I kind of already suspected.” She grinned and leaned across the table to kiss me on the cheek. “And it’s incredibly, incredibly sweet, just like you.”
I could feel my face turning red and breathed a sigh of relief.
“There is nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. Nothing.”
And just minutes after that wonderful reassurance, having been so patient with me for months and months and telling me she could wait more if that would be better, she’d taken a box out of her pocket and placed it gently in front of my plate.
“What’s this?” I’d asked, my heart skipping several beats.
“Open it, silly, and you’ll see.”
And there had been two wedding bands, basic but beautiful, inside.
“Now, I know.” She held her hands up as if to counter anything I might say. “I know…legally these rings don’t mean a thing,” Kyra’s face had been full of tenderness and excitement. “But in my heart, and yours I hope, it already feels like we’re as close as any married couple. I was hoping you would wear one and I the other and someday, when we can, we will get married, for real.”
I’d lost the power to speak. Actually lost the power to speak, but apparently not the power to cry.
“Ally, baby?” This, after several minutes went by without me saying a word. “Don’t forget. Breathe!” She’d teased. “Take your time.”
“Of course, of course!” I’d held out the box. “Here, you put one on my finger, then I’ll put one on yours.” The box looked like a ship at sea, it was rocking so much in my trembling hands. My words ran together so fast I sounded like a kid at Christmas, which was how I felt.
“And here I was worried you’d say no,” Kyra had joked, wry as ever, but a deep affection spreading across her face so that I worried I’d cry all over again.
And now, here we were, still together, finding our way back to the closeness we’d lost there for a while, rings still firmly on our fingers, but possibly facing the possibility of our own extinction, one way or another.
I remained awake throughout the night, hoping Kyra might wake and be more aware and that we could talk, worrying that if I did fall asleep she might need something and I wouldn’t be there.
At one point, I had to go the bathroom, but when I carefully moved, she murmured, “Don’t go” and rather than try and explain I’d be right back, I whispered “Of course not” and told myself I could wait a little bit longer and once more taken what comfort I could from the fact she continued to hold on to me and I her.
We had only ever fought once which made the recent rough patch so hard to explain. On the night of our argument Kyra had accused me of flirting with the clerk at the bookstore we had just come back from. It was like a future glimpse of the way things were now, where paranoia and despair ruled Kyra’s every function (or non-function.)
She’d become emotional and accused me of not loving her anymore and I was so stunned that it was she, not me worrying about the threat of other women that my jaw just dropped. Putting the big bag of books down on the kitchen counter and taking the wine bottle away from her carefully, I’d taken her hands in mine and looked straight into her eyes.
“You know, I always thought this conversation would be the other way around. Do you how many times I’ve worried the same thing about you? Don’t you know how crazy I am about you? You’re the only one ever I want to flirt with.”
I had meant to reassure her, but she’d taken offense at the thought of my not trusting her.
“You think I could flirt with someone else? Ally! I would never! But the way that clerk looked at you, the way you two went on and on about science fiction. It scared me! Just the thought of you and another-“
I’d cut her off there, pulling her into my arms. “Kyra, no way! That could never ever happen! Don’t you know how much I love you? You’re everything to me, everything!”
This (thinking back now) was eerily similar to how Kyra was now. She had burst into tears and apologized over and over for doubting me and she had clung to me and insisted she couldn’t go into work the next day and asked (pleaded, really) me to call in sick, too.
She had slept all day, but somehow sensed whenever I moved in the bed or started to get up to go to the bathroom or try and make dinner. So I had stayed.
Just like now.
I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that. Which meant this didn’t necessarily have to do with the zombies at all. How could I have forgotten that?
Kyra stirred next to me. When I touched her forehead it felt considerably less hot. She opened her eyes and actually seemed to be alert.
“Ally?” Her voice was still weak, yet there was no mistaking she knew who I was. But when she asked if the zombies were gone I thought my heart would split savagely in two.
“Oh, baby,” I began, “we’re safe, we are, but they’re not gone yet. But we’ll be okay. Remember? We have tons of food and water and we still have electricity. And I reinforced every possible weak surface the best I could. And we’re in a highrise, remember?”
She reached her right hand up and patted my cheek like she had last night. “You called me baby.” Her goofy smile, kind of dreamy, almost druggy ,scared away my relief. “I like that. Call me baby again.”
I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat and hugged her hard to my chest. “Of course, baby. Please don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”
“Oh, Ally, honey, I’m better than I was yesterday. Don’t be afraid. I’m almost back. Almost.” She leaned her forehead against mine.
We hadn’t been this close in a while. The night we got home from the grocery store Kyra had slipped back into her fog and it was only right now that I felt I’d been with all of her in a long time. We hadn’t been intimate in even longer, but we didn’t need sex to be with other, to be happy. Just being near each other, sleeping next to each other at night when we were exhausted from our day, was more than enough.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you more, Ally.” she whispered back, rising her ring finger to pinkie swear with me, an “us” thing we did to show our word was true.
“Oh, I beg to differ, pretty thing.” And maybe it was weird to pinkie swear with our ring fingers, but that was what made it our thing. Oh, God, I loved this woman so so so much. Please let her be okay. Please!
“Well, we could argue till the cows come home, as you’d say, but I think we both know who’d win.”
“We both would.” I lay next to her once more and soon she fell back asleep and I tried not to worry, because hopefully when she woke up again, she’d still be lucid.
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