Love Revived A Zombie Romance

Mission Statement

I have to get my sword, this is a fact, but I can’t today, I can’t right now. I wonder if the zombie will help me. As I begin to turn back I startle at the closeness of him, he is standing right next to me. I didn’t even hear him approach… Was I so wrapped up in my memories with Jacob that I didn’t hear him?

I shake my head to get a hold of my thoughts and look up at the zombie. He is tall but always seems to be slightly hunching over. Most of him is covered in blood and gore but I recall him having white hair, now partly hidden under dried blood. Okay, I will ask him, I decide.

Pointing to my sword, I hope that he understands what I am pointing at and saying. Please, I silently beg. “Hey zombie, can you get my sword from down there?” The zombie stares at me for a moment and then moves his head inertly towards where I am pointing, to my sword. He is quiet for a moment before a growl reverberates from the back of his throat. I take this as a sign he understands and that is a no.

“Zombie, get the sword for me.” I demand, not really asking but he simply stares at it with his lips peeled back in a snarl. He looks like he understands but doesn’t want to get it still. “I won’t stab you with it.” I promise but I don’t get a response from him. Sighing I look around the roof for anything really, but what I am searching for is an access hatch. I hope this one has one and I can drop down into the store below for shade and the pick there. Hopefully this was a food store of some kind.

After searching the roof I don’t find anything but I find a ladder off the side of the roof leading down to more zombies. Great. As the hours tick by I remain seated just resting. Sometimes I doze off from just the boredom of it, waiting, and waiting for what? I don’t know, I know I need to move and soon, my water and food are gone and the sun is not helping me any. When nightfall finally comes I relieve a sigh at the coolness. The zombie, my zombie now I guess, stays on the roof all day. Sometimes he walks around when I remain seated but he always follows when I get up to walk around.

“You know.” I say staring at the darkness that shapes my zombie. He hasn’t whimpered today and I can’t help but miss it. “We can’t stay here. There is no food and no water. I need to clean my wounds.” He doesn’t say anything in response and I let out a sound of frustration. I am trapped here, just as I was trapped in the tower. The only difference is I tru– do I trust this zombie? Without thinking I began to.

He saved me and fought other zombies, he carried me to safety. I saved him too, lied to my friends, my people, lied to my own kind to save him. At some point I fall asleep and wake up at dawn. This happens for two days and on the third day when I wake up the zombie, my zombie is gone. Thirst has tightened my throat and hunger has wrapped his hard fist around my stomach. I will die here, I think to myself.

Getting up slowly I head for the ladder, I need to get off this roof. The sun is making everything a million times worse. Looking down I see zombies still stumbling around. Not as many as there were but still too many for me. They will overwhelm me. With a final look I turn around and bump into someone. My heart races as I look up and relief fills me, it’s my zombie. I again didn’t hear him approach.

Over the last few days I have heard him approach but at times like this I don’t and I can’t help but wonder if it's on purpose. The zombie has what looks to be five jugs of water in his hands. Did he go to my friends? Did he kill them? I stare at them shocked for words but my thirst wants them, I want them. But I can touch them if my friends died for them.

“Did–” I try to swallow but my throat is dry and my voice is hoarse from lack of water, “Did you kill for those?” He grunts and places them down. I can’t tell if that was a yes or no so I stare at him. I don’t see any fresh blood on him and he still looks as dirty as the day he saved me. I am going to pray he didn’t kill them.

I all but collapse to the ground and open one. When the water hits my tongue it tastes fresh and beautiful. I can hardly believe I love water this much. Before the apocalypse I drank soda and not much water. Now however water is my friend, water is my everything.

Once I had my fill I look up at my zombie. He–he got me water. I stare at him in shocked silence and take in his dirty bloodied form. For some reason I have to urge to clean him. So ripping off a piece of my dress I clean my wounds as best I can and I am shocked to see that they are just surface wounds once again. I thought some would be deep, but once I am clean I take a look at my zombie again and decide I will try and clean him.

