“Whaaa, aaah!! What the fuck?”
Yeah I know, a little dramatic right? Well, I forgot I was pet sitting my neighbor’s cat Misses Buttersworth, and her psycho tendency to sleep on my face.
“Butters, we’ve talked about this. Coming out of a deep sleep with your furry ass smothering me brings me back to ‘Nam, or it would if I had PTSD, was born in the 1940s and had a dick, semantics. The point is, I thought we had an agreement fuzzy munchkin.”
Purrr Puurrrrrr Puurrrr…..
Hmmm, I would be offended by her offhandedness if the little bastard wasn’t so fucking cute. So you know that old saying, ‘No good deed goes unpunished’? When turning to the internet to un-riddle that Batman of a statement, you will find it essentially means that karma is an asshole, yet not put in so eloquent of terms. Basically, it’s when someone does something out of the good of their heart, and it turns around to bite them in the ass. Little did I know the meaning of said quote is at the moment trying to rape my face.
“Seli!!!”
The tiny Asian that is my best friend comes flying into my room not even halfway through whisper-screaming my name.
“What the fuck Nik?”
I’m still getting my bearings straight from having the loaned out furball in my bed trying to off me, but now I’m taking stock of her appearance. Normally, she’s a gorgeous little midget, and being severely vertically challenged is a trait we both share. Yet where I look like the blonde hillbilly girl next door, my friend is the tiny exotic beauty, even though that bitch was born and raised in So-Cal. She looks frantic, eerily pale, and she seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating.
When she finally catches her breath she answers. “Dude… just… just come here, you have to see this.”
Normally I would have questioned her, but I’ve never seen her so spooked, and this, in turn, is freaking me the fuck out. I don’t say anything as I gather Misses Buttersworth and follow her through the living room and to our front door.
“I have to warn you, what you’re about to see through that peephole is fucking crazy. So I need you to cover your mouth now because we’re fucked if you scream or make any other loud noises.”
“Oooookk…..”
So I do what she says, and I cover my mouth, squint and look to see what’s taking place outside our front door. Immediately I slam my other hand over my mouth, jerk my face back and go into a low crouch, trying to sort through what I just witnessed. Nikki crouches down next to me.
“Dude, I think you’re strangling that cat.”
“Oh my god, Misses B I’m so sorry.” I let her go and she runs away, looking harassed and ruffled. Now my mind begins to circle back to the scene sitting right on our doorstep.
“Tell me Mr. DeLuca and Ms. Dale were having a hardcore makeout sesh and they weren’t eating each other’s faces.”
“Alright, but I should maybe point out that Ms. Dale was missing an arm and looked like she was on the brink of being fucking scalped. Also, I’m pretty sure Mr. Deluca’s intestines were spilling out and onto his knees.”
I wrap my arms around my knees and put my head down. I cannot believe my best friend just actually used the word scalped, and in its correct fucking context…I lift my head up to regain eye contact with her.
“Dude, tell me you know karate.”
She opens her mouth, closes it and then opens it again looking a little lost.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Oh god, how am I best friends with the only fucking Asian that doesn’t know karate!!”
“Shut up hillbilly! I don’t see you busting out with any helpful ancestral traits.”
“Oh fuck, we are so going to die”
“Seline! Stop, I need you right now. We can’t fell apart, we can do this.”
“Do what exactly? And how the shit are you not losing your mind right now?”
“I did, but I smoked a bowl and regrouped and I think…. Dude, did you just shit your pants?”
“What?! No! Jeez, I just farted. Don’t be gross.”
“Ugh, your asshole smells like its leaking liquid garbage.”
“Fuck off! I can’t help it, I get super gassy when I’m nervous.”
“Fantastic. Of course you fucking do. Well, next time warn me, I had my mouth open you dick.”
“I think our top item of concern should probably consist of the man in our hallway trying to use his entrails to play double dutch with the bitch whose face he just ate. I bet my nervous gas smells a million times better than the sludge that is currently lubing up their love fest.”
“Oh god shut up, just shut the fuck up, be a decent human being, and warn me next time ok?!”
“Ok!”
We sit there for what could not have been more than thirty seconds when we hear the first slam on our front door. We move so fast I’m positive it’s out of instinct because in the next moment we’re covering the other’s mouth with our hand to ensure they won’t make a sound.
