“Saving? I didn’t see you saving when Call of Duty was released, Ben.” I push my brunette hair behind my ears.
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because your things are more important than mine?”
“No, because well- it’s Call of Duty, and these are just shoes! You have hundreds of damn shoes,” he splutters.
I stare at him through narrowed eyes. “You just have no idea, do you?”
Things have been rough between us for months, and though I know that I want to be with him still, I can’t help but wonder if he still wants to be with me. We scream and shout continuously. Bickering about the mundane things, and ignoring the important stuff. Our marriage is just one long carousel of arguments and has been for far too long. The differences between us have become more apparent as the years have progressed, and the things that I found so endearing about him- now irritate the shit out of me. I know I’m not alone in this analogy though, since he tells me the same on a daily basis.
Ben runs his hands through his blond hair and stands. He looks at me once, picks up his car keys, and leaves the kitchen. My smile falters and I take a deep breath as I leave the kitchen. I hate arguing, but this is what our relationship’s been reduced to- a pissing contest. I follow him into the living room, still holding on to one of my precious blue shoes.
“Where are you going? What did I do now?” I ask his retreating back.
He turns and looks at me with those beautiful sad blue eyes of his. “You’re right--”
“You admit it finally!” I huff.
“I have no idea,” he continues, “I have no idea about who you are or what the hell we’re doing. I just know that I can’t do this anymore.” His voice is soft and full of hurt, and shame spreads across my cheeks and neck in a hot flush. “I thought that we had moved past… this.” He opens his arms wide. “Another thing I got wrong, I guess.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. I hate it when he plays the injured party card. Like I’m the bitch and he’s the saint. It’s not fair, and it’s not true. He’s as big an arsehole as I am; he just hides it better.
“Like so many other things you got wrong, hey, Ben. Like when you forgot our anniversary, or when you didn’t bother to pay the water bill, defrost the freezer, or fix the damn back gate. Seriously, what is your problem anyway? Those shoes are gorgeous; they were on sale, and they are totally practical.”
“Practical?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Yes.”
“Well I’d like to see you do the shopping in them, then,” he laughs.
I snort. “Challenge accepted.”
He stares at me hard, his jaw moving its muscles slowly as he tries to contain his anger again. He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to work, Nina. I can’t deal with this shit right now. Do the shopping in them and we’ll see how practical they are. Maybe I’m wrong. You have to wear the damn things, not me. I’m just a man, I hate shoes.” He opens the door and leaves, slamming it shut behind him.
I hate it when he slams doors.
I can finally breathe. Pulling the air in and out of my lungs so fast I think I might hyperventilate. I hate this. This isn’t me. This isn’t him. This isn’t us, and I can’t understand how we got to this place, or how to get us out of it.
2.
The store is ridiculously busy for a Wednesday afternoon. I should be working from home on a new work proposal, not out doing the shopping. Certainly not in high-heels. Definitely not heels this expensive, but there it is.
Bananas, apples, grapes.
I sigh for the hundredth time since leaving the house, and throw a packet of something-or-other in the trolley. I hate food shopping. This is Ben’s domain; he loves cooking. The fluorescent tubing above me is too bright, giving an overly cheery appearance to the vegetable display.
Broccoli, carrots, potatoes.
A little old lady stops and stands in front of me with her little pull along trolley, chattering away with another grey-haired old person. I will never understand why they walk around with those ugly looking things. I clear my throat to get their attention, but receive no response back. They’re standing right in the middle of the aisle, blocking the way for me and anyone else that needs to get past, chatting away like there’s not a care in the world. I huff as I push past them, nudging their trolley out of the way with mine.
When did I get like this? All bitter, and twisted. This is not who I am; this is the woman I’ve slowly been turning into.
Beans, corn, tomatoes.
It’s time we stepped away from each other to decide what’s best for the marriage and for ourselves. I have to do this for myself before I end up hating him, or worse, he ends up hating me.
Pasta, rice… shit, I can’t do this.
I slump to the floor next to my trolley, my back against the ‘World foods’ section, and ignore the stares from the people that walk past me. I let my head sink into my hands and try not to sob. Slipping my shoes off, I throw them into the trolley with the food.
God I love him so much, but I can’t do this anymore.
The horrible fluorescent tube blinks and flashes repeatedly above me, before finally giving up all together. I stand back up and make a note to get painkillers; the flashing light has brought on a headache. Wiping my tears away, I carry on with the shopping in bare feet.
Twenty minutes later and with my feet killing me, I push the trolley through the exit of the supermarket, glad that it’s finally over and done with. If only everything in my life was as simple as that.
A short, sharp, scream behind me makes me jump and I turn to look and see what’s happening. People are running to help a woman who’s on the floor. I’m pretty sure there’s blood around her, but I can’t be sure as a group of people have crowded around her. There’s a huge commotion with people pulling and tugging at her, they must be doctors I guess. I hate the sight of blood, and with a shrug I turn back around and carry on to my car. It’s a silly little silver sports car, and I’m not even sure how the hell everything is going to fit in it, but with a squash and a squeeze, and some precarious balancing, it finally does. Even though I probably squish some of the groceries when I close the boot lid.
