Chapter Text
The zombies were still for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes as Zachary stared at where Leslie had been. It took Zivie stepping closer and gingerly patting an oversized metal hand on Zach’s shoulder for the soldier to return to reality.
“Hey, you alright soldier?”
Zach jolted. He shrugged off the weight on his shoulder, sputtering out, “Y-Yeah, me fine!”
“You sure?” Izzy hummed. “Cause, uh, that got intense.”
Zachary spun about and snapped, “Yez! I’m… I’m fine.”.
He didn’t need to look to see Izzy looking at him like he was crazy. The soldier rubbed his eyes as something wet crept down his face, and repeated, “I dealz with it, we're fine.”
“...Whatever you say soldier,” Izzy said after a long moment. “But if we are dealing with it, lets deal with it fast! It’ll suck reaaally bad if we stay out here and then all the shrooms still around wake up and see what happened to their tree overlord!”
Zach could tell what Izzy was doing, but the cheer in her voice felt a touch too forced to feel comforting. The mech fidgeted with the bright red dummy under its arm as it backed off. Zach slumped, though whether from relief, exhaustion, or the hunger reminding him that he needed a snack he couldn’t tell. He wiped off his face again, and finally approached Melissa.
He’d never really thought about it before, but humans were truly so… fragile. Melissa was blissfully Brain Drained into sleep, but the Browncoat suit he’d found (stolen) from a vanquished Browncoat in the street was gone, with only the clothing thing called a “tank top” (for some reason) left. The bucket Zach had found (stolen) off of a porch was still on her head at least, so the very important part of her body didn’t look damaged, but Zach could still smell the sweet stench of copper beneath the cotton of the bandages of her arms.
Zach reached out and picked her up, cringing at how limp she was. He held her with her back hanging heavy in her arms, taking comfort that at least she was still warm, like a big heated squishy plushie. Zach desperately wished that she would wake up, just so he could make sure that she really, really was okay, but…
This would do for now. Barely.
Quietly, a set of cleated shoes padded up behind him.
“Um… Zach?”
Zachary turned around to see Cleatus hauling his minigun low with one hand, carelessly letting the bottom of the barrel drag against the ground so his other hand could fiddle with the metal front of his helmet. The soldier cocked his head. “Yeh?”
“I-I…” Cleatus sniffled, bubbly tears already in the All-Star’s eyes. And then, to Zach’s bewilderment, he dropped the gun and dropped to his knees, hands pressed together above his head. “I’M SORRY I LET MEH-LISSA GET HURT!”
Zach blinked owlishly as Cleatus rambled, voice so choked up it was a miracle he wasn’t choking on it. “I try to keep her safe, but then scary Top Zombie scientist happen and there were evil Dreadroot! I should be better, but I wasn’t and got Brain Drained! I… I’M A TERRIBLE ALL STAR!”
Zach shuffled in place while All-Star groveled, gunky tears already dribbling onto the concrete. It was a miracle that the zombie was still able to talk, as words poured out in an increasingly incoherent stream that the soldier didn’t have any focus to parse out. Eventually, Cleatus petered off into pathetic whimpers, falling over onto his side in a fetal position.
“I…” Zach swallowed and squatted down. “Lookz, it fine. I can tell you try, and… I not angry.”
Well, Zach did feel a little ticked off (because Meh-lissa got hurt and he just wanted her to wake up and be okay). But then again, a part of Zach reminded himself, Cleatus did seem genuinely sorry. Zach himself knew how… he could get when he was on a mission, and if Meh-lissa was still here and kicking after Dreadwood had distracted Zach for so long, then he must’ve been doing something right most of the time.
That, and the All-Star’s pitiful state just made Zach feel (more) awful about feeling mad at the whimpering zombie.
So, Zach gently crouched down by Cleatus, still cradling Meh-lissa close and secure. “...Look. I glad that you and imp help protect her while I gone. And… that more than I azk for. Even when you… well…” Zach trailed off, trying to figure out what to say.
“Knew about her being a squishy human?” Izzy interrupted Zach’s thoughts. The Z-Mech lumbered over, and crouched down to nudge at Cleatus with their cannon point, finally unfurling him from a ball into a limp, pancaked sniffling zombie staring up at the evening sky. “Hey, you listening sports boy?”
“...mm.”
“Well, then listen closely. I don’t say this often or lightly, cause I usually lone it out with my two main buddies, but you carried your weight. I admit, I messed up and got a little too gung ho and ding-dong-ditched, but you stuck it out between the nerd and the roots,” Izzy said. The mech patted Cleatus on the head. “You might’ve gotten knocked out, but you did damn good with what you had.”
“...mm?”
“I’m going to interpret the nondescript noise as a question. If you’re wondering where this is coming from… well. I’m giving you a complement. You did good given the bucket of trouble you got dunked in. And I mean it for real. I don't give out compliments like this often, sports boy, so you know this is genuine!”
Cleatus sniffed, and blinked out a beady droplet clinging to his eyelid. “I-I...O…Okie…”
The All-Star pushed himself up,. “I… I… can I azk zomething?”
The Z-Mech tilted their head/body. “Yeah?”
“Um. I know you have to go drop off Dummy but first… Can I… can I talk with Dummy firzt?” Cleatus asked. His pointer fingers tapped together anxiously. “I-I don’t know if I wantz to go back to factory becuz… uh, yu know. So I just want to… say something to Dummy if you haz to… leave.”
Zivie paused for a moment, then shrugged and pulled Dummy from under their armpit. “Here ya go sports boy. Go nuts, but don’t take too long.”
“It won’t take too long,” Cleatus assured as he gently took the Dummy from the hands of Zivie. Zach himself felt a brief flash of irritation, but he brushed it off. They had gone through all this trouble for the darn Dummy cult leader, Meh-lissa especially. And given what he’d heard before from Cleatus… At the very least, Zachary wanted to see what the object had to say for itself. So, as Cleatus smiled thankfully at Zivie, Zachary squashed down the urge to tap his feet and ask them to hurry the brainz up.
The All-Star stepped a little ways away before gently placing the Dummy down on a flat surface, crouching so he could meet the painted white dot eyes of the beaten up object. The All-Star crossed his arms and let out a deep sigh, seemingly gathering his courage.
“Hi Dummy,” said Cleatus. The All-Star fiddled with their fingers. “It’s… been a while, huh?”
Dummy stared impassively, red dark and ominous in the twilight.
“...Look, it been long day for me and also for you, so I keep it short,” Cleatus took a deep breath, eyes wobbling. “Are you still planning to be the cult leader?”
Dummy stared imperiously at Cleatus. The All-Star shuffled in discomfort.
“Why I azk? Well I guez-” Cleatus licked his lips. “I think maybe…”
Cleatus paused again, and then facepalmed, glove meeting metal with a dull slap. “Oh, who I kid? That wuz stupid question. Of courze you still wanna be ‘all-powerful and all dumb’ Cult Leader Dummy!”
Dummy’s painted eyes narrowed in the twilight, flat and matte. Cleatus flinched, then scowled. “Okay, you don’t have to zay that. What, you don’t like hearing me be honest? Finally speak mind again? What, you too used to having other zombie kiss your metal?”
Dummy stared in bored silence as Cleatus’ fists shook a moment, his breathing deepening into a growl. “After everything… you act like zat? Like a big… big jerkface?!”
Dummy stared.
Cleatus twitched, and then shouted, “No, don’t you DARE say that! You no know even HALF of what happen today to save you! The fighting! The crying! Everyone who di-”
Cleatus froze, and swallowed with new tears shining in his eyes. “...too many people got hurt so you could get saved. Don’t that mean anything to you?” Cleatus sucked in a deep breath. “Anything at all?”
Both Dummy and Cleatus were silent for a long moment, the zombie clenching his hands and the Dummy lost in deep thought. Zach felt his heart pang as the two friends stared faced off, though he dared not let out even a slip of the stinging inside him for fear of breaking the moment. Izzy and Zivie seemed of the same mind, both silent and still as they waited with their arms crossed.
After a long moment, Dummy’s stare intensified for a single moment as a single harsh note rang in the air. Cleatus flinched, but then sighed. “I… guess I can’t be zurprised you said that. And… there nothing to change yur mind, is there?”
The All-Star stepped back, new tears leaving new trails to pair with their slightly-older compatriots of just before. But he wasn’t blubbering this time. Zach wouldn’t call the look on his face happy, but it seemed… accepting.
