[story] love in a time of zombies
Jan. 31st, 2010 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ib_archiveauthor: melayneseahawk (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melayneseahawk)
email: melayneseahawk [at] gmail.com
"Now, who can tell me what's special about today?" Amy asked the class, and every hand shot up. "Go on."
"Mark's birthday!" the smaller kids yelled, and the boy in question turned a delicate shade of pink.
"Now, Mark is turning fifteen, so that means today is extra special," Amy said, and Mark nodded sharply. She took a parcel - wrapped in a sheet that would go back on someone's bed later than evening - and placed it on the desk. "Mark, come to the front."
Normally, a child's parent would do this, but Mark's mother was buried behind the Schaffer's barn and Mark's father was probably out among the stumbling hordes, so the adults had decided that Amy - who had been a teacher Before - was the next best thing. "This birthday comes with new responsibilities," Amy said. "Do you know what those are?"
"I join the Watch," Mark said, only slightly louder than a whisper.
"And what does that mean?" All the children knew, of course, but their little settlement had decided early on that repetition of the rules was essential. Amy worried that this aged them before their time, but it wasn't like there were other options.
"I join the rotation to protect us from the zombies," Mark recited. Amy still had trouble, sometimes, wrapping her head around the idea that they were living in the aftermath of a horror movie. She couldn't let that stop her doing what she had to, though. "I will always keep my eyes open and my gun clean. I will guard the children and the sick, and I will end any zombie I can."
"Very good," Amy said, forcing a smile. She took the parcel and handed it to the boy. He unwrapped it quickly, revealing a sawed-off shotgun, the now-standard gift for a child Mark's age. Amy hated it. "Alright, everybody, lunchtime. I think Mrs. Evans baked a cake."
The general din and commotion of the class - thirty kids between the ages of five and eighteen, all the children their settlement had - hurrying out the door allowed Amy to sit down, unnoticed, and bury her head in her hands. An hour for lunch and recess, and then it would be back to reading and numbers for the little ones; the older kids only spent the mornings in school if they could be spared. Oh, how five years and the end of the world could change things.
"I'm told he's a good shot," a man's voice said from the doorway, and Amy didn't bother to look up.
"He's a child, Hank, just a child," Amy said. "And I put a gun in his hands."
She could hear Hank's footsteps over the creaking floorboards, and then she felt his big, warm hand on her shoulder. "You do what you have to do. Just like he will. Like we all have to."
Amy looked up, but she couldn't answer his smile. "Why're we doing this, again?"
"Survival of the human race, baby," Hank teased. "Speaking of, when are you going to give in and have my baby?"
"The morning I wake up straight," Amy said, the expected answer. "Or the morning I don't have to listen to the zombie forecast over breakfast."
"I'll have Rosie trade shifts with you tomorrow," Hank teased. Normally, his joking would have lifted her spirits some, but Mark's birthday was reminding her of things she usually didn't think about.
"Not today, Hank," Amy said, and his expression became concerned. "No, I'm fine. Well, I will be." She got up and walked over to the window. It was a sunny day, so the kids were eating lunch in the yard, sprawled over the cobbled-together picnic tables and the rusting playground equipment. The building they were in had been a school, Before, but now most of it was devoted to living quarters. These days, people liked to keep one another close. "You'd think five years would be enough to get used to this."
"Special day," Hank intoned, with such seriousness that Amy did smile a little.
"Come here and give me a hug, you idiot," she said, and as usual he didn't hesitate to do so.
They stood like that for a few minutes, and then Hank pulled back. "Actually, I just stopped by to tell you I'm on radio duty tonight," he said regretfully. "I know you were going to do something special with that new shipment of veggies, but Mike's got a cold, so I said I'd take it for him and he could stay in bed."
"I'll bring you something," Amy said, smiling. "Maybe I'll keep you company for the night broadcast."
"Only if you don't distract me," he teased, poking her in the shoulder. "Caravan's due in the next couple of days, we need to make sure the way's clear. And there’s that announcement from the scientific enclave in California, that cure they’re working on."