They say a best friend is someone who you can talk to about anything, and sure, that’s always been a huge contributor to our friendship. But ask me if I want the chick I can talk to about yeast infections to have my back right now, or the bitch that as a straight up natural reflex covered my mouth to avoid alerting the living dead outside of our presence. Yeah, I’ll go with option number two all day, although I don’t have to, seeing as I get both in the Amasian (amazing + Asian) sitting next to me. Said Amaisian releases my mouth and starts to make a game plan.
“Pack necessities, we have to figure out the safest place to go. There’s no live news broadcasting on TV and since the screen’s broken on my phone I haven’t been able to look anything up. Check yours to see if there are any emergency alerts, but don’t dick around on it, we need to leave soon before this shithole gets overrun.”
“Maybe they’re just on a bath salt binder?!”
The longer Nik sits and stares at me the clearer it becomes that this is most likely not the case.
“You know you’re right Seli, it completely slipped my mind that ingesting bath salts also happens to give you the ability to deface a woman while no longer having your intestinal track inside your body…. silly me.”
Seeing as no verbal response is needed because clearly, she’s right, I just hold up both of my hands in surrender, while her previous statement begins to recirculate.
“Oh! We’ll go to my brother. Jay’s stationed right over in Alameda, it’s not too far from here. We can totally make it.”
“Fuck yeah, good idea! Ok, half an hour tops and then we’re out.”
Adrenaline starts to pump through my system, making my body feel like it’s on fast forward. Trying to move too fast resulting in an awkward half dash, more like a stumbled run, I make it to my room. As soon as I clear my doorway, I’m on my knees and sliding towards my bed, ducking down and pulling shit out from underneath it. Oh, the blessed advantages of having a combat-ready brother and being raised by a father who would have been extremely disappointed if his little girl did not have all her self defense bases covered. Shit, his first gift to me after moving out on my own was an arsenal of handmade weapons, which is what I’m currently on the hunt for.
Before my dad died, I use to follow him around everywhere, and he was a total man’s man. He could fix any car, replace any leaky pipe, and just build shit. Like when I was ten, I wanted a dollhouse, yet we were always broke growing up. That year for Christmas I got a handmade, hand-painted dollhouse courtesy of my dad. Another specialty was his one of a kind, semi-nutty, handcrafted weaponry, and being as attached as I was to him, I couldn’t bear the thought of not keeping them when he passed. I realize I straddle the line between sentimental and crazy, but keeping crazy close at hand is sure doing me a solid right now.
I see one of the duct-taped axes handles, yes ax handles, and reach for it. In case you were unaware, the duct tape is for grip. You’re welcome. Setting it aside in what is to be the beginning of my tools of defense against the living dead pile, I then dive back under my bed. By the time I’m finished, my assorted pile includes: a pickax, a rusted ass saw, an aluminum baseball bat, two smaller axes, some other long wooden handle that my dad had pinned two saw blades too, a metal javelin looking thing with a train track spike welded to the end of it, the .45 my brother bought me last year with ammo, my dad’s welding torch, mask, gloves, and apron. I wiggle back under my bed, knowing I have a few of my dad’s old tool belts that will be sure to come in handy.
“So, have you been a serial killer the entire time I’ve known you?”
Nik’s voice behind me scares the fuck out of me, and being halfway under my bed when I startle, I bash my head against the underside of my metal bed frame.
“Oww! Fuck! Don’t sneak up on me like that you dick! Shit like that is how you deceived me all this time into thinking you were secretly a ninja.”
Nik huffs out a laugh.“Shut up, I just came to ask you if you had another set of hiking boots. I had ordered a new pair online that hadn’t come yet and I already tossed my old ones.”
“Yeah, they’re in my closet, just take whichever pair you want.”
“Sweet, thanks.”
I hear her rummaging in my closet for a few minutes before I hear her voice again.
“Hey, do you think we should take one of your dad’s old fishing poles?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. Maybe we should each take one. There should be a couple already disassembled so grab those, they’ll fit in our packs easier that way.”
“Kay.”
From the bathroom, I collect my toothbrush, deodorant, aspirin, first aid kit, and my razor. No one needs hairy pits in the zombie apocalypse, no one. Miraculously there’s a bar of soap left behind from one of the last times my brother stayed at our place so I opt to take that in place of my gigantic bottle of body wash. I for-go shampoo, the bottle I have is enormous, and if Nik thinks we should bring it she’ll grab it. I instead grab my small bottle of baby powder, the quick fix to greasy hair. I also grab toothpaste, my comb and the small emergency sewing kit I had stashed under the sink. Grabbing my hair cutting scissors from the medicine cabinet, I cut a chunk out of the shower curtain and use it to bundle everything together. Grabbing a stray hair tie off the counter, I band my makeshift bag closed and head back to my room.
