Page 34 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Nick’s truck chugged up to the sharehouse with the clattering roar that Zoey was starting to recognise – although it was Alice’s cheerful yips that actually drew her out from the house.

Nick climbed out and gave the hood a hearty pat. ‘Your chariot.’

Zoey and Ainsley were more than ready. They’d been sitting out on the porch rocking chairs for the past twenty minutes, trying not to be crushed by the twenty or so Romero for Mayor signs that Ainsley had spent the entire day making.

‘Anything can happen when I’ve got an hourglass timer in front of me and a Bob Ross video going in the background,’ Ainsley said proudly. ‘Oh shit, the power bill. Let me pay that now.’

‘Lovely day to be out on the porch,’ said Nick, as he came up to help them haul the signs over to the truck bed. Sweet baby Beelzebub (to take a line from Opal the barber), he was a good-looking man. He could be a model for peppermint soap. Or beard oil. Or positive masculinity.

Alice greeted Zoey and Ainsley with tail wags and a nudging nose. Ainsley tossed a bedazzled frisbee (a discarded art project) for her, and Alice raced off to catch it.

Zoey bit her lip. How was she supposed to greet Nick, in daylight, and with Ainsley around? A kiss seemed … inappropriate. A hug seemed … too collegial.

She settled for an awkward wave.

Brilliant, Zoey. Who said romance was dead?

‘We’re out here because there are brains inside.’ Zoey gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

Nick hesitated. ‘Are we talking murder scene? Because I’m not one for calling the cops, but that’s the one time you probably should call the cops.’

‘They’re in the fridge,’ said Zoey. ‘In bulk.’

‘Well, it’s hard to go past a good bulk discount in this economic climate.’ Nick, who was so much better than Zoey at these things, gave Zoey a gentle kiss on the forehead in greeting. ‘Although you were right about the whole zeitgeist thing. Are brains … hot?’

Her own brain was certainly feeling a bit that way after that kiss.

‘Terriffany is charting Google search activity. She’ll let us know.’ Zoey looked down at her vintage loafers, then up again, meeting his warm, dark-eyed gaze: ‘Thanks for the whole … truck thing. Again.’

Nick beamed, that crooked, boyish smile spreading across his whole face. ‘Any time, babe. It’s part of the truck-owner code. You and Ainsley hop in. There’s not enough room for Alice, so we’ll pop her in her crate in the back. It’s secured – she’ll be safe.’

While Nick coaxed Alice into her crate with some murmured words and a pocket treat, Zoey and Ainsley squeezed in on the bench seat.

‘He’s a keeper, sweets,’ whispered Ainsley out of the corner of her mouth.

‘Sweets? What is this? His Girl Friday?’

‘Yah, yah, toots.’ Ainsley grinned. She jabbed Zoey with her seatbelt buckle. ‘Don’t scare this gentleman away with your fear of commitment.’

‘Shut up.’ Zoey whacked her right back with her own buckle.

Nick climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. ‘All right, where to?’

Ainsley directed him along the lushly planted street until they came to a hammered-in banner that displayed a furious cat depicted in Roy Lichtenstein style. Over one of the cat’s eyes was a lightning bolt. Below the image of the cat, the phrase THE SOUND AND THE FURRY had been block-printed in a massive font.

‘Our main opponent is Mean George,’ Ainsley said. ‘He’s a one-eyed Maine Coon, and he’s going to get the … what’s the opposite of a sympathy vote?’

‘Amusement vote?’ suggested Zoey.

‘Malevolence vote?’ offered Nick.

‘Sure. Those.’ Ainsley’s eyes narrowed. ‘But Romero is mean at heart. And I think that’s what it’s going to take.’

‘Hence the uniquely styled portraits, huh?’ said Nick, jabbing a thumb at the rear window, where the Romero signs bobbed and bounced.

‘Exactly.’ Ainsley dragged Zoey out of the truck, and together they hammered in a ROMERO: CAT NIP sign beneath a set of wind chimes hanging from a massive silverleaf oak.

‘Take that, Mean George.’ Zoey wiped her brow with the back of her hand.