This is the beginning of a story that started with a simple smell, coffee.  My mind ran away with me, and soon I had a paragraph.   I have no idea where this is going, or what it will become, but I wanted to share it, regardless.   This is also my first attempt at writing in first person.   A quick warning:  the story doesn’t start happy.

*****

The smell of burnt coffee and stale cigarette smoke hung in the air, even though the detective was no longer seated across from me. I didn’t remember him leaving. I was only aware of my own position: perched precariously on the edge of a rose patterned love seat, hand clenched, knuckles white around a shredded tissue. My breathing was ragged and shallow, echoes of shed tears. My nose was raw and red; I sniffed delicately, dabbing briefly with the tissue. The clock in the corner ticked loudly, counting off the seconds of my changed life, intruding in on my thoughts; a black ragged turmoil that couldn’t be pinned, soothed or subdued.

My eyes strayed, for what seemed like the hundredth time, to the liquor cabinet in the corner, which mocked me with its silent unchanging presence. It whispered seduction in my ears, promising the relief of oblivion. It would be so easy to fall back into old destructive patterns, to say, “the Hell with it!” and lose myself in the golden liquid burn, allowing it to engulf my senses, my sanity, my self. Or what was left of it. But it had been years since I had walked down that path, and despite the temptation I knew that he would be disappointed in me if I surrendered. Him. John. Wherever he was now. The tears silently began to pour down my cheeks again. I choked off a sob, taking a deep shaky breath, closed my eyes, blocking out the vision of the empty chair across from me. When did the detective leave?

I opened my eyes. Had I dozed? The sun had changed position in the room, it’s rays now glowing warmly across my hand, the room taking on a pinky-orange cast with the impending sunset. My stomach growled and I rose from my seat, automatically smoothing the wrinkles out of my slacks. It seemed easiest to stick to routine and so I moved to the kitchen and began dinner. Chicken breasts, grilled, steamed broccoli and carrots, brown rice. John was on a low sodium diet, because of high blood pressure.

What was a I doing?! I stared helplessly at the table set for two, the two chicken breasts on the grill. Reality had reached out and slapped me in the face, and all I could do was take it. I turned off the stove; chicken and plates remained untouched. I didn’t need to eat. Memories slithered through my mind of a chilled tumbler, wet with moisture, ice clinking as I tipped the contents down my throat. I didn’t need that, either, I told myself without really believing.

Sorry, Zombie lovers, I have to take a little break away from “For Love of Brian” because I’ve reached the end of what I’ve written and have been immersed in a vast deep pit of ‘what should happen next?’ for a long, long time.   While I ponder the fate of Julia and Brian, my hubby has kindly volunteered to have a piece of his first novel posted for you to read.  So, here is an excerpt from chapter two of Second Chance.

****
Swish! The doors of the supermarket slide open as Jerry approaches and the cool air from the produce department slides over him, sending a chill up his spine. Determined to find the ingredients for a good healthy meal Jerry picks up a hand basket and strides confidently into the produce section. The light glimmers off the water droplets on the vast array of vegetables spread in front of him. He moves slowly along the refrigerated cases pausing often to survey the item in front of him.

He considers what would make a good inclusion in his meal as he moves along. Would onions fit the bill? No, Jerry detests them with their limp consistency and harsh taste. He moves on down the line. The sprayers come on and a cool mist washes over Jerry.

For the second time since entering the store he shivers. Something seems slightly off, strange in a way that Jerry can’t quite place. He feels like someone is watching him and he keeps glancing over his shoulder as he walks. Thinking it’s just a trick of his active imagination he shrugs to himself and keeps moving thought the vegetables.

The sweet peppers lay before him, green, red, yellow, and the slightly exotic orange pepper. Are any of these good choices? No, Jerry decides, the flavor of the green is too sour, the red and yellow are too bland and he’s never had an orange pepper and the idea of trying something new tonight isn’t appealing to him. He moves on, still with the feeling that someone is watching him.

He glances again over his shoulder and this time catches a glimpse of someone as they move around a corner. A white t-shirt and long brown hair are all Jerry manages to see but it strikes a chord with him. Something about that half-seen form seems vaguely familiar. Another chill runs up Jerry’s spine and a cold sweat starts to break out on his skin. What the hell is going on? Jerry thinks to himself

He shakes his head trying to clear it and focuses on the food items again. Eggplant? Is that even an option? How does one even cook an eggplant? That’s a question Jerry can’t answer. He picks it up and surveys the rotund purple food and puzzles over it. Odd, he thinks, I’m a 32 year old man and I’ve never even seen the inside of one of these things. He puts the plant back down with the others of its species and moves on.

After much fruitless searching thought the produce aisle Jerry finds himself among the meat. A section he’s much more comfortable with. Nichole has been on a push lately for vegetarianism but it’s something that Jerry just can’t bring himself to even consider. He is a meat eater and always has been. Running his tongue over his teeth he looks at the cuts arrayed behind the glass of the butchers counter.

Large porterhouse steaks jump out at him, bright red with a nice white marbling of fat. Jerry’s mouth waters looking at the succulent cuts of beef but he knows it’s too much red meat for today; he doesn’t have the energy to put into such a nice cut of meat. Beside the steaks is the pork. Fresh, thick pork chops lay three deep on platters under the lights of the display case, a light mist hanging in the air above them, but once again Jerry passes by. Pork was on the menu last night.

Fifteen minutes later and Jerry has exhausted his options in the produce, meat, pasta, and dairy aisles and finds himself in a well traveled location: the snack aisle. Shiny packages of chips, crackers, and pretzels face out at him, mocking his inability to decide on a healthy alternative. The plastic packaging over the high fat snack treats shimmer and shine as Jerry slowly moves down the aisle looking over each bag. He stops and stares at the chips, feeling sorry for himself and his waist line he picks up a jumbo pack of Lays potato chips and drops it into his cart. He then selects a bean and cheese dip to go with it and drops that into his basket as well. Just as the dip hits the bottom of his basket with a dull thwack the lights above him go out.

