“Erm, checkup’s over.”
“Am I in the clear?”
“P-Put your clothes back on.”
“So no bite marks?”
“No. Now please, put something on,” said the half-naked girl in front of me.
You know, my little Johnny wouldn’t be as rowdy if you’d taken the time to cover yourself up first! Can’t say that, though, or I’ll look like a real douche canoe.
“I took it too far, my bad.” I picked my clothes up off the floor and quickly put them on.
Otoha had her signature deadpan expression slapped on as usual, but she couldn’t stop blushing the entire time. Maintaining eye contact seemed nigh impossible too; her eyes were darting all over the place.
Call me presumptuous, but I believe it’s fair to say that she’s feeling a wee bit embarrassed right now. So, the girl’s got some emotions under that hardened shell after all.
✦ ✦ ✦
Once things settled down a notch, we decided to get a bite to eat in the staff room. Personally, I’d skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner because there were more pressing matters to attend to—y’know, coming to terms with the whole zombie apocalypse thing and whatnot. After the initial shock had faded, my empty stomach had started waging war against me once again.
“Want some?” Otoha asked, holding up a can of crackers she had stashed away in a survival kit.
“You’re too kind.”
I’ve been running for my life all day in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and all I get are these lousy crackers? What a disappointment. Well, I guess things could always be worse.
I tossed a single cracker into my mouth, fully expecting it to taste like wet chalk.
“Hey, these ain’t half bad.”
“An empty belly is the best cook,” as they say, but these are actually pretty tasty.
“You’d be surprised how good canned food is these days.” Otoha was sitting cross-legged on a chair, nibbling away at her cracker like a cute little possum.
“I hear Japanese MREs are simply delectable,” I said between bites. “I’m not surprised that the same is true for regular old canned food, too.”
“What’s an MRE?”
“Meal, Ready-to-Eat. In other words, military rations. If you’re ever in the market for a military expert, look no further than your friendly neighborhood FPS gamer god.”
Come to think of it, we really know jack squat about each other. Not that we’ve had the time to bond over a nice cup of tea or something, given the circumstances.
“Coolio.” She nodded and took a swig of bottled water. “Is that where your knowledge of guns comes from?”
“You could say that, yeah. Never saw one in real life until today, though.”
My gun obsession was what had led me down the FPS rabbit hole to begin with. The only reason I could more or less disassemble a gun was because I’d fiddled around with all kinds of gun controllers, even if it didn’t help my gameplay.
“Anyway, what about you? Who might you be?”
“Just your average high schooler.”
“You sure? Something about the way you tore those zombies a new one didn’t exactly scream ‘average’ to me.”
“I just set my mind to it.”
“Uh-huh...”
Call me crazy, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that your “average” high school girl was capable of committing cold-blooded murder or scraping by with military-tier survival skills.
In what twisted, mixed-up world would anyone consider that to be the norm? Welp, at least she’s pure where it counts.
I fondly remembered Otoha’s flustered face when she caught a glimpse of my you-know-what.
Then again, who am I to judge?
“Were there any other survivors when you first got here?”
“Nope, just zombies. I made sure to dispose of every last one of them.”
“I see...” A chill ran down my spine as I pictured the carnage.
“Did that upset you?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Maybe a little?”
As much as I hated to admit it, having another set or two of hands would’ve really boosted our chances of survival. I would’ve loved to believe Otoha and I could take on the world, but there was only so much the two of us were capable of.
“You can call dibs on the next batch, then. My treat.”
“Pardon?”
“Taking down the next batch of zombies, just like you wanted.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea, sis. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it.”
Tone down the projection, will ya?
“It’s for your own good. You need the practice.”
“Fair enough, but I’d like to keep it professional.”
“Aim for the temple; if you go any higher, there’s a good chance your blow’ll glance off, like this. Roundness of the skull and all.”
“Could you please be so kind as to NOT wave that dirty shovel all over the place?”
I was very much open to the idea of learning to fend off zombies myself, but there was just one problem.
“You’re pretty good at this, aren’t you?”
Otoha’s indifference to all the death and suffering around her made it hard for me to fully trust her. Most sane people would completely lock up at the sight of a zombie—no way in hell would they have the composure to chop one’s head off without batting an eye. What set her apart from the overwhelming majority?
“What did you expect from a zombie buff?”
“I don’t quite follow...”
Being knowledgeable about zombies was one thing; claiming that said knowledge magically translated into real-life experience was another. That was like saying I’d make a top-tier soldier after investing enough time into FPS games. Oh, wait...
“The only reason you’re alive right now is because of all the zombie media I’ve consumed over the years, which has allowed me to visualize every aspect of a potential zombie apocalypse.”
“You don’t say...”
“Not that I ever expected it to come in handy.”
“Who would’ve, in all honesty? I’m still struggling to come to terms with everything, too. It’s all so surreal.”
“It’s a dream come true, isn’t it?” The light in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks... it was almost as if she’d been waiting for this to happen her entire life.
You’re cute and all, but you should really see a shrink.