Flash Fiction From the Author of "Jordan's Brains"
About a year into the zombie apocalypse, most of the survivors have been killed or turned into zombies. Unintentional separations are commonplace. Near Fairfax, Virginia, two survivors are unwillingly parted by a horde of zombies. Fatima does her best to stay close to the place she last saw her companion, Isabella. She’s driven into an isolated hideaway, one that is ironically quite familiar to her. As the days go by, two of her greatest fears come to light.
I’ve wanted to write this letter for so long, and now I’ve finally found the courage, knowing that I won’t live to see tomorrow. The zombies have me surrounded. I’m stuck in the attic of my grandmother’s house, with no food or water. I won’t last much longer, but I’m surprisingly calm about my imminent death. There’s something about certain death that makes a person brave enough to face their fears.
Telling you how I feel about you, my dearest, is my biggest fear. I should have told you years ago that I love you. But life always seemed to get in the way. It’s ironic that death is what has inspired me to share my feelings with you. I know you will probably never get this letter, but it’s still freeing to write down the truth.
I hear the zombies’ moans coming from below. They’ve been down there for days, shuffling, groaning, listening, and waiting. They know I’m up here, otherwise they would have moved on to find other prey. Now that the population is so low, the zombies have become more patient, waiting for weeks for their victims to come out of hiding in search of food. I refuse to end up like that. I’d rather starve than get eaten by rotting corpses from hell. It has been four days since I’ve had anything to eat. It’s a painful yet peaceful death.
Isabelle, I’m so sorry we were separated in Fairfax. You have to understand that it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t get to you, but I went back several times to look for you.
I camped nearby and returned every morning, hoping you’d be there. I wish I knew where you were, whether you’re alive, dead, or undead.
If I knew you were alive, it might give me the courage to come down from this attic and fight for my life.
But when I lost any hope of finding you, I lost my will to live. The constant running, hiding, and scouring empty shelves for food became too much to bear.
I must have passed out for a moment.
You know I’m not the romantic type. There’s no use harping on the past. If there’s an afterlife, maybe I’ll see you there. If not, well, I’d wish you a long life, but these days, that would be more of a curse.
Good luck, my... love.
Jillian Cornell Michel currently lives in Maryland, but is planning a move to San Francisco. She is looking forward to a change of scenery, the excitement of hunting for a new job, and the thrill of discovering indie bookstores.
Most of her free time is dedicated to devouring stories about the living dead.
She turned her zombie obsession into something productive with the novel “Jordan’s Brain: A Zombie Evolution.” Michel also writes for Zombie Guide Magazine with four other talented writers. Michel and her coauthors post new articles every day on their website: http://www.zombie-guide.com/
|J. Cornell Michel|
Website and blog: http://jordansbrains.com/