All You Zombies

"I'm bo-ored," Bunny said in a singsong tone as she leaned over Leon's shoulder. Leon swatted irritably at her head, but she just ducked back and started skipping around the table, singing, "Bored bored borededy bored, boredy bored bored bored bored..."

"Alright, who let the Bunny have sugar?" Kathleen snarked, prompting a round of desultory laughter from the rest of the group. Even Bunny laughed, mainly because Bunny didn't know the difference between people laughing at her and people laughing with her. Then again, Bunny didn't know the difference between her ass and a hole in the ground.

It wasn't even that she was wrong. It was a Thursday afternoon and the mall was absolutely fucking dead. All of them were too broke to buy anything, they couldn't boost anything because they were the only ones in the stores and the clerks were always fucking watching them, and they'd run out of things to say to each other about twenty minutes ago. The only ones having fun were Bob and Bobbi, and that was because they were making out...and looking at Bunny, Leon, Greg, Miguel, and Lashonda, Kathleen was pretty fucking sure she didn't want to make out with any of them.

"Bored, bored, boredy bored, bordedy..." Bunny was right, it was just that she was such a fucking spaz that you wished you didn't agree with her just so you could tell her she was wrong. They wouldn't even let her tag along with them, except that Greg wanted to get into her pants. Only he was such a fucking pussy that he wouldn't make a move even though Bunny frequently "forgot" to wear panties and she was the kind of blonde girl that blonde girls told blonde jokes about.

Bunny came to a stop and stared plaintively at the group. "Come on, guys, I'm bored! Let's do something!"

Miguel said, "I got something you can do, Bunny," and waggled his tongue at her. Greg punched him on the shoulder, and Miguel winced. "Jeez, man, I was just kidding."

"I hate to say it," Lashonda said, "but the Bunny's right. This officially sucks and blows. Let's go see a movie or something."

"Can't," Leon said sullenly. "We're all fucking broke, and Herb's managing right now at the movie theater, and you know he's a total prick about people sneaking in."

Miguel shrugged. "Maybe we could go to someone's house, watch a horror movie on DVD or something. I got this cool-ass shit from Italy, where a zombie fights a shark. Seriously, fights a fucking shark, man."

Bob disengaged his lips from Bobbi for a moment. "No can do, guys." 'Someone' always meant Bob, when it came to going over and watching movies. Leon's dad was a drunk, Lashonda's mom didn't have a DVD player, Miguel's parents wouldn't let him watch horror movies in the house because it'd freak out his little brothers, Bobbi's parents always wanted to 'hang out' with them, Greg lived on the ass-end of the bus route, and none of them cared about Bunny enough to want to find out why they couldn't go over to her house. And Kathleen's parents hated all her friends and didn't even want her hanging out with them, much less bringing them over. It sucked, being eighteen and still having to get your parents' permission to do stuff.

Bob gave Bobbi another quick kiss. (So fucking PDA, those two! Even their fucking names were like a giant neon sign saying, 'We're A Couple!') "Mom and Dad are home, they're redecorating or some shit. If we could get any privacy at home, we'd be there right now." Only Bob and Bobbi would think of six people watching them as 'private'. Then again, Bob was usually off in his own little world when he was making out with Bobbi.

Greg shrugged. "Well," he said, "maybe we could go hang out in the parking lot, or down by the railroad tracks."

"That's fucking retarded," Leon snapped. "It'd be just like hanging out in the mall, except it's not air-conditioned. The only reason to go hang out by the railroad tracks is to drink, and that bitch down at the convenience store took away my fake ID last week."

Greg responded by flipping Leon the bird, and Leon jumped to his feet and curled his hands into fists. Kathleen knew what that meant--if they didn't want this to turn into another stupid fucking macho fight, as per fucking usual, then she needed to find something for everyone to do so that they didn't spend their time bitching at each other. As per fucking usual. Sometimes Kathleen didn't even know why she hung out with these guys, except that they were into the same gory movies she was and hanging out with them beat hanging out by herself.

"We could play tag," she blurted out. Everyone looked at her.

"Tag?" Leon said, adding a dismissive snort. "What do I fucking look like, twelve years old?"

"Why not?" Kathleen said defensively. "We've practically got the mall to ourselves. The security guards are all down by the electronics store watching baseball on the display TVs, we can run around and shit without anyone yelling at us."

Lashonda shook her head slowly. "I dunno, sounds pretty lame..."

