…

"Whoever invented large metal doors hates me." Echoed from the other side of the room.

The aforementioned door briefly creaked and then slammed gracelessly. My instincts directed me to the sound before I even thought about it. Although I was obviously not alone, the darkness mostly obscured my company.

My plate of food was mid-assembly when I locked into the faceless guest who entered my space. Although the restroom was amply propped open, light showered only in my direction, while the unknown company I had experienced a drought of light. My attention left the light and the food I was cooking.

Between either of us, the only sound made was her heels clicking across the stone tiles. Then she stopped for a moment. A series of echoing, booming sounds followed by a series of elaborate lamps from above lighting up, starting from her and ending with me. Needless to say, I think she found the lights. And despite the reveal, I still couldn't see from that distance, so all I saw was a pink, white, and black fuzzy blob approaching me casually.

Instead of aiming for me, she reached up and plopped down on a stool in a clear but distant view, balling up her hands as if I were being commanded to put a fork in one and a knife in the other.

"And you're not going to give me some?" She asked.

"What?" was the only tangible thought left I was able to articulate.

The spitting sound of the chicken sizzling behind me began to take precedence in my focus again. What lured me away from responding to them was the savory permeating smell of the abundant seasoning I gave the chicken. If she said anything after that point, I didn't hear her. I flipped what I had, and added it to complete the dinner meal. I turned the stove off delicately, with what little awareness of reality I had left.

As I sat across from her, she ran off her seat and scuttled to make a plate for herself. As she ran to the other side, her shoes squeaked, and she nearly slipped and fell. It was as if she waltzed from one end of the storage area to the next. I dug in, finally, with a proper meal to accommodate my condition. There were small fruits, leafy vegetables, root vegetables like parsnips, various salted meats, and dairy. I only got a few bites in, as well as a brief rumination on the vast array of stocked goods until she came back. Her plate of food slid in my direction and nearly fell off the table.

She stretched to the fullest extent she possibly could. "Ugh, this was going to be an in and out trip, but I guess I'll have to stay and entertain you," She gave an extremely toothy grin while squinting a little.

I began to try and say something, but she followed up with a muffled laugh. I felt like I looked visibly dead, but energy started to come back to me. Whether it was the proper nutrition I had or something else, something broke the crust from my dried-up post-sobbing face.

"Well, I'm so sorry to be so boring that I have to waste all of your precious time," I said with a snarky tone.

"Yeah, now I'm going to be stuck learning what kind of awfully boring person you are. I'm Rebecca, by the way." She made a heart symbol with her fingers.

"Call me Ishmael. I don't really live here. I don't really know where I am or what this place is." I said sternly.

"You're in the City." She interrupted me.

"Yes, I think I know that much. But like, I don't know, like, what exactly is in the City, because I haven't lived here before. Like, I'm not a long-term resident or anything." I used my hands to talk as well, placing them forward and opening my posture.

"Do you really not know? I don't think I've ever met anyone who isn't from here. This is a really new experience for me - what is it like?" She tilted her head for a moment to grin again.

"What, taking residence in a world I've not accustomed to, or what life was like before I arrived at the City?" I asked, gaining volume and mental clarity.

"Yes." She said before I could finish.

I thought for a minute, becoming wide-eyed and still feeling the searing feeling of my eyes recently so salty. I hummed thoughtlessly as I collected an answer from my memories.

"Life here has been alright. I feel like there's been a lot of customs and etiquette other residents have instincts for that I don't. On the other hand, I wish I could tell you about where I'm from, but I don't really know that myself. I'm aware of a forest near the City, but I can't recall anything before it." I explained.

"I might've seen that forest before. I don't really know the name of it but I'm sure it must've been a nice place to live." She nodded and grinned again.

"I think I'm a bit cleaner than to have lived in a forest," I tried to cut in.

"Stinky. Stinky. Forest creature stinky," She taunted me.

I went back to my dinner. The blood red lining of my eyes made up the most of my expression from her view, where my only eye contact from my drooping face is the viciously ghoulish, bugged out glare I could give. That was not my intention though, as there was something to her that felt so much more attentive than anyone else I had met so far.

"So what, you're living amongst all of these zombies, and you're calling me-" I couldn't think of how to end my comeback, dripping in an aimless choleric poison.

"No, try that again." She instructed.

I took a moment to sniff up the embarrassing amount of phlegm from me. "I've just been dealing with the most revolting creatures I've ever had to face, and they've been worse than anything-" I still couldn't find the end to my hatred.

"Nope. Use your words. Try again." She held only a simmering tone of amusement.

