Page 47 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

There was a roar from the tow-truck guy’s truck, then a pop, and Nick’s truck burst up from the ground. The little truck dragged Deirdre a few feet back to drier, rockier ground, then the tow-truck guy killed the engine and hopped out, dusting down his hands.

‘That’s it?’ Zoey sounded disappointed by the lack of spectacle. ‘How do I pay you? I have Venmo, Zelle, Apple Pay …’

‘Cash. If it doesn’t have a president’s head on it, I don’t take it.’

‘I have it back at the house,’ said Nick. ‘I’ll drop it around for you tomorrow.’ Urgh, the money was meant to be for the chainsaw signage guy who was going to come by later this week, but never mind. He’d have to work his magic on someone else’s tree stumps instead.

‘Sure, or I’ll have to send the wife by, and she doesn’t mess around. All right. I’ve got another vehicle to tow. Someone’s in a ditch down by the creek. See you next time,’ said the tow-truck guy, climbing back into his tiny truck and roaring off. The cab lights on top of the vehicle were so bright that Nick wished he’d been wearing a lead apron – he’d probably just been X-rayed against his will.

‘I’ll pay you back,’ promised Zoey.

Nick shook his head. ‘None of that. There’s no owing or paying back or any of that. Stuff happens. It’s our job to look after each other.’

Zoey gave him a long, curious look. ‘You’re an interesting one.’

‘Interesting good, or interesting bad?’

‘So far, so good.’ Zoey’s brow, which had relaxed for an instant, furrowed again. ‘Did you hear that?’

The wind had picked up, howling through the trees along with something that sounded a tad more ominous. For some reason, Nick had flashbacks of Darina’s strange psychotic break. He really hoped she was getting the help she needed.

Nick shrugged. ‘Probably just coyotes.’

Off in the distance, the tiny tow truck’s cab lights flickered and flashed.

The following day, it would be found by the creek, battery flat and driver gone, only a trail of dragging footsteps hinting at what might have happened to him.

I HATE THE WAY THEY STORE THEIR BRAINS

13

Zoey

It was lucky the shop was growing busier by the day, because Zoey absolutely intended to pay Nick back for the tow-truck guy’s off-peak, double-the-standard-rate efforts. Nick was kind, and generous, but while he clearly didn’t care about keeping score, Zoey hated the idea of being indebted to anyone. From experience, every time she’d leaned on someone’s generosity, they’d turned it back onto her, implying that she owed them – with interest.

Terriffany slid a smoothie over the counter to an older woman dressed in a fringed green dress resembling a Christmas tree, then turned to Zoey. ‘We’re running low on the mushrooms again.’

‘Declan! I got one! I got one!’ cried the Christmas-tree woman. She waggled the fluorescent green smoothie as she took a selfie, then went hurrying out to where a man, presumably Declan, leaned against the shop’s exterior wall, forlornly holding a clump of helium balloons in one hand and a novelty cake shaped like a snowman in the other.

Zoey checked the cordyceps containers: Terriffany wasn’t exaggerating. They barely had enough left to last the hour.

‘I asked Nick about expanding production last night,’ she said, ‘but he said they have kind of limited distribution. He’s working on growing them in his greenhouse, but they’re finnicky.’

‘Just raise our prices, then,’ said Terriffany, who’d modelled all manner of financial forecasts accordingly. ‘Play into the scarcity thing. People will pay for it. I think there’s room to go to twenty-five, maybe thirty-five.’

‘Thirty-five dollars for a smoothie?’ Zoey shrieked. Why, those were practically off-peak towing rates!

Terriffany shrugged. ‘We can explore price elasticity with some dynamic pricing options, if you want. I’m doing my thesis on pricing variables.’

‘Wait, didn’t you already do a thesis?’ Zoey could’ve sworn Terriffany had mentioned it.

‘Do you have any idea how competitive Stanford is?’ When Zoey nodded, Terriffany looked vindicated. ‘Well, it’s nowhere near as competitive as the Entrepreneurs’ College, a tertiary unschool in the Mojave desert where every single professor has taken a business to IPO. One of the Juicero founders is on the faculty. You should meet him.’

‘Uh-huh,’ said Zoey. Anything could happen in the high desert. Like an unaccredited university for entrepreneurs.

As Zoey rinsed out a set of blender jugs ready for the next customers, her phone buzzed. It was Nick, she saw, grinning as his picture popped up next to the message thread.

So, weird thing, he began.