Kathleen racked her brains, trying to think of something, some sort of angle that would get the rest of the gang interested. Horror movies, she thought, Texas Chainsaw Massacre Friday the 13th Night of the Living Dead Dawn of the... "We could play zombie tag," she said. "Like 'Dawn of the Dead', except the zombies are inside the mall."

"Oh, snap, that movie was cool!" Miguel said. "Remember when that dude got the screwdriver right through the fucking ear? Fucking A, that was great."

"Remake was better," Greg said.

"You fucking kidding me?" Bob responded, the blasphemous comment dragging him away from Bobbi for a moment. "Fast zombies suck, man."

Kathleen knew that if she didn't interrupt, this conversation would go on for another hour and probably drag Leon in...and her, for that matter. The original fucking ruled. "We have one person start as the zombie, and anyone they catch becomes a zombie and has to help hunt the other people down."

Leon looked cautiously interested. "So how do we know who's a zombie? I mean, it's not like those rage dudes in '28 Days Later' could hide who they were."

"The rage guys in '28 Days Later' weren't zombies," Miguel said. "They were alive. You gotta be dead to be a zombie."

"I know they weren't fucking dead, loser," Leon said in tones of mock patience. "But they were wandering around like zombies, is my point. You could tell them apart from normal people. They couldn't be all like, 'Oh, hey, how was the game last night, great,' and then rip your throat out when you weren't looking."

Kathleen was actually enjoying this, now. "If you're a zombie," she said, getting up, "you have to have your arms out like this." She put her arms out straight in front of her and mimed walking around, her hands clutching feebly at thin air.

"Yeah, okay," Leon said. "I'm in. Until it gets lame, at least." The others all nodded their assent as well. "So how do we decide who's it?"

Kathleen paced back and forth, pretending to be in deep thought. "Hmm," she said. As she approached the escalator, she broke into a dead run. "Last one to the escalator's a zombie!"

She was so busy laughing and running, she didn't even stop to look at who became the zombie.

*****

Bobbi didn't stop to look either, but she knew. She and Bob had both been caught off-guard by the sudden rush to the escalator, but Bob had gotten just a little bit ahead of her. Not so far ahead, though, that Bobbi couldn't grab his belt and give it a little yank, sending him off-balance and allowing her to lunge ahead.

"Hey, that's not fair!" he said. "That is totally--" He broke off his complaint as Bobbi stepped onto the escalator, but she didn't stop to take a look at his zombie impression. He was too close behind for that. Instead, she just kept running all the way down the moving stairs. Only when she got to the bottom did she stop to take a look at him.

He looked like he was straight out of one of those cheesy horror movies the gang always sat through. His arms were outstretched like a sleepwalker...or, well, like a zombie...and his mouth hung just a little bit open. He stared right at her as he walked down the escalator, slightly slowed by his inability to move his arms in stride, but his expression was blank and empty. "Aren't you going to say, 'Join us'?" Bobbi called up to him teasingly.

Bob didn't respond. He just kept marching towards her, and Bobbi realized he was getting pretty close. "Weren't you just saying that fast zombies sucked?" she called out, before turning and breaking into a run. Not too fast, though. She didn't want to lose him.

But when she looked over her shoulder, it seemed like there wasn't any danger of that happening. Now that he'd gotten off the escalator, he seemed to be pursuing her with an absolute single-mindedness, his arms straight out as he chased her. "Oh, come on," she called out behind her. "Nothing to say, honey? Not even, 'Braaaains'?"

Still no response. Jeez, she knew Bob took his zombie movies seriously, but this was kind of being a dick about it. "At least give me a moan or something," she said. "Even the zombies in 'Night of the Living Dead' moaned."

He didn't moan, though. She heard his footsteps behind her and his huffing breaths as he chased her, but he just wasn't saying anything. Seriously fucking lame. What was the fucking point of pretending to be in a stupid horror movie if Bob was going to be such a fucking method actor that he wouldn't even talk to his own girlfriend? Bobbi took a left turn, heading down the small side corridor where the restrooms were located. "Oh, help me," she said, in tones of mock despair, as she turned to face Bob. "Help me, please! There's an evil zombie, and he wants to eat my..." She winked at him.

Nothing. Not even a smile. Fucking Jesus, man. Stupid fucking Kathleen, coming up with this stupid fucking 'zombie tag' idea just because she probably fucking masturbated to zombie movies or some shit. Bobbi glared at her boyfriend. "Okay," she said, her glare just as quickly melting into a mischievous grin, "I bet I know something that'll get you to moan..." She lifted her shirt, revealing her bra-less titties, and wiggled her chest a little. "Do zombies get hard-ons?"

