Bonus Short StorieZ

Shino Kosahana, Daughter of RicheZ

While Shino didn’t have princess curls or a comically exaggerated posh accent, she still fit the rich-girl archetype.

Her flaxen hair, emerald-green eyes, and dainty physique evoked a protective desire in all who laid eyes on her. Yet over the course of our time together in this zombie-ridden world, Shino had proven herself more than capable of standing on her own two feet.

“What’s this now?” I asked Shino, who was squatting beside the G-Class Benz, the mobile fortress we all knew and loved.

She turned toward me with a smile. “I was in the mood for tea. Would you like some?”

“Typical Shino.” I paused as I noticed what appeared to be a handcrafted twig trivet—the raised kind you’d put pots and kettles on—resting atop a campfire fueled by dried leaves. “You know portable stoves are a thing, right?”

“Thought I’d save gas,” she replied, still smiling warmly. “The little things add up.”

“Did you light that f—”

“Behold.” Shino brought out a survival bracelet made from paracord that could be used as a makeshift rope when unraveled. It also came with some flint and steel.

“I was itching to put Dad’s gift to good use, if only this once.” Shino stuck her tongue out like a mischievous child caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“You could try wearing it. Oh wait, Lady Shino wouldn’t be caught dead with that gruffy old thing wrapped around her wrist. No siree.”

“Drop the ‘lady’ right now.” Shino puffed out her cheeks. “Or else.”

“Or else what?”

Shino and I engaged in a fierce staring contest... which lasted for a whopping ten seconds before her pouty expression got the better of me.

“Ya got me, partner,” I said, lifting my hands up in surrender.

“Good.” Shino grinned triumphantly and went back to peacefully shuffling the leaves around with the twig in her hand.

Otoha Judou and Her Earnest EffortZ

Otoha had always been so enamored with zombies, and she hadn’t stopped at consuming zombie-related media. No, she’d gone a step beyond that. Otoha had ventured so far as to scour sewer tunnels and dabble in DIY weapon-making because, in her own words, “What if zombies took over the city?”

“What’s going on in here?” I asked Otoha.

I had just walked into the hardware store’s workshop to see her toiling away at some sort of project. She softened up a PVC pipe with a heat gun and then went to town on it with a rubber mallet.

Bladesmith vibe aside, what is she even gonna do with that? I wondered.

“You know Daryl from The Walking Dead?”

“Who?”

“Ugh, really? Anyway, he uses a crossbow, but the hardware store doesn’t carry any guns or bows, so I thought I’d just make one myself. Don’t worry, I watched a tutorial video once.”

Yeah, let’s just make a crossbow! You know, like we always do!

Apparently, the whole thing was going to be made out of PVC pipe.

At least it sounds easier than messing around with wood.

“Guns are a little beyond my capabilities, so I hope this’ll be enough for you,” she said.

“Wait, that’s for me?”

“It’s going to be. Unless you don’t want it.” Otoha hit me with the puppy dog eyes.

She’s wearing pretty much her usual deadpan expression, but there’s something about this little gesture that’s just so unbearably cute. How on earth does a zombie junkie making a crossbow have a “heroine pouring her heart and soul into knitting a scarf that her crush might not even accept” vibe to it?!

“That’s very kind of you, but a crossbow is... how do I put it? Not terribly useful. You have to reload after every shot, and the more powerful the crossbow, the longer the reload time. Even the army barely uses them any—ahem, forget that last part.”

You and your army trivia.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“In that case, I’ve got just the thing.” Otoha held out a crowbar, completely unfazed by the sudden turn of events.

All I could manage to say was, “Uh, thanks.” I took the crude, blunt weapon off her hands and felt its weight in mine.

Otoha Judou and Her Ardent PassionZ

Otoha was fairly cute—scratch that, very cute—but that did little to alleviate the pressures society had imposed on her. Whenever Otoha hadn’t been devouring zombie-related media, she had been practicing her shovel swings against imaginary zombies. The reason being, in her own words, “What if zombies took over the city?”

Funny how she had turned out to be right. Society had been brought to its knees, and the imaginary zombies were now anything but. If it hadn’t been for her foresight, my journey would’ve ended before it even began.

I looked over at Otoha. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

Five days into us holing up in the hardware store, I finally felt more or less at ease. Thus, I decided to ask Otoha about something that’d been on my mind for the longest time: her barrette.

“That barrette of yours... it’s supposed to be a zombie, right?”

“You mean George?” she asked. Her fingers brushed up against the pink, one-eyed skull, caressing the partially exposed cranium.

“You named it?”

“He’s got a lovely wife too. Her name’s Christy. Don’t tell him about the divorce. She’s a permanent work in progress. I left her back home. Whoops.”

“It’s handmade?! Also, what’s with the needlessly detailed backstory?!”

If you try to pick apart everything she says, you’ll be here all day. It’s not worth it, man. Drop it.

“For someone who claims to love zombies, you seem oddly keen on chopping their heads off.”

“And your point is...?”

“Shouldn’t you, like, show a little more compassion? Shouldn’t you feel guilty about every head you’ve sent flying? If zombies mean so much to you that you made a barrette of one by hand, it would only make sense for—”

“Listen here, Hiroaki.” Otoha narrowed her eyes. “Much as a candle burns brightest just before it goes out, so do zombies zombie the zombiest as their heads leave their bodies. Perfecting the decapitation process is an expression of love.”

“Ah, yes, I see.”

“Think of it as the beauty of death. No, not even that—it’s their impermanence and imperfection that makes them beautiful.”

“Sorry, just... forget I ever brought it up.”

I didn’t understand a word she’d said, but I apologized nonetheless to avoid another dreaded zombie lecture.