Chapter 8 – Death Ended Our Marriage
The zombie lunged.
I swung the belan.
THWACK.
Its skull snapped sideways and the creature crashed against the stall wall. The cheap plywood panel rattled like it might collapse from pure embarrassment.
Imran burst out of the neighboring stall, pants barely secured and dignity completely abandoned.
"This is the worst bathroom experience of my life!" he shouted.
"Focus!" I yelled.
Another zombie shoved its way through the narrow aisle between the stalls. The cramped toilet room suddenly felt like a buffet line for the undead.
Outside the building, engines roared.
Gunfire cracked like thunder.
Someone screamed orders through a loudspeaker.
Inside the toilet, five zombies shuffled forward with the slow determination of customers waiting for their turn.
Imran grabbed the broken metal rod from the sink and jabbed it into a zombie's chest.
The rod bent.
"Cheap plumbing!" he complained.
The zombie didn't care about plumbing reviews. It lunged.
Imran kicked it backward into the stall divider.
CRASH.
The thin wall snapped and the zombie collapsed halfway through the partition like a drunk man attempting parkour.
Meanwhile the one I had hit earlier was getting back up.
Because of course it was.
Zombies had two remarkable qualities.
Terrible hygiene.
And incredible persistence.
I raised the belan again.
"Personal space!" I yelled and smashed it down.
CRACK.
The skull gave way and the zombie dropped.
Three left.
Another pair shuffled toward the stalls.
Their noses twitched.
They had smelled us.
Which, considering the circumstances, was extremely unfortunate.
Imran stabbed one through the eye socket with the bent pipe.
The zombie flailed wildly.
Then collapsed against the sink.
Water dripped slowly from the broken faucet onto its face.
"Two left," Imran said.
The next zombie stepped forward.
And that's when I noticed something strange.
The way it moved.
The way its head tilted.
The hair.
Messy.
Long.
Familiar.
My brain took half a second to process the impossible.
The zombie stumbled closer.
Its face was torn.
Half rotten.
One eye cloudy.
But there was no mistake.
I froze.
"Oh hell," I whispered.
Imran glanced at me.
"What?"
The zombie lifted its head and growled.
I stared at it.
My chest tightened.
"Imran," I said slowly.
"Yes?"
"…that's my wife."
Imran blinked.
"What?"
The zombie lurched forward again.
Closer now.
The rotten face came into the dim light from the broken doorway.
Even half destroyed, I recognized her.
Sunita.
My wife.
The woman who used to yell at me for leaving socks on the floor.
The woman who once chased me around the house with a slipper for forgetting our anniversary.
The woman who had died.
And apparently decided that death was not a good enough excuse to stop arguing.
Imran stared.
"Bro…"
"Yes."
"Your wife is trying to eat you."
"Yes."
"Is this normal in your marriage?"
I sighed.
"Honestly… it's not that surprising."
Sunita's zombie form snarled and lunged.
I jumped backward as her teeth snapped inches from my face.
"Marriage counseling failed!" I shouted.
I swung the belan.
THWACK.
Her head jerked sideways.
But she didn't fall.
Of course she didn't.
Sunita had always been stubborn.
Alive.
Dead.
Apparently both.
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me forward.
Her rotten breath hit my face like a biological weapon.
Imran stepped forward.
"Why is your wife so angry?"
"She was always like this!" I yelled.
Sunita snapped her jaws at my neck.
I shoved her backward and raised the belan again.
But for a moment…
Just a moment…
I hesitated.
A flash of memory crossed my mind.
Our wedding day.
Her laughing.
The way she used to steal food from my plate.
The time she threw a remote control at me for changing the TV channel during her serial.
Now she was trying to eat my face.
Love was complicated.
Sunita lunged again.
That ended the emotional moment.
I swung the belan.
CRACK.
The rolling pin smashed into her cheekbone.
She staggered.
Imran kicked her in the chest.
She fell against the stall door.
The door snapped off its hinges and both of them crashed to the floor.
But even lying on the ground, Sunita clawed forward.
Still coming.
Still hungry.
I stared down at her.
Then muttered quietly.
"Death ended our marriage."
I raised the belan.
"Unfortunately she disagreed."
THWACK.
The rolling pin slammed into her skull.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Imran joined in, stomping down with his boot.
Bone cracked.
Rotten flesh tore.
But the zombie still twitched.
Imran looked horrified.
"Your wife is very committed to the relationship."
I raised the belan one last time.
"Not anymore."
CRACK.
The skull finally gave way.