"Knowing the kind of luck we've had, it'll only make things worse," Amy said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. Hank shrugged, kissed her on the forehead and left. Amy watched the children playing for a few minutes longer before going outside to join them.
"And there's a mob coming south down the Chicago Corridor tonight," the voice on the radio said. There was a crackle, and Hank reached out to adjust one of the knobs. "--timated at three hundred, so settlements along that band should be particularly watchful. We'll be tracking this group over the next few hours, so if you have any information to report please use band 8061. Over on the West Coast..."
"Suppertime," Amy said from the door once the forecast had moved past areas that affected them. Hank looked up and smiled, but he looked haggard. "What's wrong?"
"There's some kind of special news report that's supposed to be on in a few," he said, taking the stack of covered plates and spreading them out on the rickety table.
"That's never good news," Amy said, putting down the coffee cups she'd been carrying, too, and pulling the silverware from her back pocket.
"Oh, someday it could be," Hank said.
"Forever the optimist," Amy said, uncovering the plates.
"One of us has to be," Hank said. "So, what am I eating?"
"Cauliflower sauteed in chicken stock and oyster sauce, over rice."
"Really?"
"Mostly," Amy grinned. "It won't bite you. And you can't say that about a lot of things these days."
Hank chuckled and started to shovel down the food. Even on radio duty, which exempted him from emergency Watch, it was never wise to eat slowly. "How's Mark?"
"Alright, I think," Amy said. "They started him out easy, he's taking the last watch before sleep."
"Good place to start."
The report droned on while they ate, moving south and east along what used to be the border and then back up the East Coast. "And now we take a break from your scheduled pattern report for this special bulletin from the labs in Berkeley." There was a crackle and a loud squeak, where somewhere someone switched radio feeds.
"We have very good news from the labs here," a different voice said. "The scientists in the compound here have discovered a chemical that will change our way of life forever."
"We've heard that before," Hank said darkly, and Amy nodded.
"--sure you know, the so-called Zombie Plague was caused by a common cold vaccine that was distributed by Oracle Labs about seven years ago," another voice said, probably one of the scientists. "While it caused the original...event, this chemical is also responsible for the continued, ah, ambulatory nature of the corpses. It has been postulated that, now that there is a rough stalemate between the zombies and the surviving humans, we would only have to wait until the corpses rotted apart, some ten or fifteen years. But we have discovered a way to speed up this rotting process.
"The new chemical will bind only to the remnants of Nimbustra in the zombies' systems, so it will not affect normal humans or the outside environment. We have been testing the new chemical for almost six months and are certain of its effects. There are a number of different delivery systems, and we will be ready to begin distributing the chemical for release in a matter of days.
"This will cut the time to optimum decay down to a matter of months. It'll be quite a mess to clean up, but at least this will be over."
The reporter started up some energetic commentary, but Amy hardly heard it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, like a cold spot in her chest was starting to thaw. Hank was eagerly spreading the news over the walkie, and Amy felt a smile - a real smile - stretch her face.
"Hank, how about we get to work on that baby," she heard herself say, and she outright giggled at Hank's flummoxed expression.
"Right now?" he said, after a few comical minutes of expressions crossing his face like lightning.
"Well, you're still on radio duty, so I wouldn't want to interrupt."
Hank blinked. "No, seriously?"
"Seriously. 'Survival of the human race, baby,'" she quoted back at him. "We'll probably make beautiful, smart babies. And now they'll have a future to look forward to."
"And what about that pesky sexuality problem?" Hank said, and Amy could have kissed him. He'd always been so politically correct when it was really important, and she'd always loved him for it.
"You know I love you," Amy said, cupping her hand over his. He turned his hand over and their fingers laced. "If I'm going to have a baby with anyone, it's going to be you."
