Jayson

Every zombie apocalypse had its own set of rules. Zombieland had dozens of them, including keeping up with cardio. World War Z introduced sprinters. Resident Evil was full of the biggest jump scares in history. In the Walking Dead, everyone already carried the disease. Books just made up their own shit.

Zombies caused by soap was absurd. Who knew Taylor would end up being the Soap Prophet? Jayson just liked to mess with him. There was no way any of them would live this down.

Jayson slammed a magazine into his Heckler & Koch .45 and inspected the chamber. He worried about giving Taylor a weapon, but it would save his life in a pinch if Jayson missed with his semiautomatic. He really hoped he didn't miss.

He'd just finished loading the back seat of the cab with every firearm he owned and spare ammunition just as Taylor walked into the garage. He arched a dark eyebrow. "Uh... I'm not sure how I feel about this..."

Jayson met his friend's uncertain blue eyes. "Look, with you driving, you're going to need a weapon. We've already seen what Loki was capable of. Imagine people trying to tear your face off."

Taylor cringed and wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather not..."

He tried a different tactic. "What about survival? What about Monica?"

Taylor's mouth curved downward as he shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, like he always did when he was distressed. Jayson knew he'd struck a chord when his friend started running his fingers up and down the length of his forearms.

He didn't make eye contact as he murmured, "You're right. I just... hate violence. I know they're dead and trying to eat our brains, but they were people once. It just doesn't feel right."

Jayson sighed and carefully placed the .45 in Taylor's hand. His friend recoiled and clenched his jaw, but clung to the grip. "Keep it next to you at all times. If a Soapie gets near you, aim for the head and pull the trigger. No hesitation."

Taylor nodded and flicked his eyes toward the contents in the back. "Besides the scary arsenal, what's with the empty duffel bag?"

Jayson looked at the olive military duffel bag, worn from his time in the Army. His stenciled name and last four of his social were barely discernable after countless washes. The familiar bag was comforting in his unknown world of chaos.

"Monica said she was trapped in a pharmacy. Besides food and water, you never know what medications we'll need. I want to have everything we need before we leave. Once we're out of Phoenix, we're on our own."

"What about Eric and Jeannie? Reception is still spotty. Shouldn't we wait for them?"

"Of course, but we can only wait twenty-four hours. We're already compromised with Loki's remains scattered across your room."

The look in Taylor's eyes made Jayson feel like such an asshole. Even he had misgivings about potentially leaving his friends behind-part of the Soldier's Creed was to never leave a fallen comrade. The thought of leaving his friends behind to die sickened him, yet another part of the Soldier's Creed was to always place the mission first. Their mission was to rescue Monica, get supplies, and survive.

It was a crummy situation all around.

Taylor sucked in a sharp breath. He had to be one of the most loyal people Jayson knew, and he'd do anything for his friends. What worried Jayson was the mental toll this would take on him. He was innocent and good, but he also had no survival skills or the ability to adapt well to change.

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Taylor. "Let's go. Just focus on driving. I'll get us through the rest, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled, not sounding entirely convinced.

If Jayson was being honest, he didn't believe they'd come out alive either.

***

"We've got incoming Soapies," Taylor said through Jayson's earpiece.

"I see 'em. Keep driving, I'll pick them off. Don't be afraid to step on the gas and run them over."

When they'd pulled out of the garage, Jayson was already standing in the back of the truck, propping his rifle against the hood of the truck as he watched for signs of trouble. Everyone in their cul-de-sac had either already attempted to leave town, or they'd gone to work for the day. Thankfully, his and Monica's drugstore was less than a mile away, making it somewhat easier to get down the street. The major highways were what would be scary later.

Taylor did as he was told, speeding up enough that Jayson had to brace his feet against the bed of the truck when it jerked. Once he regained his footing, he rested his cheek against the buttstock and pressed the rifle into his shoulder, taking steady breaths as he set his sights on the Soapies ahead of them. The group was reasonably large, numbering a little over a dozen, but it was nothing Jayson couldn't pick off. So far, they hadn't noticed the duo.

He breathed. In. Out. In. Out.

His finger lightly rested on the trigger, squeezing just enough that the shot wouldn't jerk to the left or right. The pushback and all-too-familiar pop brought him back to his time in Afghanistan, and the Soapie dropped.

The truck jerked, sending Jayson crashing to his knees on the bed of the truck. "Damnit, Taylor, keep it steady!"

"Sorry! I've never heard a gun go off!"

Jayson ignored the throbbing in his knees as he tried to stand when the truck made contact, sending a Soapie sailing over Jayson's head as Taylor grunted through the earpiece. He watched in sick fascination as the zombie flew in a perfect, slow-motion arc before clashing with the asphalt and rolling.