“...For wut it worth, I mizz you. Alwayz will. But… it not good to keep hold on,” Cleatus said. “If thiz lazt time we meet… I want to zay you were my first and only friend. And I alwayz rememburr that. But… I can’t keep doing this. So let me zay it now.”
Cleatus took a deep breath, and relaxed. “Goodbye Dummy. I hope you enjoy being cult leader. I hope we don’t meet again.”
Zach’s stomach pinched at the words, throat dry even though they were not meant for him (or Leslie). The All-Star once more picked up Dummy with care, keeping their faces turned away and walked back, shadows deep beneath his helmet. “Okie. He all yourz.”
Rather than make a quip, Izzy was quiet. Zivie shoved Dummy underneath their armpit again, the machine pausing to quiet chirp something reassuring sounding to Cleatus. The All-Star didn’t burst into tears again, but the small smile on his face was anything but happy as the machine backed away again with its treacherous red cargo.
Another beat of silence passed, then Izzy hummed. “So, where are you all going next? I gotta ‘port Zivie and this Dummy back to the factory so I can take care of… things, but I don’t think you all want to stick around. You taking your bucketbrain princess home, soldier boy?”
“Yeh!” Zach nodded. “Juzt gotta go back to base and mezz with panel to get back to right place. Can juzt say I’m going on late patrol to find human junk ztuff again if anyone asks.”
“Oh yeah, classic excuse. I hope that works out for you!” Zivie rolled their metal shoulders, and Izzy let out a crackly yawn over the Z-Mech speakers. “Well, I think it’s about time we all dip before we get ‘shroomed. If you ever stop by again, come by the cabin for some cookies! But if not, I hope you all have a fantastic rest of your unlives. You all did me a helluva favor, and that’s the kinda thing I can’t forget!”
Zach nodded, shifting enough to do a half-salute with one hand. Cleatus waved alongside him, and Zivie saluted back with a chattering giggle from both machine and imp. “Alright then. Stay safe then. See ya!”
In a flash of blue, the Z-Mech and Dummy were gone. Now, as the moon slowly rose, it was only Zachary holding an (unconscious) Meh-lissa, and Cleatus hefting his Football Cannon up like a comforting plushy, decaying nails lightly scratching the cannon’s red paint.
“Zo… I guezz you leaving to take Meh-lissa home now, right?” Cleatus asked. The All-Star smiled wanly and wiped their face again. “That good. Zo I guezz… thiz alzo goodbye then.”
“Goodbye?” Zachary cocked hiz head. “Where yu go to?”
“I mean… back to camp?” Cleatus shrugged. “Don’t really wanna go to factry, lozt my base button porty while back… and it’z not like anyone iz expecting me…”
The last part was muttered under Cleatus’ breath, not intended for anyone’s ears. But in the silence Zach couldn’t help hearing it, and his heart panged. Cleatus hummed and turned around. “Well… goodbye. It… nice to meet you.”
As the foot soldier stared at him Cleatus slowly began to shamble away past Zach. As he did, Zach hear him mumbling to himself. “Shuld look for way back up to get to camp. Or… maybe juzt let shroom vanquish so I don’t haz to walk? I dunno…”
The pit yawned wider, hunger of two kinds hissing in the back of his head. Zach bit his tongue, a pounding in his head making every inch of skin ice cold. Then, ripping its way from deep, deep down and from his tongue-
“Wait!”
Cleatus stopped his sluggish trudge to snap his head back to him. “Whu?”
It took a moment for the foot soldier to compose his thoughts. On one hand, Zach had only juzt met him today. But on the other, he had helped Meh-lissa and gotten Brain Drain-ed for it. That and…
And…
“...Good night, Zach.”
Meh-lissa would wake up eventually, but Zach didn’t want to be alone yet.
Not yet.
“Home warp can take more zombie if you lick buttons right,” Zach offered. “And me sure if Meh-lissa awake, she not mind have guezt in houze, so long you don’t make pile of ztuff in non-pile rooms or put mud on no-no placez.”
Cleatus blinked, then jolted in place. “Wait, yu- you want- huh?!”
“Thiz very long elaburate way zay you can come with,” Zach clarified with a little smile.
“...Really?” Cleatus’ voice warbled as the All-Star turned back around, eyes wide. “You… thiz izn’t joke, right?”
“Not reely in joking mood Cleatus,” Zach said dryly.
“O-oh, right,” Cleatus flushed, but hope still shimmered in his eyes as he stepped back to Zach and Meh-lissa. “But really, you… want to take me with?”
Zach nodded firmly. “Yez. Zo long as you make sure we get Meh-lissa home safe, you can stay night in my room. I can move my piles for blankets.”
Cleatus looked about ready to erupt into an entirely new blubberfest on the spot, his Football Cannon shaking with how hard he was holding it. “I… I… yez! Yez, I’ll come!”
Zach smiled, and for a moment the pit shrunk back just a touch.
…
Zachary had half-expected smuggling a less-disguised Meh-lissa through base would be more difficult now that the Browncoat suit was in tatters and she hadn’t put any of the clay-tasting green paint anywhere else besides where it had faded on her face and hands. But thankfully, Cleatus apparently had stuffed a back-up jersey into his current jersey, a long-sleeved one he’d been keeping for when he had to camp in winter… which was a whole bag of worms that Zach really didn’t want to dig into after everything else.
It felt weird to put clothes on someone who was unconscious, but the jersey was big enough that he could just prop Meh-lissa up for a moment and slip it on, tucking her arms close to her body so the skin was less visible beneath a floppy pool of red fabric. It was only awkward for a moment, which Zach was grateful for.
Zach had also needed to only bonk the home warp once to change the number on the screen from two to three, and in a flash they were out of the nasty swamp and back in home-sweet-barracks. The look of awe and sheer joy at seeing something that wasn’t ugly trees but instead beautiful neon and tastefully-cracked columns of the Base on Cleatus’ face made Zach want to smile as well, but he knew they couldn’t linger long.
Before heading over to where the patrol-porters were, he’d stopped by to check on Seabasstian. The engineer had been napping again, but woke up near instantly to stare in bewilderment at Zach, Meh-lissa in his arms, and Cleatus lingering behind him about ready to faint either from excitement, anxiety, or probably both. The engineer had been absolutely relieved, and in a very fast conversation Zach had (attempted) to recap all the… shareable bits of the day - but more importantly, that Dreadwood was no more.
“Holy brainz!” Seabasstain had said. “You reeely did it! You defeated evil Dreadwood! That amazing! I should throw party!”
“No party!” Zach had blurted. “I, uh, need break for tonight. Tree-fighting very hard. But, uh, tomorrow be good!”
“Ooooooooh make senze, tree very hard to fight, like flaming tree thing with club,” Seabasstian nodded sagely. “Then I tell baze there Dreadwood-dying party tomorrow! Man, I so happy I could almost look at tree! Almozt! I mean, I could just look over wall at all the big, green, tree- no, no! Me still traumatized! But reg tree no Dreadwood! Yeh, maybe I could juzt, uh, look at fake tree in pot, that safe. And maybe touch it, becuz I fine and need no help. And, uh-”
Zach had discreetly pulled Cleatus away while Seabasstian was rambling, whispering, “Yeh, if he go like thiz he go for hour,” then yelling, “Okie have good night zee you tomorrow!” as they made their getaway.
The rest of their short journey was a blur. Zachary had gone through the route so many times his body could go on autopilot from the punch-in of coordinates on the teleporter screen and idly marking an hours card for “Midnight Patrolz,” the walk through the streets with Cleatus close behind flinching at the distant peeping of mushrooms on lawns waking for the nightshift and Meh-lissa lolling in her sleep, body warm and squishy.
And then, they were here, in front of a familiar home.
“Is this… Meh-lissa’s?” Cleatus asked. The All-Star eyed the lawnmowers, only having recently been rearranged into something vaguely intimidating (or as intimidating as a plant-less lawn could manage). “Wow. You not kidding. How no one notice place?”
Zach just shrugged, hefting Meh-lissa close. “Eh, me very good at distracting. And Neighborville Browncoat don’t reely have ability to tattle, they not very good at even walk.”
“Ahhhh,” Cleatus nodded in understanding. He still suspiciously watched the mowers as they walked past, cannon at the ready. He relaxed once Zach nudged open the door, one hand twisting the knob like Meh-lissa had shown him many times and nudging it open with his shoulder.
Zach schooched in sideways to not bonk Meh-lissa’s cranium, leaving the door open for Cleatus to follow in - said zombie only jumped slightly as the door drifted shut with a solid klu-klick.
