Page 88 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘It was free,’ Ainsley said with a shrug. ‘Joaquin’s really into Bigfoot.’

When this was all over, Nick would have to arrange a meet-up between Joaquin and Bozo – Bigfoot sympathisers tended to get along.

‘Nothing you can’t cover up with a bigger foot,’ said Reba, with a flap of her hand.

‘It’s Joaquin’s ink,’ said Nick decisively. ‘Whatever’s in it, it’s counteracting the zombie effects of the mushrooms. They didn’t affect Zoey until now because she had the temporary tattoo to protect her.’

‘Hold up,’ said Ainsley. ‘You’re behind all of the shuffling and mumbling about brains? You did that to Zoey?’

‘At least he redeemed himself with Winslow,’ said Celeste, who was perched casually on the patio table. At least she’d set down the ukulele.

‘Zoey’s situation is partly her own doing, if you ask me.’ Reba helped herself to a handful of doughnut holes, which she dunked in her milkshake, then devoured. ‘She should’ve got a matching Frog tattoo when you got yours.’

‘Hang on, you can’t put this all on me,’ protested Nick. ‘Can I help it if I bought a strangely cheap farm with a weird spot that got struck by lightning, twice, and now grows luridly orange mushrooms that interact with Zoey’s smoothie recipe to cause … whatever that is?’

He pointed out at the street, where a horde of people dressed up as zombies staggered past. Someone was blasting ‘The Monster Mash’ over a Bluetooth speaker (which cut out every few seconds, to the frustration of the owner of said speaker). Several of the zombies, clad in leotards, were doing a high-impact aerobics routine, and were shouting commands to the rest of the shufflers.

To the left! High knees! And … grapevine!

‘Oh, most of those are here for the Zombie Shuffle.’ Ainsley unrolled a giant cinnamon roll and ate it inch by inch, like a snake might a rabbit. ‘It’s an annual tradition. Also, you should maybe look into why a place on your property has been struck by lightning more than once. Seems sus.’

Nick had a sudden flashback to the time Alice had come running up to him with a herringbone rag stuck in her collar. Sus, indeed.

‘So,’ said Ainsley, as she munched away on her cinnamon roll, ‘I know I’m far from the resident morning person here, but shouldn’t we be looking for Zoey instead of hanging out having coffee and doughnuts?’

‘They’re really good doughnuts, though,’ said Celeste, around a bite of a Nutella-filled Long John.

Nick didn’t respond. Brow furrowed in thought, he tried to piece together all the very strange pieces of the current situation.

‘Ains, is Joaquin working today?’ he asked. He tried not to grimace as a biting situation appeared to unfold amid the shufflers. Were they acting? Was this zombie-on-zombie violence? How many discussions had that person dressed as a ghoul from Fallout had about the definition of a zombie?

‘I’m pretty sure Joaquin slept overnight at Inkstigators,’ said Ainsley, who was now halfway through the cinnamon roll. (It was impressive progress.)

Nick stood. ‘All right. It’s time to hunt some zombies.’

Everyone stared at him, aghast.

‘Gross,’ said Celeste, who’d finished her doughnut and was now fiddling around in the Pro Tools mobile app. (She’d sampled some zombie groans on the way over.) ‘Hunting is emblematic of toxic masculinity. Are the straights okay?’

‘Peta told me about the bedroom-door lock,’ added Ainsley.

‘I don’t mean hunt, hunt,’ said Nick. ‘And I can explain the door. Look, I just need some of that tattoo ink, and a bunch of hypodermic needles.’

Reba slurped the last of her milkshake. ‘Now this is a plan I can get behind. I’ve got about fifty boxes of needles in the Kombi. Scored them from a CVS that messed up its pricing. Longest receipt in the world, but at least I got to reuse it for my mummy Halloween costume. People laugh, but my hoarding tendencies have always been good to me.’

‘She’s right,’ said Gracie. ‘Whatever you need, the Kombi summons it for you. It’s an impressive vehicle.’

‘All right, so sometimes it’s DoorDash doing the summoning,’ said Reba. ‘But mostly it’s the Kombi. Come on.’

With Alice at his heels, Nick hurried out to the truck, trying not to let his zombie paranoia overcome him. Now that he was keenly attuned to the possibility of zombies, everyone seemed like they’d been zombified. Romero. Zoey’s missing hairdresser. That terrible slam-poetry performer. That weird colloidal-silver lady. June and Nate the Hater, who were just now shuffling by. (Nick averted eye contact. Although, it had to be said that Nate was quite pleasant as a zombie. He moaned a lot less.)

Oh shit, he owed Darina an apology for trapping her in the shed. Here he was, thinking that she’d been having a psychotic break, or worse, had been flirting with him, when the poor thing had just been trying to eat his brains. And all because of his mushrooms!

‘I’m going to head to Inkstigators for the ink,’ he said.

‘We’ll meet you there,’ said Reba decisively. ‘I’ve always wanted to stab some zombies. Won’t be long – the Kombi’s right out there in the loading zone.’

‘We’re coming too,’ said Ainsley, around the last bite of her cinnamon roll. Celeste nodded. In her head-to-toe vegan leather, she looked absolutely ready to go on a zombie-hunting spree. Or at least to play a minor role in an off-brand Mad Max.