Hank's expression was serious, and for a moment Amy worried that it really had been a joke all this time. "Well," he said slowly, "I think we are going to have to talk to Rosie about taking your morning shift."
the end
melayneseahawk)email: melayneseahawk [at] gmail.com
"Now, who can tell me what's special about today?" Amy asked the class, and every hand shot up. "Go on."
"Mark's birthday!" the smaller kids yelled, and the boy in question turned a delicate shade of pink.
"Now, Mark is turning fifteen, so that means today is extra special," Amy said, and Mark nodded sharply. She took a parcel - wrapped in a sheet that would go back on someone's bed later than evening - and placed it on the desk. "Mark, come to the front."
Normally, a child's parent would do this, but Mark's mother was buried behind the Schaffer's barn and Mark's father was probably out among the stumbling hordes, so the adults had decided that Amy - who had been a teacher Before - was the next best thing. "This birthday comes with new responsibilities," Amy said. "Do you know what those are?"
"I join the Watch," Mark said, only slightly louder than a whisper.
"And what does that mean?" All the children knew, of course, but their little settlement had decided early on that repetition of the rules was essential. Amy worried that this aged them before their time, but it wasn't like there were other options.
"I join the rotation to protect us from the zombies," Mark recited. Amy still had trouble, sometimes, wrapping her head around the idea that they were living in the aftermath of a horror movie. She couldn't let that stop her doing what she had to, though. "I will always keep my eyes open and my gun clean. I will guard the children and the sick, and I will end any zombie I can."
"Very good," Amy said, forcing a smile. She took the parcel and handed it to the boy. He unwrapped it quickly, revealing a sawed-off shotgun, the now-standard gift for a child Mark's age. Amy hated it. "Alright, everybody, lunchtime. I think Mrs. Evans baked a cake."
The general din and commotion of the class - thirty kids between the ages of five and eighteen, all the children their settlement had - hurrying out the door allowed Amy to sit down, unnoticed, and bury her head in her hands. An hour for lunch and recess, and then it would be back to reading and numbers for the little ones; the older kids only spent the mornings in school if they could be spared. Oh, how five years and the end of the world could change things.
"I'm told he's a good shot," a man's voice said from the doorway, and Amy didn't bother to look up.
"He's a child, Hank, just a child," Amy said. "And I put a gun in his hands."
She could hear Hank's footsteps over the creaking floorboards, and then she felt his big, warm hand on her shoulder. "You do what you have to do. Just like he will. Like we all have to."
Amy looked up, but she couldn't answer his smile. "Why're we doing this, again?"
"Survival of the human race, baby," Hank teased. "Speaking of, when are you going to give in and have my baby?"
"The morning I wake up straight," Amy said, the expected answer. "Or the morning I don't have to listen to the zombie forecast over breakfast."
"I'll have Rosie trade shifts with you tomorrow," Hank teased. Normally, his joking would have lifted her spirits some, but Mark's birthday was reminding her of things she usually didn't think about.
"Not today, Hank," Amy said, and his expression became concerned. "No, I'm fine. Well, I will be." She got up and walked over to the window. It was a sunny day, so the kids were eating lunch in the yard, sprawled over the cobbled-together picnic tables and the rusting playground equipment. The building they were in had been a school, Before, but now most of it was devoted to living quarters. These days, people liked to keep one another close. "You'd think five years would be enough to get used to this."
"Special day," Hank intoned, with such seriousness that Amy did smile a little.
"Come here and give me a hug, you idiot," she said, and as usual he didn't hesitate to do so.
They stood like that for a few minutes, and then Hank pulled back. "Actually, I just stopped by to tell you I'm on radio duty tonight," he said regretfully. "I know you were going to do something special with that new shipment of veggies, but Mike's got a cold, so I said I'd take it for him and he could stay in bed."
"I'll bring you something," Amy said, smiling. "Maybe I'll keep you company for the night broadcast."
"Only if you don't distract me," he teased, poking her in the shoulder. "Caravan's due in the next couple of days, we need to make sure the way's clear. And there’s that announcement from the scientific enclave in California, that cure they’re working on."
