Michael Ford - Z

“Another of my dad’s creations,” said Charlie. She went to a console on the wall, pressed some buttons, and music began to play. It was a song Josh had never heard, with lots of loud guitars and wild drumming.

“What is this?”

“It’s old,” Charlie said. “A band my grandmother used to listen to called the New York Dolls. I’m kind of into it.” She danced around as the music played, throwing her head from side to side. “Sorry,” she said, falling on the bed. “You must think I’m nuts.”

“No,” Josh said, laughing. “I think you’re cute.” Immediately he realized what he’d said. “I mean, um, we should go over the maps,” he said quickly.

“Did you just say you think I’m cute?” Charlie asked.

“No,” Josh said.

“So you don’t think I’m cute?” asked Charlie.

“No,” Josh replied. “I mean, yeah. But I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I think you’re cute too.”

Before Josh could respond, Charlie jumped up. “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Josh felt his cheeks flush as he tried to process what had just happened. He did think Charlie was cute, but he hadn’t meant to tell her that. It had just slipped out, and now he couldn’t take it back. Now what? he thought.

Charlie returned to the room carrying a box. She brought it to the bed and set it down. It was made of black metal, and the surface was scratched and dented. In the center of the top was a logo Josh recognized at once—a simple circle with flames in it.

“That’s the Torcher symbol,” he said.

Charlie nodded. “My dad was a Torcher,” she told him as she lifted the lid. “He kept some stuff.”

She reached into the box and pulled out a small cyphoto album. Starting it up, she showed Josh the screen. On it was a photo of seven men all wearing Torcher uniforms. They grinned happily at the camera.

“That’s his squad,” Charlie said.

“Which one is your dad?” Josh asked.

Charlie pointed to a short man with black hair. He was the only one not smiling. “There,” she said.

She scrolled through the pictures. Mostly they were of the men from the first photograph. Then they came to a picture showing a beautiful woman. She was leaning against a railing. Behind her Josh could see the tracks of a roller coaster, and to one side three little kids ran by in a blur, balloons bobbing on the strings in their hands. The woman was holding a cone of bright pink cotton candy.

“That’s my mom,” Charlie said.

“That roller coaster looks familiar,” said Josh.

“It’s Happy Time,” Charlie said quietly. “My dad took her there when he asked her to marry him.” She stared at the picture for a long time without saying anything.

“What happened to her?” Josh asked finally.

Charlie turned the album off. “She died,” she said. She put the album back in the box and took out something else. It was a medal. “My dad got this for torching a thousand z’s,” she said, handing it to Josh. “Isn’t it cool?”

Josh examined the medal. It was round, and in the center was the Torcher logo. Beneath it was the Torcher motto: SAVED BY FIRE.

“He must have saved a lot of people,” Josh said, impressed.

“You mean zombies,” Charlie countered.

Josh looked at her, not understanding.

“Think about it,” said Charlie. “Zombies used to be people. By killing them, the Torchers saved them from having to be monsters.”

“I always thought that by the time z’s turned they were pretty much not human anymore,” Josh said.

“You don’t know that,” Charlie said, her voice oddly sharp. “Nobody really knows.” She took the medal back and returned it to the box.

“Can I ask you something?” Josh said.

Charlie nodded.

“How come when you play the hologame, you always play a meatbag?”

“It’s good training,” said Charlie. “It helps me learn to think like a zombie, so when I play the game for real I get inside their heads.”

“I don’t think I want to be in a head like that,” Josh told her.

Charlie looked at him. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she said. “You might even like it.”

Charlie got up and walked to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she rooted around and pulled something out. When she came back, Josh saw that she was holding a small silver vial.

“What is that?” he asked.

Charlie unscrewed the top of the vial and poured two small, white tablets into her palm. “This,” Charlie said, “is Z. It’s something that will help you think like a zombie. At least for a little while. I take it whenever I’m playing the game.”

Josh eyed the pills doubtfully. “I don’t do drugs,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie said. “It’s totally safe. It’s not a drug drug.” She took one of the pills and put it in her mouth. She swallowed and stuck out her tongue. “See? Now it’s your turn.”

She handed Josh the second pill. He held it between his fingers, looking at it. Was it really safe? What was it going to do to him? He looked at Charlie, who laughed. “Come on,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”

That’s what they all say, Josh thought. Right before you do something stupid. But he had to admit, he was curious. Also, he didn’t want Charlie to think he was afraid.

“It will make me think like a zombie?” he asked.

Charlie nodded.

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Just trust me,” said Charlie. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever done.”

Josh looked at her face. She was grinning. How bad can it be? he thought. Before he could answer that question, he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed.

“Josh! Dinner!”

Josh closed his eyes. He wasn’t really in the mood to be with his family, but he had no choice. He’d come home early from Charlie’s, totally forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be done with his fake meeting until eight. When he walked in, his parents and Emily were there. The mini-golf place had been closed for renovations, so they’d come home to have dinner and play some board games.

They were all happy to see him, but he wished he were anywhere else but there. I should have stayed at Charlie’s, he thought. But Charlie had homework to do. She’d promised to call later to see how he was doing. “In the meantime,” she’d said, “just go with it.”

He’d started to feel weird on the train ride home. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on. He just started to feel kind of… fuzzy. The feeling had grown stronger, and now he felt slightly nauseated. The last thing he wanted to do was eat.

At the same time, though, he was starving. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, but now he was acutely aware of the rumbling in his stomach. It felt as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

He checked his face one more time. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he left his room and went downstairs. His father was standing at the stove. The grill in the center of the range was lit, and the smoke from it was being sucked up into the silver hood that covered the stove.

“You’re just in time,” said Josh’s father as he placed one of the steaks on the grill. It sizzled as it touched the hot metal.

Josh looked at the cooking meat, and his mouth began to water as the smell filled his nose. The scent was incredibly strong—blood and fat and meat mingled together. He swallowed hard, tasting it in his throat.

“How would you like your steak prepared this evening, sir?” his father asked him. “Medium or well done?”

“Rare,” Josh answered. “Almost raw.”