"I don't know. This place, the City, has been difficult to connect with. I've had to fight with everything here. I can't catch a break no matter who I encounter or what I try to accomplish." I choked back tears.

"Are you sure you should be telling that to someone you just met?" She momentarily lost her enthusiastic smile.

In other words, she gave me an explicit signal to change gears. She notified me in such a way that I could easily adapt to. That comment went by so quickly, yet it was something I didn't somehow miss. I stopped and stared just to process.

"So, I guess you're a zombie-liker then." I looked away for a moment in jest.

"Are you trying to tell me the City, my home and place of residence, is the Zombie City?" She lowered her head while keeping eye contact.

"I think I'm saying everywhere I walk is Zombie land. Zombie streets, zombie sky, zombie buildings." I crossed my arms.

"You're trying to tell me that actually everything is a zombie. I guess that means you're just a zombie, too." She blinked.

"You are what you eat. Although, I would assume some of this isn't zombie food." I looked particularly at the fruit I had.

"As a serious note, I have noticed that places like bakeries are swarmed with them. I can't even find my way into some of those places, which is a shame since there were one or two bakeries I was a big fan of." She shrugged.

I looked up to think. "Well, that makes sense. I guess I would almost assume more meaty places, or I guess dinner restaurants would attract zombies, though, instead of essentially, dessert factories. I believe there were a few times when cooked meals in a large, consistent setting attracted a group of zombies. I might have seen zombies pick out candy or sweets, sometimes not even opening the wrapper. I find it strange, especially since I've been to a sort of deli, I guess, where…"

As I was lost in thought monologuing, she peered down at her orange. She held it for a few seconds, then suddenly bit down on it while the peel was still very much covering it. Although what she did didn't faze me, I played along. I stopped mid-sentence, mouth somewhat agape and eyes as wide as possible. I pretended to include fear in my expression. I gave a slow, quiet laugh for the compensation for her labor.

"I just wanted to see what your reaction would be." She giggled.

"Yeah, uh, I guess you are the zombie then. Orange am I glad… orange I’m glad… orange… zombie… you…” I tried putting a pun together to no avail. She paused for a moment but laughed regardless.

"What survivor groups have you met so far?" She asked while folding her hands again.

"There was a whole host of people nearby. I believe their leader was named Nick, but I wasn't able to ID anything else about them." I explained.

She tilted her head and continued to grin. "Do you have a last name for him? Like, something else to identify him with?" she asked.

I shook my head and tried to gesture, but I couldn't think of anything. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright. Normally, you'll find alphabetical survivor groups. They tend to know what group they're actually in instead of just not telling you or whatever. Whoever they were likely formed independently." She went on.

I cut in. "Are there rules and stuff to how these groups operate?" I furled my eyebrows when asked.

"Was there a situation?" She leaned in to ask.

"Yes, there was a situation," I emphasized the 'Was.'

She butted in. "Is there going to be another situation? Like, soon?"

I shook my head in shock. "No they're, they're gone now. I wasn't able to confirm it but I think I was the only one," I trailed off, unable to finish my testimony.

She tilted her head. "I'm going to switch gears now. So, did you hear about the- because I was thinking of going, right. Every survivor group was going to aim to meet up at 'I' group's territory, or at least that's what a lot of them were thinking. I haven't seen any news on it recently. We're somewhere in between 'T' and 'S' group's territory, by the way."

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"That was like five different topics. First, I didn't know where we were until now, so thanks. Second, no, this is the first time I'm hearing about any sort of networking, mingling event or whatever. Third, why are you asking me?" I counted with my fingers as I talked.

"Stop it. Your tone is concerning. Get a hold of yourself. I will answer, but you should really take a minute. Anyway, it was going to be the second meeting between the majority of the groups to evaluate damages, share resources, and discuss future plans. We're a little closer to the east right now. I was just curious." She lost all enthusiasm in her tone.

I took her advice and did some deep breathing exercises for a minute. My eyes continued to burn, and I couldn't help but cry as she gave me the time to recuperate.

"I'm sorry." I tried to say.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine.” She said.

I caught my breath in something between a yawn and a trembling, quiet plea and moved on. I looked up and tried to smile the best I could.

"You're from here and never left?" I pointed downwards, indicating the City.

"You make it sound like I know this place like the back of my hand. Jokes on you; I've only covered about half the City on foot." She laughed after.

"More than me. Is the City really that big? If I, okay: so I walked from these farms to an area focused around water treatment ending up around here, so how much do you think I've seen so far?" I asked.

