Life, Death, and Reanimation in Suburbia
Over groans, Carol called to the children to get out of bed. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat by the kitchen window, drenched in sunlight. God Dammit; someone left the gate open.
She immediately reached for her phone and texted her husband:
"Another one in the yard - did you close the gate?"
"Shit. Sorry. Is he a big?"
"Yeah, but skinny. Shit. Another just joined him. I'll take care of it. x"
"Skinny ones are the hungriest. Don't go outside. x"
Carol sighed, another chore to add to the list. She finished her coffee and retrieved the old house riffle.
She opened the window and took aim. The creep must have been over six feet tall, but his friend was much shorter due to his lack of his feet and calves. She clipped the big guy expertly, but wasted two bullets on the other. Should've just slit him, she thought.
Carol counted the remaining bullets, reloaded, and began making the kids' lunches. She'd clean up later.
The kids got onto the bus in their usual hurried way. Jimmy was a slow runner, poor kid, but he was good enough with the machete to not rely on speed alone. Carol was particularly proud of Suzy, who, at only eight years old, had become so skilled at zombie extermination that she made the bus at only a brisk walk, so long as she held her switchblade. Those extra Zumo classes had really paid off.
Carol smiled at the driver, and waved to her children. She thoughtfully deadheaded a few stragglers on the porch before resuming her day.
19 June 2013