by Jozelle Dyer
\n
<\/br>
\nWith no one else left to eat, and the long days passing slowly, the zombies in town were getting playful. \u00a0They would ring the doorbell and run quickly to hide in the bushes. \u00a0If we dared to peek through the boards covering the windows, we would see an eye or a tooth, maybe even a finger, left like an offering on the doorstep. \u00a0It was a race, of sorts, to see who would succumb first, David and I to the zombies, or the zombies to the carrion birds who flew overhead.\u00a0 There were flocks of them circling the town, filling the sky until they blocked out the sun.\u00a0 It was always night these days.<\/p>\n
David and I also played. \u00a0For weeks we had been at each other’s throats, but on the day we found the body wedged halfway through the doggie door, we decided to call a truce.\u00a0 We pulled out the family board games I\u2019d collected over the years and waged war with each other over Monopoly, Scrabble, and Clue.\u00a0 So things went for a while until the morning that David kissed me in the bathroom just after I had cleaned my teeth.\u00a0 It was the day after we saw my now dead dog chasing a dead cat down the street and into a tree.\u00a0 David had stopped shaving when his wife had died and taken the children, and his beard rubbed pleasantly.<\/p>\n
After that we played a different kind of game.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrrr,\u201d he growled.\u00a0 \u201cArgh.\u201d\u00a0 I don\u2019t know how it started, but we began to make love\u2014for it was a strange kind of love binding us together\u2014as we believed zombies would.\u00a0 As we believed our spouses would if we could chance letting them in the door.\u00a0 I ran for the kitchen doorway, giggling.\u00a0 He caught me at the steps.\u00a0 Outside it sounded as though a storm was gathering: the zombies were pelting the windows with dirt from the garden.\u00a0 They had churned up so much dust in the air that the birds swooped and squawked angrily, blinded.\u00a0 David growled again, low in his throat then clamped his teeth on mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cAva.\u201d\u00a0 He whispered his dead wife\u2019s name even as he tugged hard on my nipples.\u00a0 He bit them until I thought he\u2019d draw blood, while I clawed at his back and called for Daniel.<\/p>\n
I heard my name called in a hiss, and wondered at it.\u00a0 David always called for Ava.\u00a0 Then I realized that David\u2014whose head was buried between my thighs\u2014hadn\u2019t spoken, and the hissing came from the direction of the dining room window.\u00a0 I craned my neck awkwardly and could just make out the aquiline nose that belonged to my dead husband.<\/p>\n
\u201cJenny,\u201d he called as though his heart was breaking. \u00a0\u201cJenny.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pushed David away, but even as I did, Daniel began to laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cJen-ny,\u201d he sing-songed.\u00a0 \u201cJen-ny.\u201d<\/p>\n
Even as I began to realize\u2014perhaps for the first time\u2014that my husband was truly gone, there came a whisper from the direction of the doggy door, calling, \u201cDavid, David.\u201d\u00a0 I could hear a wild weeping, and recognized Ava\u2019s voice.\u00a0 She had been my dearest friend, the best of neighbors, but now she was dead and had no right to be calling for her man at my back door.<\/p>\n
My thoughts formed rapidly for I was unreasonably panicked.\u00a0 We were inside, we were safe.\u00a0 Then I realized that David was no longer beside me, but was moving like the undead himself to open the back door.\u00a0 Before I could call out he was gone, into the arms of his lost love who was already devouring him greedily.\u00a0 I could only slam the door shut, locking and barring it quickly even as Ava feasted on David\u2019s tongue.<\/p>\n
From the dining room I could hear Daniel\u2019s call turn mournful, and I let my body slide down to the black and white tile floor.\u00a0 I was alone. by Jozelle Dyer With no one else left to eat, and the long days passing slowly, the zombies in town were getting playful. \u00a0They would ring the doorbell and run quickly to hide in the bushes. \u00a0If we dared to … Continue reading
\n
<\/br>
\n
<\/br>
\nJOZELLE DYER<\/strong> used to work at Tor Books, but has decided that she would rather write than edit. She is currently working on her MA in writing from Johns Hopkins University. Jozelle is afraid of vampires, werewolves, and zombies, but can never resist writing about them. It is Jozelle’s way of facing her fears. This is her first submission.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"