He cranes his neck back and looks up at the florescent lights above him simultaneously cocking an eyebrow and giving the now dark lights a look of distain. Two banks directly over him have gone out; at the same time the temperature of the air around him seems to have dropped a couple degrees with the loss of light. Another chill runs up Jerry’s spine. He drops his head and catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turns to look and as he sees the figure standing about four feet away from him his world swoons for a moment. The edge of Jerry’s vision gets dark and forms a sort of tunnel with the girl at the center. Jerry’s heart is racing and cool sweat has broken out all over his body. He stumbles slightly and has to hold onto the rack of chips to stay on his feet. The basket he’s holding drops from his numb hand and makes a loud plastic smack as it hits the hard floor.

Something about this young girl has affected him badly, something is ripping at the back of his mind screaming to get out but Jerry has no idea what it is. He’s deathly afraid of this little girl.
****

Interested?  Go here for your copy of Second Chance.

Julia and Brian have manage to escape detection so far, but we all knew that their luck couldn’t hold out forever….

****

Before them was a major intersection of three lane roads, and smack in the middle of it, taking up all the lanes except for one going in each direction, was what could only be described as a military outpost. There was a large green tent, and arranged around it were various vehicles. People in uniforms milled around it, most looking bored, some looking important, some with steaming mugs of coffee looking like they needed more sleep. She wondered if they were the night curfew watch and if they would be going off duty soon or if they were working longer shifts.

Examining the outpost allowed her to stall for time.  They slowed to a crawl as if  they were out for a  leisurely stroll rather than purposefully headed somewhere, which allowed her to observe and examine the workings of the outpost.   Unfortunately there just wasn’t enough time to learn much.  The only other couple who had approached it were greeted, and passed through without any problems. However, there were no zombies in their party and that probably sped them along. She couldn’t tell how closely the officer had looked at the couple either, from as far back as she was, so there was no way of telling if they were paying attention to details or just letting anyone who wasn’t trying to eat brains, through.

“Damnit,” she said quietly under her breath. She wished there was another way through, an alley or a side street, maybe.   Despite their leisurely pace, however, they’d drawn too close and had probably been spotted; there was no way to turn back without looking suspicious. They were commited, now, for better or for worse. The only thing going for them was that Brian hardly seemed like a zombie at all, except for the whole decomposing part.

Just to be sure, she glanced over at Brian, walking steadily by her side. His stride was even and measured, with only a slight stiffness, as if he was walking with a back ache. His baseball cap covered his head and concealed his eyes in shadow, but anyone looking directly at his face would immediately assume him to be extremely sick, or dead. His pallor was anything but the rosy hue of health; he was pale and bluish-green around the edges, and while his muscle tone had improved with regular meals, the first five days without food had taken a toll on him, and skin sagged off of his frame.

They were close enough to the tent for Julia to smell coffee now. There was a slight rustling of paper from behind a canvas wall, and the faint sound of voices conversing in important sounding tones. The only other sounds were a few birds chirping, and the soft rustle of wind as it ran through the trees that lined the streets, green leaves glowing in the early morning sun like millions of emeralds.

Julia tried her hardest not to seem nervous and to act like she walked through the checkpoint every day. “You’re allowed to be here,” she told herself, and reached out instinctively to grab Brian’s hand. He squeezed lightly, in support, perhaps? She wondered if he was scared, too.

They approached the soldier standing near the edge of the sidewalk, and Julia made brief eye contact, smiling kindly. He smiled back, as she continued to approach but made no move to stop them in their path.

“Morning, folks.” he said as they drew abreast of his position.

“Morning,” she replied, slowing only slightly, but continuing on her way.

She counted her steps as they walked past, hope growing in her chest, butterflies multiplying in her stomach as the numbers in her mind ascended.   Eight, nine, ten…

Then a voice behind her called out, “Hold up!” and her hopes crashed so swiftly, she was left feeling faint.

Despite her heart slamming in her chest and feeling like she was going to throw up, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to face the approaching soldier. “Yes, sir?” she asked respectfully, walking towards him to close the gap and leaving Brian where he was, hoping the distance would be enough to deter an examination.

She knew she looked like hell, knew she was rumpled and unwashed and that her golden blond hair was tangled and dirty, but she was still a woman, and maybe she could make that work for her. She gave him the smile that suggested she found him desirable, as she approached. “What can I do for you?” she practically purred, and had to restrain herself from touching his arm, feeling instinctively that that would be crossing the line.

He blinked, and swallowed heavily. He was a young man, probably barely over twenty, and that could have worked to her advantage, if he had been alone. However, he glanced over his shoulder at the presence of higher authority and duty reasserted itself, his gaze hardening as he visually shook himself of any effect she may have had over him.

“Oh, nothing but routine, ma’am,” he answered, glancing at Brian standing patiently. “We just don’t have a record of your being in this area, your picture hasn’t been recorded.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the tent, and sure enough, there were two cork boards filled with Polaroid pictures, with names and details written neatly on the bottom of each picture. “Anyone coming through the area needs to be identified, for security, ma’am. I’m sure you understand.”

While I’m away on vacation I thought you deserved a little action….

****

She awoke to find herself marginally more comfortable than when she had fallen asleep, and discovered it was because Brian had sat down beside her, at some point, and pillowed her head on his lap.   She was slightly surprised to find that it didn’t bother her; if it wasn’t for the putrid smell of his body, it would have felt completely normal.   If she closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, she could pretend they were back at home and none of this had happened.

She sighed and moved to sit up so she could try to figure out what they would be doing next.   Brian, however seemed to have other plans and held her down with one hand when she moved to rise.  For a moment she was frightened that he had decided that now was the perfect opportunity to add some more intimacy to their relationship.   Her stomach turned at the idea of how close her head was to his decaying crotch and she tried to rise again, this time more forcefully, but he just held her tighter.

