Bob
“Zombie no go think, unless you tell am to thinkâ€Â
-Fela Kuti, “Zombieâ€Â
The intruder checked the barrel of his old .45 Colt revolver to make sure“Zombie no go think, unless you tell am to thinkâ€Â
-Fela Kuti, “Zombieâ€Â
everything was alright. He took a deep breath and kicked open the door. Lisa was on
top, her head turned to the side in surprise. Bob, the man with the “O†face, didn’t quite
know what was happening. Now you are staring into the stranger’s cannon. You see the
barrel shift, the chamber with the bullet served up like a torpedo. You are at the opening
looking in, a mere dust particle. The intruder squeezed the trigger, the bullet flew out
and you are at the business end of it. The distance between the gun and the girl is a blur.
You hit something hard but don’t stop as a subtle sound of a bone crack is heard only by
you. Everyone else is deafened by the “bang.†She collapses onto the bed. The red sheets
turn even more crimson. You are stuck there in what is nothing more than goo inside her
skull. Her blank eyes are lifeless two-way mirrors, and through them you can see…
Perhaps we should backtrack. Bob graduated with a Business degree and now
earned a stable living in his nine-to-five job over in midtown. Every weekday he’d take
the LIRR to his newly purchased home and his recently-wedded wife. Bob came home in
his newly bought suit, settled his black leather briefcase on top of the shoe rack which
also served as a bench in the little hallway just inside the house. His wife, Lisa would
cook him a chicken dinner and they’d watch TV. Later they would usually have sex.
Today Bob went for cocktails after work with his co-workers. That’s what he told
Lisa anyway. He was really interested in his boss, who had a nice rack. They passively
flirted but at the end of the night Bob felt the weight of his wedding ring in his inner
pocket and went home. At nine twenty he was home, putting down his briefcase. He was
followed.
A lanky figure walked up the block Bob lived on, peering into his windows. They
were watching TV. “Not yet,†the figure muttered as he surveyed the sky and his pocket
watch. Two hours later, the man showed up again. This time he came closer to the
windows in which the lights have just gone out. They weren’t downstairs. Going through
the back left the intruder out of breath, but he pressed on. The back door slid open (it was
one of those sliding glass doors) and the man proceeded cautiously inside. The house was
new because the stairs were silent as he walked up to the second story. Their bedroom
door was left ajar, but only a crack. He counted the number of bullets he had; two.
“Would it be right to kill her too? She shows no signs of being one of them,†he thought
to himself.
“I love it when you do that,†her voice resonated from within the room.
“She is with him though. Maybe they trick people to think they are just like everyone
else, and that’s how they reproduce.â€Â
“Oh god, don’t stop. Right there! Right there! Right there!†The sounds of passion
emanated from within.
“What if she is with his child? One more reason to kill her,†the intruder nodded.
“I’ll ride you now, have you been a bad boy?†Lisa whispered to her husband.
“Yes,†he whispered back. It was true, and at that moment it was okay to tell the truth.
“A zombie lover should be punished for being so ignorant. She risks giving birth to one.†With that the stranger’s internal dilemma was resolved. He kicked open the door and
killed both of them.
The gunshots have revived a monster which our hero, the zombie hunter, didn’t
anticipate. A small black dog ran inside the room, barking. The intruder’s heart started to
pound so hard he must have heard it himself. He obviously didn’t plan for this, and right
now he hated himself for not considering this possibility. Guilt had begun to germinate
within as he anticipated the outcome of this random encounter.
The dog, whose name tag said “Lucky†gnarled and displayed a fine set of teeth.
She stood her ground, the little one, looking fierce. The killer aimed the gun at the dog,
shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. Dry fire. He recalled the two bullets he had were now
lodged into the zombie and his brood mother.
He grasped a lamp whose base was heavier than he had predicted and threw it at
Lucky. He didn’t mean for it to hit her head the way it did. A dent, lots of blood. He could
imagine the fracture, the fuzzy gray matter within, firing electricity back and forth trying
to figure out how to repair the damage. Lucky whimpered. The intruder quickly ran up to
the fallen dog, examining it to see if he could help her in any way. Even half-dead Lucky
still had hatred in her eyes, her teeth still out in a menacing way as if she meant to
say “I’ll get you yet.†His time was up, he had to leave. His heart ached for the dog lying
on her side, already half as angry and half closer to sleep. He reached for his revolver and
bludgeoned Lucky.
I’m the bullies you hate, that you became.