I slip my shoes back on as I climb into my car, grab a bottle of water from one of the bags and take a large gulp. I look up as an ambulance turns up, and as I drive away, I see a small group of people running from the store.
What are they running from?
I stop at the lights and watch through my rear view mirror in morbid fascination. Someone’s covered in blood and another person is crying. People seem to be in a frenzy, bumping into each other and falling over.
Shit, what the hell’s happened?
The lights change, but I’m transfixed with the scene behind me. There’s a struggle between two or three people. They push and shove each other, hands grabbing at one another’s clothes. More people are running past them, but no one seems to be attempting to stop the fight. More screams have broken out and I turn in my seat to look out of the back window, my brown eyelinered eyes narrowing into slits as I watch.
A honk from the car behind me has me moving my arse, and I wave my apologies to the driver and drive.
The streets are deserted on the way home, with virtually no pedestrians about. The world seems to have stilled on its axis. I can’t explain it, but there’s something not quite right. Perhaps it’s because it’s the middle of the day and everyone is working?
Which is exactly what I should be doing, not fucking shopping, I think again angrily.
Who am I even angry with anymore? Ben or me?
My feet are throbbing with pain when I get home, and as soon as I get inside I put the shoes back in their pretty black box, where I know they will more than likely stay. I sit on the edge of the sofa, rubbing the sole of my foot, knowing that I now have to drag all the shopping into the house. Yet another great job that I’m not used to doing. Ben normally brings the shopping in and I put
it all away. I guess this is just another part of the life that I’m going to have to get used to if we do separate.
I deftly tie my hair up into a high bun and with a huff go back out to the car still barefoot, and hastily grab a couple of the heavy bags. The neighbours next door are home; I can hear them arguing loudly. Ann screams at her husband, something smashes, and I pause for a moment wondering if I should go and see if she’s okay, but decide it’s none of my business.
Jesus, I bet that’s what me and Ben sound like all the time. How embarrassing.
I drop the bags in the kitchen and go back outside for some more. The sun is still high in the sky and I raise a hand to my eyes whilst I watch the neighbours across the road pile into their car and screech away. My eyes narrow as I watch them drive off.
What the heck has gotten into everyone? I purse my lips and grab more of the groceries.
Bags cover the kitchen floor, and it’s depressing knowing that I’ve still got it all to put away. I go back outside for the last lot of bags, pick them up, and awkwardly slam the boot lid shut with my elbow. The heat is pouring down on me and making me sweat like a pig, which just makes my day even more perfect. I’m nearly inside the house when a can of tomatoes slips out of a hole in the side of one of the bag and rolls down the driveway.
Shit!
Stumbling inside, I drop the bags down with a large thud, and go back outside for the MIA tomatoes. I walk down the driveway and retrieve the can, only looking up when I hear more tires squealing my way. Ben’s pickup pulls up to the kerb in a screech of burnt rubber and smoke. Diving out of it, he slips and almost falls to the ground before correcting himself, and I’d laugh, but the look on his face is anything but funny.
3.
“Get inside, Nina.” He pushes me inside and closes the door, clicking the lock into place.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
He charges up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and I follow him up cautiously. I’ve never seen him like this. Ben is, well… he’s Ben. Fearless, funny, happy-go-lucky, and lazy of course. He’s not normally a drama queen, that’s my domain.
“Ben, what’s going on?” I stand in the doorway of our bedroom, my arms wrapped around myself, still clutching the can of tomatoes. He grabs his backpack from the bottom of the wardrobe and begins to fill it with clothes. I don’t know whether he didn’t hear me or he chose not to answer me, but he suddenly stops what he’s doing and dives under the bed, pulling out his dad’s old gun box. I flinch as I watch him unlock the box, pull out the old Smith and Wesson .38, and load the bullets into it in quick succession. He slips the gun into the waistband of his jeans like it’s an everyday thing to do.
“Ben?” I can’t get the rest of my words out. The tears in my eyes are stinging and make me blink rapidly. I don’t even know what the hell I’m crying for, but I am. His look, his fear; his whole presence is scaring me now.
“We need to pack, Nina.” He looks at me pleadingly, ignoring my questions again, and then he glances to the open window.
I haven’t heard it until now, but there are sirens going off in the distance. The noise seems to motivate him even more, and he picks up his half-full rucksack, slings it over his shoulder, and walks towards me.
“There are… things that I haven’t the time to explain right now, but you have to trust me, Nina. Forget all your usual bullshit and trust me.” His big rough hands cover my shoulders and he looks at me seriously.
I give a little laugh and shrug him off. “MY bullshit?” I roll my eyes at him, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “You’re scaring me, Ben. Stop it. Tell me what’s going on,” my voice trembles and the tears that have been forming in my eyes spring free.
Damn it, I want to be strong. It seems like I need to be strong right now.
A crash from outside makes us both jump, and Ben leaves my side to run to the window. He opens it wider and looks out, his body tensing as he does.