She tried to speak, to protest that she just wasn’t ready for what he wanted, but he covered her mouth with his ragged hand, holding tightly so not a sound could escape.   That was when she realized that he wasn’t getting fresh with her, he was hiding her.   She froze and was instantly aware of the atmosphere around her.   The tunnel was still as dark and apparently empty as it was when they had discovered it, however something was wrong.

At first it was just a feeling that they weren’t alone, but then she realized there was as sound.    It was as soft as a whisper, like skin sliding against skin, but it wasn’t continuous.  It stopped and started in a rhythmic pattern.   It was confusing, she had never heard anything in her life like it before,  yet it was oddly familiar.  It seemed to be too quiet to be something large or dangerous, yet too rhythmic to be a small animal like a rat.  No matter what her opinions were,  it clearly bothered Brian, and she trusted his supernatural instincts.

Gently, he moved his hand away from her mouth and lifted her up from her prone position.   He held her shoulders tightly for a moment, pressing her back against the wall, and then touched her mouth again, in silent admonition.  She nodded her head slightly in understanding, though she didn’t know if he could see her.  Then she watched as Brian slowly, painfully and eerily quietly rose to his feet and placed himself defensively in front of her.

He stood, unmoving, as the minutes ticked by, apparently listening to the rhythmic whisper move slowly closer to them.   Julia couldn’t guess how close the sound was.  The tunnel made the sound seem to come from all sides, and if she hadn’t known  to listen for it, she wouldn’t have known it was there at all, much less moving towards her.

Suddenly a dark shape appeared in front of a dim puddle of light, it was silhouetted black so all she could see was that it was human shaped.  It moved slowly and carefully, and though it appeared slightly off kilter, it barely moved the dirt beneath its feet.   The rhythmic sound was the rubbing together of its legs, wearing ragged and torn corduroy pants.

At first Julia thought that it hadn’t noticed them hiding in the shadows.  It  continued on its straight path down the side of the tunnel.  It got close enough that a wave of putrid stench of decay preceded it and it was all Julia could do to not clench her nose shut with her hand; she had to struggle to keep the meager contents of her stomach where they belonged.

Maybe she made an involuntary movement, she didn’t know, but the figure before them froze in its tracks for half a second and then, as if not even making the decision, continued on in the same ragged pace right towards their hiding spot.

Brian grew rigid.  He crouched, slightly, animal like, and prepared himself for an attack, but the zombie coming toward them made no aggressive move towards Brian, only shuffled determinately towards Julia, a wet groan that Julia remembered from Brian’s first days beginning to emanate from his throat.   It was obvious that it didn’t see Brian as a threat and saw Julia as food.   When Brian couldn’t get the zombie to engage him, he attacked.

He moved with speed that Julia didn’t know was possible and the zombie ahead of him was bowled completely off of his feet.   Julia blinked.  The zombie, now on the ground, was still making no attempt to fight Brian off.  It tried to rise, brainlessly, its hands still seeking Julia’s warm flesh.   Brian stood above him, and without hesitation reached down, grabbed the zombie’s head in both hands and with what appeared to be minimal effort, ripped it from the neck with an audible snap and wet ripping followed by a gush of dark congealed blood.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Brian dropped the decapitated head at his feet.  He just stood there, looking at the broken body laying on the ground with surprisingly little blood beneath it.  She wondered if he was contemplating his own zombie existence, or if he felt guilt over the destruction of one of his own kind.

She made a move to walk towards him, hoping to give him any comfort that he may need, when a grip, hard as steel fastened itself around her neck.  Her scream of terror was cut off as the hand tightened, cutting off her air supply.   Although she struggled with all her might to get away from the decaying body behind her that by all rights should not have such strength left in it, her struggles were useless and she felt her body grow tingly from the lack of oxygen, her eyesight beginning to tunnel.    If she didn’t do something quickly she would pass out, but at the sound of the wet, hungry groaning growing closer to her ear, that was the least of her problems.

As her vision began to grow dim, she saw Brian still standing over the body of the zombie, watching her with contemplation.   She had only a moment to wonder if he was deciding if he should let her become a zombie, before she felt the cold wet pressure of teeth against the base of her neck and she lost consciousness.

She awoke crashing to the ground.  Her knee impacted painfully with a piece of gravel, and she would have gasped in pain if she wasn’t so busy gasping simply to feel air in her lungs again.   Her neck burned and throbbed with blood flow returned, and her hand instinctively rose to hold where she was sure to find a bite mark as evidence to her inevitable future.  When she found nothing, however she gazed around her, dazed, trying to regain her bearings.

Brian stood where she had been, only a few feet away, and with one hand he was holding upthe zombie who had come so close to ending it all for her.   Strangely, she found that she wasn’t scared anymore.  Perhaps she had just become used to being scared and was now desensitized to it.   However, she realized, as she regained her feet,  it was more likely that she was just tired of it all and she wasn’t going to take it anymore.

She walked up to Brian and stood beside him, looking at the zombie contemplatively.   He had been hanging in Brian’s grasp relatively without complaint, with the exception of the occasionally futile kick, that seemed more as if he couldn’t figure out why there was no support under him, than any real attempt at violence towards Brian.    It wasn’t until Julia approached that the zombie made any desire to extricate himself from his circumstances, reaching towards her, his mouth moving mechanically.

She looked from him to Brian, who’s expression she hadn’t really been able to read in weeks, and wondered what he was thinking.  It didn’t matter, it was time to get moving.  “Kill it,” she said and then walked away, back down the tunnel towards the platform.   Two seconds and a wet ripping sound later, Brian followed after her.

*****

In order to avoid the military’s extermination team, Julia and Brian have left the hotel in order to find some sort of refuge…

*****

Brian moved away from her and started walking down the sidewalk, as casual as if he were out for an evening walk, or heading home from a tough day at the office.

“Brian!” Julia hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them, but he didn’t stop and didn’t even turn his head in acknowledgment. Her choices were to let him go on, on his own or to follow after him, and so with a quick look around the street to see if anyone was watching, she jogged after him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, not expecting a response. He grunted, however, and vaguely waved an arm in the direction they were headed.

