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“Tell me something beautiful.”
Is the first thing I can manage. He stands in front of where I sit on the bench, his fingerless-gloved hand outstretched in an offering of assistance. My tongue feels heavy, my lips sluggish with words I want to say to him. He drops his hand at my request, worry etched onto his features as he takes in my sickly pale skin, paper thin and purple veins tracing underneath. I can guess what he will say next. ‘We need to get moving.’ But he doesn’t. His eyes soften for a moment as he steps closer and lowers himself to my level.
“You,” he says, softly at first, as though he is afraid of startling me, but quickly gaining in confidence. “You. Every lovely part of you.” And then his hands are holding my cheeks, and he is kissing every soft part of my face. Cheeks and nose and forehead, but not lips. I am too scared of passing the virus to allow him that. He pulls away and offers me a warm smile. The one he gives me whenever he is trying to encourage me to do something, and offers me his hand once again. The look in his eyes is pleading, as though he can’t go on without me. I raise my hand, and for a moment, I’m overcome with the urge to grab the collar of his hoodie and pull him down into a proper kiss. The urge is stopped when I catch a glimpse of my own, pale skin, however. That is reminder enough of the danger I pose to him on a good day.
The zombie apocalypse started a week ago, at the least. I can remember it clearly, hearing the reports from the tv. They spoke of a new strain of a virus. One that was lethal, highly contagious, and spreading across the world quickly. The reports said that it wasn’t airborne, but the known ways it spread were by consumption of contaminated food, blood-to-blood contact, and biting. My parents shut it off before I could learn anything more. To my surprise, they didn’t seem worried. Not worried enough, clearly, because they sent me off to the birthday party of the kid I babysat without much caution. It had been a dull event, which was surprising for a younger kid. Time passed at a snail’s pace, but everyone was being served cake, so there was at least something to look forward to. Looking back on it, I should’ve noticed something was wrong. The birthday kid had barely said anything the whole time, they just stood off to the side, silently, observing the others and shivering slightly. It was just after everyone had had some cake that one of the adults tentatively suggested playing a party game.
That was when things started to go downhill quickly. Everyone looked to the birthday kid, who hadn’t said a word. The room was silent for a moment, before they started shaking more violently. This time it wasn't just cold shivers, but rather full body tremors that shook them from head to toe. Their parents rushed over, asking what was wrong, but the only noise that came after was a sharp scream as the mother pulled away, bleeding from her exposed neck. She had been bitten. There was the distant sound of further screaming as someone else rushed over to help but the birthday kid latched onto them as well. I only barely remember the shock of terror as my legs pumped into action and I was running as fast as I could manage as far as I could get. I somehow got home, but some horrible feeling in my gut told me I wasn’t safe there either. I didn’t even bother trying to head inside, something told me that I wouldn’t like what I saw. I decided to keep running, to try to find someone I could trust, someone who was safe.
That was when I found him. He was just a stranger then. He wore dark clothes - a hoodie, some baggy pants, a pair of combat boots, and fingerless gloves. His dark hair fell over the right side of his face, and he was being cornered by people covered in blood. It dripped from their mouths and down their chins and necks, all pale and shaking much like the kid had been. I didn’t know who this person was, but I couldn’t bring myself to just leave him.
“H- HEY!” I forced out as loudly as I could with my voice shaking. That caught his attention, at least. His head whipped over to look at where my shout had come from, and he looked… almost relieved. The things turned their heads to me, and began slowly, painstakingly, making their way closer, their attention caught by the loud noise. I realized with a start that I hadn’t fully thought this plan through. I saw him bolt, but not in the direction I’d hoped. The things had broken their awkward half-circle in order to pursue me, and were beginning to gain a little speed. He had managed to go around them, and was now running… directly for me. Had I made a wrong decision? No, apparently not. He didn’t even stop when he reached me, grabbing my hand in his and practically dragging me along with him.
“Run, c’mon!” I was just slowing him down, moving like this. So, tired as I was, I ran. We ran together for what seemed like ages, taking sudden twists and turns, even ducking into dark back alleyways. Eventually, he came to a stop, and I near-fully stumbled directly into him. He made a slight surprised noise, turning to look at me. Before I could even process what was happening, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. “You saved my life. Thank you.” he pulled back to look at me, his expression full of overwhelming gratitude. “My name is James.”
“I couldn’t just leave you… I’m-” I found myself unable to continue as I doubled over in pain. He went down with me, concern flashing over his expression as he stabilized me.
“Are you okay?” There was a distinct note of panic in his voice as his eyes searched my face. The sudden pain was soon replaced with nausea, and it left me panting as I managed to straighten myself and nod. His hands were braced on my shoulders as he looked over me. “You’re… infected, aren’t you? With the same virus that they were? You’re becoming one of them.” he didn’t seem afraid, just… worried. Worried for me. It caused a stirring in my stomach that did nothing to help my nausea - a mixture of butterflies that this random boy - James - cared so much for me so suddenly, and a damning dread that he was probably right. I just groaned, and one of his hands came up to hold my face, cautious and gentle. “You’ll be okay,” he said softly.
“No- nn-” I groaned again as another wave of nausea hit me. It was all I could do not to throw up on his boots. “You- you’re probably right. I’m becoming one of those things.”
“Zombies.” He managed quietly, waiting for me to continue.
“Wh.. Whatever. You need to- to get away from me.”
“I’m not doing that. You helped me, I’ll help you. Whatever it takes. I’m not leaving.”
That had become his motto over the past week. “I’m not leaving.” We moved together, avoiding zombies that had once been our neighbors, friends, parents. We had become closer than I thought could be possible in a week, but here we were, exchanging kisses in the middle of a city that had been abandoned by seemingly all except us and the dead. We were a team, unstoppable. I helped him when the world became too much, when the groans of the dead were all he could hear, and he helped me in turn when I felt so nauseous I couldn’t bring myself to eat or drink, and soothed me to sleep when I was kept awake by the fear of what would become of us when the virus finally won out against me.
I managed to reel myself back into the present. He was standing in front of me, warm smile still present on his affectionate expression, his hand still held out to me.
“I love you, James.” I said softly, returning his affectionate smile, before I took his warm hand.