A Single Girl's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse Read online

  She had one missed call from Hannah—no doubt to guilt her about how awful tomorrow would be in Q’s absence—two from her dad, and one from Big Tony, which was weird. Big Tony only called late on a Saturday night when he was drunk, not on a Thursday before eight p.m. She also had three emails from Slendrous D, who rarely messaged, and none from Jeremiah BownZ, who couldn’t go a day without reporting something supernatural. She’d read them after she’d called the other van. Safety first.

  “Anyone got a number for the others?” Q said.

  There was a hiss of indrawn breath.

  She stopped playing with her phone and looked up into eight eyes full of condemnation, and also four eyes full of smoke – Rabbit and Angela were less judgmental.

  “’Sup?” Q asked.

  “No phones,” said Sheath of Power. “Remember? Rabbit explained it on Wednesday night. Didn’t you listen?”

  Q thought back to the meeting. She could remember Rabbit talking for some time about the retreat. She had paid very close attention, although not to his actual words. That may not be the right thing to say.

  “The point of the retreat is to look inwards,” Sheath of Power said. “To withdraw.”

  “Said the cross-eyed lingerie model to the priest!” said Q. Fortunately, everyone ignored this.

  “Any communications with the city will destroy the vibe for us all,” the Scarlet Terror said.

  “Come on, guys,” said Rabbit. “Q’s new. Cut her a break.”

  “She’ll sap our positive energy.” Sheath held out his hand.

  “But it’s my phone!” Q said.

  The hand remained extended.

  “Which of course you can have.” Q wondered which hut she’d have to steal the phone back from later. She sighed. Her evening was ruined. At least it couldn’t get worse.

  Rabbit placed a hand on her shoulder, sending shivers of warmth down her arm. “Don’t worry about the other van,” he said. “They must have found another spot with good chi. We’ll catch up with them back in Sydney.”

  But things were not going as Q had expected and she was a woman who liked to be prepared.

  Pious Kate entered the circle.

  She wore white pajamas and nothing else. Her face was so pale in the firelight that it shone, dazzling the eye and blacking out everything behind her, making her look as if she wore a dark halo.

  “Kate, aren’t you cold?” Angela said.

  “I’m fine,” Pious Kate said.

  “Do you want some dinner?” Rabbit asked. “It’s Christine’s Mexibeans.”

  Pious Kate sniffed the pot and then grimaced. “No, thanks. Not hungry.” Her belly rumbled over the crackling of the fire. She walked over to Rabbit and wedged herself in next to him, elbowing the Scarlet Terror out of the way and dropping an object into the dirt by her feet.

  “So,” said Angela, trying to restart the conversation, “what’s on for tomorrow?”

  “I’m leading pre-dawn meditation to welcome the spirit of the sun,” said Sheath of Power.

  “I was planning some free-form verse prayer to Gaia,” said the Scarlet Terror.

  “I’m reading Peter Singer’s latest book on ethics,” said Princess Starla.

  “Gosh,” said Q. “How to choose? Do you think the others will be here by then?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll do some reading of your own,” Pious Kate said to Q, her voice heavy with significance. There was a strange look in her eyes.

  “Well, I think I will,” Q said, uncertain but alert for attack.

  “I think you should,” Pious Kate said. “Because you need to finish reading this.” She threw a book into the center of the circle. It landed front cover up. Q’s stomach heaved.

  Apocalypse Z.

  For the first time, she wished the cover didn’t have such detailed diagrams of weaponry and beheadings. Then she resented the group for making her have such an unwholesome thought. Who were they to judge?

  There was an awkward pause as seven hippies studied the cover.

  “Where did you get that book?” said Angela.

  “It was in Qwinston’s bag,” said Pious Kate, smirking. “I knew there was something off about her. This is what our new friend considers good reading on a retreat for peace.”

  “What’s that person doing to that other person?” Tinkabella asked. There was another, longer pause as she studied the cover. “Oh.”

  Q reflected. Things weren’t going well. On the upside, if the freaks thought she was a freak, would she become mainstream?

