Page 73 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

Reba huffed. ‘It’s not voter fraud when it’s a cat. Here, give me a ballot.’ She waggled her fingers at one of the cat-mayor booth volunteers, deftly marking up her ballot and popping it into the ballot booth. ‘Preferential voting, eh? Fancy.’

The poll worker nodded. ‘That way we get our most community-preferred candidate instead of just the one with the most votes. It’s a fairer system for all.’

‘Pair that with universal voter enfranchisement, a day off for voting, and an independent electoral commission, and you just may be onto something,’ said Reba. ‘Now where are the naked people?’

‘Here they are.’ Zoey tried not to point as a wall of flesh appeared on the horizon. Was it rude to point in a situation like this? Did naked cyclists care about things like pointing?

Bells dinged and whoops chorused as the first of an endless stream of cyclists appeared down the path in all their birthday- suit glory. The frisbee dads waved and the silent-disco people danced like no nude cyclists were watching.

‘I can deal with the nudity, but they really should be wearing helmets,’ whispered Zoey. ‘I dropped a watermelon at the shop once, and it wasn’t pretty.’

‘Well, if there are zombies lurking,’ said Nick, ‘they can help with the brain-splatter clean-up.’

Zoey made a face. ‘What a lovely way to test our theory.’

As the cyclists came by, Zoey and Nick handed out samples and vouchers for the shop, popping them in bicycle baskets and outstretched purses.

‘No pockets,’ shouted one lady apologetically, as she took a voucher, carrying it between her teeth. Another guy rolled up his voucher and stuck it in a stretched earlobe. Here and there, riders paused to buy a smoothie, using Apple Watches or stashed phones (stashed where, Zoey didn’t want to know) to pay.

Ainsley, meanwhile, was dancing around with a giant Romero picket sign, trying to drum up last-minute support. Every cyclist who slowed down was ushered over to the voting booths – and handed voter sign-up materials for actual, non-cat elections. Smart, thought Zoey. Terriffany would probably enjoy writing a case study on this. She went to text Terriffany, but a guy on a fat-wheeler choose that moment to moon them.

‘To think,’ said Nick, using an empty smoothie crate to protect Zoey’s eyes from the offending butt cheeks, ‘you chose this life over academia.’

‘I wish I were one of those “no regrets” people, but there are some definite regrets. So,’ she said, between riders, ‘what do I need to know to prepare for your sisters?’

Nick grinned. ‘Are you nervous? You’re nervous!’

Zoey wished she could put the smoothie crate over her head for protection. ‘I’m always nervous. That’s why I have my protective bubble of resting bitch face.’

‘They’re going to love you,’ promised Nick. ‘Cleo’s a sucker for cute animal videos, Art Nouveau architecture, Gilmore Girls conspiracy theories, nail art and second-wave coffee. Larissa, well, thank God for the protective bubble of resting bitch face.’

Zoey grimaced as she handed a flyer to an old guy wearing nothing but a rainbow cape. ‘That bad, huh? I did buy a used introductory law textbook and I’ve been reading it during my breaks at work.’

Nick looked amused. ‘Of course you have. I do love those brains of yours. But not in a zombie way.’

Zoey patted her temple. ‘Thank goodness for that, because they’re not going anywhere.’

‘Not unless he gets bitten and develops a brand-new craving,’ chimed in Reba from across the way. ‘Remember Reba’s Razor!’

Before Zoey could respond, a whole horde of naked cyclists came whizzing past in a flesh-coloured blob.

‘Have a voucher!’ called Nick. ‘You can use it to cover up if the cops come.’

‘Or not,’ yelled Reba. ‘Let the goods hang out, babes! And don’t forget to vote! Democracy depends on your participation!’

I HATE THE WAY THEY BITE ME

20

Zoey

Zoey’s phone buzzed with the alarm tone she’d changed three times over the past year after it had started evoking a reptilian fear response.

‘Urgh,’ she grumbled, smooshing her face into her pillow. No wait, not her pillow. Nick.

‘Hey, babe.’ He looked over at her, amused. Alice, meanwhile, jabbed a wet nose at Zoey’s side, tail whacking the bed.

Zoey shut off the phone alarm, then smooshed back into Nick’s bare chest, giving Alice a pat at the same time. ‘How do you look so good in the morning? It’s not fair.’