Cherry Vanilla #2
Solo watched in terror as the zombie continued to tear down the door. He didn’t want to die helplessly in a bathroom decorated in baby blue wallpaper with ducks on it. It would be a very embarrassing obituary. Solomon Reed, aged 23 died of multiple zombie bites to the face in a baby duck bathroom. Fuck that noise. Solo wanted to fight back. He needed a weapon of some kind. He frantically searched the bathroom for anything he could use to defend himself. Since this was the guest bathroom, there weren’t any toothbrushes he could use to gouge the zombie’s eyes out. Q-Tips? No. Rubbing alcohol? Maybe. If he decided to rush the zombie, he could use it to blind it and push past it. He was beginning to like this plan. He grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and opened it. He took a big whiff of it before he poured the contents on the zombie’s face.
The zombie let out a scream that he had never heard come from a living being. Its right cheek promptly slid to the bathroom floor with a sickening plop. The zombie was more determined to get at Solo, not because it was hungry, it was the principle of the thing now. Solo must die.
Solo dropped the empty bottle and looked for something else to use. It was then that his gaze landed on the shower. Yes, he could hide in the shower and hope the zombie wouldn’t look for him there. No, that was a lame idea. He looked at the horrible duck themed shower curtain. If he ripped it off the shower rod, he could blame it on the zombie and Gwen would be none the wiser. The shower rod… it was detachable! He reached up and pulled the rod down from the wall. He allowed the shower curtain to slide to the floor. He then returned his attention to the zombie who was 75% through the door.
Solo wasted no time in using the rod to stab the zombie in the face. The rod went through the zombie’s left eye socket. The eye exploded with a soft squish. The zombie moaned, but otherwise seemed unfazed. It still had another eye. Solo pulled the rod out of its eyes and went for the second eye, but the zombie reached up and grabbed it. They both struggled for control of the rod.
“If you want it, you can have it!” Solo took his end of the rod and shoved it at the zombie, sending the zombie’s end into its skull. The zombie fell against the wall and pulled the rod out. “What the hell!” Would nothing kill this thing?
“Solo, get down!” said a familiar male voice.
Solo fell to the floor. He heard a loud bang, a gunshot, and then a pop. He felt something wet spray his body. There was no use in pretending he didn’t know what it was. The bloody zombie’s head exploded. When he thought it was safe to look up, he saw a friendly face spattered with blood looking in at him.
“Yup! Come with me if you want to live.”
Solo stood up and tried to wipe the blood off his exposed arms. He reached underneath the sink and pulled out a towel and wiped himself clean. There were a few zombie fragments in his curly brown hair. He picked them out one by one. It was easy to assume that he was a bit vain.
“Stop preening yourself, you queen! Let’s move!” Travis opened the bathroom door and reached in and pulled Solo out. There was a rather large shotgun in Travis’s left hand. Solo was rather surprised to see this considering how well mannered Travis is. “What, you never seen a queer with a gun before? I may not have the right to marry, but I’ll be damned if they take my guns!”
“Where are we going?” Solo asked, stepping over the re-dead zombie. “Is Gwen here?” He walked into the living room and looked for her. She was not among the furniture.
“Gwen isn’t here, but she’s not far from here,” Travis said. “We met up with a bunch of other survivors at The Shelter down the street. We should get going right away.” He made his way to the front door and checked outside for any signs of zombies. There did not appear to be any at the moment.
“You might want to pick up something to use to defend yourself.”
“I suppose I can’t very well use a shower rod.” Solo knew just the thing. He went to the patio door and opened it. He half expected to see a zombie stumbling around in the backyard, but there wasn’t one. He stepped outside and saw that the sun was setting. He was never one to admire the sunset, but this one seemed special somehow. The sky was the perfect shade of orange and purple, but there was a large pillar of smoke off in the distance. He surmised that it was the origin of the apocalypse.
“Solo,” Travis said urgently.
Solo quickly went to the side of the house where he had left the shovel. Gwen wanted him to dig up the weeds and he spent about two hours doing so that morning. He picked up the shovel and spun it around a few times, trying to imitate what he saw in Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. When he felt confident he could kill some fucking zombies with it, he left the backyard and locked the patio door.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Solo said. The two of them finally left the house. Solo locked the door behind them. He didn’t want to take the chance of someone using the apocalypse as an excuse to steal his shit. “So, on the way to the Shelter, can we stop by the grocery store?”
“Sure, why?” Travis asked.
“I need to pick up something,” Solo replied. He hadn’t forgotten about how badly he wanted that ice cream. His near death experience made it all the more important. He was one step closer to obtaining his goal, victory was going to be delicious.