  “I think we’re headed for an apocalypse too,” said the Scarlet Terror. “This is the seventh age, Kate. We’re in a cycle of decay and we’ll degenerate until the next period of universal renewal.”

  “Do you have a guide book about it?” Pious Kate said.

  “Yes,” said the Scarlet Terror. “The illustrations are different, but the concept’s the same.”

  “I can’t believe you went through Q’s stuff.” Angela’s tone burned cold. Pious Kate’s face screwed up. This was clearly not how she thought her big move would play out.

  “Not cool, Kate,” Rabbit said.

  The pale woman scowled. Q grinned. Pious Kate had bombed out. That would teach her not to use weapons she couldn’t control. Q reached for her book.

  Pious Kate’s mouth dropped open as if to say something, then she stood up and left. Her departure didn’t make Q feel better. Pious Kate had lost, but Q wasn’t sure she had won. Would Rabbit be interested in a quasi-military survival nutbag who’d been on the fight circuit? What they said was true. No one wins a war.

  Tinkabella handed Q a dish of hot baked beans. “Here you go,” she said. “This will help.”

  “No,” said Q. “What would help is three hours of Mummy Three: Evil In Plaid.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, Yummy beans, they’ll be totally rad.” Q took the bowl. Apocalypse Z had been mocked and she had been driven to idioms of the eighties. This was going to be a long three days.

  *

  Beepbeepbeep.

  “Psst! Hannah! Is that you?”

  “You’re calling me on the hotphone you gave me. Who else would it be?”

  “Thank God.” Q had feared it would ring out. She was near the pit toilet with the phone pressed to her left ear. Her right ear was tuned in for the quick step of a hippy with an over-full bladder. She couldn’t afford to get busted and lose her last comms.

  “Why are you calling so late?” Hannah said, a taint of whinge in her voice.

  “People were boarding up their windows in the town on the way here. And the other van never showed up. And lots of people were leaving Sydney.”

  “People always leave Sydney at the weekend.”

  “It’s only Thursday.” Q covered the mouthpiece and scanned the trees. There was no one there. “Was there anything on the news?” she said.

  “I don’t know. I watched Superspy Sarah. What time is it?”

  “Vengeance Betti says eleven thirty.”

  “Are the other kids being mean to you?” Hannah said.

  “They keep talking about their life journeys. Did you know Rabbit has been vegan since birth? That means the only animal protein he’s ever ingested is breast milk. And they think I’m weird.”

  Hannah yawned. “Is this an emergency?”

  “They made me eat beans.”

  “Good night, Q.”

  “Good night.” Q hung up, thinking that it was a good night after all. Hannah had reassured her that all was normal. The Sydney folks were escaping the rat race, like they always did. The small town folks were acting paranoid, like they always did. Some glorious child in a shopping mall had given voice to the primal urge of the world and attacked Pious Kate. Everything was fine. Even the beans.

  So why did it feel like it might be the last good night for a long, long time?

  Chapter Twelve

  Q woke at eight. Angela’s bed was empty and Pious Kate was still asleep, which was odd – Q had
picked it for the other way around. Pious Kate struck her as one of those smug people who get up at dawn each day so they can tell everyone else that they did. She never understood that claim to moral superiority. Serial killers were early risers, too.

  She lay in bed for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the worn blankets and making faces from the knots in the wooden planks of the walls. She’d had the nightmare about the pale woman, the first for years. Night terrors, that was all the dream was. The kind that is ridiculous by daylight.

  She dressed in silence, trying not to wake her nemesis. She had one foot through her camouflage pants and one foot on the floor when she overbalanced and knocked into Pious Kate’s overnight bag, sending its contents clattering to the floor.

  Q froze.

  The wench snored on. Pious Kate was one solid sleeper.

  Q gathered up the spilt stuff and shoved it back into the bag. Her hands brushed against four cylindrical objects taped to the inside of the canvas.

  Hidden contraband! What was it? Dynamite? Drugs?

  Q held the bag up to the window, pulled back a blanket from the glass and peered at the shapes in the sunlight. They were brown, shiny and soft. It took her a few seconds to identify them.