Her eyes bugged out in order to think. "Obviously not that much. It's hard to think just how much you've seen so far based on that description alone. Plus, if you've been going in one direction, I doubt you've had the time to explore anything in-depth, and that's not uncommon or anything. I don't think most people have taken a thorough look everywhere in the city. Some places are boring to explore. Some places aren't meant for certain people. Sometimes the places you explore are the worlds inside your mind: vast, colorful lands stretching thousands of miles, and sometimes those places take longer to fully map out than any physical piece of land."

"So you're saying you're lazy then?" I asked in an elevated, brute tone.

She snickered and lost composure for a moment in response. "You're complaining about someone who lost her entire ability to move in a freak, horrible accident involving some of the most unfortunate circumstances and beating me down because I can't even leave my house?" She dug in and gripped her hands onto the edge of the table.

I pretended to be bewildered to go along with her skit. "Can you please elaborate upon what those circumstances were?" I sounded like an officer talking to a private.

"I was lazy." She giggled for possibly too long while tucking her hands close.

I couldn't help but laugh as well. "So what, half the city? Thoroughly? On foot? That has to actually be pretty impressive. I feel like I've walked for days without any repeat scenery. What's your role in this- do you have a job that makes you explore, or like is this a hobby for you?" I got back on track.

She reeled into a neutral posture as well. "It's a little bit of both. I am a part of one of the survivor teams. Maybe not actively if you can't tell-" She stretched while pointing downwards beside herself.

She continued. "But I'm associated enough to- you know, be in the know, do the missions, be a person who is productive beyond just rolling around in your house lazily all day. Otherwise, there are spots that I really actually like to visit a lot. They bring me comfort. They bring me joy." She gave a toothy smile at the end.

"So they're your places then? Like, sure, there are probably people who work in what you mean, but they don't really soak in the beauty of that location. Do you mean public places instead, like a park or whatever?" I held out the word 'your'.

"No, not so much parks, although it is nice that the City sets aside land to be used to contain every single joy-producing plant and animal specifically for me. There are places. Nests. Coves. That a creature like me can exist peacefully. I'm so glad they're small, hidden secrets from everyone else." She shrugged and grinned.

"Are you going to share those-" I was cut off.

"No." She giggled afterward.

…

At some point, I lost track of time. We went back and forth more than I could ever possibly remember. As I got a feel for who she was, I felt there was more I knew what to say and less that held me back. Whatever brain fog I had was replaced by inspiration, and whatever weariness I felt from such a new person dissipated. I felt normal. I felt like I was interacting like a regular person like anyone and everyone else in the City did with each other. When my attention was refocused, we somehow got on the topic of favorite foods.

"I just feel like the only thing worth eating is what makes sense. Sure, different foods make me react differently, but there's no difference between something's taste, texture, or consistency. I want only what I need." I explained.

"Do you just look at a pancake and groan in existential despair?" She also gave an example of said groaning and held no reservations to express it.

"Well, I thought those smiley pancakes, you know, the ones with the bacon and two strawberries for eyes, were supposed to put a smile on your face." I marked out the smile on my now empty plate.

"I know they sure make me happy." She interrupted me.

"But like, I'm not going to care. I'm not going to eat it if I don't have to eat it." I said.

"So what if someone made something for you? Aren't you going to be rude if you refuse it?" She asked.

"Well, yeah, of course, I'm going to do my part and make someone else happy, especially since I don't derive any joy from what I'm eating one way or another. Also, like, what if they were feeding you poison, though?" I switched tones mid-thought.

"And you wouldn't eat it?" She was referring to the poison.

"Maybe if I was a poison-eater, I guess," I said.

"You're out here telling me that you're not going to be personally excited to eat a smiley face pancake, and you're suggesting you're not a poison-eater?" She tapped her fingers on the table for emphasis.

"Now you're just putting words in my mouth. I mean yes, I will admit I really don't care for food like that. I don't have anything against a dish made for children; I'll endorse it wholeheartedly if it makes someone else happy, but the only benefit for me is the fruit, and I guess maybe the bacon? Maybe? Possibly? Like there's no one I have to impress or watch for their feelings for if I'm alone, with the ability to take one thing or another." I became passionate and gave open palms to add to my point.

"So you're not a smiley pancake eater, but you are probably a poison-zombie-food and people eater. Do you just hate life or something?" She asked.

"Look, I was at a small deli, or a grocery store, or I forget, I don't know, I don't care, right? And I had to pick out something. I thought to myself, what would be simple, quiet, had enough nutrition, I guess, and didn't make a mess? A pastry. Obviously, there were better options somewhere in this City, but it was the only choice that made sense." I replied.