Sunita stopped moving.
Silence filled the toilet.
I stared at the body.
Then sighed deeply.
"Well," I said.
"That marriage is officially over."
Imran wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Remind me never to date in the apocalypse."
Before I could respond—
FLASHLIGHTS exploded through the doorway.
"DON'T MOVE!"
The shout echoed through the building.
Red laser dots appeared on the walls.
On the floor.
On my chest.
At least six guns pointed directly at us.
The toilet door burst open.
Boots stomped inside.
Men in tactical gear flooded the room.
Rifles raised.
Helmets.
Body armor.
Professional.
One soldier stepped forward.
"Hands up!"
Imran raised his hands immediately.
I tried to do the same.
Unfortunately I was still holding a blood-covered belan.
The soldier noticed.
His rifle lifted slightly.
"DROP THE WEAPON!"
I looked at the belan.
Then back at him.
"This is a kitchen utensil," I said.
"DROP IT!"
I dropped it.
The belan hit the floor with a dull clunk.
Another soldier pointed at the bodies.
"Five infected down."
A third soldier scanned us with a flashlight.
"You two bitten?"
"No," I said.
Imran shook his head violently.
"No bites. Only emotional damage."
The soldiers didn't laugh.
The leader stepped closer.
He had a thick beard and eyes that looked like they hadn't slept in weeks.
"Names."
"Kripa."
"Imran."
The soldier nodded slowly.
"Step away from the bodies."
We did.
Carefully.
Trying not to slip on zombie remains.
The soldier's flashlight stopped on Sunita's smashed head.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Personal grudge?"
I shrugged.
"Long story."
Another soldier approached with a flashlight and checked our arms.
Our necks.
Our faces.
Looking for bite marks.
For infection.
The tension in the room could have been sliced with the belan.
Finally the soldier stepped back.
"They're clean."
The leader lowered his rifle slightly.
But not completely.
"Where did you come from?"
"Petrol pump," I said.
"We needed fuel."
Imran nodded.
"And toilet."
The soldier glanced around the destroyed bathroom.
"You picked a bad one."
"Tell me about it."
Outside, the engines were still running.
Heavy vehicles.
More soldiers moved around.
The leader finally relaxed just a fraction.
"We're clearing the area for survivors."
Imran blinked.
"So you're not here to shoot us?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you turn."
Fair point.
The leader gestured toward the door.
"Come outside."
We walked carefully past the soldiers.
Stepping over the bodies.
Over Sunita.
I paused for a moment.
Looked down at her.
Even smashed and ruined, she still looked strangely familiar.
Marriage was weird.
I shook my head and stepped outside.
The street looked like a war zone.
Three armored trucks blocked the road.
Soldiers moved around with rifles ready.
Spotlights scanned the nearby buildings.
Dead zombies littered the ground.
Imran stared.
"Wow."
"Yeah," I said.
"Professional survivors."
One soldier tossed a corpse aside like trash.
Another dragged a barricade across the road.
The leader walked toward a large truck.
"Get in."
Imran and I exchanged a glance.
"Just like that?" he asked.
"Unless you prefer staying here."
Imran looked at the dark streets.
Then quickly shook his head.
"Nope."
We walked toward the truck.
But before we reached it—
A distant sound rolled through the night.
Low.
Deep.
Like thunder.
The soldiers froze.
One of them climbed onto a truck and aimed binoculars down the street.
A moment later his voice changed.
"Oh shit."
The leader turned sharply.
"What?"
The soldier lowered the binoculars.
"Horde."
Every soldier immediately snapped into motion.
"How big?" the leader demanded.
The soldier swallowed.
"Big."
A long distant roar echoed across the empty city.
Thousands of voices.
Hungry.
Angry.
Coming closer.
The leader cursed under his breath.
"Everyone load up!"
Soldiers ran for the trucks.
Engines roared louder.
Spotlights flickered on.
Imran looked at me.
"…Kripa."
"Yes?"
"…this day keeps getting worse."
I nodded slowly.
"Agreed."
Behind us the toilet building creaked quietly in the wind.
Inside it lay five dead zombies.
One of them my wife.
I glanced back one last time.
Then climbed into the truck.
Imran jumped in beside me.
The doors slammed shut.
Outside soldiers shouted orders.
The trucks began to move.
And somewhere in the darkness behind us—
The horde was coming.
Thousands of them.
Hungry.
Relentless.
And suddenly I had the terrible feeling…
That the apocalypse had just upgraded to a much bigger problem.