My Zombie Ex-Boyfriend
By Cora Zane
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Cora Zane 2010
©Cora Zane 2010
Cover layout by Diane Moon
Zombified and Zombie Holocaust fonts by Chad Savage of www.sinisterfonts.com
Please note: This story contains sexually explicit material, and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By
downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction.
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My Zombie Ex-Boyfriend
By Cora Zane
“Is he still out there?”
“Mm, I’d say so.” Megan took a sip of bottled water and screwed the cap back on. “You know, Reg, Jimmy wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed when he was alive.”
“Oh, for good Pete,” Regina muttered under her breath. She pushed past Megan, and flung open the bedroom window so she could look down on the front lawn. Sure enough, there he was, a six-foot-two specimen of blond zombie flesh stumbling around in her driveway like a clunky Herman Munster. He’d been out there for at least ten hours now, apparently unable to figure out how to maneuver through the gap in the hedges to get up to her front door. Regina pressed a hand to her forehead in a bid for patience.
James D. Ellingsworth looked much the same as he had when she’d last seen him alive three weeks ago—tattered jeans and a classic, black motorcycle jacket. But there was a big gaping hole in the side of his neck now, and dark purple bruises ringed his eyes. Even more disturbing, the white T-shirt he wore looked like it had been doused with a bucket of blood. Regina shuddered at the sight of him. She couldn’t tell if he recognized her or not, but something had to be ticking upstairs if he remembered where she lived.
“Jimmy, go home!” She shouted at him, wishing she knew an effective way to shoo him off. But like Meg suggested, he’d always been a little thick in the clue department.
Once again he tried to walk headlong through the bushes, which resulted in a flurry of rustling leaves and hoarse grunts. Regina shook her head and sighed, feeling sorry and a little embarrassed for him. At last he backed out the hedges, as disoriented and ineffectual as ever.
She sobbed in frustration, “Why won’t he leave?”
In a last ditch effort to get his attention, Regina grabbed a pink throw pillow from the window seat and tossed it in his direction. She hadn’t expected to hit him directly, but the pillow skimmed the top of the bushes and smacked him square in the face. Jimmy stopped shuffling, and swayed as if stunned.
Megan scoffed. “Jesus Christ, knock him down why don’t you? We won’t be able to see where he is, then.”
Regina glared at her friend then leaned out the window again. “We’re finished, Jimmy Dale. Do you hear me? We broke up weeks ago.” She braced her hands on the sill, and hung her head in exasperation when he showed no sign of comprehension. “Please, won’t you just go home?”
“Reg…” Megan touched her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
Regina opened her mouth to argue, when a dart of movement caught her eye. Aside from Jimmy, she hadn’t seen anyone out on the street for at least two days. She did a double take, her heart leaping at the unexpected glimpse of a tan, muscular body. A shirtless man cut across her driveway toward Jimmy in a matter of seconds.
A ball of horrified excitement clenched inside her. A dark head of hair and flashes of denim blue were briefly visible through the bushes before a violent thud echoed across the quiet yard.
The bushes shook, and Regina jumped at the sound of someone being beaten.
“Who the hell is that?” Megan’s grip tightened on her arm.
A moment later, a man wearing ripped jeans stepped through the bushes carrying a bloody crowbar. Out of breath, he looked up at the window and swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead.
“Hey, are you two all right?”
Regina stared at him in shock, because she knew him—sort of. He stood there barefoot in the grass, shirtless, his scruffy black hair falling across a gorgeous pair of frost blue eyes. Her gaze swept over him from firm chest to ripped abs, and lower still, to the dark treasure trail that began right beneath his navel. Her heart clenched.
“I’m Heath Collins,” he went on to say. “I’ve seen you around town a couple of times, mostly at the post office. Anyway, I live just down the street at 285.” He pointed over his shoulder. “The gray condo with the skimpy willow out front…that’s me.”
She stared at him in horror. He walked all the way from down there?
“Hello?” He waved up at her then held his arm out at his sides and let them drop. “I know you can speak; I heard you shouting half a block away. I thought you needed help.”
That snapped her out of it.
“Oh. Sorry,” Regina finally answered. “We’re quite fine, actually.”
He squinted up at her as if she were crazed. “Great. So, one of you want to let me in before the hordes arrive? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s kind of dangerous out here.”
Regina looked at Megan, who shook her head.
“We can’t just leave him out there,” she insisted.
Meg’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, we can.”
She was right, of course, but it seemed wrong to leave him outside. Regina frowned. The zombies didn’t seem incredibly smart or fast, but who was to say one couldn’t stumble out from somewhere and get a bite in? She was pretty sure that was how Jimmy had ended up infected. He’d never been very observant of his surroundings.
She blew out a breath and brushed her hair back from her face. In the yard below, Heath Collins glanced about warily, waiting. Regina leaned out the window again, and cleared her throat. “Excuse me—”
Heath looked up, and despite an alarming trill of excitement she felt at having him near, she hoped she wouldn’t end up regretting her decision.
“Go around back, would you? Through the gate on the left—no, your other left.” She pointed toward the garage she shared with Meg. “Wash up in the hose, and I’ll let you in through the patio doors.”
“Reg, are you crazy?” Megan dogged her down the stairs, surging forward at the base to block her entrance into the living room. “I know you’re not seriously thinking about letting this guy in here without checking him over for bites and scratches?”