“Well it’s obvious that you’re going that way, but you do know there’s people out here who’ll kill you, don’t you?”

She imagined he looked sideways at her and even raised an eyebrow as if to say, “That’s the least of my problems right now.”

Julia sighed in exasperation. “What we need right now is a plan, a place to go and hide until this all blows over. Walking down the middle of the street is not a good plan. We’ll get caught before we can get a block.”

It was as if providence heard her. At the end of the block an army green assault vehicle rolled into sight. It wasn’t a tank, not quite, as it had wheels instead of tracks, and windows like a truck or a hummer. However, on the top was a big gun, which had someone standing behind it, ready to fire on any trouble.

Julia’s feet stopped as if they had become rooted into the cement. She would have sworn her heart had stopped beating in her chest as well, and it was painful when it started up again. Brian, however, just kept walking. Julia was terrified, after a couple of seconds she started walking again, but she could tell all the blood had drained from her face and her body would soon be singing with adrenaline. She didn’t know if it would be possible to fight or run, but her body was certainly preparing.

The truck at the end of the street stopped, and they continued to walk towards it. Suddenly a voice blared out of a loudspeaker, “Half an hour until curfew, folks! Please hurry along and get to your destination as soon as possible.” Julia smiled, feeling like she was going to puke, and waved a seriously shaking hand in response. The truck drove on past the intersection, continuing its patrol.

“Brian,” she said weakly, “you are the king of fitting in.” Then her legs gave out and she had to sit on the ground, resting her head on her knees in relief.

She would have liked to sit on the concrete until her bottom got cold, but Brian’s rather passive impatience was a constant reminder of how little time they had, so she forced herself to her feet.  A brief wave of dizziness as the blood rushed from her head, made her pause, her hand instinctively resting on Brian’s shoulder for stability, as the sidewalk tilted and threatened to dump her to the ground again.  Thankfully the feeling passed quickly, after taking a few deep breaths, and they continued on their way.

She was trying to think of places to hide when they walked by the entrance to the underground train system. Julia had hardly even noticed it, but when she went to check on Brian’s progress, he was gone. Briefly alarmed, she realized that he must have gone down the stairs to the train platform.

She went down the stairs and found Brian waiting in the semi-dark at the bottom. Unlike the lights of the parking garage, the lighting of the transit system was tied into the city lighting, and, with the exception of the brightest overhead lights, didn’t get turned off. Because of this, Julia found it light enough to see where she was going, but it was also dark enough to hide anything that could be lurking in the shadows.

“I’m not sure if this’ll do, Brian” Julia said looking around her, “I’m sure the stations are patrolled regularly, they were by transit cops before….all of this, anyway.”

Brian moved his head in what she had learned to interpret as a negative and moved further down the platform to the end of what was normally accessible to the public. A big ‘do not enter sign’ blocked the way further down the passage, but Brian pushed past it and walked into the inky darkness of the tunnel beyond. Julia followed after him, despite her reservations.

Though the tunnel was dark, it was not pitch black as it had appeared to be in the relatively lit platform. Small bulbs behind wire cages glowed every one hundred feet, illuminating the tunnel in a pale blue, enough that she could see where she was going without stumbling over the tracks, but not enough to penetrate the deeper shadows.

It was as she walked past one of these deeper shadows that a strong hand clamped itself down on her shoulder. Her shriek resonated through the tunnel before she could stop herself.   At the end of the tunnel something rustled, probably a pigeon or a rat, she told herself, which was less worrying than what had grabbed her shoulder.

She turned around quickly, straining her eyes to see into the darkness, and breathed a sigh of relief when Brian stepped in to a dim puddle of light. Her heart thudded in her chest as he revealed himself, however she quickly relaxed when she realized who it was.

“If I keep getting reved up like this I’m bound to give myself a heart attack”, she said to herself, her heart still thudding painfully.

Brian had disappeared into the darkness again and so she followed in his general direction and tried to get a feel for where they were.  As she strained to look around, her eyes began to adjust to the blackness, and she gradually discovered that they were directly behind the platform in an area where the two sets of tracks separated in a large Y, in order to go around to their own respective sides of the platform.
There was a small maintenance door in the side that was locked when she tried the handle, which was unfortunate. She would rather be locked in a little room with walls all around her than exposed on three sides.

Nevertheless, she decided it would have to do, and, leaning her back up against the cold door of the maintenance room, she lowered herself to the ground, trying not to think about what she might be sitting on and how much of it she was getting on her designer jeans.

Brian just stood there, it was getting more difficult for him to sit down and then get back up again, but he didn’t seem to tire of standing, so it wasn’t a big problem for him.

Julia opened the suitcase, the sound of the zipper echoing through the tunnel, and pulled out a couple of Hot Rods for Brian and a muffin for herself. She was tired from walking and from the continued stress. She fought off another urge to cry by as she lay down on the rocky ground and cushioned her head on her arm.   She regretted that she hadn’t thought to bring blankets or at least a pillow, and took a moment to dig a painful rock out from beneath her hip before drifting into a fitful sleep.

*Today’s post is written in memory of my Great Grandma, Veronica Rattell, who passed away Thursday, August 5 at the ripe age of 102.  My apologies to other #teasertuesday bloggers, that I’m not around today to read your posts.*

Happy #teasertuesday!   The hotel has informed their guests that the quarantine would end in 3 days – when the military would arrive and ‘clean house’, as it were.   Julia knows that what this means is she has smuggle Brian out, before he’s exterminated, but first, she’ll need supplies.

****

Without hesitating, she opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. She found herself in the waitress prep area, thankfully empty, for the moment. There were trays and glasses to the left, the soda fountain and coffee pots to the right, beside the window into the kitchen, with the heating lamp above it. At the moment there was a lone steak sandwich with a pile of thick steak fries, baked golden, sitting under the heat lamp, awaiting delivery to a table. That meant that Julia had to work fast, the waitress would be back soon.

Quickly, she grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist, hoping it would make anyone who saw here there think that she belonged. Then she walked into the kitchen and prayed she didn’t run into any of the cooks.

