It’s just one short story. But self is dragging it out, sentence by sentence.
Apparently they’ve found a cure for zombies that restores them to their human selves. They then call these rescued the “rehabilitated.” That doesn’t help the narrator, a “rehabilitated” zombie who makes one friend, a boy named James.
He’s the reason she’s even contemplating attending school.
He visits her in her dwelling, an abandoned house on the edge of the city, the one with the floating body in the pool.
And – guess what. This boy drags a scent of human for the zombie pack to follow him.
What I don’t tell him is that I can already hear the pack pushing against the air outside the house. They know there’s someone pure inside.
I can already feel the way their mouths water for him.
At night, when they race past the house, is the loneliest I’ve ever felt. Except for now.
Oh Heavens to Mergatroid, please don’t let the pack eat James!
SPOILER ALERT — DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE DENSE AND/OR NEVER INTEND TO READ CARRIE RYAN’S STORY!
Self is so slow on picking up clues. Even after she took that Hunger Games “How Long Would You Last as a Tribute” quiz that told her she’d last a day, self keeps forgetting how dense she is. So it comes as a total shock when the narrator decides that it’s too late to evade the rampaging zombie pack, she has to turn James into a zombie. In other words, she has to kill him herself.
Suddenly James is showing the narrator that he really really likes her (Self, is Twilight simply a distant memory? Apparently so) and — please believe self when she says that this scene is very very poignant, and not the least bit confusing, though she wishes the couple would address the immediate problem! Which is that a zombie mob is in the process of tearing down the door!
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.