"Knowing the kind of luck we've had, it'll only make things worse," Amy said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. Hank shrugged, kissed her on the forehead and left. Amy watched the children playing for a few minutes longer before going outside to join them.
"And there's a mob coming south down the Chicago Corridor tonight," the voice on the radio said. There was a crackle, and Hank reached out to adjust one of the knobs. "--timated at three hundred, so settlements along that band should be particularly watchful. We'll be tracking this group over the next few hours, so if you have any information to report please use band 8061. Over on the West Coast..."
"Suppertime," Amy said from the door once the forecast had moved past areas that affected them. Hank looked up and smiled, but he looked haggard. "What's wrong?"
"There's some kind of special news report that's supposed to be on in a few," he said, taking the stack of covered plates and spreading them out on the rickety table.
"That's never good news," Amy said, putting down the coffee cups she'd been carrying, too, and pulling the silverware from her back pocket.
"Oh, someday it could be," Hank said.
"Forever the optimist," Amy said, uncovering the plates.
"One of us has to be," Hank said. "So, what am I eating?"
"Cauliflower sauteed in chicken stock and oyster sauce, over rice."
"Really?"
"Mostly," Amy grinned. "It won't bite you. And you can't say that about a lot of things these days."
Hank chuckled and started to shovel down the food. Even on radio duty, which exempted him from emergency Watch, it was never wise to eat slowly. "How's Mark?"
"Alright, I think," Amy said. "They started him out easy, he's taking the last watch before sleep."
"Good place to start."
The report droned on while they ate, moving south and east along what used to be the border and then back up the East Coast. "And now we take a break from your scheduled pattern report for this special bulletin from the labs in Berkeley." There was a crackle and a loud squeak, where somewhere someone switched radio feeds.
"We have very good news from the labs here," a different voice said. "The scientists in the compound here have discovered a chemical that will change our way of life forever."
"We've heard that before," Hank said darkly, and Amy nodded.
"--sure you know, the so-called Zombie Plague was caused by a common cold vaccine that was distributed by Oracle Labs about seven years ago," another voice said, probably one of the scientists. "While it caused the original...event, this chemical is also responsible for the continued, ah, ambulatory nature of the corpses. It has been postulated that, now that there is a rough stalemate between the zombies and the surviving humans, we would only have to wait until the corpses rotted apart, some ten or fifteen years. But we have discovered a way to speed up this rotting process.
"The new chemical will bind only to the remnants of Nimbustra in the zombies' systems, so it will not affect normal humans or the outside environment. We have been testing the new chemical for almost six months and are certain of its effects. There are a number of different delivery systems, and we will be ready to begin distributing the chemical for release in a matter of days.
"This will cut the time to optimum decay down to a matter of months. It'll be quite a mess to clean up, but at least this will be over."
The reporter started up some energetic commentary, but Amy hardly heard it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, like a cold spot in her chest was starting to thaw. Hank was eagerly spreading the news over the walkie, and Amy felt a smile - a real smile - stretch her face.
"Hank, how about we get to work on that baby," she heard herself say, and she outright giggled at Hank's flummoxed expression.
"Right now?" he said, after a few comical minutes of expressions crossing his face like lightning.
"Well, you're still on radio duty, so I wouldn't want to interrupt."
Hank blinked. "No, seriously?"
"Seriously. 'Survival of the human race, baby,'" she quoted back at him. "We'll probably make beautiful, smart babies. And now they'll have a future to look forward to."
"And what about that pesky sexuality problem?" Hank said, and Amy could have kissed him. He'd always been so politically correct when it was really important, and she'd always loved him for it.
"You know I love you," Amy said, cupping her hand over his. He turned his hand over and their fingers laced. "If I'm going to have a baby with anyone, it's going to be you."
Hank's expression was serious, and for a moment Amy worried that it really had been a joke all this time. "Well," he said slowly, "I think we are going to have to talk to Rosie about taking your morning shift."
the end
no subject
Date: 2010-02-06 05:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-06 05:52 am (UTC)