The kitchen, she assumed, was an ordinary restaurant kitchen. When she walked in, it was directly at a dividing wall. To her right, where the majority of the heat was coming from, she figured would be the ovens and grills, though she couldn’t see them because of the dividing wall. What she could see was a cook working at the side board assembling a dish on the counter top, his back towards her, whistling softly to himself as he worked.

To her left was what appeared to be the prep area. There was a large marble-looking counter top, a large meat slicer, and an even larger mixer with metal bowl attached. The walls were covered in shelves holding pots and pans of all shapes and sizes. At the end of the room was the large silver door of a walk-in refrigerator. Hopefully, she thought to herself, there were enough supplies in there to be of use.

She made her way across the kitchen, her heart pounding nervously in her chest, and slipped inside the fridge, making note that there was a handle on the inside, so she would be able to get back out on her own. The frigid temperature immediately brought goose bumps to her skin, and she rubbed her hands along her arms to try to work up enough friction to keep herself warm.

The fridge was large, about eight feet long and six feet wide. The wall to her immediate left had three shelves, on which was stacked large buckets full of different kinds of salad: green, romaine for making cesars, and spinach for spinach salads. Also on these shelves were large trays of prepared vegetables, ready for steaming or adding to the salads or garnishes as necessary. On the far wall, right across from her were tubs of prepared food: soups, stews and various containers the contents of which she couldn’t identify. At the end of that shelf were platters of meat: raw roasts, steaks, buckets of chicken breasts and wings, even whole chickens. The very right shelf was filled with dairy: eggs, cheeses, milk, and yogurt, and more unidentified containers.

“Well”, she thought to herself, shivering, her nose beginning to run with the cold. She sniffed delicately, and the noise in the small enclosed space was shockingly loud. “I suppose the steaks and roast would be fine though, I’d much rather have preferred cooked meat or more beef jerky. The raw stuff’ll go bad pretty quick. Though, I really have no idea if Brian can eat bad meat or not.”

She walked over to the shelf and started going through the meats. “Oh, shoot,” she said out loud, her voice echoing slightly. “What the heck am I going to put this stuff in? Good job, Julie. Way to think things through.” She shivered, and breathed warm air into her hands, which were getting stiff with the cold, then looked around the space for anything she could use. At the top of the shelf of produce, there was a large plastic tray, like the kind she’d seen busboys use to clear tables with.

She stood on her tiptoes, and eased the tray to the edge of the shelf, with her finger tips. Thankfully, it was quite light. When she managed to get the tray down she saw that it contained the remnants of some roasted garlic, but otherwise it was empty. Quickly she started filling the tray with steaks, then decided to go through some of the containers to see if there was anything cooked. However, the containers were filled with chopped up beef cubes for stews, and bones and scraps for making soup. She would have preferred to bring the cubes, but they were really heavy.

She sighed and prepared to leave the refrigerator with her, in her opinion, way too small collection of steaks. When she turned, however, she discovered an entire new row of shelves right behind her. “Oh, that was really observant of you, Julia,” she said to herself, “makes sense that a square fridge would have four walls though, doesn’t it.”

Shaking her head at herself, she went through the contents of the newly discovered shelves. After five minutes, she had managed to add an entire bag of bagels, a loaf of bread, a bunch of bananas, a tray of macadamia nut cookies, and an entire box of unopened ‘hotrods’ pepperoni sticks.

“Score!” she said outloud, grinning from ear to ear at her unexpected success. The tray was quite heavy, now, and she was beginning to doubt how easy it would be to get away with both Brian and the unwieldy supplies.

“I’ll think about it later,” she said to herself, and gratefully stepped out of the fridge into the hot, fragrant kitchen. The chef was now at the prep table, massaging a ball of pizza dough into a large pan. For a moment, her heart flipped up into her throat, expecting to be caught, however, the chef, apparently absorbed in his work, didn’t look up.

She dodged into the kitchen, and quickly made her way back to the waitress prep area. As she passed the large grill, she saw that there were large slabs of prime rib sizzling over the flame. The aroma wafted up towards her, and her mouth immediately filled with saliva. Julia grabbed the tongs from the rack of utensils hanging above the counter, and grabbed the two steaks as well, before making a quick retreat.

She used her room key and opened up the door to find Brian just where she left hin, sitting on the couch, watching a new soap opera. He didn’t look up when she walked in, though he grunted appreciatively when she put a Hot Rod into his hand. Then she walked into the bedroom and began contemplating her luggage.

She put the tray full of food on the bed, and eyed its contents. Everything would probably fit in one of the smaller wheeled bags, and so she grabbed one at random, opened it and dumped the contents on the bed. It was Brian’s bag, and what came tumbling out was his shaving kit, a change of clothes, including a change of shoes, a light jacket, a thick hard covered book, the newest Steven King, and his Play Station Portable.

She shook her head, Brian always acted so sophisticated, but he really was a child at heart, playing video games in his free time. He would have said he was going to use it to watch movies on the plane, but she knew the real truth of it. Sure enough, bundled among the change of clothes was the small case carrying his game disks. There was also a small, golden colored box, sealed with a slender golden ribbon.

“Ohh…” she breathed, as she held the box in both hands, her fingers running over the slightly textured paper, and the silkiness of the bow. She really wanted to open it, but at the same time, was scared of what she would find. Finally, she took a deep shaky breath and slid the ribbon off the box. It fell on the floor and curled, slightly. Then she slowly lifted the lid, and her eyes filled with tears. Inside, resting on a bed of white cotton was the pendant of a necklace, the silver chain folded back under the cotton;  It’s two interlocking hearts glimmered with an abundance of diamonds wrapped in white gold.

As she picked the pendant up in her hand and let the box fall to the floor to rest forlornly beside the ribbon, her eyes overflowed and tears tracked town her cheeks to drip off of her chin. Gently she turned the pendant over to see that on the back Brian had had engraved, in a delicate, flowing script, “together forever, July 11, 2009”.