It’s as if opening the window has opened the door to a whole new world, one my ears aren’t quite ready to believe or understand yet. Screaming and shouting have erupted outside, with bangs and explosions following closely behind. I run to Ben’s side, but he holds me back.
“Don’t look.”
My thoughts stray to the supermarket and the scene I had witnessed outside, and I push his hands away and move to the other side of the window.
The image before me doesn’t seem real. This is hell; surely this is hell?
People are roaming the streets covered in blood. Some are huddled around something on the ground, viciously pulling and tugging and it’s not until there’s a gap in the crowd that I see it’s our neighbour Sandy who lives opposite. My hand moves to my mouth to hold in my scream as flames burst from a house further down the street. Cars plough into one another, flipping up into the air and crashing back down. My neighbours, my friends are all trying to escape the hell they see too, but for most, it’s too late. There is no escaping this.
I look at Ben, my eyes wide and brimming with fresh tears.
“Ben, what’s happening?” I choke out the words.
He comes over to me and abruptly pulls me into his arms and away from the window. He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me. “I don’t know, Nina. I honestly don’t. I was at work and…and these guys came running in. They were shouting and swearing about being attacked. One of them had a huge chunk missing out of his arm; I mean a big chunk… just missing. I could see right down to the fucking bone!”
Ben lets go of the bag he’s holding, letting it fall to the floor. “He was panting and wheezing and I tried to call for an ambulance, but the call wouldn’t connect. Then I heard this moaning and these other people came in to the garage. Nina, they didn’t look right.” He pulls back and looks at me, with something in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. Fear. “This sounds fucked up, I know, believe me I know, but you have to believe me when I say it…I think they were zombies.”
I snort and pull out of his arms. My eyes instinctively go back to the window. There’s no denying it. Though my very soul is begging me to try.
“Zombies? Don’t be ridiculous, Ben!” I watch in horror as Sandy’s leg twitches. The people, zombies, whatever-the-hell they are, stand up and walk away from her, seemingly bored with their prey now. Sandy sits up, her insides tumbling out into her lap, and I yelp and gag on the vomit that forms in my throat.
Ben grabs me and pulls me away from the window, hugging me into him harder. “I know, baby, I know.”
“How is this happening, Ben?” I feel sick, my stomach is twisting, and with every new bang and scream from outside it twists a little more, ready to spill my stomach contents to the floor—rather like Sandy’s, I can’t help but think morbidly.
I feel him shrug and he kisses my head again. I pull back to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, another crash and scream sound from outside and Ben reaches down and picks up his bag again.
“Can they get in here?” My voice shakes.
“I don’t think so.” He glances out the window and I do the same, watching a couple of zombies pass our house. They seem oblivious to us in here. His pickup and my car are surrounded though. “I think if we close all the curtains we should be okay for a couple of hours, but we can’t stay here. As soon as things calm down, we have to go, so I need you to pack some stuff. Can you do that?”
I nod, my mind racing as to what I’ll need. This doesn’t make sense—zombies, the end of the world.
Oh my God. I close my eyes and take a steadying breath before opening them and making myself move.
“Where are we going?” I grab some socks and underwear from my drawers and then go to the bathroom for my toothbrush.
Jesus, I’m packing a fucking toothbrush in the midst of a zombie apocalypse! I shake my head at my own thoughts. What if this is everywhere? What if this isn’t just here? No, it can’t be everywhere; there would have been warnings, the government would have…
>
I clutch the sink with both hands and retch into it repeatedly. My stomach’s contents doggedly refusing to remove themselves. Tears are in my eyes from the force of each heave, or maybe it’s the realisation that this is it. Apocalypse now, and all that other crazy shit. I finally look up at myself in the mirror. I’m pale and shaky, my mascara smudged. I glance behind my reflection to see Ben watching me with sad eyes from the doorway.
“We can go to my parents’ cabin up in Woodland Springs. It’s isolated and hard to reach, especially if you don’t know it’s there. There’s always plenty of food since they spend their entire summers up there. We can wait this thing out, Nina. That’s where my parents will be; we’ll all be safe together.” He looks almost hopeful.
“Ben, that place is miles away! How will we get there without…well, you know, those things?” I turn and face him, unable to finish off what I’m trying to say.
“I don’t know where else to go.” He shrugs helplessly. “I need you with me. I need you to be safe.”
I stare it him for a second, my heart feeling a rush of love for the fact that he wants me with him. “Okay then,” I reply.
It seems like a good plan. It’s the only plan, and I don’t have any better ideas. I nod and continue throwing things into my bag, quickly deciding what I think I will need and what I won’t.
Surely the police or someone will turn up soon and sort this all out. What if they don’t? What if this is everywhere? Who knows what’s going to be important, or how long things will be like this?
I throw things haphazardly into my bag. Thick socks, extra knickers, a fucking shotgun would be nice too now that I think about it! Jesus, this is madness. My hands are shaking and I beg myself to calm down.
“I’m going to pack some food.” Ben walks across the room and I stand up abruptly.
“Wait!” My heartbeat is going a million miles an hour. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
I can’t help but think that my choice of words are surprisingly fitting considering my earlier thoughts.