"Nice! Keep going, we're almost there!" he shouted, reclaiming his position and firing off several rounds, dropping his targets in rapid succession as Taylor ran over several others.

The truck bounced heavily over the bodies with a thump, and Jayson wondered if it would have been a better idea to jerry-rig a harness or to have bought the sunroof upgrade.

Too late now. All he could do was hope he didn't fall out.

Just as they pulled into the parking lot, Queen's 'Don't Stop Me Now' blared through his earpiece and the parking lot. Soapies from all over turned toward the source of the noise.

Jayson gritted his teeth at the feedback. "What are you doing?"

"Soapie bowling. You get to shoot, I get to bowl," he chirped as if it should have been obvious.

"What's with the music?" he asked, firing off another set of rounds at the oncoming swarm.

"I need a distraction and sound seems to attract their attention. Now shut up and shoot a Soapie so I can concentrate."

Jayson laughed as Taylor spun circles around the lot, picking up speed as he slammed into one Soapie after another, singing as he went.

"Don't stop me now...I'm havin' such a good time. I'm havin' a ball..."

He sang along, "Don't stop me now..." Pop! "Don't stop me now..." Pop!

"Cause I'm havin' a good time, and I don't wanna stop at all..." they sang together, snickering as they went.

One of the remaining Soapies landed in the bed, snarling and clawing at Jayson's jeans.

"Shit!"

He spun around and twirled his rifle in one hand like a golf club, twisting the Soapie's neck with a crack.

"What's going on?"

Jayson unsheathed a ten-inch hunting knife from his belt and plunged it into his assailant's forehead. "Oh, you know, stabbing Soapies. Nothing to see back here-Oof!"

They rolled over another body, and Jayson nearly went over the side, coming precariously close to becoming a human breakfast scramble. It was a strain to brace himself as the truck careened in another dizzying circle. The next turn threw Jayson backward against the side.

The pain was real, and Taylor's driving sucked, but at least they were alive. He could be a hypocrite and criticize him later. The last thing Taylor needed was to shut down under stress.

"How many more do we have?" Jayson asked.

The music died and Taylor slowed down, taking them around the back where the drive-through was located. "We're all done for now. Let's just try to get her out without attracting any more company."

"Sounds like a plan," Jayson groaned, dabbing at the bump on his head. A quick assessment of his leg only showed a tear in his jeans, but no broken skin. Thank God for small favors.

The front door slammed, and Taylor ran to open the tailgate. He pulled his shirt over his nose. "Ugh! You alright?"

Two Taylors swam into Jayson's vision and his voice sounded off as he attempted to stand, only to fall back down. Taylor hauled himself up and pushed against the Soapie with the toe of his shoe. Jayson snort-laughed. "If you want to shove his ass out, you're gonna have to actually use your hands."

"Ew. I'm worried about leaving you out here like this. I'm gonna knock on the window, okay?"

"Sure," he slurred. "I wasn't bitten," he drawled. "Just so you know..."

Taylor froze, giving Jayson a more thorough inspection. "Oh, I figured you'd have said something," he said sheepishly.

"Zom—Soapie Survival 101, question everything."

Taylor released an exasperated breath. "I'm sorry if I'm not as skilled at surviving the apocalypse as you are, Rambo. At least I'm trying."

Crap. Taylor had tried, and he'd kept them alive. "Dude, I'm sorry. It's been a rough morning. You did great."

"Yeah, whatever, man. Let's hurry up and get Monica. I don't like being out in the open."

Taylor hopped down and ran up to the drive-through window, banging on it in a pattern. Maybe he had some skills after all. Anyone would know that wasn't a zombie knock.

"Monica, open up! It's us!"

When no one answered, Taylor knocked again with the same pattern and called out a little louder. "Monica!"

Jayson heard the truck door slam and felt the truck shift under Taylor's weight. "Jayson, see if you can close the tailgate," he said through the earpiece. "I'm trying to text Monica in case she can't hear us through the window."

Jayson groaned. "We're gonna have to go inside."

Taylor cursed. "You can barely stand and I'm not as confident as you with a firearm..."

"You've got this. Just aim and pull the trigger."

"I-"

"Taylor. You can do this." Jayson wasn't sure how true that was but he wanted to believe in him. He just needed a boost.

"I can't," he whispered. "My only talent is finding high-end soap. They'll probably sniff me out by my sweet scent alone."

Jayson couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "You're stronger than you know. You just have to believe in yourself."

Taylor sighed loudly over the earpiece. "Alright. I'll park right next to the door. Get inside the truck and lock the door. I don't want you out in the open."

Jayson's head swam as the truck rumbled to life and moved again. He prayed he wasn't sending Taylor to a premature death.

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