Her hand balled into a fist, the necklace digging into her palm, then she lay down on the bed amongst the spilled contents of Brian’s bag, curled her self up into a ball and shook as she sobbed.

Back by popular demand!   Now that Julia has discovered the world hasn’t ended, after all, shes decided she needs to do something about Brian.   Her vows didn’t say, “till undead do us part,” so she feels a moral obligation towards attempting some kind of relationship rescue…

****

She took the covering, colored cellophane of all things, off of the basket and inspected the interior: Bagels, muffins, a tin of smoked salmon, a tin of pate, chocolate covered cashews, a variety of fruit including some rather wrinkly looking grapes, and two packages of black pepper beef jerky. “Wow,” she said aloud, holding the beef jerky in one hand and staring at it in disappointment and disbelief. “If this is what they consider to be rare or raw meat, then the kitchen has some serious issues. She understood that supplies were limited because of the quarantine, but she had a feeling that the patrons of the four star restaurant on the first floor probably didn’t have any problems getting steak tartare or a nice rare t-bone.

She looked at the tins of preserved meat and wondered if they thought that would satisfy, as well. “I suppose, I won’t know till I try,” she said, and ripped open one of the packages of jerky, and took a bite. It was spicey, salty and chewy and so delicious it made her mouth instantly fill up with saliva. Her stomach rumbled in response, but she had to limit herself to that one bite. “Never know when or if I’ll get anything resembling meat again,” she said.

Now that she had meat the plan should be simple. Just walk in the door, throw him the meat and hope he doesn’t attack. Everything hinged on his actually being able and willing to eat the food she had brought. However, now that it was time to execute the plan she was extremely nervous. “It’s okay,” she told herself over and over again, trying to remember the arguments she had presented her sister with.  ”It’s still Brian, he loves you, he’s still your husband, you can work with this.”

She still wasn’t convinced, however she found herself opening up the bedroom door, anyway. She peeked in to find Brian at the window, staring out into the street, the same place she had found him when she had left. He didn’t turn when she opened the door, also like the last time. “Honey,” she called tentatively, “I brought food.” She held the beef jerky out before her, her arm shaking in her nervousness. At the word ‘food’ he began to turn, slowly, his body stiff from misuse and hunger.

When he saw her, he started shuffling towards her again, and she had to force herself not to turn and run. Instead she forced herself to stand her ground. He wasn’t moving very quickly, after all, if she walked away she’d still make it to the door quicker than he could get half way across the room. If anything was going to make her bolt it was more the stench that rolled off of him. Julia had never smelled anything dead before, and she was very glad. The sickly sweet stench was nearly enough to make her lose her breakfast, and it was infinitely more disturbing than the sight of her dead beloved husband lurching towards her, foot by careful foot.

When he got about half way to across the room she figured she’d try throwing him some food. Maybe she wouldn’t have to get to close to him, not until she could be assured of how dangerous he really was. So, she tore off a piece of the beef jerky and lobbed it in his direction. It bounced harmlessly off his chest and landed on the floor, approximately a foot ahead of him.

He stopped and looked at the morsel on the floor, then groaned wetly, saliva dripping from his disintegrating mouth. Then slowly, almost painfully, he leaned down towards the smoked piece of meat. He creaked like a piece of old leather as he bent closer to the floor, then something went “pop”, and he was stuck, his hand one foot away from the food.

He moaned again, this time in what seemed to be obvious frustration. He tried to stretch out his fingers, but couldn’t get any closer. His figure seemed to sag in disappointment, before he slowly straightened himself back up, only with a slight lean to his left. The popping sound must have been something structurally important giving away.

He looked at Julia, hunger gleaming in his eyes and began to move towards her again, arms reaching stiffly out towards her. “Well”, she thought to herself, “throwing it obviously isn’t going to work, but that leaves me…what? I’ll have to get within arms reach of him, and hope that he’d rather go for dead meat than live.

Taking a deep shaky breath, she took the longest piece of meat and held it by her finger tips towards him, pointing it right into his outstretched hand, to make it easier for him. The closer he approached, the more her knees shook, and the more she wanted to bolt. The only thing keeping her rooted to her spot was her sister’s certainty that she would fail. And so, when his hand reached her own, and the cold dead flesh of his finger brushed against hers, she didn’t move a muscle. She did, however, squeeze her eyes shut, scared that he might all of a sudden try to rip her arm off.

It took one full second before she realized that not only had he not ripped her arm off, he was still walking towards her. She yelped and jumped back, just as his arms reached her torso, and his eyes seemed to gleam in anticipation. His mouth hung slack, but his black swollen tongue moved back and forth within it, as if he was trying to lick his nearly non-existant lips.

Julia jumped back another step, further out of his reach, crammed the piece of beef jerky into his mouth, and pulled her hand back as quickly as she could, wiping the wetness of him off of her hand onto her jeans.

“Ewww….” she groaned in disgust, wanting nothing more than to go scrub her hand with lots of soap and water. That’s something we’re going to have to work on, if we’re going to have a healthy relationship, she contemplated. It’s my prejudice, though and I’ll work on it.

Then she realized her disgust had distracted her. While she should have, by all accounts, a hungry zombie dining lavishly on her brains at that exact moment, what he was actually doing was standing, rather dumbfounded, about two feet away from her and trying to work his teeth into the dried piece of meat. He looked rather like a bewildered cow chewing it’s cud.

“Ha!” Julia laughed, then covered her mouth quickly, disturbed that she could find such a thing funny. But she couldn’t help it, and the laughs poured out of her. She just stood and laughed until tears poured down her face, watching her poor zombie husband masticate the piece of dried beef.

It wasn’t until he was nearly finished that she had the wherewithal to think that it might be a good idea to get another piece, and, approaching cautiously, she placed another thick piece between his lips, this time avoiding touching him. The most amazing part of the whole experience was how he stayed perfectly still while he ate, it was like chewing bubble gum really; he couldn’t walk and chew at the same time.