The All-Star gawked in awe at the cozy, tastefully plain home as Zachary made his way to the couch and gently placed Meh-lissa on the cushions. As he did, Cleatus remarked, “Thiz is very nice. Smellz like dusty stuff. Much better than Plant sap.”
The human let out a snore as her body depressed into the long seat. Then, as he usually did when he came over, Zach shrugged off his pack, ammo/bomb pack, and blaster to place on the fireplace mantel where he usually put it. He sighed as the weight left his body, part of him balked at leaving his method of defense out of reach and the other sighed in relief as his body was relieved of part of its ache.
He called to Cleatus, “Hay, put all weapon stuff here! Meh-lissa very stern about putting things in correct placez and not make mess.”
Cleatus obliged, gingerly putting onto the mantle his football cannon and several card-like metal discs akin to the little Browncoat packs Zach and many other Elites would toss onto graves, marked with doodled-on dynamite sticks. Cleatus then stood in place, looking around in trepidation.
“Zo, um… how long till Meh-lissa wake up?” Cleatus asked.
Zach bit his lip, and after a moment replied, “Methinks… maybe half hour or hour. Zhe not get full Brain Drain needle, so it not lazt as long.”
“Oh… so you wanna wait?” Cleatus mused, looking around. “I guezz I can stand here.”
Zachary thought for a moment, but then the hunger made his stomach rumble. “Mm. Here, lemme do thiz.”
In a motion he’d seen Meh-lissa do many times before Zachary picked up the remote for the TV and after clicking a few buttons found the big red one that turned it on. It was on an episode of the human crime-solving show Meh-lissa loved so much, and Cleatus gawked at it.
“Wow! Thiz is human TV?” Cleatus exclaimed. “It zo bright! And tasty looking!”
“I know! It very different from Z-Corp channelz! Intrezting to watch,” Zach said.
The All-Star leaned closer. “What human show iz-”
Rrrrmble!
Both of their stomachs rumbled at once, and Zach sighed as hunger feed NOW hissed at him, entire body demanding food to make up for all the exertion of battling. Cleatus himself flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorrie. Guezz brain kebab ration not last az long as me thought.”
With a grin, Zach gently nudged Cleatus to sit on the end of the couch that didn’t have Meh-lissa snoring away. “It fine, me go check fridge for food! Don’t put thingz in mouth until come back, including licking TV. It not edible.”
Cleatus mutely nodded, fully enraptured by the “ACIS” channel, whatever that meant, Zach shambled to the kitchen to check the fridge. The fridge was starting to look a little bit sparse since the melon-pult delivery Plants weren’t due to come for another few days, but there were some older meal packs that were “past their expiration dates” pushed into Zach’s section of the fridge. He picked out five without looking at what they were, then took them over to the microwave.
Heating up the meals, Zach was proud to say, went without anything catching on fire and he finished in a couple minutes. He also remembered to grab three big spoons from the drawer like Meh-lissa had shown him the one time she’d caught him eating lasagna with his hands.
Cleatus was still watching the TV in awe as Nedozo was sassing Ebby in her lab about some human-drama stuff. The other zombie thankfully was not doing stuff that would make Meh-lissa upset when she woke back up, but he stiffened and sniffed, eyes dilating at the edible flesh food that Zach dumped onto the table.
“Wow, humanz get to eat all thiz stuff?” Cleatus asked as he picked one up, revealing it to be something called ‘chille relleno’. The zombie wrinkled his face at the cartoony sunflower in a chef hat on the wrapper for a moment, but shrugged and peeled off the plastic covering with a burst of fresh edible enough meat not enough but edible steamy easy-heat goodness. Zach proffered a spoon to the All-Star, who took it and stuck it into the meal.
Zach himself sat down in the middle and picked up the human version of brainloaf, made out of non-zombie cows (Zach could only imagine how many happy zombies would result if they found one of those fabled ‘beef farms’ humans loved to build all over the place). It took the quiet reminder of Meh-lissa’s snore that he was sitting on a place to not cover in mess to not immediately start ripping into the edible meat FOOD he unveiled. It took even more control to not shove it into his mouth while it was still burning hot, but starting with smaller, controlled bites.
It wasn’t brainz, but he immediately felt better as food went into him and the hunger that’d been itching at him subsided in contentment. There was enough meat and substance to start feeling full, and Zach smiled as the usual persistent aches and pains of a long day faded, the fixy-fixy factor turning up to address not life-ending wounds, but the little breaks that built up and could be a problem if not fixed during the quiet times.
For a while, there was just the sounds of ACIS and munching, broken up with the occasional snore from Meh-lissa as she continued being not-awake. Cleatus helped himself to another meal, this time getting a chicken burrito while Zach got a ‘manicotti’. The remaining package, macaroni and cheese with ham, was kept on the table with the last spoon, patiently waiting. Both zombies seemed to know who the fifth meal was for.
Eventually, the empty and licked-clean (and partially bitten) microwave meal trays were put aside and the two zombies continued watching the show. Neither really knew what was happening aside from a bunch of humans waving around puny pistols that looked more toy-like than even an Elite Imp’s blasters and yelling about other weird human stuff like “ransoms” and “meth” but the noise filled the space nicely.
At least, until Cleatus looked down, chewing his lip in thought. “...Hay. You going to go back to baze in morning, right?”
Zach cocked his head to the side. “Uh, yeh. Have to clock-in for teach duty and zkirmish avilability.”
Cleatus nodded. “When you go back, can yu help me get new teleport thing? It so I can get back to Woods.”
“Yeah, that fi-” Zach did a double-take. “Wait, wood again? Why you wanna go back there?!”
“Well, I… uh, ztill technically guard for factory,” Cleatus explained. “And me not exactly have anywhere to… uh, go. Me have camp there, and me kinda juzt have to wait until reassignment… maybe.”
Cleatus wilted, “Hopefully. It not take long. Right?”
Zachary frowned as the All-Star trailed off. Zach was no expert on all the office stuff like jobs and job reassignments that Browncoats, some Zombots, and certain Elites like Leslie handled. But he’d heard of at least one situation like this before on a smaller scale, when the Ultra-Zombot 6000 project over in Zombopolis nearly got sabotaged.
All the engineers and scientists who’d helped build the Ultra-Zombot had been left twiddling their thumbs after their project launched with only one arm and a damaged power core. Zomboss apparently had wanted only himself and a few trusted Top Zombies to relocate and fix the damaged bot (which was apparently somewhere in Russia right now fighting a secret Plant army up there). And alas, in all the confusion of salvaging the nearly-ruined project, the other smart zombies had been left without a proper job for weeks, too unsure if they were supposed to go to another outpost, wait to get launched from a cannon for their near-failure, or go back to their old jobs.
In that case the factory had at least been intact, if trashed, and it was mostly just everyone getting caught up in short-term damage control before someone had mercifully remembered the horde of working zombies in the factory producing a noticeable amount of nothing.
With how much of a wreck the Weirding Wood’s Z-Tech Factory was… it’d be months at least until anyone knew what to do with all the scattered zombies, if they even got past cleaning all the Dreadwood wreckage.
Something in Zach’s gut curled anew at the thought of leaving the All-Star back there in the woods, next to the stupid Dummy cult, and…
Alone.
Maybe he could just ask Izzy if she’d take in the All-Star… but the imp had her own problems and didn’t seem the type to be that charitable. Zach lapsed into thought as Cleatus watched the soldier anxiously.
Suddenly, a bulb of inspiration flickered on and Zach gasped loud enough that Cleatus startled.
“Ah ha! Me haz better idea!” The soldier smiled widely. At Cleatus’ head tilt, Zach explained.
“The regiment B I’m in tranzferred out a bunch of troops to regiment C after recent ztuff, but becuz there new conflict zomewhere in Azia continent we not get all troop need to reztock numbers. I think I can azk to get you put in one of regiment B companies!”
“What?” Cleatus boggled at him. The All-Star gaped, and repeated, “Wh-wut? You can do that? Iz that even possible?”
Zach shrugged. “Uh, yeh. The company I get put in for skirmish stuff finally got new Engineer variant after he apply for tranzfer from Aqua Center, and a buncha pirates in another company wanted to go to serve in super secret port project with Neptuna and Ol’ Deadbeard!”
The foot soldier perked up even more. “Oh oh, and timing reely perfect! We don’t have lot of All-Star right now, so general be over moon if he zee you join! He not even azk question, he just bonk Office Zombot to have them skip interview!”
The All-Star’s eyes just grew wider. “You serious? You not joke?”