Still nothing. Fucking asshole. He'd always told her he loved her tits. Bobbi lowered her shirt, really pissed off now. "Fine," she snapped. "This is lame, anyway." She ducked into the women's room, pointing at the sign on her way in. "Occupado, so sorry!" she shouted. "Guess you'll have to chase someone else!"

She slammed the door behind her and went to check and see if she'd messed up her hair with all the running. "He damn well better not," she muttered as she looked in the mirror. Half of her wanted to go back out there, make sure he hadn't gone running off to chase fucking Kathleen. She didn't even have any fucking tits, she was flat as a fucking board, but just because she actually liked all those dumb stupid lame-ass horror movies, all the guys were all, 'Oh, Kathleen, you're so fucking cool, you're not like all the other girls!'

Fuck that. If watching a few dumb horror movies was all it took to keep Bob happy, she'd do it. Fuck Kathleen. Stupid fucking--

"Jesus, Bob!" she shouted, seeing the door swing wide. "Someone could be in here!" Bob still didn't respond. He just strode towards her, his arms groping for her, and Bobbi rolled her eyes in affectionate irritation. "Yeah, alright, you got me, guess I'm a zombie now--"

Bob's outstretched hands found her tits and began to fondle, and Bobbi's irritation melted. "Mmmm," she sighed out. "I knew you couldn't resist...oh, that feels good." His hands just kept stroking and rubbing as he bore her down to the floor, a tiny streamer of drool hanging from his lip as he leaned in and began to nuzzle her neck.

"Oh, that's...oh, that's nice, oh fuck, yeah..." Bobbi sighed as Bob's hands pushed up her t-shirt, running all over the smooth flesh of her breasts as he tweaked and pinched at the sensitive skin. "Oh, oh fuck, yes yes yes..." His hands felt so fucking awesome, better than ever, like he was just totally tuned in to finding every single spot on her body that felt good and bringing it to life. She arched her back a little, whimpering softly as he flicked her nipples until they stiffened.

His left hand slid down across her belly, down into the waistband of her jeans and inside her wet panties, finding her pussy and slipping two fingers inside it. "Oh, ogod, yes, Bob, oh, fuck..." Her moans echoed off the restroom tile as her legs fell apart to allow him easier access. It had never been this intense before, not all the times they were alone in his parents' basement. He just seemed so dedicated, so totally fucking intent on making her feel so good, he just wouldn't stop... "Fuuuuuck," she groaned out as she felt her pussy spasm against his fingers.

He kissed his way down to her tits, long, sloppy kisses that made her feel all hot and dizzy, and she closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy it as his thumb found her clit and his tongue swirled around her nipple and she just, she had to, she was gonna cum... Her whole body shook as her orgasm hit.

"Oh...oh...okay, hon," she said shakily. "We really should...oh..." He didn't stop even for a second, he just kept stroking and rubbing and she felt him slip a third finger into her snatch and just keep pumping away. "We gotta...gotta get back to...ofuck ofuck ofuck..." She felt her pussy clench around his fingers as she came again, the second orgasm right on the heels of the first one, and she couldn't quite seem to open her eyes anymore. She just stared up at the fluorescent lights through closed eyelids and everything just looked bright and red, just like her whole body felt like it was glowing as Bob kept finger-banging her right there on the restroom floor.

"Gnnh...guh...gotta, Bob...gotta stop, someone might..." Her words trailed briefly into an incoherent whimper. "...might walk in, Bob, gottaaaaahhhh!" He wrung another orgasm out of her, and every time she tried to talk, he'd find another spot to touch and she couldn't help it, she'd just stop talking and start feeling so fucking good, and thoughts of soccer moms walking in with their daughters just got pushed away by four fingers in her snatch now, drilling away at her soupy cunny and ofuck she just came again!

"Please," she whimpered, "no more, too much..." She tried to push Bob off, but he'd put all his weight on her and she couldn't budge him and he just kept fingering and licking and stroking and she pushed weakly at him but she didn't seem to have much strength to fight, not when he was touching her oh right there right there please yes more oh god yes...

"Gnnnnh...unnnnh...guhhhh..." She tried to talk but it all came out garbled, she couldn't talk, she couldn't move, she couldn't think, she didn't know how many times she'd cum but every time she tried to think about it, every time she tried to think about anything at all, he'd find another place to touch and she'd cum again and that just stopped the thoughts, it felt so good, felt better than thinking, always feels better than thinking, she didn't want to...to think...no...think...felt...so good, so good, soooo good, so...good, so...guh...guh...guh...

