Zombie Day Care by Craig Halloran

thoughts for days. He felt like there were a thousand things he needed to do, but that wasn’t the case. A thirty-six inch LCD was suspended before him. He spent about ten more minutes hammering at the keys, chugging down the rest of his energy drink. Crap. It was past noon and he had a needy woman to contend with.
    Snatching another drink he looked down into the rain. Washington, D.C. was a foreign place to him. A large city that left him trapped. He never felt lost however, because someone would find him. Something always plagued him though. Why was there was no zombie outbreak in D.C.? One in fifty people abroad had turned, yet a much smaller fraction in the nation’s capital was afflicted. No senators, congressman, joint chiefs, or Supreme Court members crossed the undead path. The conspiracy theories should have abounded, but they did not. It was a theory that only a few others he knew still talked about.
    He was tapping his finger on the side of the black and blue can. He had been digging and thought he found something worthwhile, but there was no one to tell. I wonder what Henry will think. Most all of his friends and family were gone, and he never seemed to have time to make new ones. Henry Bawkula was about the only one he ever contacted over the years. Henry he could trust, but he knew his college friend wouldn’t feel the same of him. Not after Jeanine.
    He moved forward on his search, as everyday he felt like something was about to happen, something big was going on. He was a liar, and he knew a liar when he heard one, and those who proclaimed him a hero were the worse by far. He used to lie to stay out of trouble, but they lied for power and he felt caught in the middle. He wanted to disappear.
    He dragged himself over, slumped down in his cloth sectional and began playing the latest Darkslayer RPG game on his television screen. Ah yes, my favorite escape from reality, smash-mouth fantasy. He spent over an hour chopping down monsters with a massive battle axe when the power went off. The overcast sky provided grey light in an otherwise black room. It was dead quiet, other than the beating rain. He stepped out of his study and looked down at the black furniture silhouettes of his living room. His knee began to ache again as he looked outside at the other buildings whose lights were still on.
    A weird feeling overcame him. What was that!? Something shifted in the shadows, he was sure of it.
    “ Christy?” he whispered. There was no reply. “Christy?”
    He waited on the landing, squinting. Fear filtered inside him as he stepped down the stairs. He began to relax as the edges of his furniture became clear, and he began to recognize the layout in the dim light.
    He banged his knee on the edge of an antique buffet. OW!
    He stubbed his toe on a couch leg. “Dammit!” His eyes began to water as he hobbled towards his bedroom.
    He felt stupid as he sipped more fluid from his canister.
    I don’t even have a flashlight. Or match—Or candle—Stupid!
    There never had been a need. He pushed the cracked door open into his bedroom. The heavy curtains had remained closed and the room was as black as an opening of a coal mine. He knew his way around and made it over to Christy’s side. He ran his hand along the small of her back and caressed her hair. He shook her body a bit.
    “ Hey,” he said softly.
    She didn’t respond.
    “ Hey!” he whispered in her ear. “Wake up!”
    He ran his hand down her back, over her rump and up again. She didn’t stir. He jostled her hair. Nothing happened. He felt something wet on his hand. He held it to his face.
    What the hell is this? It was dark, sticky and warm. He shook her hard, panic coursing through him, she didn’t move.
    “ Christy! Christy! Wake up baby! Wake—ulp!”
    Something seized him from behind, strangling his neck and squeezing his throat. He felt like a bear had ahold of him as he tried to scream, but his tongue did not move. Help! Help! Dear God help me! A