  Jerky. Plastic-wrapped beef jerky. How would Yowie feel about their princess of purity now?

  Actually, they’d be thrilled. Everyone loved to trip up the teacher. Q herself was stuck between a gloat, a scoff, unwilling admiration for the woman’s caching ability and general confusion about how to distill all this into a cohesive emotional response. Head buzzing, she left the cabin.

  The beautiful man had picked a beautiful spot. The campsite was east of Mount Empress and the air smelled of eucalyptus and damp earth. The sun shed a gentle warmth that left the world full of the memories of winter, but when she stepped into the shade of the trees, she shivered.

  Q zipped up her hoodie and wandered on. Most people were up. Sheath and Tinkabella waved, bright eyed. Damn morning people. She’d like to see how chirpy they’d be after an all-nighter on Bloody Mayhem: Beyond the Crypt.

  With that comforting thought, Q set about waking herself up. She went for a short jog, did a few hundred yard sprints, then settled in to some katas using a young tree as a dummy. According to Vengeance Betti, she had been practicing for about twenty minutes when she heard a cough behind her. She turned around to find a shocked Angela.

  “Why are you attacking that tree?” she said.

  “I’m practicing.”

  “To kill trees?”

  “Nah. I mastered that long ago. Let’s get breakfast.”

  On the way back to the campsite, they saw Rabbit, who was also doing his morning exercise. He had the grace of a Next Gen Ninja but his delivery was weak and his movements too slow to be effective. After a minute of quiet contemplation, enjoying the play of sunlight across his arms and bare chest, Q stepped over to give him some pointers. She returned to find Angela bent over in silent laughter.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Q asked. “He’ll never punch through his first brick wall if he keeps at it that way.”

  Angela took a few deep breaths. “He’s doing tai chi, my friend. That’s how it’s done. I thought you knew about martial arts?”

  “Not tai chi,” said Q. “I never could see the point of the non-offensive stuff.”

  “I’m pretty sure you could make anything offensive,” Angela said.

  “Thanks!” They went to investigate the breakfast pot of despair.

  “Can you really punch through brick walls?” Angela asked.

  “Only small ones.”

  *

  Breakfast sat in her stomach like a curse.

  They had called it porridge, but it was unlike any kind of porridge Q had eaten before. It didn’t come in single-serve packets, it was cooked without a microwave and it was neither sweet nor blue. It even had seeds in it. Q had pointed this out to the cook, Sheath of Power. She had been tactful enough to soften the criticism with an anecdote about her dad accidentally pouring their pet budgie’s food into a stew when she was a kid. Sheath informed Q that he didn’t believe in pet budgies, because it was wrong to subjugate animals to the will of man for entertainment, then went on to say that she should eat her seeds because they contained essential fatty acids. Q said that sounded like something you put in an engine, not a stomach, and that their purpose must be to toughen up the belly to the point where it could digest the porridge. Then she ate her seeds and sulked.

  Q was not fitting in. She missed her Light ’n’ Fluffy Breakfast Rolos. Sure, you had to eat a whole box before you felt like you’d eaten anything at all, but that was part of the fun, because then you got more tokens. She still had the nagging feeling that something was wrong and she wanted to get on the web and find out what was happening, but couldn’t. Worse, there was no one to share her fears with. She had to worry alone.

  Oh well. Two more days, and by then she’d have Rabbit in the bag. She swore and slapped at a March fly. Such a painful bite for something that looked so harmless.

  The Scarlet Terror smiled at her. “I lied about being an outdoors type, too,” she said.

  Q grinned. “I’m an outdoors type, all right,” she said. “I just like to experience the outdoors in my study via my computer.”

  After breakfast, Rabbit walked halfway around the camp circle to sit down next to Q. She beamed. This was it! Her charm and ability to keep her tongue and brain separated for minutes at a time were beginning to work! This was their chance to bond.

  “You’re bunking with Kate, right?” Rabbit said.

  “Oh,” said Q. “I am.”