“Of course me not joke!” Zach insisted.
Cleatus looked down at his hands, gears churning behind his eyes. “I… I can get out of woodz. I can do zomething beside stay in camp and hide from weed and cult weirdos! I no have to worry about keeping month of ration for three month! I’ll zee more fight, pillows, and more… and more… more zombies… uh oh.”
The All-Star swallowed after he trailed off. Awkwardly, he asked, “Zo, uh, me not sure what class of Z-Academy or other Elite academy you from, but uh, maybe you aware of uh… certain thing?”
“Huh?” Zach squinted.
The All-Star pulled up their feet and curled up, fingers switching to tapping the tops of his knees in anxious patterns. “Well… uh, how to say? Other zombies don’t… reely like me.”
“Wha?” Zach blinked. “Why not? You good Zombie!”
A hint of color crept onto Cleatus’ sunken cheeks. “That nice of you to say. But… not a lot of zombie think that. Of me, I mean.”
The All-Star took a breath. “Me technically pazz Z-Academy, but bottom of clazz. Me always quiet in clazz, make no friend… cry all time. Like baby imp instead of All-Star!” Cleatus’ voice broke. “All zombie I meet call me weird, and ‘crybaby’! And they right! Me can’t even handle guard job right, me just ran away at first rumble of Dreadroot! I get Meh-lissa hurt, me get knocked out by Brain Drain of all thing!”
Cleatus sniffled. “I… I such a damn coward.”
The All-Star lapsed into silence for a long moment, still unmoving from their cocoon of arms and legs as he tried to get his increasingly weepy breaths under control.
“It very nice to offer but… you waste time on me.”
Zach stared at Cleatus as the All-Star bonked their helmet on their knees, hands sliding down into a pitiful self-hug. After a long moment, the foot soldier huffed.
“That dumb.”
“Huh?” Cleatus lifted their head.
“That dumb!” Zach exclaimed. The soldier gestured at Cleatus. “You great zombie. No, you FANTASTIC zombie! You help protect Meh-lissa, you beat up Dreadroot with bare hands! You survive in woodz and not fall for stupid cult stuff! Who not want that?!”
Cleatus blinked, “B-but I-I cry like baby, and… me not even know how to talk with other zombies! Me only friends is objects and even they leave me!” New tears budded in his eyes. “Zometimes me think that wood is where me belong… becuz me can’t do well anywhere elze!”
“That crazy talk!”
“But it truuuuueee!” Cleatus wailed.
Zachary sighed and rolled his eyes, “Sereesly, you really not tell yet? I zay all this not becuz me just try to make feel better, but because I like you!”
Cleatus froze at the words from Zachary’s mouth, eyes wide. Slowly, the All Star turned to look at him. “You… like me?”
“Yeh!”
“Reely?”
“Yeh, you good friend! We only met, but me have good feeling about you!”
“No joke?”
“Have I joke once about this stuff today?” Zachary raised a non-existent eyebrow.
Cleatus blinked, disbelief clear in his eyes. “You think… me good friend?”
“Yez!” Zachary threw up his hands. “What, me not say clearly enough? I thought it plenty clear enough!”
Cleatus laughed awkwardly. “Haaaa, uh, me just… never reely hear someone say it.”
“Look, here what me think to do,” Zach said reassuringly, scooching closer and giving Cleatus a pat on the shoulder. “I put in word with general, get in transfer paperwork. You can juzt say you finally decide to get out of wood becauz you hear Dreadwood vanquish in distance and wanted to move away when it safe. General Monger very flexible, he used to having troops go in and out of Neighborville! Bing bang boom, you back in baze with new job!”
Cleatus slowly unraveled from his fetal position, but he wrung his hands still though. Zachary looked over at him, and patted him on the back.
“Hey, it fine!” The foot soldier said confidently. “I’m sure other zombies will be happy to have new friend! And if they give trouble, I’ll handle it!”
Cleatus swallowed. “Y-you’re… sure? I-I think I might be okay j-just going back to woods to camp for, um, a few more hundred years I’m sure-”
“Hey!” Zachary inserted himself in front of the All Star and looked him in the eyes. “It fine. I’ll make sure of it. Promise.”
“...Promise?” Cleatus mumbled. The All Star hated the wobble that snuck its way into his words. But there was no hint of disdain or pity from the soldier, just a confident smile that seemed to say that everything was going to be okay.
“Promise. I swear all my brainz dinner and Elite statuz on it.” Zach smirked. “Bezidez, me owez you a little bit.”
Cleatus stared, eyes wide as dinner plates. Then, he rose to glomp Zachary, silent yet joyful tears dribbling from his eyes to his cheeks and onto Zach’s uniform.
“Thank you… thank you,” Cleatus whispered.
Zach just smiled and squeezed back, chest just a bit warmer than before. And as the TV droned on the two zombies who’d started the day as strangers took comfort in one another, finally safe and comfortable.
They only let go when the steady breathing that had quietly persisted throughout stuttered with a snort and a sleepy snort, “...mmmm?”
Zach gasped, but Cleatus was first to exclaim, “Oh, zhe’s waking up!”
Meh-lissa’s waking up!?
Zach’s heart soared, and he immediately moved to check on her. Lo and behold, her previously slow rise-and-fall had sped up slightly. She rolled to one side, letting out another, “Mmph?” as she did.
Cautiously, hopefully, Zach moved closer, heart picking up to a beat that one could almost call alive.
“Meh-lissa?”
…
The sun was shining through the window. It wasn’t often that they had weekends like this since they’d moved in, let alone ones where no zombies came by. But it was truly a beautiful day, with birds chirping and the melodious humming song of rows and rows of Sunflowers in the garden soaking up the rays, dozens of other plants adding their own beats to fill the amorphous melody of the earth and sky.
Melissa hummed lightly as she pulled the scalloped potatoes out of the oven and onto the cold-stove top. She dipped a spoon into the mix of ingredients and tasted it.
After a moment of contemplation, her face screwed up. “Urgh. I did add too much salt. I knew I should’ve photocopied the recipe book.”
“Well, now you know for next time!” A voice called out, a soft contralto from the living room. It was paired with the quiet snip-snip of scissors and fabric, and a quiet Floric hum.
Melissa left the oversalted potatoes to pass by the sink, carelessly tossing in the tasting spoon to rattle against the metal bottom. She peered curiously over the countertop, and pursed her lips.
“Zel? What are you doing?”
Zel sat criss-cross on the couch, dressed in skinny jeans and a cherry-red blouse, her hair pulled up into a pony tail still long enough to trail against the middle of her back. A pile of scrap fabric big enough to fill a laundry basket was heaped up next to her. Her sewing kit, equally heaped full of so many crafting tools and materials Melissa still didn’t know all the names of, was next to her, and the woman placed the fabric scissors back inside the wooden chest so she could place an extravagant white ribbon on the head of the Repeater on the coffee table.
“...Why are you dressing up Pearson like that?” Melissa emphasized, eyebrows raised.
Zel melodically hummed as she sorted through her kit, pulling out a bag of fake gemstones. “Recently got a commission for a magical girl costume for someone’s potted Ice Pea. Pearson volunteered to make sure it fit since he was the closest size-wise.”
Pearson, with their angry eyebrows, stem gnarled from an old zombie bite, and practically overgrown head leaves coarse and frayed with wear, definitely did not fit the vibe of a cutesy magical girl, and Melissa could feel the second-hand embarrassment emanating from the pea as they flicked a vine against the swoopy ribbons cascading from the Machiavellian knot currently perched on their head. But the Repeater stopped and diligently paused their bobbing for Zel to press a vivid blue diamond-shaped fake crystal to the middle of the bow.
“Look at you, now that’s pretty,” Zel crooned, each word practically sung as she rotated it just so. Pearson’s head flushed a deeper green, and the pea kazooed out something bashful. She looked back over at Melissa, green eyes glowing like emeralds and sparkling even more than the simulacra of a gem between her fingers. “What do you think? Is this a good color?”
It took a moment for Melissa to process, staring deep into Zel’s eyes as her neighbor smiled back at her. When she did, she cleared her throat and spluttered out, “Y-yes, that’s a good one. Unless you want to make it… green instead? Might help it stand out more since this is for an ice pea which is already pretty blue…”
“You’re right!” Zel smiled and dug back into her bag. “Green would be a good pairing, give a little bit of extra pop while still keeping the cool color palette!”
