Page 62 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Celeste raised an eyebrow. ‘I think that’s how long he’s been talking.’

Zoey was intrigued by their banter. Apparently Ainsley and Celeste had been mending fences in both senses of the phrase. And while Zoey would always be loyal to Ainsley, she couldn’t help but feel a tad delighted that the two, whom she’d always thought made a great couple, might just be back on the road to romance.

‘How’s the fire going?’ asked Nick, when Kenard paused for air, although anyone could see that the fire was not going.

‘Piss-poor,’ said Reba. ‘But the conversation’s chugging along. Here, let me do the honours …’

Producing a pocket bottle of Baileys, she poured it over a pile of wooden detritus they’d gathered as part of their fencing endeavours. Then she pulled out a rainbow lighter, touching it to the wood. The whole lot went up with a whoosh that sparked a collective shriek from the crowd of onlookers.

‘Nice work, Reba,’ called Zoey, flushing as she realised that she’d stepped back into Nick, and that his arms had looped around her waist.

‘Nice work, you.’ Reba gave a salacious wink behind her cat’s-eye glasses. The old hippie was incorrigible. ‘And you as well,’ Reba added, with a nod at Celeste and Ainsley, who’d also found their way to each other and were looking quite happy about the whole situation.

‘I knew it,’ whispered Nick.

‘Right?’ said Zoey, delighted that they were on the same matchmaking wavelength, and fully aware that love was most certainly in the pine-scented air.

The group chitchatted and laughed as they roasted veggie skewers and nibbled on packages of tin-foil nachos and flame-grilled mushrooms. Kenard waxed lyrical about how vegetables were nature’s punks, and Reba managed a five-marshmallow s’more so impressive that it required Gracie to change out the lens on her camera. Alice happily caught morsels of cheese that were thrown her way in ever-more-complicated trajectories.

‘She’s such a good girl,’ said the purple-haired Berry.

‘The best girl,’ agreed Nick and Zoey simultaneously. Grinning, Nick squeezed Zoey’s hand. She scooted closer to him, pretending that the chill in the evening air was greater than it was, because all she wanted to do was be right next to him, enjoying the strength of his arms around her and the comfort of his chin on her head.

How close could she get before Ainsley made a rude comment about their bodily proximity?

Not much closer, it turned out.

‘So what’s the plan after this?’ asked Ainsley, upon whom Zoey’s snuggling efforts hadn’t been lost. ‘I’ve had way too much of Reba’s Baileys to drive back. And Reba has also had too much of Reba’s Baileys.’

‘Guilty,’ said Reba cheerfully. ‘Baileys, or as I pitched it to an ad agency in Brooklyn, the nectar of the gods.’

‘Did you land the campaign?’ asked Celeste, curiously.

‘Nah, but I did get hired as a taste tester for a local distiller. Life’s pretty grand, huh?’

Everyone huddled around the fire, listening to its rhythmic crackle and oohing as the occasional spark flickered up towards the moonlit sky. Overhead, the stars clustered, bright and merry, playing hide-and-seek with cotton-wool clouds.

Reba was right: life was pretty grand.

And Zoey apparently wasn’t the only one thinking it.

‘We’re not heading back to Portland at this time of night,’ said Kenard decisively. He took a swig of the Baileys Reba had just returned with to underscore his point. ‘We can camp out. Like the veggies do.’

A general murmur of assent went around: everyone seemed into the idea of camping. Which was of course one of the great collective hobbies of PNW residents.

‘What about the rabid coyotes?’ asked Ainsley. ‘The ones we were building the fences for?’

‘Strength in numbers,’ said Reba, with a flap of her hand. ‘Besides, they have more reason to be scared of us than vice versa. Look at the fashion sense of this group.’

Zoey and Gracie exchanged an amused look.

‘Well, then,’ said Nick. ‘Let’s get those tents put up.’

‘I do like an enterprising gentleman,’ said Reba, who had apparently been born absent a sense of shame, something which had clearly proven an asset throughout her colourful life. ‘Even if he’s going to make me sleep on the ground. I’ve got an old back, you know.’

‘Absolutely don’t let her inside,’ whispered Gracie. ‘She’s like a tie-dyed raccoon. You’ll never get her out, and she’ll eat all your snacks.’

Zoey, who had missed out on s’more seconds thanks to Reba’s affinity for skyscraper marshmallow stacks, had figured this was probably the case. Tents it was, she thought, as she helped Nick pull out the fabric and poles from their bags and start setting them up. Well, helped was an overstatement.