Bob Fingerman - Pariah

“Whattaya mean ‘Mike’? Mike is dead, old man,” Eddie said. “He’s out there walkin’ around? Hey, Matlock, Mike was a heap of bones and gristle last I heard.” Looking over at Ellen, Eddie added an insincere, “No offense.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Abe shouted. “Anyway, just look out the windows!”

“This is bullshit. Grandpa Munster’s popped his cork.”

“Listen, you pea-brained gorilla, I saw what I saw and if you don’t believe me, fine! Go chase yourself! But everyone else please, please, please come see!”

“If you weren’t so old…,” Eddie began, but all ignored his half uttered half threat and followed Abe into his apartment. When they crowded around the two front windows all was normal, just the usual Undead Sea. Abe poked his head out and looked up and down the avenue. Nothing. Ruth shuffled in and groaned in exasperation.

“It’s bad enough you drag me into your lunacy,” she lamented, “but the others? Leave them alone, Abraham.”

“Did I imagine that car? Was that just some phantom hallucination? No, it wasn’t, was it?” Abe twitched with emotion. He’d seen her! She was there moments ago. “You were all too slow,” he grumbled. “She was there, I swear it! She was there . She must’ve gone inside someplace.”

The others stayed by the windows for a few more minutes, then began to file out of the Fogelhut’s apartment. Alan gave Abe’s shoulder a squeeze and said, “It’s okay, Abe. No harm, no foul.”

“Fuck you, ‘no harm, no foul.’ Don’t you condescend to me. I saw what I saw and if you had any brains you’d help me draw her attention. Maybe she was deaf, because I raised a ruckus and she didn’t even notice. She was cutting through that crowd down there like a shark. It was like a zipper opening and closing, the way they got out of her way then closed ranks after she passed. I’m telling you, it happened .”

“Okay, I believe you.” Alan turned to Ellen, who hovered by the door near a mortified Ruth, and said, “I’ll be down in a few. I just want to give Abe the benefit of the doubt.”

“Again with the patronizing,” Abe groused. “Fine, whatever. Let those putzes do as they will. Show some sense and give your benefit of the doubt .” The last sentiment came out curdled, but Alan didn’t mind. Each manned a window and watched the street. Ruth shuffled back into the bedroom and closed the door, fed up with Abe’s figments. After about fifteen minutes Abe himself began to doubt what he’d seen. He mopped his sweaty brow with a heinously discolored hankie, his features collapsing in sorrow and embarrassment.

“Maybe I am losing my marbles,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Who isn’t?” Alan allowed, hoping it didn’t sound condescending.

Alan stepped away from the window and as if on cue the girl emerged from Food City, a shopping bag in each hand, which she placed on the ground to adjust something in her ears. Headphones! She was wearing headphones!

“There! There!” Abe shrieked, spinning Alan around. Alan’s jaw nearly hit the floor. As the girl stood before the supermarket, the undead backed away, moaning and hissing. They gave a wide berth and she stepped into the street, aimed south. Abe sputtered, “She can’t hear ’cause she’s got one of those Walkman thingies!”

Alan tore out of the apartment and into the hall. He ran down to four and pounded each door, all the while shouting, “Abe’s right! Get down to the second floor, Abe’s right!”

Others rapidly joined Alan in vacant 2A, Abe kvetching, “Sure, him they believe.”

Everyone crowded by the windows screaming at the tops of their lungs as the figure, now patently obviously a young woman, began to head south.

“We can’t let her get away,” Ellen squeaked.

Redoubling their efforts they shrieked raw-throated, over and over, “Help us! Help us! Help us!”

With her back turned away from 1620, the girl stopped and plucked an earbud out, head cocked like a dog hearing an unfamiliar noise. Seizing the moment they upped their clamor, shrieking, “ We’re here! We’re here! We’re here! ” like a nightmare version of the wee folk in Horton Hears a Who . The girl looked this way and that, but didn’t turn around. As she was about to replace the earbud she turned and saw them. She saw them! With their hearts almost escaping their chests, everyone let out a collective gasp, then began waving their arms in a frenzy. As the girl walked toward the building the zombies all recoiled from her, their noises of reproof stomach turning. The girl moved leisurely, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Now that they’d gotten her attention they watched her approach in silent awe. Without a doubt this was the most extraordinary thing any of them had ever seen. Ever.

When she was right below them, the zombies spread out around her, she the pupil, the exposed street the sclera of the eye she’d opened in the crowd. She looked straight at them and plucked both buds out of her ears. Even through the low din of zombie protestations they could hear the tinny ratta-tat-tat of loud percussive music piping from the tiny speakers of her headphones.

“What’s up?” she asked in the tone of someone just running into an old acquaintance. Her nonchalance turned every person by the windows into one big goose bump, hairs rising on necks and arms, Adam’s apples bobbing in quandary. Maybe Abe’s derangement had affected them all, because no one in this world or the next had ever displayed such placidity, least of all in a circumstance like this.

Not even Jesus.

“We need your help,” Ellen managed, forcing out each word like a fist-sized chunk.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Big pause. The girl stuck a finger in her ear and jiggled it. “Whattaya want?”

“For starters, we’re starving.”

“Uh-huh.”

And with that she turned around and headed back into Food City, the zombies after a few beats closing the zipper. Everyone stood by the windows, immobilized and mute. On York the scene coalesced into its usual monotonous norm, no breaks in the rotting mob, no sign anything different had ever occurred. Ellen blinked herself out of her stupor and whispered a faint, “Did we just see what we just saw?”

As they hoisted the fifth load of canned and dry goods into the windows of 2B, the girl looked up at them, indifferent as when she’d arrived. Everyone was sweatier than usual, but there was a feeling of giddiness and camaraderie that hadn’t been evident in the group since ever. One bag toppled over in the excitement and several mouths involuntarily began to drool at the sight of such delicacies as Hormel Chili, Dinty Moore Beef Stew, Del Monte Lite Fruit Cocktail, and more. Even good old SPAM. Several eyes were also leaking, but with anticipated pleasure for a change.

“Okay, then,” the girl announced, her voice wholly monotone. With that she picked up her own shopping bags, turned around and began to head south in no particular hurry. On her back was a bulging button- and badge-festooned Hello Kitty backpack, its beady black eyes as blank as hers.

“Wait! Wait!” Ellen screeched, hating the desperation in her voice.

The girl stopped and looked back. “What?”

What?

“Can’t you stay?” Ellen shouted, regaining composure.

“Why?”

Why? Was this chick for real? Was she so shattered by the world she couldn’t even be horrified by it any more? It was possible. It was certainly possible. Around her, for the first time in months, the zombies’ barely functioning brains were engaged, and they didn’t like it. The bounty in the building above tantalized them, out of reach. For a moment Ellen wondered if the zombies were as hungry as she was. The girl was clearly abhorrent to them. Inarticulate confusion and chagrin reigned, displayed in a chorus of guttural grunts and thick, phlegmy hissing. In direct contrast, the girl stood there, calm as a mink at a PETA rally.