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KATE
“I think you’re violating every OSHA law ever written.” Ben comes to stand next to me. He shades his eyes as he looks up.
Reed currently hangs from a metal beam in the covered section of the university bleachers, held in place by a rope harness crafted by Todd and Caleb. In his hands are a screwdriver and wire clipper. He works to remove the megaphone mounted to the top of a ceiling support while Todd and Caleb hold him up by the rope.
“What’s OSHA?” I ask.
“Occupational Safety Health Administration. A bureaucracy dedicated to keeping people from dying or getting maimed on the job. I think the entire administration would be apoplectic if they had to keep track of you.”
I frown in surprise. “Did you just ... make another joke?”
He continues to shade his eyes and watch Reed’s operation. “Maybe.”
“That’s two jokes in the six months I’ve known you.”
“Yep.”
“Keep that up and you might be funny four times in an entire year.”
“Yep.”
I can’t help it. A laugh bubbles up. Ben gives me his eye-crinkle smile.
My stomach flutters. Other than our mission to retrieve the alpha zom, we haven’t spent much time together. I haven’t forgotten our shared moment the morning of my hangover. Or that moment in his bedroom when I thought I might end up in the bottom bunk with him.
“How many of those things do you plan to retrieve today?” Ben asks. “The kid might really break his head open, you know.”
This comment is followed by shouting between Reed, Caleb, and Todd.
“Dudes!” Reed calls down. “Hold still, will you?”
“We are holding still,” Todd shoots back. “You keep swinging around.”
“There’s wind up here. Not my fault.”
“Just hurry up and get the damn megaphone,” Caleb shouts. “Your ass is heavy.”
“We’ll start with one megaphone,” I say to Ben. “No reason to risk Reed’s head if my idea doesn’t work.”
Several hours later, everyone except Gary is gathered on the rooftop of Creekside. Johnny holds the megaphone in one hand. With a pair of trimmed headphone wires and a soldering gun, he connected the megaphone to the boom box with the alpha recording.
“Good thing I grabbed those electrical wiring books before Mama Bear blew up the library,” Johnny says.
“I hope you guys grabbed an Anarchist’s Cookbook,” Todd says. “We might need one of those someday.”
“Shhh.” I wave a hand at the guys to shut them up. “Everyone, pay attention.”
On the ground below, Carter and Jenn stand on the western side of the compound. They each hold a metal pot and spoon.
“This feels counterintuitive,” Susan says. “Since when do we call zombies to us?”
“It’s gonna be okay, babe,” Gary calls up from the hallway below. He might not be able to get up the ladder, but he still wants to be close to the action. “Don’t worry. This is going to work.”
“I’m just saying,” Susan mutters.
She isn’t wrong. We’ve gone to great lengths to secure our home and keep zombies out of our living space. Banging on metal pots to draw some toward us is counterintuitive. Not to mention dangerous if my plan doesn’t work.
I peer over the edge of the building at Carter and Jenna and wave my arms over my head. At my signal, the two of them beat on the pots with their spoons. Everyone on the rooftop cringes at the noise.
It doesn’t take long for the zombies to arrive. A dozen make their way toward Creekside, shuffling along with their arms outstretched.
I let Jenna and Carter pound away for another sixty seconds. Then I wave my arms again, signaling them to stop.
We wait for the zombies to bump up against our barrier. Then I turn to Johnny.
“You’re on,” I tell him.
Johnny positions himself at the corner of the rooftop, aims the megaphone in the direction of the zoms, and hits play on the boom box.
The recorded sequence of clicks and keens bounds through the quiet. A shiver runs across my skin at the unearthly sound.
The reaction of the zoms below is instantaneous. With a collective moan, they fall back from our perimeter. On the ground below, Carter flashes me a thumbs-up.
“Is it working?” Gary calls. “Is it driving them away? Somebody tell me what’s happening!”
“It’s working,” Susan cries. “The zoms are retreating!”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Johnny says grandly, “what we have here is a bona fide zombie apocalypse security system. Hold your applause. Just leave a tip in the jar and we’ll call it good.”
This sets off a string of eye rolls and groans.
“It was Kate’s idea,” Margie, the former kindergarten teacher, says. “She’s the one who should get the tip.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Ash says. “The radio runs on batteries. We’re going to need to scavenge a ton of them to keep this thing operational.”
“Nah, I just need to figure out how to wire the radio to the solar panels.” Satisfied with the zombie retreat, Johnny sets down the megaphone.
“Guess this means I have to let these idiots dangle me from a rope again.” Reed jerks a thumb at Todd and Caleb.
In response, the other two young men deliver simultaneous middle fingers. Reed doubles over laughing.
“What we need,” I say, breaking up the revelry, “is an extensive library of alpha commands. Gary and Johnny, you’ve done good work. Now you just need to do more.” My mind spins with the possibilities. If I have anything to say about this, we’re going to have a full dictionary of alpha zom words at our disposal.