Melissa continued watching, her own smile growing as Zel lapsed into a half-mumbled, half-exclaimed out-loud ponderance of the best complementary colors with an ice-themed magical girl peashooter. After a minute or so, a green crystal was pulled out and placed in the center of the ribbon.
“Alright, what do you think? Does this-?”
Knock knock.
The garden, the birds, and Melissa’s heart grew still.
Zel curiously peered over to the door, Pearson following her gaze after slapping away the trailing ends of the ribbon again. “Huh. Melissa, is that the delivery plants?”
Melissa opened her mouth, the lingering taste of salt suddenly doubling. “I… don’t know.”
“Are you alright with getting the door? I would but, uh,” Zel gestured helplessly at the piles of fabric a light push from burying the floor and chuckled. “I might’ve penned myself in here.”
Melissa nodded, joints stiff and unwilling. Her throat convulsed, and she tried to… say something. Something different.
There was something wrong.
There shouldn’t be anyone at the door.
There was no reason to get the door.
She already knew who they were.
“Yeah, sure,” Melissa said instead.
In a blink her feet went from kitchen tile to the scratched ones of the foyer, and before she could protest her hand was on the knob, warm and getting warmer.
…She shouldn’t open the door.
Why was she here?
There was no one at the door.
THEY were at the door.
The knob grew warmer, and Melissa shuddered. Her breath hitched as her hand clenched on the knob and turned it, slowly and slowly.
“No.”
Her other hand grabbed at the guilty one, and she grabbed her own wrist tight enough to draw blood.
“No.”
It turned, slower and slower but still opening.
“Please. Don’t make me do this,” Melissa whimpered.
But she still, despite everything turned the knob-
And
Opened
The
Door.
…
There was no one there. Melissa stared dumbly into an empty street, a row of the closest Plants turning curiously to see why their human was opening the door when they said they’d be staying in today. Melissa would’ve flushed in embarrassment as their Bonk Choys raised their eyebrows and Red Stingers whispered to each other if she weren’t shocked still.
“...oh… there’s no one here…”
Melissa laughed, a thin reedy sound. “There was no one there!”
Melissa practically slammed the door shut and laughed again, more joyfully. “Cripes, I think someone pranked us Zel!”
Oh Solaria, she really was too jumpy sometimes. Zel probably had a point about her stressing herself out too much, acting like there were zombies around every corner. But, as Melissa reminded herself as she ruefully flicked a stray strand of hair away from her face, this was the apocalypse.
She turned around. “Sorry about all that Zel, it was just-”
There was no one there. The couch was empty, devoid of fabrics and sewing equipment and glittering gemstones. There was no sign of life, Plant or human.
Melissa’s blood ran cold. “...Zel?”
Her heart stuttered as the lights flickered, and then-
Vssssh!
-went out.
Somehow, the sun had already gone dark, hours passing-
Was it really hours?
-into a pitch black night.
Melissa suppressed a scream of surprise and darted for the dining room, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Just as she’d been drilled she darted under the table, chairs screeching aside as she curled up beneath. Her hands darted for her pockets, for the phone inside them.
But there was nothing inside her pockets.
“No, no no no I know I had it, where is it?” She hissed, patting herself down as her hands shook. She knew she’d had it in her pants pocket earlier when she’d rolled out of bed and put it there, so where could it have gone?
And… why didn’t she have any pockets? Hadn’t she been wearing jeans when they came?
Melissa froze when something darted across her sightline. She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath.
Maybe… if she couldn’t see, she could use her other senses?
Melissa crawled forward slowly, and strained herself for any hing of the intruder in the house.
She could hear pattering sounds, light roots and feet darting on the darkened floors. She could smell burning ozone and sweet copper. She could taste hot, burning fluid coating her tongue and sliding down her throat and making her want to vomit.
She could feel thin, sparking pea vines squeezing around her throat.
“_________________________!”
Melissa screamed and shot out from her false shelter, stumbling as electrical shocks ripped through her upper arm and neck in the scant few moments they retained contact. She plunged forward, charging toward where the front door should have been.
But it was dark, so dark, and Melissa flailed forward in a direction she couldn’t even recognize. Out of the corner of her eye she could see more snaking, pale blue vines creeping along the wall, luminescent with electrical power. With their faint glow Melissa could just barely see in the wake of her feet pearly white teeth and needles, growing up and up from the ground.
“Oh sun, oh Solaria, oh god,” Melissa whispered, breath hissing out thin and desperate between her teeth.
What was happening?
Why was this happening?
Would they have come in like this anyway even if she’d just left the damn door shut?
She ran, and she ran, and she ran as the crackle of sparks, the edge of teeth, the gleaming points all reaching for her grew closer and closer and her house warped longer and longer until it was all a long corridor, her front line empty of light.
Melissa didn’t want to die.
She didn’t want to die.
But there was nothing before her. There was nothing after. There was just the teeth, and the static, and those creeping roots and pretty lies and empty cold and the feeling of dying and dying and dying and dying and dying
And dying
And dying
And dying-
Something caught her ankle, and Melissa screamed as she was ripped off her feet and somewhere else. The hallway turned sideways, and then she was abruptly no longer in it but beside it. There was a roar as teeth and vines ripped through where she’d been a few moments ago, ripping through for what felt like eternity.
But it wasn’t an eternity, thankfully. The smells of ozone and copper faded as did the roar of their passage, swift and vicious. As Melissa panted and tried to move, she became aware of… different smells. Different sounds.
Of something lukewarm and ragged scrunched up around her, bony things shifting to squeeze against her clumsily with thin prodding fingers and jagged joints. Fetid breath filled up the space, as a quiet, continual groan filled her ears.
Melissa knew this smell. Everyone knew this smell, and feared the sound of them.
It smelled of rotting meat, of dead and dying things.
Corpses.
She didn’t want to die.
Melissa thrashed in place, heart still beating and every part screaming. But the undead didn’t yield. It curled about her, violet fog coloring her vision and letting her see just barely see myriad shades of pallid gray skin pulled taut underneath tattered fabric, green and brown and worn-out gold.
Thin nails scraped against her skin, the shuddering rasp of breath escaping hole-filled lungs almost curious as it and they and others prodded curiously at the warm, wriggling thing to come into their midst. Melissa whimpered as she tried to curl up. But piercing static, pain of any sort, didn’t come.
Melissa’s thrashing slowed, and then she calmed. Was it… not hurting her?
The bony limbs squeezed, tight, then loose, adjusting until she was… comfortable. From the fog, Melissa could just barely see something blink. Amidst translucent violet eddying in and out, faint sparks of lime green, gray, and dull purple looked down at her.
Melissa squinted up, wishing that there was a light of some kind so she could see what sort of warped monstrosity of a zombie was packed in here with her. But, even as her heart still pattered in frantic staccato her gut settled.
“---------------------?”
A dull wall of meaningless noise hit her ears, but Melissa understood. She took a breath, coughed, then breathed again more carefully. They both relaxed as Melissa brought her breathing under control, the drum-drum-drum of her heartbeat slowing. .
Melissa could still hear them roaring, burning and tearing and howling in rage, but they couldn’t reach here. She moved around, and in practiced motion moved her arms around it. She felt old, worn fabric, hand-made stitching, the bones pressing against lukewarm skin that grew just a little bit rosier as she squeezed back.
She breathed. Again, and again, cold and numb, but alive.
“-----------!” It chirped, voice simultaneously a grotesque rattle and an almost derpy honk as the air was squished out of them.
It was dead, and starving with their ribs threatening to be their outsides. It could just as easily reach down and snap her neck if it so pleased. Melissa could tell it had every chance to, but it didn’t.
It just hugged her back, and hummed.
It was… nice.
Melissa liked this.
She was… safe.
…
…
She liked not being alone.
She’d been so tired of being alone.
…
Melissa closed her eyes, and-
…
Melissa blinked, a pattern of lights dappled across her face. She groaned and shielded her eyes immediately.
Solaria, my head… what happened?
Was I dreaming?
…Did I-?
“Meh-lissa? You okay?”
The moment she heard that familiar, raspy question, Melissa gasped and threw herself up, and over, and onto the lukewarm zombie that’d been sitting next to her.
“Ohmysun, Zach?” Melissa squeezed, scratchy fabric and stitches itching her arms. Her voice shook. “Zach, is that you?”
After a beat, Zach said, “Yeh, it-!”
“ZACH!”
Melissa squealed as she squeezed the zombie soldier tight enough to make him wheeze. Any remaining tiredness she had was swept away in a wave of warmth and sheer joy, expelling itself as Melissa laughed out loud.
