Page 89 of 10 Things I Hate About Zombies

‘Could we grab a ride with you, though?’ added Ainsley. ‘We can chuck our bikes in the back of the truck.’

‘We took the MAX in from my place and then rode the rest of the way,’ explained Celeste, hoisting her ukulele. ‘Now that I think about it, this whole zombie situation really explains the public-transportation behaviour we witnessed.’

‘Hop in,’ said Nick. ‘But you’ll have to squish. Alice likes to be next to me.’

‘She’s a good girl,’ said Ainsley, giving her a kiss. ‘Zombie!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘Run it over!’

‘Whoa, whoa,’ said Nick. He smacked the horn instead. The zombie glanced up from their phone, and Nick wondered whether they were actually a zombie or just someone walking and texting. ‘You seriously think I’m about to plough through pedestrians just because we have a zombie situation going on?’

‘That was my old landlord,’ muttered Ainsley. ‘Nothing of value would’ve been lost.’

‘Oh. You’re right. Sorry, missed opportunity. We’ll get the next landlord,’ promised Nick.

‘They’re really … picking up,’ said Ainsley, frowning over at the shambling hordes on Belmont. ‘Did Zoey change the recipe or something in the past few days?’

Nick frowned. ‘I don’t think so. I think we’ve just … hit critical mass.’

‘Bit critical mass, more like,’ said Celeste wryly, with a strum of her ukulele.

Nick pulled the truck slowly around the corner, taking the back streets towards Inkstigators. Here and there, potentially zombified individuals lurked, blinking as the truck crawled down the narrow residential street, much of which had been taken over by portable vegetable gardens and unpermitted al fresco dining spots. Efficient, no. But pretty, yes.

‘Okay, so does anyone have a definitive way of determining who’s a zombie?’ asked Celeste.

‘Green skin, shambolic gait, moaning brains.’ Ainsley ticked these off on her fingers.

‘Well, they’d definitely be part of the Venn-diagram overlap,’ said Nick. ‘But are they definitively zombie traits?’

Nick pulled up at a stop sign. A guy in a faded Pixies T-shirt and pyjama pants banged on the window with green-tinged fists. A smartwatch on his wrist flashed in alarm.

‘Brains!’ moaned the guy.

Alert, said the smartwatch, your body temperature is below normal range. Alert.

‘Definitely a zombie,’ said Celeste.

Ainsley considered. ‘Unless he just got out of an ice bath. They’re great for burning brown fat.’

Nick shook his head. ‘No one with that little muscle mass does ice baths. It’s purely a YouTube gym-bro thing.’

‘So, zombie?’ said Celeste.

‘Zombie seconded,’ said Ainsley.

‘Okay, zombie consensus reached.’ Making sure the windows were rolled up tightly, Nick pulled away and continued cruising down the street. The zombie guy looked somewhat affronted, but recovered promptly, continuing his quest for brains down Cesar Chavez Boulevard.

‘Ah, he’s heading towards Fred Meyer,’ said Celeste. ‘They always have a great selection of brains.’

‘Celeste!’ Ainsley whacked her on the shoulder.

‘What?’ said Celeste. ‘I wasn’t born vegan. I chose the veg life.’

‘We’ll catch up with him when we’ve got our ink,’ promised Nick, as they cruised through the leafy neighbourhood. ‘He’s moving pretty slowly.’

So were they, but not slowly enough to appease the local Karens, three of whom were standing around a dividing wall, tape measures out as they tried to determine whether a neighbour had encroached upon a property line.

‘Children live here!’ shouted one, as the truck crawled along. ‘Read the fucking signs!’

‘I’m sorry! I’m a good neighbour, I promise!’ shouted Nick.