  “Is she okay?”

  No. She wasn’t okay. She had ginger hair and an acid mouth. “She’s great,” Q lied.

  “But is she feeling okay?” he said. “I haven’t seen her this morning. She’s usually an early riser.” He frowned.

  “I knew it!” Q said, then sighed. “I’ll go check on her. Don’t go away, okay?”

  Q returned to the cabin. It was dark inside. Pious Kate must have been up, because all the blankets were pinned across the windows, but she had gone back to bed. “That smell,” Q said. “Aniseed and rot.”

  “What?” said Pious Kate.

  “Are you okay?” Q said in a louder voice, and then, to make sure Pious Kate didn’t interpret this as concern on her own behalf, added, “Rabbit wanted me to check on you.”

  Pious Kate’s face turned brittle. “I know what you’re doing,” she said. “Try anything and I’ll kill you.”

  Q took a breath and held it for a count of seven, then released. “What did you say?” she said.

  Pious Kate sat up, stretched and smiled. “I’m getting up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Q left, trying not to think weird thoughts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What’s on for the day?” Q said. She was sitting on one of the logs around the campsite and doodling in the dirt with a stick. The creek chattered to itself in the gully, no doubt as bored as she was. Q had just realized that she had sixty hours ahead with no prospect of virtually beating up or killing anything. The doodling helped hide the withdrawal shakes.

  There was an indecipherable mumble. Q walked over to Angela, who lay on a rug beneath a tree with a hat over her face. Q picked up the hat.

  “Pretty much this,” Angela said. “This is the quietest day I’ve had for seven years. I am going to enjoy it.”

  Q dropped the hat back over Angela’s face. “It’s not that quiet,” Q said. “The galahs are screaming.”

  There was another mumble. Q picked up the hat again and heard the words “decibels”, “twins” and “no contest”.

  “Aren’t you worried about the guys on the other bus? They never showed up.”

  More muffled sounds. Something about “destiny” and “Gaia”.

  Q decided to let it go and glanced at the other activities on offer. Sheath was meditating. Princess Starla was reading. The Scarlet Terror and Tinkab
ella were doing some pervert activity that looked like the type of twister Q had played at parties when she was seventeen and drunk, which Tinkabella claimed was yoga. Q doodled on.

  After a while, Sheath of Power announced that he was going for a walk. Tinkabella, the Scarlet Terror and Princess Starla decided to join him. Tinkabella stopped to invite Q.

  Nothing to do but talk for two hours? There was no way Q could maintain cover that long. She was bound to slip up and talk about beef or blood sports. “No, thanks,” Q said. “I don’t walk. Gout.”

  She watched them leave and listened to Angela chuckle. Was this what people did when you unplugged them?

  Q reached for her mobile phone, thinking she’d check the web and then play a quick round of Chaos. She searched all six pockets before remembering it wasn’t there. It had been confiscated.

  Damn hippies. She had to steal it back, but who had it? What would Apocalypse Z say? When in doubt, cache supplies.

  “I’m gonna go get firewood,” Q said to Angela.

  “No need,” said Rabbit, emerging from his hut. “We got plenty.” He was right. The stack of firewood had replenished itself overnight.

  “Weird,” Q said, and scribbled in her little black book.

  “Nice design,” Rabbit said, pointing to the picture she had drawn in the ash. “Is it a symbol for life and death?”

  “Yes,” said Q carefully. “It’s certainly not the blueprint for the doomsday device I’d build if I ever got the hang of physics. Do you want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure. Did Angela mumble something about gout?”

  “Who knows what that kooky chick said? I’m sure she doesn’t want to come. And it doesn’t look like anyone else does either, so we better head off. Just the two of us.”

  “Cool,” said Rabbit. They turned to go. Someone called out behind them.

  Pious Kate, wearing dark glasses and a scowl, hurried over to join them. “Wait up!” she said, breathless, then switched to a saccharine voice. “Rabbit, would you like to go for a walk?”

  “Sure,” said Rabbit. “We’re gonna go check out the stream. You wanna come?”