Still laughing, Julia walked around Brian and grabbed her suitcase and travel bags and carried them into the adjoining room. She rummaged in one bag for a couple of seconds and came up with a bottle of Channel #5 her grandmother had given her for her wedding day. It was a bit old for her, but she’d accepted it graciously nonetheless; grandma held the purse strings. Then, going back to Brian who was nearly finished with his second piece of beef, she sprayed him liberally from head to toe with the perfume. “There, she said to him, smiling with satisfaction. “Now you just smell like a dead high class whore, instead of just…well, dead.”

Then she awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, trying to suppress the shudder that automatically ran through her as her hand touched him, his skin jello-like in texture. “Good night dear,” she said, “kiss kiss,” then she turned and closed the door behind her, her heart pounding. She was flying high on adrenaline. It had been a complete success.

****

It’s #teasertuesday again, and I’ve brought back another snippet of For Love of Brian.  I haven’t decided yet if I’ll be bringing it back next week, or moving onto something else, so if you want to read more let me know!

Since last seeing Julia, she has tracked down her sister, who has graciously lent her some clothes and toiletries, so Julia is on her way to feeling normal again.  Except for the whole zombie thing.

****

When she walked back into the bedroom Rachelle was gone, the door between the two rooms shut, and just her sister and brother in law were waiting for her, sitting on the bed beside each other, staring at the entryway. Upon seeing her emerge from the bathroom, they both tensed, but when she walked into the room, looking marginally less like death than she had when she entered, they both relaxed, by a fraction.

“Thank you,” she said to break the ice, “I really needed that. And the clothes, too, thanks.”  She pulled at the bottom of the shirt, then wiped her hands nervously on her jeans. Then her stomach rumbled. They were still watching her, and Darla seemed about to say something before Julia interrupted. “Do you have any food?”

Darla glanced at her husband, then rose from the bed, and walked over to the little table with chairs arranged beside the window. On it was a basket similar to the one that had been in her room. The contents were already half gone, but there was still a bran-raisin muffin and an apple left. She handed them to Julia, who immediately took a large bite of the apple and nearly swooned at the pleasure of the sweet juice running down her throat.

Darla cleared her throat and glanced at her husband again, “So, you’re okay?” she asked.

Julia swallowed, “well, okay as I can be considering.” She answered.

“Considering what?” Darla asked.

“Considering I’ve been locked in my room for the past five days with a zombie.” She said, taking another large bite of the apple and chewing loudly, hardly containing her groans of delight. “God, this apple is divine!” she said.

Darla’s eyes were wide as she stared at her sister. Her mouth was doing the open-closed, fish thing, again.

“You, you what?” she stammered, not sure if she was supposed to believe what her sister had just said.

Julia had moved on to the muffin, a day old and already going dry so the crumbs stuck to the inside of her mouth; she had to work up enough saliva to swallow it all. “I said,” she answered around half a mouthful, before swallowing, “that I’ve spent the last five days locked in my bedroom with a zombie on the other side of a closed door. I ran out of food, I ran out of everything but tap water, and I ran out of soap and shampoo. So nice of everyone to come see if I needed anything, or at least…I donno, tell me the world hadn’t ended after all.” Then she sat down on the chair, stared out the window and continued to eat her muffin. “Is there any butter?” she asked, “this is dry.”

Darla reached into the basket and pulled out an individual serving of butter and handed it and a small plastic knife over the table to her sister. “We thought you were dead,” she said.

Julia spread the butter on her muffin and took another bite, seemingly not hearing, or ignoring, what her sister had said.

“Really, Julie,” Darla said, her tone pleading, “We thought you were dead. When we connected what was happening to what happened to Brian at the wedding…well, we all put the pieces together and just figured…” she trailed off and looked at her husband for support. He just shrugged.

Julia swallowed and put the rest of the muffin down on the table. Then she looked at her sister, her eyes beginning to mist. She was determined not to cry again, she had to be strong, she told her self. She swallowed the lump in her throat, took a deep breath and said, “I really wish you would have come to see, to just check on me, to make sure. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“I’m sorry,” Darla sighed, taking the chair next to her sister, and reaching out a hand to touch her knee. “I would have, I swear I would have, but we’re not allowed to leave our rooms. Once word spread about what was going on, and then with everyone knowing about how Brian was so sick, everyone who was still in the hotel who was at the wedding was quarantined. They said that they were allowed to shoot us if we came out our rooms. Every day someone, in a freaking hazmat suit, no less, brings us a basket of food, but that’s all we get.”

“Oh,” Julia replied, now feeling guilty for her anger.

“And how do you think it’s been for Rachelle?” Darla asked, feeling the anger raise in her at the accusation that she’d been uncaring, “Do you think it’s been all sunshine and lollipops for a four year old to be cooped up in a room with nothing but the stupid Cartoon Network for entertainment?  Do you have any idea how stressed we’ve been? How hard it’s been for US to survive?” She was yelling now, and Jordan stood up from the bed, and crossed the room to wrap his arm around his wife. He said nothing, but his accusing look at Julia spoke volumes.

Julia could do nothing and but stare at her sister, who was breathing heavy, her hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to gain control over her emotions. As much as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to go comfort her sister. Despite everything Darla had been through, Julia felt that she was still more deserving of outrage than her sister was. Darla had been able to eat. Darla had been able to sleep. Darla hadn’t been living with a zombie.

It was as if they both had the same thought at once. Darla’s breath caught in her throat and she turned to her sister. “You did say that Brian’s a zombie?”

Julia sighed, “Yes,” she said, feeling it unnecessary to expound on her answer.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  There’s no such thing as zombies.” Darla replied.

Julia looked at her sister in exasperation, “tell that to the zombie in my room.”

“Julia,” Jordan stepped into the conversation, after it was evident that his wife could only stare, in shock, “there was a serious pubic health scare that the government is gaining control of. Brian’s sick, and he might be crazy like those people in the streets.
There is even a chance he might die. Yes, the virus is that serious.” It was as if he was speaking to a child, “But Darla’s right, there’s no such thing as zombies.”