“Oh sun, you’re okay!” Melissa blubbered. “You’re really okay! You’re here!”
And for as long as she continued holding onto him, she was okay. So she did, breathing hard and simply being there, as Zachary wrapped his arms around her in return.
After a long beat, Melissa blinked again and finally took in her surroundings. She was surprised to see they were back in her house rather than in the woods, sitting comfortably on the couch while the TV blared an old ACIS episode, empty cartons of the pre-made dinners sitting on the coffee table. Then her eyes alighted onto the red elephant in the room, as he twiddled his fingers before pulling them apart to wave.
“Hai. Um, hope you okay if I here Meh-lissa,” Cleatus said.
Melissa stared, and slowly drawled out, “Cleatus? You’re here too…?”
Memory suddenly rushed back in, and she gasped. “Oh soil, Dreadwood! What happened?! I remember Leslie, and a big explosion, and then…”
Then you got drugged, her brain snidely supplied as she took in the uncomfortable grimaces that took over the two zombie’s faces. Zachary rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Okie, let me give short story. Juzt the short story! It been long day.”
The soldier shifted, letting Melissa scooch back into the couch cushions and relax on them. He cleared his throat. “Okie, zo basically after Plant try door trap I go beat up Dreadwood. Izzy come by with other friend named Zivie-”
“The Z-Mech AI you mean?” Melissa asked.
“AI-? Oooh, me sees!” Zach nodded, realization dawning on his face. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Izzy and Zivie come by while I fights, and while they help beat up Dreadwood and Dreadroots they tell me crazy stuff like they know you human but wanna help! Me very confused, but we finish fight epically and we look for you. But as it zeem, Izzy forgot to mention other very important thing becuz… well…”
Zach trailed off. “Hm. I think you might know thiz part.”
Melissa chewed the inside of her cheek as she processed, her heart sinking. She finally said, “I… assume you managed to get Leslie to not take me to… ‘processing’, right?”
Zach nodded, but the joy in his eyes was gone. His pupils stared off in separate directions, both vacant. “We talk and… have disagreement. He agree to not take you for brain eating, but I think we… um… not going to be eating burger next month.”
“I… sun, I’m sorry,” Melissa said, a swell of cold running through her. “I-”
“It not your fault,” Zach said firmly. “It… me should know. But it okay. I… I sure Lezlie can handle himzelf. He… just need time.”
Zach smiled wanly. “But this important. Are you okay?”
“I…” Melissa hesitated, then nodded with a small uptilt of her lips. “Yeah. I think I am now. But sweet Dave I am so damn tired.”
Even after her unconsenting nap her muscles were more than happy to re-inform her that she had done more walking, jumping, running, and physical motion than she ever did in a week and she was most certainly going to be feeling this in the morning and into the weekend. Just lying back in the cushions just made Melissa want to press her head back into the couch and fall asleep again, as boneless as an amoeba.
Zach and Cleatus both stared as she slumped back and groaned in exhaustion, understanding on their faces. The foot soldier in particular had a small frown as he looked at her, but before she could question what it was he shook his head. “Well, you good to rest now. You safe here.”
Zachary reached over to the pile of empty, chewed-up meal boxes (most likely courtesy of the two zombies), and to her surprise pulled out one that hadn’t been pulverized. Zach peeled off the plastic, stuck in a serving spoon, and passed it over to her. “Here. It non-brain mac and cheese from your fridge! Should be cool off for you to eats, so you eat it and get healthy again.”
It was in fact at the right balance of still-warm but not too hot to hold as she took it in her hands and surveyed the expanse of curved noodles and golden melted maybe-cheese. With her knees as a table, Melissa propped herself up and took an oversized scoop. She took a bite and it was about as one would expect from a microwave meal - but at this moment, as her stomach rumbled in pleasure, it tasted like pure gold.
Melissa gave a small smile, and said, “Thank you. I needed that.”
The glow in Zach’s eye could’ve powered all of Neighborville, and the soldier preened. Cheer seemingly restored, he quickly moved about to plop himself right next to her, his shoulder bumping against her own, and smacked the open space just to his other side. “Cleatus, sitz closer! We watches TV while Meh-lissa eats!”
“Oh, okay!” Cleatus quickly moved, and sat where he’d been indicated to. The couch creaked under their weight, and as Melissa took another big, ponderous bite of mac the zombies leaned forward and gazed wide-eyed as a new episode of ACIS started.
“So… uh, Meh-lissa. Zach say this your favorite show?” Cleatus asked as the scene started on a cold open of a dreary parking garage, suspicious men in trench coats whisking through the dark.
Melissa nodded, mouth full. She swallowed and more properly replied, “Yeah. Normally I just turn on shows and run them for background noise, but ACIS is a good show to sit down and watch when I have the time.”
Cleatus grinned a little. “It look cool! Not see anything elze like it on zombie TV. I, uh, don’t get what it about though.”
Melissa rplied, “It’s a crime solving drama show. I mostly watch it for the mystery instead of the office drama, but the main characters are pretty well written in the early seasons.”
Zach nodded in assent. “They solve mystery like Brainlock Holmes! They look at stuff like fingerprintz, footprints, digital prints to solve human crime! Unfortunately, they do not have magnifying glasses like actual detectives.”
“I… well, it really isn’t that kind of show,” Melissa sighed. She ate another bite, and asked, “So, you said you don’t have this kind of show on zombie television. How different are the two?”
“Kinda same, kinda different,” Cleatus shrugged. “Zombie channels have lot of show, but with zombie. Z-Corp have news and reality stuff, Zocumentary has lots of Zomboss shows and other famous zombie people, they have some zombie film like Sherlock Brainz and this other show I started watching before woods thing called Zom-ichi-”
“Ugh, don’t mention that dude,” Zachary rolled his eyes. “I don’t get why ZBC replay so many of his show.”
“Wha? What you talk about, Zom-ichi is cool samurai, that not bad thing!” Cleatus gawked.
“Eh, aesthetic is cool but it have no substance,” Zachary sighed. “There barely any fight scene, all the emotion scene feel very empty and contrive. Show make no sense for such cool thing!”
“But it got so many reruns!” Cleatus protested.
“Bleh. ZBC almost always dump all their brain supply in toilet instead of fridge when they decide what show to run. They keep underbaked Zom-ichi show and cancel the Heroes cartoon adaptation. Makez NO senze!”
Melissa listened to the two zombies bicker with one another, slowly eating her macaroni and sinking further into worn downy upholstery. It was warm, comfy, and the house was full of more noise than she would’ve imagined.
Melissa didn’t think she’d feel this warm in a while.
She… didn’t really want to think about the day. About the stress, the running, and…
Leslie.
What did I miss? And… I didn’t tell Zach about our… fight before, did I?
Melissa’s bite of macaroni grew sour in her mouth, but she swallowed and took a deep breath.
Melissa, don’t spiral again.
You’re home, Zach’s here, and with Cleatus! Despite everything, you’re safe and sound.
You can’t forget about what happened today – and you are definitely having nightmares about camping and hiking after this – but you don’t have to think about that now.
If you need to talk with Zach about the everything that happened, you can do it tomorrow.
For now… just breathe.
And Melissa did, warm cheese and dust and rotting meat mingling in a not pleasant but comforting reminder.
…
“...hey, Zach. When did I start wearing a jersey?”
…
If anyone was around, perhaps they would’ve seen Leslie’s form fall to his knees as soon as his body came out of the lightshow that was a medium-distance base teleport, body shaking as he stared at his hands. They would’ve seen him panting, hard and fast as if he’d been running from the yawning maw of Chompzilla herself or perhaps even hell.
Why?
Why?
They would’ve heard him mutter incoherent words to himself, his trembling hands clenching hard enough for the nails to nearly break his latex gloves and pierce into flesh, something sickly-sour curling through him as he forced his eyes to not weep.
Why?
And perhaps, if they’d looked close enough they’d see the inside bottom of his goggle lens’ fog anyways, gray sclera crumbling unto themselves.
WHY?
But there was no one to watch him, and no one to witness the scientist weep for the first time since the first Garden War.
And it was so that, several minutes after teleportation Doctor Leslie Ate strode through the factory doors, and did nothing to repress his scowl at the cluster of cultist zombies cowering away from him.
He scowled even more deeply at the vwoosh of teleportation in another room, and then the clattering footsteps of metal feet as a Z-Mech strolled in with a tiny pigtailed imp perched on its shoulder and a bright red sports Dummy under their arm. The moment the shining spotlight of red entered the factory’s focus, every Dummy-costumed zombie seemingly spawned from thin air and crowded every inch of space… and conspicuously leaving a radius of bare earth around a glowering Leslie and the actual mech.
