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Preparations »
by Mark Mills

taken from https://www.tor.com/2010/09/16/preparations/

Illustrated by Brian Elig Edited by Liz Gorinsky

This story is also available for download from major ebook retailers.

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1There was less blood than he expected, and the sound they made when they popped
2out was almost like boots breaking through crusty snow. And just yesterday, a zombie-
3proof life had seemed so simple.

4 ***

5Not long before that, Ronald had been sitting on the toilet seat and listening to the
6zombies paw at the locked door.

7These zombies understood the mechanics of doorknobs, but weren’t quite smart enough
8to use tools to batter down doors. More Russo zombies than Romero or Brooks. But not
9textbook Russos: They grunted and snarled, but none of them spoke.

10At least they weren’t fast.

11 ***

12At home in his attic, Ronald had crates of rations and water, a shotgun, six rifles, boxes
13of ammo, fuel, even a cylinder of liquid nitrogen. The steps to the attic could be pulled up
14in seconds, keeping anyone hiding there safe from all zombies but those capable of
15using fire or ladders. Ronald doubted if fifteen other people on the planet were so
16prepared.

17At his workplace, Leon’s Lenses, he had cut a hole in the drywall of the upstairs storage
18room and crammed in a katana and three weeks’ worth of dried food and bottled water.
19It did him no good anymore, but he hoped that if any of his coworkers were trapped in
20the building, one of them would stumble upon it. He wasn’t close to any of them, but
21there was no sense in all those supplies going to waste.

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22Ronald wasn’t the type to be caught blind by zombies—in fact, he was only in this mess
23because of a SNAFU with his registration at the BMV. The BMV prohibited concealed
24weapons, even permited ones, so Ronald was even more vulnerable here than when he
25showered. The car was hardly worth the hassle, even in normal circumstances. He had
26three durable bikes at home—what did he need with a vehicle that required fuel? But
27one of his buddies on the zombie message board had said it was a vital part of the
28toolkit in case you needed to leave the area entirely, so he’d grudgingly plunked down
29for a used car.

30“Too bad,” the withered red-haired woman behind the counter told him, as she looked at
31his papers. “You could have just mailed this in if you had form 89B-4.”

32Before Ronald could answer, the screaming began. The BMV’s windows only provided
33an oblique view of the outside, but he could see that the parking lot of the strip mallwas
34suddenly dotted by bloody struggles as the broken forms of the undead lurched towards
35them in a mob thousands strong.

36“What in the holy hellheck?” sputtered an octogenarian, holding fast to his place in line.
37Ronald grimaced. These poor fools had wastedsquandered years of potential zombie
38preparation time—they never believed it was coming.

39Ronald quickly ticked through the options. This couldn’t be a natural zombie apocalypse
40caused by disease, aliens, or government—there would’ve been warning signs, heralds
41of doom. This must be Zombie Apocalypse Scenario VII: Sorcery or Demonic Influence.

42But there was no time to waste considering causes. Instead, he ran to the back of the
43BMV’s lobby as the first of the zombies crashed through the glass door. He rushed
44through a door marked “Employees Only,” the clerks and a few patrons right behind him.
45He was hoping for a rear door, but saw nothing but a pair of restrooms and an open area
46with a couch.

47It was odd, Ronald thought later, that we segregated so naturally. All the women in their
48bathroom, and me alone in mine.

49 ***

50But those were the good times, before the bite, back when he still had a chance. Now,
51his body going numb and a sick hunger growing in his belly, he was fumbling with a tool
52kit. He could feel vigor mortis setting in. He would have to hurry, but he was cool under
53pressure.

54 ***

55Approximately one hour and fifty-seven minutes after first sighting, he heard the first
56scream from the women’s restroom. He could guess the reason: ZA Threat #3: An

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57Infected Hides Among Survivors. One of them must have been bitten or scratched, but
58hid with the others in the bathroom anyway. The women had been too trusting. Far too
59few people knew the necessity of mandatory strip searches. Ronald used to chide such
60characters at the movies, but listening to the women’s anguish actually made him sad.

61Poor naïve fools.

62One of the women apparently survived the initial attack and yanked the door open, but
63this just caused the zombies outside to start shuffling towards her. Her screaming was
64steady, hit an extreme high, and then went quiet.

65Didn’t get far, Ronald thought. Must be a lot of them.

66Ronald had a global satellite phone with a high-speed internet connection and detailed
67maps, a wonderful survival tool. It was under the seat of his car. He couldn’t call for help
68and had no idea what was going on outside his immediate vicinity.

69I have been uncharacteristically sloppy, Ronald chided himself. Just when it mattered
70most.

71He at least had the sense to fill the sink with water, and was filling the wastepaper
72basket as well when the lights flickered and went out.

73Most definitely Scenario VII. The strip mall was positioned in the power grid such that a
74single downed wire wasn’t likely to cause a blackout. No, the power here wouldn’t go out
75so quickly…unless the zombies were deliberately targeting power sources or generating
76technology dampening fields.

77It occurred to him that he had spent far too much time concentrating on biological
78zombies.