I start to fill my dad’s tool belt with things like fishing lures, matches, industrial-sized box cutters, spare batteries that were randomly floating about under my bed, a flashlight and other randoms that could be useful. Once that’s done, I begin to stuff my pack with a bunch of undies, one pair of pants, two thermals, a wife beater, one t-shirt, two pairs of leggings, a beanie, two pairs of socks and a bunch of hair ties. Getting your hair yanked out by a zombie would no doubt fucking suck, so hair ties are essential. I change into fresh undies, jeans, socks, a sports bra, a wife beater, and a long sleeved button up flannel over it. I pull on the pair of hiking boots Nik set out for me, and strap on my dad’s tool belt. I grab Misses B’s leash from where it is hanging on the back of my door and turn to where she has been perched on top of my bed watching me this entire time.
“Ok B, I know that since your vocal cords have gone to shit you can only make that weird meow that makes me think you’re really a tiny alien. And that’s been cool, I totally dig it, but I’m gonna need you to refrain from doing even that okay?”
She cocks her kitty head like a dog would, solidifying the fact that there is no chance I’m leaving her behind. There’s a fact about B’s mom you should be aware of. Eleanora Craig was fucking nuts and not the type of nuts where she thinks Jesus sits on her fridge and gives her baking advice. Nope, Misses Craig is more like the ‘I never got around to having kids, therefore, I purchased the four-legged furry kind’ special brand of crazy. With that being said, B has a wardrobe from which I’ll be selecting one of those stupid little sweaters to put on B right now because fur has to be way easier for a zombie to grab, so we need to cover that shit. Also coming along on this adventure will be the crazy zippered mesh enclosed backpack that B does her site seeing in, crazy Craig’s words, not mine.
I walk out into the living room carrying my gear with B trotting along behind me. I hand Nik the extra tool belt that I was able to find of my dad’s.
“Here, I figured you might be bringing along your gardening shit and so you could put it all in this. It’ll give you some extra room in your backpack while also giving you easy access to those shears if needed.”
“Awesome, thanks, dude.”
I finally take in that Nik is also wearing a wife beater under a button up flannel.
“Awww, we’re twins!!” I say pointing at her shirt and then mine.
“You’re so lame.” She says this as she’s slightly shaking her head, and then her gaze strays just past my left shoulder, towards the floor.
She narrows her eyes and then quickly reestablishes eye contact with me. “Dude, tell me you are not bringing the furry zombie dinner bell with us.”
“Umm, tell me you are not just realizing who your best friend is. Of course, I’m bringing B, that was never even a question.”
She sighs heavily and looks up towards the ceiling.
“When I transfer the gardening tools to that belt, do you want me to bag up some dry cat food and stick it my pack?”
“Oh shit, cat food! I almost forgot. Yeah, dude that’d be great, thanks!”
“Don’t thank me yet, if we get cornered you better believe B is getting tossed like a furry fucking zombie grenade.”
“Not cool my non-ninja Amasian.”
After Nik is done packing and I’ve located the only state map we own, a freebie Nik got with her car towing service, we sit down on the floor by our front door and begin to map out our route.
“Dude,” Nik says as she looks up from the map, “let’s bike this shit. Cars easily get stuck and will need to be refueled, but we’re not gonna know which way is the safest or is still even accessible until we get out there. If we use our bicycles then we can avoid any backtracking on foot we may have to do.”
“Good idea. Oh! Grab the binoculars that are in the hall closet too. And the emergency blankets!”
Ten minutes later and we’re finally ready. Our bikes are strapped up and secured with our gear resting against the front door. Nik turns to look at me.
“We don’t stop for anyone but each other ok? This isn’t a rescue mission, and unfortunately, we need to turn a blind eye towards everyone else. Who knows what the fuck we’re going to see once we walk out that door, but I only have your back and you only have mine. We’re a team right?”
“Fuck yeah! Getting separated isn’t an option either. We don’t leave each other for anything. If you get bit, I’ll still keep you, as like my cute little zombie pet.”
Nik’s eyes go wide and she starts to shake her head.
“What?! No! That is not at all what I fucking meant! Dude, I promise you this, if you make me your weird zombie pet I’m biting your fucking ankles.”
“As my zombie pet, we’re not off to a very good start Nik, just saying.”
“I hate you. And you can’t call me your zombie pet when I’m not even a zombie! So just shut up and let’s go dick cheese.”
I look over and down at B.
“We are so going to have to look into getting a muzzle for zombie pet.”