Page 22 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘Look, I’m really sorry that I spoke to Darren on the phone about the survey,’ he offered. ‘The names are so similar, and his voice is so whispery … I got confused. I didn’t realise that the division of labour was quite so clear in the Chamber of Commerce.’

Nothing.

All right, so this was getting very weird, and very unprofessional. This couldn’t be how the Chamber of Commerce did visits. Perhaps it was time to call the local ambulance provider (not a proper ambulance, because they were out here in the sticks) and have someone shine a bright light into poor Darina’s pupils … which seemed to be expanding by the minute.

Nick tried a line about the rain forecast, which was usually fairly safe in the PNW. People loved to one-up each other about how many consecutive days of rain they’d experienced.

Success.

Darina halted and turned towards him, her bloodshot gaze burning right at him.

Alice growled.

Oh no, thought Nick, as she leaned forward, held in place by the enormous gravity of her platform boots. Not this again. Had she got the wrong impression?

He took a step back, trying to draw attention to the whole personal-space thing that was highly recommended to maintain between two people not in a romantic relationship.

But Darina was not to be dissuaded. Stretching out her braceleted arms towards him, she shuffled forward, rising up on her tiptoes. Her red-rimmed eyes were hungry.

And then, in what was clearly a violation of laws relating to any government official, she launched herself at him. Nick leapt backwards, hands out to fend her off.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not … Zoey and I are actually maybe … I hope I didn’t give you …’ he stammered, as she came at him again, her smoothie-covered tutu bouncing from the ferocity of the movement. Props to the Girl Boss types for taking what they wanted, but his body was not it.

Darina’s teeth were bared now, and Nick felt a splinter of fear.

She was determined. More determined than the palaeontologist he’d met at the Yamhill Pub, who’d recited her PhD to him verbatim. That had been weird, but a bit sexy. This was just … weird.

‘I don’t consent,’ he said finally, hoping that would break through whatever fever dream she was experiencing.

But no, she kept approaching. And she was making that weird gurgling noise again.

Was it internal bleeding, on top of the concussion? Either way, Alice wasn’t having it. She was running from side to side, ears back, emitting high-pitched little whines that said, Dad, I don’t like this.

Why was Darina holding her arms out like that?

‘Okay, I’m sorry, Darina, but …’

Grateful for his longer-than-average wingspan, Nick grabbed Darina by the waist. She was light – barely heavier than Alice, in fact. And much easier to carry, which he did, holding her out as far from his body as he could. He felt like a cartoon Yogi Bear running with a picnic basket.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ he repeated, as he hustled down the driveway and over to the wood shed. He unlatched the door and shoved Darina inside, slamming the door and propping an axe up against the handle.

From inside came a grumbling and guttering sound, followed by a garbled statement that sounded like … ‘Braaaiinnsssss.’

He’d been right: she had been suffering a brain injury. He should never have moved her from the little car. He should’ve just left her there while they waited for the authorities.

Turning so that his back was against the door to help keep it closed, Nick grabbed his phone and dialled the emergency services. ‘Operator? I’ve got someone on my property who’s been involved in a low-velocity crash. She’s behaving extremely erratically. I think it’s a concussion. Possibly also drugs, although she is vegan, so …’

‘Braaaaiiiinnsssss,’ gurgled Darina, fists banging on the door.

And that was how things went until the ambulance, driven by two of the louts Nick recognised from the local lifted-truck brigade, finally arrived.

I HATE THE WAY THEY CUT MY HAIR

8

Zoey

There is a time in every wavy-haired girl’s life when her hair starts to take on the triangular shape of a Christmas tree. Or worse, of Didi from Rugrats. Zoey had reached that point, and that, combined with the fight she’d just had with the blender that had nearly scalped her, combined with her twenty per cent local- business discount voucher, meant that a haircut was imminent.