Zombie Drabble #446: “Right-Of-Way”

Her voice was quiet, always quiet. “Is this a road, Daddy?”

“A kind of road. A railroad. A road for trains.” He didn’t like it, being hemmed in on both sides. “Keep alert.”

“Why do they… why do trains get their own kind of road?”

“Their wheels fit on the rails. See the rails?” He turned, pointed down. “No steering, nothing in the way, they can carry a lot and still go fast.”

“Oh. Okay.” She raised her bow, pulled, loosed an arrow past him. Ahead, a zombie he hadn’t seen dropped like a ragdoll. “Carry a lot of what?”

From Beneath

He poured himself a brandy while she rubbed her wrists; after taking a sip he took a moment to straighten his tie, and then placed a bottle of water on the floor next to her. “Well. That was—”

“Mmhmm.”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that as much as I did. You were… you were right.”

Of course I was right. “We could do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that.” He looked into his glass, swirled the liquid around. “And the paddle?”

She’d brought it, this time, but hadn’t let him use it. You’re mine now. “I suppose. If you’re good.”

SF Drabble #492 “Perimeter”

“Mischa, please return to the path.”

She had walked onto the grass, then into the long grass, then through the trees and across the stone beach to where the wire fence was strung. There was more beach beyond, curving around to a headland, and then more trees. Nothing moved except for the drone hovering behind her.

“Mischa, it is not safe this close to the wildland. Please return to the path.”

“There’s nothing out there.”

“Mischa, the wildland holds many unseen dangers. Please return to the path and we can discuss them.”

She started looking for gaps in the wire.

You Really Have To Want It

He staggered across the rocks and broken shells towards a figure waiting on the beach, trailing blood in the water from his cut-up feet; he dropped to his knees as soon as it was safe.

“Welcome.”

He managed: “Yeah, gimme a minute.”

“Take all the time you need.” The man was dressed in an expensive suit, not a speck of sand on him, not a drip of sweat. “Was it necessary to blow up the boat?”

“No witnesses.”

“I admire your dedication to operational security.”

He sat down on the sand, nodded. “Thanks.”

“So let’s talk about your immortal soul.”