43

Remy

Mayor Vaughn and his alderman Wilder snuck the zombie child into the town through the walls by the cover of night. It was late after we got back from the hunting-trip-turned-rescue-mission. The snow mobiles had made it quicker, but they were slowed down by all the weight.

Vaughn hid the zombie under the bear hide on the back of the trailer, and he drove the snowmobile through the gates after passing his examination upon entrance. They went straight to the town garage, and from there, Wilder carried the zombie – still bound and wrapped up in bearskin – into the mayor's office and down to the jail cells in the basement.

The office in actuality was an old church, the first non-domicile structure built in the former town of Baptiste in the year 1863, or at least that is what Vaughn claimed as he led us through the building. Boden and I followed him and Wilder, but all of the others had gone home. They were more concerned with seeing their families than making sure the zombie was secure.

In the main sanctuary, all of the pews had been cleared out, so it was a big empty room. Metal folding chairs were stacked in the corner, likely for when town meetings were held. The raised alter area where the pulpit had once been was converted to an office with a desk, file cabinets, and a potted ficus plant .

On the western wall, there was an old choir balcony with a large circular stained-glass window. Beneath that, there was a small apartment that the mayor called home, but I didn't have a chance to do more than glance inside at wood paneling and olive-green carpet.

The mayor led us downstairs to a musty basement. The walls and floor were cinderblocks and concrete. Jail cells had been made with bars of scrap metal welded together in a crude but effective manner. Wilder dropped the zombie child in his new cage, still bound and gagged, and he closed the door and locked it.

Vaughn turned to me, not bothering to mask any of his weary contempt anymore. "I trust that you are satisfied with the zombie's containment."

"It's good enough, but I still want to say again that this is a very dangerous and very stupid thing to do," I reiterated.

"Well, I will be sure to make a note of that in the town records that one Remy – what was your last name again?" Vaughn asked.

"King."

"Right, I will make note that Remy King has expressed great displeasure at the mayor's decisions," he finished.

"Aren't you going to untie him at least? It seems inhumane leaving him like that," I said, ignoring his tone.

"It doesn't need to be humane! He's not human," Vaughn argued. "And this is plenty good enough for a zombie."

"What are you going to do with him?" Boden asked.

"I need to speak with my council and the scientifically inclined folks, and we'll decide from there," Vaughn said .

My heart raced as I remembered how the scientifically inclined folks had treated me when I was in a cage.

"Come on. Let's go, Remy." Boden put a hand on my back, leading me away from staring at the zombie child.

It was early enough in the evening that everyone was still awake. I told Max, Stella, and Serg about the hunt and the rescue, but with the notable exception of the zombie child. I didn't mention him at all, because I didn't want to worry them, and I couldn't change anything. Thankfully, Boden supported me on this.

Then life went on, as it always did. While the temperatures weren't exactly soaring, it was warm and dry enough that all snow melted in a matter of days after the storm.

Max and Stella filled us in about how she had been struggling with postpartum issues, and she started making changes to feel better. One of the things that Jovie suggested was that Stella get outside in the sun and take walks. She went out with Boden when he took Ripley out on a leash, and she'd go for afternoon strolls with Serg.

Within a few days, Stella seemed to be noticeably doing better. She smiled more, and the lullabies she sang to Fae sounded cheerful again instead of so melancholy. Over dinner, she would talk about her excitement for the rapidly approaching Emberwood Fest. There was to be food, music, and dancing, and Stella had never experienced anything like that before.

I still didn't think the festival was a good idea, but I decided to shut my mouth about the whole thing. I couldn't change it, and people needed something to look forward to. Especially Stella.

It was actually Serg who came up with the idea that we ought to get new clothing for such a big event. Then I remembered that Harlow had a clothing shop, and I offered to go down and get something with Stella.

The boutique was located in the front room of a small house that Harlow lived in. It was downtown, in one of the homes fortunate enough to be on the solar panel grid. It was rustic and cute, built at least fifty years before the zombies arrived.

Clothing was on racks all around the room. Some were Harlow's own creations, most notable for an edgy chic mixed with a feminine touch via lace or silhouette. Other clothing was clearly premade or traded from elsewhere, like denim jeans and t-shirts with screen printed designs.

Harlow had always believed that there was no reason the post apocalypse couldn't be stylish, and it showed in her boutique. She was organizing necklaces hanging by the sales counter, but she smiled brightly when she saw us.

Her blond wavy hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulder, and she wore layers of necklaces and clothing. Her dress and shawl were made from a combination of repurposed fabric, soft rabbit pelts, and trimmed out with lace and tassels. The whole thing felt like Stevie Knicks by the way of Mad Max.

"Hey, Remy. Are you finally ready to spruce up your wardrobe?" Harlow asked as she approached us.

"Actually, we did want to get something new for the upcoming fest," I said.

She looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "Really? I Never assumed you'd be one for that kind of thing."

I bristled a little. "What kind of thing?"

Harlow shrugged. "Fun. With other people."

"You're right," Stella told her. "Remy doesn't want to go. She's only doing it to make me feel better."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" I grumbled.

"You must be Stella." Harlow finally addressed her and held out her hand to shake it. "I'm Remy's old friend, Harlow."