Bob climbed off of her, his left hand slick with her juices. After a moment, her eyes opened, but there was no trace of expression to them. They were empty and blank. She sat up. Slowly, her arms floated up from their sides to stretch straight out in front of her.

The restroom door opened. Both zombies turned to look at the newcomer.

*****

They'd gotten Lashonda, too, Greg noticed.

Greg cut hard left, rounding the corner at the jeweler's and heading towards the west wing of the mall. Really, it wasn't too hard to stay away from them, so long as you didn't do something stupid like the dumbfucks in horror movies always did. The mall was built like a big 'H' with two crossbars, so as long as he stayed in the square and didn't go out to the dead ends, he could always just keep ahead of them. And there were two floors, too. And there were only four of them. Sucked that they got Miguel, though. He'd have to give him shit about that, after the game was over. All this time, they'd talked about the fucking rules of zombie movies, and Miguel got nabbed before Bunny did.

He wished Bunny was with him right now, but he'd lost track of everyone in that first rush of excitement. It was just, bam, scatter, and the next time he'd seen Bob and Bobbi and Miguel and Lashonda, they were chasing him down with their arms sticking straight out in front of him. Really, they should never have split up like that. Rule Number One, man. Don't split up.

Still, wherever the others were, they were probably fine. He was probably drawing all the zombie pursuit right along with him. Greg risked a quick look behind him, even though that was totally breaking Rule Number Three (Dumbfucks who look behind them trip over some stupid shit because they weren't looking, and then the zombies catch up to them before they can get up.) Yep, all four, still heading right after him.

He wished he could fight back, though. Kathleen should have come up with a rule for killing zombies when she made up the game. Every movie had a weakness for the zombies, like shooting them in the head or burning them or electrocuting them. If there wasn't a way to kill the zombies, then eventually, they'd always win, just like that zombie simulator they found on the Internet one afternoon. If the zombies got to infect everyone, and the people didn't get to kill the zombies, then eventually, the people just got fucked.

Still, Greg thought as he took a left again, heading south towards the food court, they wouldn't be getting him for a long while. He wished he could lose them, though, take a breather. He thought briefly about ducking into one of the bigger stores, but that totally violated Rule Number Two. Never ever ever go down a dead end, ever. That was how all the real dumbfucks bought it in zombie movies. They barricaded themselves in the cellar or the attic or on the roof or they didn't know where they were going and wound up in some alley, and bam, they were zombie chow. Greg was no dumbfuck, that wasn't going to happen to him. He was sure he was going to be the last survivor. Well, either him or Kathleen.

He saw another zombie coming at him from the south, and he crossed the hallway to avoid her. His heart kind of sank--he couldn't tell from this distance whether it was Bunny or Kathleen, but either way, it sucked. He thought Kathleen would be one of the last to go--she knew the rules even better than him or Miguel, and they'd been watching zombie movies ever since they were old enough to sneak out of bed once their parents had gone to sleep. And if it was Bunny...well, he wanted to survive to the end, but part of him wanted to be the one to chase Bunny down. He pictured himself grabbing her and accidentally ripping her skirt...and she'd act all mad, but she'd be kind of smiling, and he'd kiss her, and grab her tits (and oh, man, she had some sweet fucking tits, Jesus they were huge, they--)

Greg stopped dead. That wasn't Bunny. It wasn't Kathleen, either.

She had the same blonde hair, but she was about a foot too tall to be Bunny, and she wasn't flat-chested like Kathleen. She looked like some college girl wearing a UCLA t-shirt, and she was walking kind of funny, taking little dragging steps like...

It was the backpack that made Greg's blood suddenly run cold. It was just a tiny little detail, but in that one instant when he noticed the backpack, Greg knew instantly in the pit of his stomach that something had gone totally fucked-up and this wasn't a game anymore, even if he didn't understand how or why. Because he could believe that the gang had convinced someone else to play, or that they'd gotten some girl to pretend to be a zombie and come up on him from the other direction to get him to panic, but...her backpack had fallen off her shoulder, and she'd stepped in the straps and gotten her right foot tangled up. And she hadn't stepped out of it, and she hadn't stopped to untangle it. She wasn't even looking down at it. She just kept on walking, dragging the backpack along with her as she stumbled towards Greg with an empty expression on her face.