Illinoir

Ak was lost in thought again. “My family, man, they’re all…”

“…dead? Zombies? What?”

“What? No. They’re all at the Oklahoma City Reanimiated Human Defense Zone Relocation Center. Mom and Dad. Wife. Kids. My cousins, aunts, uncles. Grandma. Yeah, they’re all fine. Got ‘em set up real nice, thanks to the ZH beer people and my Red Bull sponsorship. I saved Senator Pitt’s kids from certain death during a Z outbreak in DC back in ‘16 so he owed me one. They got a big-ass house, nice car, a pool. Everythin’.”

“How come you’re not down there with them?” I asked.

“I’m a Zombie Hunter. Sorry, the Zombie Hunter,” he said. “Zombie Hunter gotta hunt. Never mind the sponsors and the contracts and the TV show, it’s in my blood, son.”

“TV show?” I wondered.

“Hell yeah, son, I got me a TV show. Realest reality show you ever seen. Cameras followin’ me around watchin’ me kill Zs wherever I go. Big hit. ‘Course, God knows how many people got TVs or ‘lectricity such as they can watch anymore.”

I peered out into the night, wondering if I’d missed a camera crew that had been shadowing Ak. This conversation would have been an editor’s nightmare — long, action-free, mostly devoid of plot development or pertinent details. I felt bad for the guy.

“Where’s the camera crew?” I asked.

Ak shook his head again. “That’s something else only God knows, I guess. Lost them a few days ago. Zs came outta nowhere, outta the sewers, outta everywhere. I saw a few of ‘em go down, yeah, did what I could to help, then we got split up in the chaos. Spent the last few days lookin’ round for them, but haven’t had any luck.” He brightened. “Say, you ain’t seen nobody carrying a big-ass stupid camera, running around scared like a zombie chicken with its head cut off, have you?”

“Sorry, Ak, I can’t say that I have.”

“Didn’t think you would have, figured you’d’a mentioned that one already, but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Sure hope someone made it. I’d really like to see the footage from that fight. Boy, I pulled some shit that night I thought I was too old to do. Was killin’ Zs with everything I could get my hands on. Killed one Z with a pitchfork. Never held a pitchfork before in my life. No idea what a pitchfork was doin’ in the middle of the suburbs. Just lyin’ there on the side of the road. Pinned that Z to the wall. Got another one with a boom mike. Just grabbed it out of the sound guy’s hands, he’s still holding it out, recording, I don’t know, me gruntin’ and fightin’ and swearin’. I just grabbed it from him, knocked a Zs head clean off with it. Smack. Plop. Dead. Good stuff.”

“Man, I would love to see that. Hope the cameras were still rolling.”

“You and me both, son. That could really make the season right there.” Ak sighed at the thought of lost quality footage. “Anyhow, I interrupted again. You know me long enough you’ll realize that every story you tell, I’ll butt in with my own thoughts each time. Bad habit of mine, I guess. The wife keeps tellin’ me it’s something I gotta work on. I figure only thing a man’s gotta work on these days is keepin’ dead critters from eatin’ his brains.”

I laughed. Westy said, “Brains.”