"Nice to meet you." Stella smiled up at her, and it was a real one, not one of the forced one she'd used so much as of late when she was pretending things were fine. And suddenly, I didn't mind so much that she and Harlow were ganging up on me.

"Have you ever been clothes shopping before?" Harlow asked.

Stella shook her head. "I mostly made mine or found it or someone handed me something and hoped it fit."

"Ugh. I know exactly how that goes. I wore boots that were way too big for me for months," Harlow commiserated. "But this is my boutique, and here you'll be able to find something that's perfect for you in size, color, and style."

Harlow took Stella's hand and started leading her around the room, asking her questions about her preferences and interests as she pulled things off the rack for her.

Within twenty minutes, she gathered a flurry of clothing, and she sent Stella to try it on. The changing room looked like it had been a closet before, but Harlow had updated it with a saloon door and removed any of the shelving to leave plenty of room to move around.

"How are you doing?" Harlow asked me while Stella was busy trying things on.

"Good, good. Everything is going… good," I replied.

"That bad, huh?" Harlow asked me wryly.

"Everything's changed so much so fast, but everything is still good," I said, unable to defend my position any better than that .

"Honestly, I'm surprised you've lasted as long as you have. You've been here, what? A little over a month?" she asked. "I figured you'd be gone within a week or two."

"The baby's too young to travel," I said. "But why would you even say that? You haven't seen me in years. You don't really know me anymore."

"I lived with you for six months in the Arizona quarantine zone, and I travelled with you for a few weeks," Harlow reminded me. "I love you, Remy, and I know I'm still alive because of you. But don't pretend that you don't run or push people away every chance you get."

Before I could answer, Stella opened the door and stepped out in a lovely maxi dress. The fabric was black with little red flowers, and Harlow had embellished it with lace on the sleeves and neckline.

"What do you think?" Stella asked, but by her smile, it was obvious that she knew she looked fantastic.

"You are radiant!" Harlow exclaimed.

After a few more enthusiastic compliments toward Stella, Harlow handed me a stack of clothes and shoved me into the changing room to try them on. Meanwhile, she took Stella around the store to pick out jewelry and accessories.

It wasn't until I was in the changing closet that I noticed that there were two mirrors across from each other on the side walls. It was to give people a full 360 view of themselves in an outfit, but I hated looking in mirrors.

My skin had become an unpleasant reminder of everything I had been through. The scars crisscrossing across my abdomen and back from the medical experiments. The bitemarks on my hip, wrist, and shoulder, all from zombies who had managed to take a bit of my flesh before I killed them. Knife wounds on my arms, neck, and chest, a bullet wound in my calf, and an arrow wound in my left arm – all of those were from violent but uninfected humans. The gnarliest of my scars was a twisting on my side from when an elk had nearly gored me three summers ago.

My body looked like a map of all the terrible things that had happened to me.

Boden didn't feel that way. In the few times I let him see me naked in the dim light of a fireplace, he had told me that I was so beautiful. I knew that he meant it by the look in his eyes, and by the tender, almost reverent way that he touched me.

"Every scar you have, every mark on your body is just a sign that you are still alive," Boden had told me in a low, emphatic voice. "You have survived and endured, and I wish you had been spared all the pain. But you are here, alive, in my arms, and I can't think of anything more beautiful than that."

But he wasn't here now, so I kept my head down, and I hurried to pull on the dress that Harlow had handed me.

I came out of the changing room to show them how I looked, and it was just in time to hear Stella asking Harlow, "How did you get those scars?"

" Stella !" I yelled, aghast. "You can't ask someone that!"

"Why not?" Stella seemed genuinely confused. "Everyone can see she has them. Why can't we talk about them?"

"You just can't. It's rude," I said, once again realizing how sheltered Stella and Max actually were.

"She is right," Harlow agreed with me, but her tone was much gentler than mine had been. "You shouldn't ask strangers about their scars because they might not want to talk about them with someone they don't know. But since you and I are friends now, I don't mind. "

"Are you sure?" Stella asked, looking apologetic. "I don't want to upset you."

"No, it's okay." Harlow was trying out different floral clips in Stella's auburn hair as she spoke. "Some years ago, I ended up in this place owned by the literal worst people in the world, a family called the Loths. They'd once farmed cattle, but now they farm zombies.

"After several months of awful things, I was finally able to escape," Harlow went on. "Before I did, though, I managed to take out a few of the Loths for all the terrible things they had done."

"Did they burn you when you escaped?" Stella asked.

"No, these scars happened much later," Harlow said. "I thought the Loths were dead and gone, but it just took them many years to find me."

"And what happened when they did?" Stella asked.

Harlow frowned at the memory. "They set our house on fire. We lost so much, but my family made it out alive. And all I have are these scars." She forced a smile then. "Now I have my boutique, and we're safe in Emberwood, and I've gotten to spend time with you and Remy. Life has a way of working out the way it was meant to."

"Do you really think so?" Stella asked.

Harlow nodded. "I do." Then she blinked, clearing away the dark memories, and she looked over at me. "You look so rad in that, Remy, but we have got to accessorize that just right."