“Of course, we’ll check him over.”
“No, no, no. There is no we—you. See, I’m not risking a hair on this guy. I don’t know him from Adam, and you heard the news yourself, we’re under quarantine. We’re supposed to stay indoors. Who knows how long he’s been out there wandering around with those…things.” She visibly shuddered.
“He’s speaking in coherent sentences, Meg. I’m sure that means he’s fine.” Regina stepped around her, and flipped on the brass lamp next to the recliner.
Megan scoffed. “Are you even listening? We don’t owe this guy anything. He’s a neighbor, so what. I say leave him out there!”
Regina stood with her hands on her hips. “If he gets eaten alive, I’ll feel super guilty, especially after what happened to Jimmy. He’s asking for our help. Could you stand it if he got bit, too? Are you prepared to deal with that?”
“Gee, let me think….” Meg paused. “Um, yeah, I’d say I’m fully prepared to deal with that.”
She folded her arms across her chest, and Regina rolled her eyes. She turned away without another word and stalked over to the sliding glass doors. She drew back the heavy drapes against Meg’s protests, and there he was, poor thing, washed down and shivering on her patio, his black hair plastered to his head in wet spikes. Her heart skipped a beat. He was incredibly good looking. She fumbled with the door latches, and Heath turned around. He still carried the crowbar, but his arms were crossed over his chest for warmth.
The door slid open, and he stepped toward her. Reg quickly blocked him from waltzing inside.
“First things first, show me your arms, buddy.”
“What?” He frowned.
“Bites, scratches…Do you have any?”
“No.” He showed his arms then did a mock turn, showing off his perfectly muscled, unmarred back. “Good enough?”
Was he ever!
Regina gave herself a mental shake and stepped back from the door.
“What the hell were you doing out on the street anyway?” she asked him once he was inside. “Did you somehow miss the fact there are crazed undead people rambling around the neighborhood?”
“I heard shouting,” he quipped, and glanced briefly at Meg while Regina slid the door closed and fastened the locks. “I grabbed my binoculars and saw you throwing stuff out the window. I thought you needed help.”
“My hero….” Megan drawled under her breath.
Regina tugged the curtain shut with a swish. “You’re lucky Jimmy didn’t chow down on you out there.”
“Jimmy? You mean the zombie out front—you know him?”
Meg laughed. “He’s her ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Heath’s brow furrowed, his color fluctuating. His fingers flexed briefly on the crowbar he carried. “I’m sorry—”
Regina sighed, and stopped him with her hand. “It’s been over for a while, trust me. I have no idea when he became infected or how he found his way over here. We broke up a few weeks ago, and haven’t talked since. But it seems he…remembers me, or something. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you a towel, okay?”
She left the living room, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Half way to her destination, she realized her new guest followed her. So be it. With no one but Meg to keep him company in the other room, she couldn’t quite blame him.
While pulling a towel out of the cabinet, she glanced over her shoulder and saw he watched her from the doorway. “I’m Regina Bryant, by the way. Miss Cranky back there is Megan Cary. She lives next door.”
She tossed him a striped towel, and he caught it, snapped it open. He wiped his face with it, before pulling it on top of his head to scrub his hair dry.
“Reg,” Megan called from the hallway, “I’m going home for a while.” She peeked around the door, and eyed Heath warily. “If he flips out on you, or whatever, give me a shout. By the way, I put his crowbar on the dining table.”
“Fine,” Regina said with a sigh. She swiped at her brow with the back of her hand. “Take the baseball bat with you, okay? If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”
When she turned away, Heath glanced at Regina in alarm then peered around the door frame. “Hey, you should stay here,” he called after Meg. “Safety in numbers, you know?”
Regina caught Heath’s muscled arm before he could go after her. “She’ll be fine. My hallway linen storage opens into her bedroom closet. We unlocked the door between the apartments once we heard about the outbreak. She doesn’t have to go outside.”
A gleam in his pale eyes told her that despite what she’d said, he wasn’t one-hundred percent convinced everything was as safe and secure as she seemed to think. It hardly mattered. She wasn’t about to argue. When the news initially broke out, and signs pointed to the infection taking root in Whitmore, she and Meg had gone into lockdown. They’d checked every door and window, and made sure the garden gate had shut properly.
Since then, the zombies she’d noticed staggering through the streets over the course of the past few days couldn’t manage the bushes or the curbs, much less manipulate a door handle. And judging from what she’d observed from the front window and on TV, the undead shuffled around aimlessly, showing signs of aggression only when something—car, animal, or person—approached them. Of course, her impressions amounted to nothing more than theory, and Regina had no intention of testing it out. Still, she wasn’t quite so worried about what was outside—as long as it stayed outside.
Lost in thought, she was barely aware that Heath had stopped scrubbing his hair with the towel. He’d settled it around his shoulders like some kind of star athlete. He certainly looked the part. It was the sudden realization that she stared at his naked chest that jarred her. Shaking off the spell, Regina jerked her gaze to his face, and a flicker of amused knowledge lit his eyes. Her womb clenched. He didn’t have to tell her what was going through his mind at that moment. The directness of his frost blue gaze spoke volumes.
Heat swept across her face. “I, ah, think I have a shirt you can borrow.”