Hope you enjoy anyway.
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Chris was a lot calmer by the time we strolled down the footpath, towards the small development of houses where we lived. I walked in time to his slow, sullen shuffle, gazing at his pale face, waiting. He promised he would tell me on the way home, but he had spoken no words yet. I had asked him what the hell was up with him, and he looked close to breaking point anyway. Samuel was a taboo subject, during the rest of the day he had refused to speak any more about it. I decided to keep my mouth shut on that matter.
I murmured his name, and he took a deep intake of breath as we locked gazes.
"You want me to tell you, don't you?"
"Yes. No matter what it is you're going to say."
"I think that you should tell me your theory first," he said, stopping to a halt beside a grassy bank.
I hesitated at first. "I'm worried I might...offend you. If I get it wrong that is." I bit my lip nervously.
"If you know what it is, then say it." He waited, unleashing the full force of his eyes upon my own.
"I'm not sure-"
"Say it."
My voice dropped to barely a whisper. My heart stilled.
"Zombie."
It took him a moment to process my words. Then, he dropped his stare and rubbed his face down with his hand, like he had just received bad news. He turned, and continued walking down our original route, except this time I found his angry strides hard to keep up with.
"Chris? Is that it?" I said in a small voice, almost jogging to keep up.
Suddenly he skidded to a stop, and looked at me with agonized eyes.
"Tell me everything you know about zombies."
"Erm... pale skin...undead..." And then I remembered a source I had found when searching the Internet: "They feed on the flesh of the living."
He read the sudden realisation on my face. "Flesh eaters," he whispered in an almost inaudible voice.
"Have you..." my words trailed off, but he knew what I was going to ask.
"I would never," he stated, but his voice was small and uncertain. He sank to the ground, his arms folded and resting on his knees. His eyes looked vacant as he leaned against a garden wall.
I joined him on the ground.
"What about the clearing?"
He shook his head. "I don't want to frighten you."
"I'm not." Surprisingly, I wasn't. I was unusually calm for someone who just found out that her best friend was a zombie, and hungered for living flesh.
He didn't look convinced. I took his icy hand and pressed it to where my heart was, to let him feel the steady rhythm.
"You see? My heart is just fine. No fear there."
"I can hear your heart anyway." I stared up at him, fascinated, as his mouth turned up at one corner in a wry smile, pulling his hand out of my grasp.
"I'll ask you to stop if I get scared, which won't happen anyway. Please?"
He sighed, relenting.
"I went back to the clearing after dark. I searched for the two others, but I couldn't find them. Instead I ran into another horde, who were on their way to a hunt. They were a group of four, two girls and two guys." He paused pensively, while my mind automatically burned with a question. Hunt?
"They stopped, and asked me who I was. They said they only knew of one other horde. The ones that attacked me...
"I told them about what happened. They were very helpful. They explained a lot of things about the way my kind live. I learned quite a lot."
The phrase 'my kind' struck my mind as odd, but then I realised that Chris was not like me anymore.
"I was invited to go and hunt...they even asked me if I wanted to join their horde. I declined of course," he finished.
"Is that it?"
"That's it."
“Does the other…horde hunt around here?”
“No. The population is too low for their hunts to go unnoticed.”
We were silent. Chris looked at me, as if weighing my reaction, but I didn't meet his gaze. I had to admit, it really frightened me that they lived just five minutes away, under the thick canopy of the forest. I did my best to hide the fear, but he seemed to automatically sense it and changed the subject.
"I can't believe you haven't accused me of being a raving lunatic yet." He half smiled.
"You're not a lunatic. I know you're telling the truth."
"I understand if you don't want to be near me anymore." His voice was soft, but I could hear the extreme sorrow in it.
My head snapped around in disbelief. Did he really just say that?
"Maybe it would be better if you did. I'm a danger to everyone near me." He threw his arm over his eyes.
"Chris! Don't be stupid!" I tugged at his arm, but he was as stiff as a statue, impossible to shift.
He didn't respond, so I continued. "This doesn't change anything. I don't care for you any less than before."
"You do realise what I am, don't you?"
I paused. "Yes," was all I could say. What do you say to that sort of question?
He raised his head, and stared out across the road, his eyes vacant.
When he looked back, he looked as if a little of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"You have questions."
"Just about... a billion or so."
He stood up, and outstretched his hand and helped me to my feet, and we began walking in the direction of our homes again.
"Ask away."
We must have sat on the pavement for over half an hour. I asked things, and Chris answered them honestly. If I asked something that made him hesitate, I moved on. The answer was probably a bit much to handle and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it sometimes.
Rather than being completely freaked out, screaming in fear or running away, I was fascinated. We were sitting on the wall lining my garden, our school bags discarded by our feet. I had learned quite a lot: Zombies were apparently a dying breed, many were killed whilst hunting when humans developed guns, and were able to defend themselves more effectively. They were slow healers, and wounds could take longer to heal if they were serious. Humans were infected by the venom of another zombie, which is transferred by either bite or by the skin absorbing it. Their hearing was beyond comparison, and eyesight excellent as well. I was just getting onto the subject of scent.
"Well... my sense of smell isn't a lot better than yours... but we are particularly sensitive to the smell of fear."
I blinked, confused. "Fear? You can smell it?"
"Yep," he shrugged, as a matter of factly. "Combined with a rapid beating heart, it's apparently almost impossible to stop attacking a victim," he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"Right. Well, why in movies, do zombies walk around like this-" I stood and dragged my feet across the pavement, holding my arms aloft, "And are covered in blood with all these injuries on them?"
He gave me a small smile. "Well, humans got that part a little messed up. Zombies that have suffered serious head injuries walk like that. Severe brain damage causes it. Otherwise, they look pretty much human without wounds."
"Whoa," I gasped, not expecting that answer. "Note to self- do not hit Chris on the head."
"Or the knee caps. They're also a weak point," he said.
I couldn't help but laugh a bit at his serious tone.
"So for future reference... if you ever piss me off, where do I hit you?"
He chuckled. "When do I ever piss you off?" he said innocently.
I furrowed my brow in fake irritation. "That time you ate my biscuit in primary one-"
"I so did not!" he said, feigning hurt. "And I believe you broke my crayon."
"I did that by accident!" I burst into laughter.
"Well, then I ate your biscuit by accident," he smiled innocently.
He cocked his head to the side a little. "Your mum is about to shout at you to come inside. Or possibly have a fit."
"I wish I could hear like that. Then at least I could have warning," I grumbled, hopping off the wall and lifting my bag from the pavement.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" It has almost become routine to ask this question.
"If you wish, ma'am." He smiled wryly. I turned to the gate and was in the middle of opening it, when I turned around and called after him again. He turned, and I stood on the tip of my toes and gave him a hug.
He returned it with his own cool embrace. "What is this for?"
"I thought you might need it."