“Jordan,” Julia said sweetly, smiling. It was obvious from his expression that he thought he had gotten through to her, for just a moment, “do you honestly believe everything you hear on television?”

“No, I…” he started, but she interrupted.

“Yeah, obviously you do. Just because the news hasn’t used the fucking Z word, doesn’t mean I don’t have a fucking zombie in my room!”

They just stared at her. Both of them were doing the fish thing, now. “Now, if you don’t mind”, she said, “I haven’t slept in five days and I could really use a couple of hours.”  Then she walked over to their bed, climbed under the covers and in seconds was fast asleep.

When last we left Julia she was bravely headed out of in search of food…

****

She tried to see what was behind the little piece of security glass in the door, but could only see a little bit of beige colored wall and the side of one elevator, to her right. It was not a very revealing view. Having no other real options, she opened the door and stepped out, right into the path of something huge.

She screamed. She screamed so loud her throat hurt. Then she swung the pole as hard as she could and connected with it’s shoulder. Her aim was off. She raised the pole to swing again, just as the figure said, “What the hell? You crazy bitch, what do you think you’re doing?”

Her scream was shut off instantly, and she hesitated, the pole still held above her head, but dropping slightly as her uncertainty grew. Could zombies talk? Then the figure turned fully towards her and she saw it wasn’t a zombie at all, but a live man. He was over six feet tall, huge to her five foot five, and very wide built in the shoulders. He was dressed in a business suit, though the tie had been loosened and the top button on his shirt had been unbuttoned. He was immaculately groomed, and his brown eyes seemed to blaze. With anger, she realized, and she certainly couldn’t fault him for it.

“I, I,” she stammered, and let the bar fall to the floor. Suddenly she was extremely aware of how she was dressed, and the brief flicker of admiration that passed behind the fire in his eyes showed that he was even more aware of her state than she was. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. Then her eyes adjusted to the scene behind him and she was stunned. It was as if business as usual was going on in the main lobby of the hotel. If it wasn’t for the doors being boarded up, she would have thought it was any regular day and she had dreamed everything.

The man shook off her assault, and clearly made an effort to calm his own temper. “Well, that’s alright,” he said, his voice sounding cool and collected, “just, I donno, be careful with that thing,” his eyes flickered to the pole, then after taking one more appreciative glance at her body beneath the sheer silk and lace, he turned away and headed towards a group of men sitting at a lounge, each enjoying what appeared to be beer.

It took a long time for her to adjust to what she was seeing. She just stood in the hallway by the elevators and stared. Every once in a while the elevators would open and someone would step out, or someone would come and push the button and wait for a few minutes for its arrival. They would all look at her strangely, before going on their way, but no one ever said anything. She wondered what she should do. Should she go tell the check-in people about the zombie in her room?  No, that’s probably a good way to get poor Brian killed. Exterminated is more truthful. Like a rat.

What she really needed was food and clothes. How on earth could the world around her be going on like normal when she’d been secluded in utter hell for five days? What happened to the apocalypse? She was vaguely disturbed to find that she was almost disappointed, and perhaps even a little pissed off that the world hadn’t appeared to end after all. But what about the news? CNN had been broadcasting the disaster for days. Though, granted, she had had the sound turned off for the past three days, so maybe she’d missed something.

She wondered where her family was and why no one had come to check on them. Maybe they were scared, knowing how sick Brian had been. Maybe they had just left them alone to die! Suddenly she was angry that she could just be shrugged off in such a manner. “No,” she told herself, “relax. You don’t know how it is, don’t jump to conclusions.” The person currently stepping off the elevator looked at her funny, as she talked to herself. “I guess I’ll just have to see if I can find them.”

Gathering up her courage, her back held straight and her head held high, she strode out from the bank of elevators and made her way to the customer service desk. She was painfully aware of the eyes that followed her as she made her way across the room, and had to fight the urge to yank the short night gown further down over her bottom.

Arriving at the desk she was chagrined to find that it was empty, and she rang the “ring bell for assistance” bell as loudly as she could, out of her anger. Belatedly, however, she realized that the sound only drew more attention to her half clothed form.

It seemed that eternity had passed, and under the weight of what seemed like a thousand eyes, a blush had begun to move from her chest and up her neck. By the time the pimply faced teenager arrived at the desk, his eyes wide and his mouth trying not to gape, her cheeks were blazing with her embarrassment. The teenager gulped, and Julia watched his adams apple bob in his throat.

“How can I help you?” he asked, clearly straining at the urge to plaster his eyes to her bosom, threatening to spill out of the sparse neckline.

Looking imperially at him, and appearing to completly ignore his lascivious stares, she said, “Yes. I’m wondering how I can locate some guests. The phone in my room appears to not be working.”

“Yes, ma’am” he answered, his eyes loosing the battle and flickering down quickly, before meeting her eyes again. “The phones have been malfunctioning. Have you tried going to their rooms?”

“No.” she answered, “I wasn’t sure if they had checked out or not, yet.”

The boy chuckled, “highly unlikely,” he answered, but I can check for you. Under what name?” He turned his gaze onto the glowing blue of a computer screen.

“The block reserved for the Buchannan/McMaster wedding.” She replied

His eyes flickered up again, surprise, fear and suspicion all flickering across his face so quickly that she wasn’t sure if that was what she had really seen.

“Yes ma’am”, he answered, still staring at the computer screen, though he hadn’t typed anything in at all. “They’re all still here.”

“Well, can you tell me where they are?”

“They’re still in their rooms, ma’am, under quarantine.”

Ah, well that explained the strange look.

“Thank you,” she said, before turning and walking away with as much dignity as she could muster, knowing that his eyes were glued to her half barred, swaying backside.

Ever wondered what famous author you write like? Well wonder no more! Just grab some text (a few paragraphs will do) from something you’ve written and head over to I Write Like and whammo! It’ll tell you who your style most closely resembles.

Apparently this story tells me that I write like Kurt Vonnegut, cool.