Page 96 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

June and Nate were closer now, shuffling between colourful bushes and around ornamental rocks.

‘Braaains,’ they muttered, in sync. They wobbled slightly, which unnerved Zoey: June was always banging on about her excellent proprioception. She had better balance than a spirit level.

Then the zombies halted. They turned towards Nick and Zoey, lurched slightly, then started hustling forward at, well, not at speed. But at something faster than the lumbering pace they’d managed until now.

‘Oh shit. They’ve spotted us,’ whispered Nick.

June and Nate shambled towards them. Zoey reached for Nick’s free hand, knotting her fingers with his. He squeezed gently, and the heat of his touch raced through her, steeling her. They could do this. Together.

As the zombified couple staggered over, Nate grunting in disapproval at a pink rhododendron that snagged at his jeans (zombies were apparently still capable of being haters), Nick and Zoey pulled back the plungers on their needles.

‘On the count of …’

But Zoey had already lunged, leaping towards June with the springiness of Alice chasing a squirrel up a tree. With a Xena: Warrior Princess trill, she jabbed June in the leg, depressing the syringe with vim.

June shrank bank in horror. But then … the green tinge of her skin retreated, returning her to her regular wan shades. She blinked as though she’d just emerged from watching a particularly long Charlie Kaufman film at a particularly dark theatre.

‘Oh my goddess, Zoey. You know I’m anti-vaxx. And Nate … ew, Nate, stop dragging your feet. It’s unbecoming.’ She squinted at Zoey. ‘Hang on, did I bite you? I feel like I bit you. Maybe I was lucid dreaming, because I’ve been working on that.’

Zoey held up a finger. ‘Give me a second, June.’

She stuck out a foot, which Nate shuffled over, stumbling forward into a sprawl. Nick reacted with preternatural speed, jabbing Nate in the arm with the ink-filled syringe.

‘What the fuck, man? Now I’m going to have to get that covered up,’ moaned Nate. ‘Which means an even bigger tattoo, which means being even more mainstream. Ugh, why are we in the park, babe? Laurelhurst is so overhyped. They do silent discos here. Silent. Discos.’

‘And Oingo Boingo cover bands,’ added Nick, helpfully.

Nate moaned again. But in a hater way, not a zombie way.

‘Well, he’s feeling better,’ whispered Zoey to Nick.

Nick wrapped an arm around her, giving her an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

‘Jesus, you need a bath,’ he said. ‘Did you sleep in the sewer or something?’

Zoey had a sudden flashback of Nestor’s polka-dot shoes behind the dumpster. Oh no, she hadn’t followed in those red-and-white footsteps, had she?

‘Or something,’ she replied, grimacing.

‘I have some unfluoridated mouthwash, babe.’ June pulled a container from her vegan leather (i.e. plastic) purse and passed it to Zoey. ‘It’s basically just chilled mint tea.’

Zoey pretended to take a sip and passed it back. Post-zombie backwash wasn’t really on her ‘let’s eat’ list.

‘I like your sharps case, dude,’ said Nate gruffly, jerking his head towards Nick’s waist.

‘Thanks, man,’ said Nick awkwardly.

‘C’mon, June. There’s a shitty band playing at my friend’s place in Ladd’s Addition. They suck, but …’ Nate shrugged. ‘But let’s go anyway,’ he said at last.

‘Huh,’ said Zoey, as the ungainly couple made a beeline south towards Hawthorne. ‘A near-death experience was all it took to get a compliment out of Nate the Hater.’

‘He’ll come back to normal soon enough,’ said Nick. ‘It’s the antidote talking. Like how people get that fight-or-flight response from an EpiPen.’

Zoey pulled a fistful of syringes from Nick’s quiver and jammed them in her pocket. ‘Tattoo syringes are way more Portland.’

‘And cheaper.’

Zoey swallowed. ‘So, how many more zombies do we need to cull before life is back to normal again?’