“Come here zombie.” I wave him over and to my surprise he comes. “Sit” I say simply and watch as his large form plops on the ground in front of me. The wave of rotten air hits me and I fight a gag. He smells so badly. I can’t help but be happy that he can understand me. Wetting and cleaning off my makeshift rag I reach out to the zombie and pause. He doesn’t react or pull away, only stares. “I am going to clean you, okay?” I ask and when the zombie blinks slowly at me I take that as a yes and run the rag down his forearm.

The blood comes off half heartedly and I can see dark veins running down his forearm. The virus, I think to myself. That’s what makes us different, and I am here cleaning him… I look up at him only for my eye to snag on his chest. It’s covered in blood, but wasn’t there a hole there before? I take some water and rise off my rag trying to squeeze the blood and dirt off of it so I can use it again. I lean forward and reach out the rag to touch the zombie's chest. When my rag touches it, he, it, the zombie seems to stiffen and I might be imaging it but did he just suck in a breath?

I move the rag slowly in circles at first seeing if he will do it again but he remains still and quiet. Once I have most of the blood and dirt off I see a large scar the size of my fit in the middle of his chest. I notice that the shirt he is wearing also has a hole allowing my access to view it. Did I imagine the hole before or was I really just seeing the shirt’s hole? I stare at the scar and notice that it has no black veins near it and it looks almost pinkish, like it’s been healed.

Drawing my hand away I lean back. This must be a scare from when he was human. I have never seen a scar on a zombie, but then again I never have been this close to one and actually looked. I stare at it for a long while just thinking and thinking. When I look up to the zombie's face I lock eyes with it. His eyes are still milky and white, dead. I tell myself. His eyes are dead just as he is. You saved his life because he saved yours. You have to escape.

With that in mind I stop cleaning him and raise the rag out again and work on the rest of my body. I really need to clean these clothes but getting nacked infort of this zombie is less than ideal. I am sure he will keep staring at me and then whimper and… will he force himself on me? What if he attacks me? He clearly is smart and well a man so I keep my clothes on and wash my face and hair. Well rise. I wrap my hand with another piece of my dress and once I am somewhat clean I lay out on the roof to dry. The sun is beating down and will dry my hair in no time.

I close my eyes and listen to the zombies below and my zombie walk around the roof. I think of my colony and Jack. Embarrassment floods me at the memory that Jack saw us, that maybe the others did as well. I cup my hands over my face and moan in displeasure. I hear footsteps approach me but I don’t take my hands off my face. When I hear my zombie drop down beside me I don’t look. He can kill me, that way I don’t have to deal with Jack and the others. It’s bad enough they think a wild human was eating me out. If they find out a zombie did–

Wait Jack said he was coming back for me. I know he will and he will most definitely see and smell that my new friend is in fact not a wild human but a zombie. Will the zombie attack him? Will he whimper for him like he does me? A ping of jealousy courses through me at the thought and I take my hand off my face and scream out at the sky. Why did I feel that? The zombie beside me doesn’t move but does start to whimper while the others below moan in response. Great.

After laying there for a while my face feels sunburned and I sit up and away from the sun. The whimpering zombie moves to face me. “Fine I guess I will talk to you.” I say in annoyance and boredom.

“We need to get off this roof. Any ideas?” I raise my eyebrows and wait for the zombie to respond but it doesn’t, it just keeps whimpering. I sigh with frustration and get up to walk around. My hair is almost dry now and my skin feels tight from the sun. I need to get to shade. “I don’t think you could get me an umbrella” I say over my shoulder to it half-heartedly. “What I really need is my sword and to get down and out of here” I grumble.

The zombie doesn’t respond but follows me as I look out at the hoard of zombies. There seems to be less of them today and if I want a bit longer I am sure I can escape from them and my own personal zombie. I watch the zombies below stumble around the dead ones that he and I killed that surround my sword. I sigh looking out at it. Jacob used to practice with that sword everyday and he sucked at it. I giggle to myself at a memory of him in the backyard swinging that sword and missing the tree no matter how hard he tried.

It took me mouths to even lift the sword let alone swing it. If he just had more time to practice. If we all did, maybe we– maybe he would still be alive. Frowning at the sword I know that I need it, I can’t live without it. That’s the last piece of Jacob that I have and will ever have. I will wait until the zombie leaves again and escape. If I am fast enough I can escape him and these stupider zombies. The plan is set.