Jason Jones - Trailer Park Zombies

“Thanks, Fannie Mae. Let’s do your bite now.”

She laughed bitterly. It hurt my heart to hear that sound come out of her mouth. “There’s no point in doing mine, Dukey. You know that.”

“Hey,” I said, grabbing her arm and making her look me in the eyes. “Don’t talk like that. There’s still a chance. We, we can, um, clean it up. You took the antibiotic and if we clean the wound we can clear the infection.”

“Dukey,” she said solemnly, “don’t be stupid. You and I both know that the only way we could have cleared me of this would have been to cut my arm off the second I got bitten. That would have maybe been enough to stop this, but it’s way too late now. I can,” she paused, “almost feel the virus coursing through my body. It’s filling up my blood and everywhere it goes my body is going numb.”

She stopped and wiggled her fingers at me. “I can’t feel my hands anymore, Dukey. It’s like they’re someone else’s hands and I’m just controlling them like a puppet master. I can already not feel my thighs and if I got up to walk right now I think I’d be stumbling around here like a zombie already.”

I could feel the tears coursing down my cheeks. I didn’t even know I was crying until they fell silently into my lap. The pain in my arm paled in comparison to the pain I was feeling in my heart right now. It was like nothing else existed but me and her. I didn’t give a crap about the zombies outside the door anymore.

“Kiss me, Duke,” she said, closing the distance between us to a few inches. “Kiss me some more before my lips go numb and I can no longer feel you. I want to feel you, Duke. I want to feel everything,” she whispered.

So that’s what we proceeded to do. I sat on the edge of the couch and she kneeled before me, our faces at the same level. I put my arms around her waist, wincing with the pain of it, and she put her arms around my neck. I drew her in and we kissed like there was no tomorrow. I guess there really wasn’t.

Her lips were soft and dry, the skin brittle to the touch. Her tongue danced in my mouth and intertwined with mine. We didn’t do anything else but that. We kissed and held each other and it wasn’t enough. Dammit, it wasn’t enough. I can still feel her lips on mine and her forehead on mine and her arms holding my neck tightly. It was never enough.

Finally she pulled back from me. I could see the fear in her eyes. “My lips are numb. I can’t feel you anymore, Dukey.”

I tried to pull her back into my embrace so that I could hold her tightly but she fought me off saying no over and over again. When she finally escaped my hands she scooted across the floor until she was against the far wall. I slid off the edge of the couch until I was sitting on the floor, too. There was maybe six feet between us.

“Dukey, you have to stay away from me. We don’t know,” she shook her head, “how long until I turn. I can’t stand the thought that I’d hurt you.”

I said nothing, just sitting there on the floor opposite her. Every fiber of my being yearned to touch her and be with her. I could feel the gulf opening in my chest and felt like my heart was being ripped in two.

She pulled her gun out of the waistband of her pants where it’d been hidden all night. She held it limply in one hand and used the other to trace circles in the iron. She tore her eyes away from mine and just stared at the gun.

I stared at her in horror, comprehension beginning to blossom in my brain.

Still not looking at me she said simply, “I love you, Dukey. You know that, right?”

I nodded, my mouth dry. She couldn’t hear a nod. I cleared my throat and whispered, “Yes, Fannie Mae, I know that. I love you, too. I’m sorry I wasted all this time with you right next to me. We could have had so much.”

She looked up at me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you say that, Duke! Don’t you even think it! We had this weekend and even with all the pain and the horrors and everything else we’ve experienced, that can be enough. We packed years worth of love into the past 24 hours. And that has to be enough. I knew what it felt like to finally have you return my love and for us to be what we were meant to be.”

“Fannie Mae, I’m sorry -.”

She cut me off. “Never say that! Never! Never apologize or feel sorry for what happened here. We had enough love to last a lifetime. I want you to live , Duke. Survive this somehow and get away from the Acres and forget all this and just live . Can you promise me that?”

I nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “Promise me, Duke!”

I whispered through dry, cracked lips. “I promise, Fannie Mae.”

“Good,” she said, smiling. “I can live with that.”

Then she raised the gun to her chin, tears streaming down her face, smiling at me gently, and pulled the trigger.

22.

An empty, hollow click echoed through the small living room.

“Oh, fuck!” She cried out as she lobbed through the gun through the room. It hit the wall next to me with a thud and bounced on the floor. She burst into tears, putting her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably as she sobbed. I got to my knees and started to scoot in her direction.

“Stop!” She looked at me fiercely. “Do not come any closer, Dukey. I can feel the change coursing through me. I can feel myself dying , for God’s sake. Don’t come closer, please. I’m begging you. I don’t want to eat you.”

I froze, torn between her orders and my own feelings. Finally I settled back against the couch. Waves of sorrow poured through me and I wanted to scream and cry and run over to her and hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right and save her and live happily ever after with her.

But that was a pipe dream.

Her face was drawn and pale, all color gone. The bite in her arm was the only color on her body. It shone brightly in the darkness of the room and I could see that the bleeding had finally stopped. She licked her lips trying to get moisture back on them but tongue was dry. The cracks in her lips gaped wider and I knew that blood should have been seeping out, but it wasn’t.

“You need to shoot me, Dukey,” she said softly, slowly.

I shook my head. “I can’t do that, Fannie Mae. You can’t ask me that.”

She tried to smile at me, but all it did was make the split in her lip even wider. Tears of blood began seeping from the corners of her eyes. I choked back a sob. “You need to do it, Duke. And now. I can, can feel,” she stopped and rubbed her stomach, “hunger. I’ve never been this hungry before.” Her words came out in a rush, in a soft growl, “I can feel my brain dying and my thoughts are beginning to leak away. All I want to do is eat and eat and eat.” She laughed. “I can smell you, Dukey. Smell your sweat and feel your heat and I can see how alive you are.”

Her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. They would stop to rest on me and then start rolling again as she looked around. I had no words for her.

Her whole body started to shake, tremors raging wildly. “Please, Dukey. Don’t let me become this. I can’t, don’t, want to be this. Don’t let me un-die.”

I unwillingly picked up the shotgun. My hands were trembling and I couldn’t bring it to bear. The horror gnawing at my gut was almost too much. I thought I might pass out but then the butt of the shotgun rubbed against my bandage and a wave of pain passed through me. It brought everything back to stark reality and I could see her sniffing at the air as blood began soaking through the bandage. I slowly, ever so slowly, pulled in the catch and cocked the shotgun.

Fannie Mae had her feet drawn up to her chest and her hands resting palm up on her knees. Her whole body was shaking like a leaf and her breaths were coming in quick gasps of air. She shook her head up and down several times, hanging it between her legs and then staring up at me. She was breathing faster and faster. She tried to speak but all that came out was gurgles. She couldn’t find the words but I could see them on her face.