Braineating XIII:

Attack On Casey!

"Casey is the prey and we are the hunters! HAH HAH HAH—"

April said, "I thought Lucas was the worst singer in the world until I heard that."

Given we currently hid inside the bathroom's drawer, I couldn't exactly whack her head. We were so close together we'd end up fusing and becoming an Aprilduff monster. But this was for the good—the good of humanity. If we were to capture the talking zombie boy, we'd have to be sneaky.

This, of course, required stuffing ourselves inside a piece of furniture so we could catch the enemy by surprise.

Somebody walked into the bathroom.

"It's Casey."

"Is it? How do you know?"

"Female intuition."

"Ohhh. What is that?"


"No. Female."

I didn't bother replying. Instead, I told her to shhh. April shhhed. We then nodded in unison and counted, under our breaths, "Three... two... one... GO!"

Thus, we both jumped out of the drawer, ready to attack.

Just then, I spotted Lucas happily taking off his pants. When he heard our thrashing, he squealed, dodged us and ran out the room, yelling, "PERVERTS!"

Outside, we heard terrified screams. Collin mumbled something along the lines of, "Casey, cover your eyes," while Kerberos asked, "Can it snap off?" and Butch yelled, "COVER THAT DAMN THING BEFORE I SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

April and I scrambled away from the bathroom, hoping we wouldn't be noticed.

Plan A: Failed.

Yet, I stayed positive. Right there, right then, I thought to myself that we may have lost the battle, but we would still win the war.

Hours later, to survey the land instead of food again—we were tired as hell of beans already—I got grouped with our newest additions, whom I decided to call the C-siblings. Lucas wanted nothing to do with April or me, so he chose Kerberos to go off their separate ways. The remaining two would stay and guard the HQ from invaders. More like, Butch would guard April from setting the place on fire again.

I glanced at her conspiratorially. She gave me a thumbs-up.

Plan B: In action.

Within thirty minutes of scavenging the town like idiots, we came across a zombie.


Since there was only one, and since it looked pretty stupid, none of us really made a fuss. I glanced at Casey, who didn't seem particularly affected by its presence. We were in a residential area, and so the zombie stood in the lawn, watering the plants with a hose.

"Try talking to it," I urged Casey.

He snickered. "No, dummy. Zombies cannot speak."


"Let's see if that one turns, too," whispered Collin,

Why bother? I don't know sometimes.

In the end, I ended up crouching near a group of bushes with them. Why always bushes? Why not something more original like a car, or a motorcycle? Or a zombie Donald Trump, but that would be too stupid even by this story's standards.

Curiosity killed the Duff. "Whatcha mean 'turns'?" I asked.

Collin glanced at Casey—who watched the zombie's every move—pointedly. "It sounds really weird," he told me, "but it's not... well. I don't know. Casey never went cannibalistic or anything."

"Lucky," I grumbled, "My mom tried to eat me."

"Oh my god, Is that supposed to be funny?"

A few more zombies are arrrghing around, but bushes are to hideouts what a cap and a moustache was to a costume in one of those old cartoons: magic.

I get he's a bit sore about the gag, but what could I do? It's better than crying. Besides, it gives the whole situation a detachment only black humor can bring along. I decided, long before the world ended, that I would neither dream nor regret; I just wouldn't care. For once, this modus operandi had begun to give fruitful results.

I had to force myself to stay like this, detached.

The Anti-Zombie squad was just a way to stay alive.

But alive for what?

"I think they're noticing us," whispered Casey, nudging me brusquely, "We have to run."

I got stupidly angry whenever someone told me to run, quite possibly because they told me to run when it was the only option. Unless it was some inverse psychology thing. Maybe they wanted me to learn how to fly.

The thing is, just as I got up to run, I realized my leg had gotten caught between one of the bush's branches.

"Oh, joy," I spat under my breath.

The C-siblings looked torn in more than the literal sense.

"Okay," Collin bent down and inspected the mess, trying to find a way to liberate my limb.

"Stop poking around!" I whined.

To be fair, he looked uneasy. I would have done the whole thing myself, believe me, but I kind of couldn't bend my body like it was made of rubber. Shaking my leg would only get it tangled further.

TIP 7: Bushes may be like magical invisibility capes in survival games, but in a REAL zombie apocalypse, don't be an idiot. Don't try to hide in one.

Ahhh... the nostalgia.

The undead kept wandering around, but a few had begun to head this way. "Casey!" I called out, "Go distract them or something!"

Casey's yellow eyes widened. "M-me?"

"No, Buddha. Yes, you! You're a zombie, aren't you?"

He looked offended.

"Actually," Collin called out from the mess of branches, "They go after Casey, too."


I began to thrash like a madman. Collin sprinted away, startled.

"WESHOULDABROUGHTALONGTHEFLAMETHROWEEEEEEEER!" I mentally pictured a rage bar at the top of an imaginary screen getting higher, higher each second. Once it reached the max point, I yelled bloody murder and pulled as strong as I could.

It worked.

Kind of. My leg was still attached to the stupid bush, but the stupid bush was no longer attached to the ground.

"It's evolving!" gasped Casey in awe.

Just as payoff, I ignored him.

We ran, and as I pushed my way through the neighborhood, with the C-sibling and an idiot plant fusing to my leg, I began to think.

Everyone knows, too, that thinking leads to doom.

What was the point of living now? Running for the rest of our—my life? To what end? Zombie apocalypses weren't exactly known for their closures. Most of the time, they ended up with the main group going to some safe island or something. This 'end' turned out to be nothing more than a momentary relief, though. What would they do once the zombies reached the island (they always did—who knew how)? What if zombies ate the rest of the population? Would they be able to keep mankind alive? What would happen to the zombies after no humans were left?

Movies are an easy thing; they end.

Real life? Not so much.

I realized, to my horror, that I wouldn't be able to live the rest of my short life running.

We needed solutions. All of mankind.

"We're losing them!" cheered Casey.

And if someone like Casey was the key, then all we needed was to open the lock.