“Well, I see you’ve delivered the package now, hm?” Leslie drawled.
Izzy smirked and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I did! Not for you though.”
Leslie opened his mouth, a sharp retort already on his tongue as the irritating imp grinned down at him. It was extinguished for less visceral but still scathing disdain when Tim squeezed his way through the caterwauling crowd, eyes wide on his wrinkled face.
“Oh, you’ve done it? You… you bring back Dummy?!” The braindead ex-Wizard gasped.
Izzy chirped out, “Yup!” while Leslie grumbled, “Unfortunately.”
With little flourish, Dummy was placed down on the floor before a crowd of gawking cultists and was promptly surrounded. Dozens of hands reached out, almost in disbelief, and a reverent hum came from them as Tim went around Dummy, staff tap-tapping and the foam finger on top wag-wagging.
“Dummy, that you? That really, really you?” Tim rasped.
The dummy expectedly didn’t do anything, but Tim reacted a moment later as if the outdated hunk of All-Star ability tech had said something, throwing up his hands and staff and yelling, “HE’S BACK!”
The ex-workers all cheered, and before Leslie and Izzy’s bewildered stares began… well.
Leslie had never really been interested in sociological studies in human societal things such as religion like some of his compatriots. But from what little he remembered from the very few, very sleep-inducing lectures he’d gotten from him, the best way to describe what he was seeing was a horribly butchered version of something called “Mass”.
At least, if one was very very generous and compared the vacant silence of the Dummy Shield to a priest delivering a “sermon,” and the crowd of Dummy Cultists all smacking themselves on the head chanting, “BEGONE THE SMART! BEGONE THE SMART!” and “HAIL DUMMY!” as appropriate forms of prayer.
The only one who paused their deranged revelry for even a moment was Tim, who stumbled closer to be heard above the ravening crowd. “Thank you, thank you scary scientist and imp and other zombies that aren’t important and not here! Now that Dummy is back, we can finally return to blissful dumbness! I can feel the dumbness returning even as we speak!”
Leslie could actually see the spark of sapience in the zombie’s eyes dulling to the same glazed, stuporific state of a Browncoat’s (and probably lower). His voice suddenly also became high pitched, and more drunkenly Tim drawled, “Like, that’s super sweet. Like, you still kinda suck and, like, totally aren’t welcome here but, like, I guess you are not totally a stinker.”
“...Right,” Leslie squinted in disgust at Tim, who now had a string of drool growing larger and larger in the corner of his mouth and his posture getting even more hunched until he less resembled the wizened Wizard he should’ve been and more like a Jurassic Bully. “Well, I’ll leave you and your idiot squad to get permanent brain damage and devolve into amoeba.”
Leslie rolled his eyes as he left the cultists to their idiotic kowtowing, spinning on his heel and briskly walking out the beckoning front doors. “I sincerely hope we never meet again.”
“Alright girl, like, same to you, like, doc!” Tim slurred out at Leslie’s back, the teenager-like tone sounding completely wrong coming from the pipes of a elderly corpse.
Suppressing the shudder crawling up his spine, Leslie walked as far out of the factory he could, up to the edge of where the concrete broke away into swamp. The bubbling and burbling it had before was silent, devoid of the Dreadroots that had so frequented it. Leslie stared upon it, and took in a deep breath. His nose holes twitched, taking in rotting plant matter, and the acrid smell of drying goo on the end of his blaster.
In lieu of the forest’s inactivity, his own mind hissed away, even as he held his face rigid and unmoving.
Why…?
Why?
Leslie didn’t let himself twitch when the Z-Mech lumbered beside him, the imp still there and also staring out into the wreckage. Contrary to what Leslie expected, Izzy wasn’t moving to leave the factory grounds, despite her brow wrinkling at the… things the cultists were exclaiming muffled and distant behind them. Yet, she also wasn’t making any snide remarks.
And contrary to his own expectations, Leslie’s feet didn’t want to move either. Oh, there was still anger, frustration, and confusion brewing in him. Suppressed through practice it may have been, it still made his hands clench. But, for one painfully long minute the two simply took in the darkened forest, the sounds of the Dummy cult making fools of themselves behind them and the stillness of the Plant-infested forest. And as they watched the darkening forest, Leslie dared not move lest the seething emotion inside him manifest visibly through his body language or face.
As minutes passed, the imp looked down at him.
“Y’know, I’d always wondered if you had a heart under that lab coat,” Izzy remarked.
“Hm?” Leslie raised his eye ridge, turmoil momentarily pushed aside for the immediate moment.
The Z-Mech and Izzy both crossed their arms as the two regarded him. “You remember when we first met?”
“You mean when the Frontline Flats redevelopment was put on halt by Plant interference?” Leslie’s eye twitched. “Yes… and I unfortunately also remember all our other interactions. But what is the point of this conversation?”
Izzy stared down harder yet. “You always came off as a hardass being a jerk for the sake of jerkiness. And I still stand by that! But…”
The imp’s face softened, “Somehow, against all expectations, you also know Zachary, one of the nicest and most damn talented Foot Soldiers I’ve ever seen. Kudos to you for somehow hooking a bud like that.”
Leslie blinked at the surprising complement, and for a moment he faltered. A stutter slipped its way past in his weakness, and Leslie flushed as he sputtered, “I-I suppose I am lucky to be companions with him… At least, I think we’re still friends…”
He frowned to himself as the Z-Mech stepped a little closer. Izzy hummed to herself, looking up at the stars as she mused out loud. “I’m no expert on friends… but Zach’s a one-of-a-kind actual swell guy. I might’ve only known him one day, but I can tell he’s a rare sort of zombie. No faking, just genuine the whole way. The type to put his heart on his sleeve. The type you don’t wanna see hurt.”
Leslie paused, and turned with his eyes narrowed. “...What, exactly, are you insinuating?”
Izzy stared at him for one long moment, eyes unreadable.
“...I know your type, nerd. You’re so convinced that you know what’s better for other zombies than they know themselves,” Izzy said, unflinching.
Leslie bristled beneath his coat. “I don’t know what direction you’re trying to take this conversation, and frankly, I don’t care. Don’t you have a cabin to go crawling back to?”
Izzy snorted. “Good point. I guess I shouldn’t waste my breath too long. But let me at least make this clear…”
The Z-Mech’s hand shot out and clenched down hard on Leslie’s shoulder, leveling Izzy with Leslie’s eyes so she could glare at him full force.
“If you get that soldier boy hurt doing whatever it is you’re cooking up for the bucketbrain, you’re going to regret it.”
“Is that a threat?” Leslie growled, body tense as the metal fingers sent a chill down to his bones.
Izzy just chuckled sardonically. “Yes and no. I’ve a funny feeling that any way you cut it, you’ll regret it. But let it be said… I at least tried to warn you.”
The Z-Mech’s hand squeezed tighter for just a moment, enough to practically rub the metal tips of their fingers against Leslie’s shoulder blade… but then it let go. Leslie let out a growl as he rubbed the sore spot, chest burning as he glared daggers into the impudent imp and her infernal machine.
But, in her usual infuriating way, the imp seemed utterly unaffected. Izzy shot the scientist a sarcastic salute as the machine lumbered off the concrete, into the swamp, and further away. “G’night, nerd.”
Then Leslie was alone, heart pinching again as he ground together his teeth.
He didn’t press the teleportation button straight away to return back to the sanctity of the Top Zombie-only labs. The sickly, wriggling thing burrowing through his chest was still acrid and burning, too fresh to discard for him to muster the self-control to look presentable before his peers. Izzy’s words, careless and pointless as they were, had wriggled into the spot in his chest where the sickly-sour sensation had already carved itself a burrow, and Leslie just…
…couldn’t be bothered to leave. Not yet, at least.
Why?
Instead, Leslie made the short walk to the only other functional zombie left in this scrap heap of a factory, who’d seemed to have relocated themselves outside underneath one of the few functioning outdoor lights to avoid the ruckus.
Otto Do was a rare example of an Elite zombie produced so absurdly far off-template it was comical. To see a zombie with the near perfect physicality and bulk of a Super Brainz acting more like one of the overworked corporate Browncoats was peculiar, but from Leslie’s brief interactions with him Otto had clearly been been kept rather than reprocessed or decommissioned as most off-templates would for still being a decently responsible, organized zombie.