79It was his frustration that made him risk opening the door.It was so dark inside the
80bathroom that even the BMV offices seemed bright, since the sun was still shining
81through the shattered front windows. The shadows fluttered, and at least three zombies
82turned to look at him. Ronald took stock of the layout and slammed the door. Back in
83pitch darkness, he heard dead fingers scratching outside, but he was actually relieved.
84He’d trained for this scenario thousands of times.

85On the opposite side of the bathroom, he leaned hard against the wall. Finding two
86studs, he crushed into the drywall between them as quietly as possible with the steel tip
87of his shoe. The zombies outside the door didn’t move, implying low-grade senses,
88intelligence, or motivation.

89He had hoped that the other side of the bathroom wall would give him a clear line to the
90outside, but instead it opened into a storage room, full of boxes and papers. Enough light

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 91streamed under the door that he could see that the area was clear. He slid across the
92small room and listened at the door. Nothing, but these zombies weren’t exactly chatty.

93He cracked open the door and peeked into the BMV’s back offices. No zombies were
94visible, and the route to the exit, just around the corner, looked clear.

95He took a few quick steps. Battle plan: Formulate tactics based on the threats around
96him. Make it home. Reach the attic. Fat city.

97The lights flashed on.

98Ronald lurched and sprinted back to the storage room. Computers were rebooting.
99Somewhere a radio crackled.

100No! Why would the power come back on? Did the zombies have anything to do with it
101after all?

102Rule one: Focus. Don’t worry about the power supply while surrounded by zombies.

103A rotten hand snaked out from behind a desk and grabbed his sleeve.

104Ronald always went over his clothes with razor blades before wearing them, carefully
105sawing away at the seams so they would rip if pulled. His sleeve tore off, and the zombie
106stuffed the cloth in its mouth before realizing its mistake. But others were popping up,
107blocking the path to the door. He’d never get to the exit now, but he might make it back
108to the bathroom.

109A huge zombie, the remnant of a man too obese to walk while alive, shuffled towards
110him, the first of a pack. Ronald vaulted over a desk, scattering registration forms and
111pens, dodged the fat zombie, and ran towards the bathroom.

112He’d practiced just this maneuver hundreds of times at home.

113Almost there, almost there. The bathroom was a zig and a zag away. A legless zombie
114dragged itself from under an overturned chair, and three more lurched around the
115corner.

116Ronald cut to his left, evading the crawler, grabbed the chair, and pushed it into the
117three walkers. Before they could recover, he dropped and lunged. He would have been
118home free, had the obese zombie not grabbed his bare arm.

119Faster than they should be. Most definitely supernatural.

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120He spun away from the heavy zombie, dodged the other three, turned the corner, and
121slid inside the bathroom, just beyond the zombies’ reach. He allowed himself a fraction
122of a second of satisfaction before realization sank in.

123He was in the women’s room.

124A zombie hit him from behind, scratching at his shirt and hair. He’d kept his hair trimmed
125short so there was nothing to grip, but the swipe set him off balance. He’d studied
126martial arts for years, but this zombie was faster than the ones he’d trained for. He
127elbowed her in the head, tore open the door, and barreled into the men’s room.

128It was as empty as he’d left it, hole in the back wall and all. He locked the door and
129slumped to the floor. He couldn’t believe the lights had thrown him so much. He had
130mapped out better defenses against zombies than anyone else on the planet, but it
131didn’t matter anymore.

132The rotter had bitten him.

133On the upper part of his arm, a few inches above the elbow. If only he’d worn one of his
134leather jackets, or if the other zombie hadn’t ripped off his sleeve. If only…but it had
135been so warm this morning. Global warming: the zombie’s stealth ally.

136He traced the bite mark with his fingers. It wasn’t much. Skin barely broken. And these
137were Scenario VII Zombies. Maybe they didn’t transmit through biting. Maybe….

138But his whole arm was going numb, and despite his terror, his heart was beating far too
139slowly. No, this was clearly Scenario VIIC: Sorcery or Demonic Influence Transferred by
140Bodily Fluids. It was only a matter of time.

141Ronald was realistic enough not to mope.It might be possible to decapitate himself with
142something in the supply room, but–some side effect of the infection?–he couldn’t bring
143himself to try. There had to be something. Something to show the survivors that he
144hadn’t been caught unprepared. That, despite his misfortune, he was a man who knew
145his zombies.

146He searched for a bit, found a small tool box in the supply room, and finally knew what to
147do. Not as dramatic as decapitation, but the survivors might see him, recognize him as a
148man with foresight and planning. A far worthier immortality than being undead.

149 ***

150It was getting harder to concentrate, but once he set up his grip, they’d wiggle out
151without much effort. He pulled another and another, until only his top molar was left. He
152yanked, crushing the enamel somewhat, but still getting it out, root and all.

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153He flipped the last tooth and the pliers into the sink. His vision was beginning to cloud
154over, but his gums were empty. He gave himself a bloody grin in the mirror. Hell may be
155full and the dead walking the earth, but he refused to be part of the problem. He had
156more foresight than that, and they’d all be grateful when they saw his walking, toothless
157corpse.

158Whoever found him would know that, even if Ronald T. Turner had been unlucky as hell,
159he had damn well – damn well – been prepared.

Copyright © 2010 by Mark Mills

Illustration copyright © 2010 by Brian Elig

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