The red-super-suited VP of Tasks was even more frenetic than when the scientist had seen him days ago though. His giant hands were shivering as he white-knuckled a clipboard and pen, feverishly scribbling down what looked like a schedule on a repurposed roll sheet that was already curling on the floor in a inches-tall pile. The toothbrush the zombie favored seemed to have finally put away wherever he was normally supposed to keep it, but he’d seemed to have completely forgotten to spit out the compost-scented toothpaste foaming in his mouth. All this combined made the Super Brainz look downright rabid as opposed to merely disheveled.
Leslie genuinely pitied the poor Super Brainz VP for his attempts to assert order in the ultimate arena of chaos that was the Z-Tech factory currently, but he still approached with caution as he cleared his throat.
“I-WHO-WHA-HOW-WHAT!?” Otto spluttered at the sound, clipboard shattering into two pieces still being gripped to death in his fists as he spun around, spitting out foam. Leslie waited until the zombie’s bloodshot eyes locked onto him, and the neurotic super zombie relaxed. “Oh thank goodness, it’s only you! But this is terrible timing, I’m SWAMPED and I’m only going to get MORE SWAMPED! Did you actually bring back that Dummy thing?”
“Yes, and the factory is several Z-Mech’s short of it as a result,” Leslie muttered. Otto cocked his head in confusion, and Leslie hastily cleared his throat. “Ahem! But yes, Dummy has been returned so I am… released from the tender care of the cabal of idiots.”
“That’s great!” Otto perked up, finally loosening his hold on his poor office equipment. “I was going to hold a VERY stern lecture to the employees on their blatant disrespect of the Top Zombie position, but my schedule has been very VERY busy trying to make the factory not fall apart and it's impossible to make ANY appointments with these goons! And it’s going to be harder now that stupid Dummy is back…” Otto trailed off into a quiet growl, and this time it was the pen that cracked, splattering ink onto his paper.
Leslie cautiously backed up, and the Super Brainz straightened and cleared his throat, “No mean to offend you. You had to bring it back, so I’m not frustrated with you… mostly.”
“It’s understandable. I wish I didn’t have to do that, but that particular fire and the other pest in the woods were handled at least,” Leslie said.
“Really! Well, I guezz it is good at least that that dreadful Dreadwood is gone!” Otto chirped. “Say, while I was trying to book appointments I saw you doing task things with a couple of zombies. Did you actually get some cultists to help you?”
A stab of cold went through Leslie at the innocent-enough question. He swallowed and hastily replied, “Yes! Yes I… miraculously did. Unfortunately, it slipped my mind to ask their full designations and they… slipped away once the deed was done.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. Your paperwork will not be right!” Otto frowned in disappointment. “As if there is not already CHAOS! Practically every cultist flushed their IDs down the company toilets. I can’t properly register anyone for transfers or appointments! NO ONE EVER REMEMBERS TO CHECK BOX FOR THE GENERATOR MAINTENANCE!"
“It is a shame. But I have a good enough record, I can get away with slightly sub-par paperwork once,” Leslie shrugged. “I just should apologize for making your task a bit more onerous.”
Otto sighed. “No, no, you’re a Top Zombie and you have very important things to do. One slightly incomplete paperwork is NOT the end of the factory. You’re fine. At least you’re not like THEM!”
Leslie looked up at the brick facade of the factory, and snorted. “Thankfully. It’ll be a cold day in the grave if I ever let myself drop an inch to their levels of idiocy.”
Leslie smiled, and he ventured closer to pat Otto’s shoulder. “Well, I do believe I have to leave you here for now, unless you wanted to come back with me? I’m sure we can throw together a quick office where you can more properly handle what documentation you’ve been able to maintain.”
“Very kind of you to offer sir! But no, I must stay at my post!” Otto declared. He then tilted his head in curiosity. “What will you be doing though?”
Leslie gave a small, polite smile. “As soon as I get back to my lab proper, and some sleep, I can call in one of Z-Tech’s intervention squads to start clean-up on the factory and see what can be saved from this particular mess. I’ll also be sure to call in one of Commander Iconzo’s specialized squadrons to help with the… Dummys.”
A cruel grin momentarily twisted Leslie’s lipless mouth. “I’m sure you can stretch Hypno resistance therapy to cult deprogramming, with enough creativity.”
“Oh, much appreciated Dr. Ate!” Otto exclaimed, a malicious gleam of his own shining in his glassy orbs. “I shall return to my duty, and I sincerely hope to see backup to FINALLY put this factory back to rights!”
“Indeed,” Leslie hummed, mind drifting further and further from the matter of the factory as he turned away, “Indeed, VP. Good night.”
Leslie’s head hurt less as he strolled off to a relatively private corner of the factory exterior, and once Otto was out of sight he pinched his nose and sighed deeply, lungs rattling with the great gusty exhalation.
Being able to assert some form of planning eased the seething turmoil he was suffering more, but the thoughts… the ones he was trying to not think about too much, still remained. And, without any other immediate tasks Leslie could think of on the spot, they returned with a quieter, but no less vicious vengeance.
And, with all distractions truly exhausted, Leslie took a breath and finally faced the facts.
Why?
Why indeed?
He reached into his coat and pulled out the Brain Drain needle, plunger still stuck half-way with whichever part of it was broken and the fluid half-drained. If he squinted, Leslie imagined he could see the telltale red still on its point, dried into a crimson sheen.
Leslie stared at it for a long while, noise echoing between his ears as he beheld the deceptively simple device.
Why did you do it, Zachary?
Leslie had known his friend for years. Fought with him, patched his wounds, been there to comfort him after the first war when their first squadron had… their disagreement. Surely, Leslie would’ve noticed if his dearest, oldest friend had been turning into a human sympathizer of some degree, right?
True, maybe Leslie had been starting to miss more of their monthly meetings with projects running over deadlines, and managing the circus that was the Z-Tech factory on the edge of Zomburbia the Plants loved turning into a skirmish ground, but he knew Zachary better than anyone!
So, how could he have missed this?
Memories from today flashed back through his head. Then, recollections even further back, stretching as much as they could in search of clues, any clue, that something like this could’ve happened. That Leslie had seen some hint that Melissa had… had… had wormed her way into Zach’s heart!
But he came up with nothing, nothing except the wide and terrified eyes of a human crawling on the ground whispering apologies, and lime green eyes glassy with shock and… betrayal.
A sour taste curdled on Leslie’s tongue.
Zachary was in the wrong, wasn’t he? But then… Leslie grimaced as a pang of pain shot through his head.
His heart, bleeding and screaming that it suddenly was, insisted that his first conclusions that Melissa was some form of spy was the most likely one. But given the facts, logic had been slowly and persistently putting together the pieces.
And…
Leslie was a distinguished scientist who shouldn’t still be putting stock into gut feelings, but in this instance he couldn’t shake it. No matter what, Zachary was still loyal to the zombies. He had to be. He wasn’t one of those rare traitorous, plant-hugging and boot-licking undead cowards, like the dishonored zombie clan from the Hypothermic Hollows, or the long-decommissioned Squadron Zeta originally stationed on Moon Base Z.
Zachary had still slain Dreadwood, still done his tasks with his usual zeal and no hesitation. And… loathe as Leslie was to admit it, the human had helped. Whimper and hew and haw as she did, she had still lifted her weapon to vanquish those weeds, and…
-a bucket-helmed head hunched over the pathetically wriggling sunflower, mouth open in a continual scream as she ripped and tore and ripped and tore-
- “YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM! GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” -
...Leslie sighed and pinched his brows, the pang of a headache hitting him.
What a mess.
Surely, the two of them were aware that they couldn’t keep chumming together without someone noticing, right? If Leslie could figure it out (give or take how clumsily as he’d put together the pieces), then what would stop someone else from finding out?
…No. No no, that wouldn’t do.
Leslie’s brows pinched, and finally the seething and sickly-sour burning sharpened into something controlled, focused.
Leslie didn’t have a clue how he’d begin to tackle a problem this delicate and volatile. Clearly, there was already a clock ticking, invisible and its final destination mostly unknown, but clearly inevitable if the scientist did nothing. But he wasn’t new to unusual situations.
The needle glinted in his hand, and Leslie’s eyes darkened.
He needed information. Research. Calculations. He needed to plan.
Dearest Zachary…
I will think of a solution to this corner you’re insisting on painting yourself into.
I’ll be sure to keep you safe, friend.
The scientist gripped the needle tighter, until the glass cracked and Brain Drain covered his gloves.
I will make sure of it.
No matter what must be done.