"Well that might make some sense, so is nutrition like your number one goal then?" She asked.

"I guess not quite. I don't care about it in itself, but I'm not just going to eat something that stops me from my normal behavior. Seeing people have to leave for bathroom breaks, washing their hands, or otherwise acting strangely after a meal was concerning. Maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but I didn't want that to happen to me." I explained.

"I'm sure you can say what does matter then seeing as you haven't starved yourself." She pointed to my plate.

"If something would make me more of myself, of course, I'll eat it. I'll drink it. I don't want to burden others by becoming a shell of who I once was. I'm not suggesting that what I am is good, and quite frankly, I think I'm a pretty lousy person. I do think what good there is, if any, in my habits would disappear if I'm not careful." I then handed the question off to her.

"I used to bake. When I did, I would normally put a lot of time and effort into its presentation. I wasn't obsessed or anything, but I do care a lot about how my food looks. I think the arrangement matters a lot." She shrugged and smiled.

"Yeah, imagine. You're just totally obsessed: everything must look picture perfect, and you'd go insane if someone made something that-" I was cut off.

"Ah, yeah, wow, like I would just toss whatever wasn't pretty away or whatever," She added.

"Yeah, like, you would literally just cut up and dismember whoever cooks for you and then make them the meal." Was my next addition.

She snickered and gave a very toothy smile. "I feel like they would make as bad of a presentation as the food they made".

"You are what you eat," I said, nearly under my breath. She laughed very loudly in response.

"I do try my best to make something worth eating, though. It hits differently when I put the effort into the whole process of a meal. I don't think that's the same as putting whatever together for the sake of nutrition." She explained.

"I feel like aesthetics still fall under the broader concept, which is about eating what makes sense. Artists: people who make intentional use of the elements they wish to assemble will put messages, meaning, and value in the sheer snugness of each symbol fitting with each other. People put colors together because those colors make sense. The same is true with metaphors, artistic elements and principles, and stories that each piece has." I became locked in at this point, having no ability to do anything but maintain perfect eye contact.

She interrupted me. "So what, is the next thing you're going to say is 'We're not so different, you and I'," She gave a dark tone when quoting.

I stopped. My hands flopped from being suspended in the air to the table. "So what do you want me to say instead? Like, am I out of line or something?" I asked overenthusiastically.

She giggled. "Yeah, way out of line. I can't believe you'd just try and make a connection between two different ideas. Awful. No. I actually think I get your point. Practical or not, it's easy to sit with a decision that just feels right."

She stopped the conversation. She let the energy cool off a little. Then she collected herself: "Well, I think talking about this was pretty neat. I think I'm tired, for real this time, so I'm going to go to sleep. It was good to meet you." She said.

Practicality without insanity… That clicked with me. She clicked with me. Well, I don't know if I click with her, but she clicks with me. I had some sort of a feeling in my mind, like a geyser from the bottom of the ocean heating up, glowing, and preparing to explode. Something within my thoughts lost all language, ability to perfectly articulate what was going on in them. They were replaced with visuals for how I felt and for what I believed. All of it urged me, it beckoned me, it held my hand for the first time since arriving here. I want her.

I wasn't entirely back in the present, but I mustered up some sort of request. "Oh. Let's be friends."

In confusion, she tilted her head and smiled. "What, do you want to marry me too?"

And then I became mindful again. "Uh, yeah, sure, and like two and a half kids with a mortgage."

"Yeah, okay, when?" She added with extra sarcasm to her tone.

"Next Tuesday." I gave while deadpan.

We both stopped for a moment. Then we laughed.

"I'm not going anywhere. Well, I am going home and to go to sleep, but I'll be around. Of course we're friends now, you seem cool, cool enough. Why, what did you mean?" She gave a round smile that scrunched together her whole face.

I shook my head, still unable to remove my bewildered expression. "I just, I'm not sure. I don't know my way around here, so I don't know what'd be next."

"How about this. There's a platform near a few especially bleached-out, sandy buildings. One of the buildings is called the 'Sandytop Row'- I don't know why it's called that," She smiled again for her sarcasm.

She pointed to the table to try and make directions from here to there. "I should be up sometime normal tomorrow morning. I'll wait out there for a while. Plus, I know a place you can hide and sleep near there too. Check the stock here if you haven't, there should be something you can use as a hammock to sleep on. I’ll see you later, and: look, King, try not to be so hard on yourself."

I felt like I had digested her nickname for me much longer than I should've. "I'll look around. It was great to meet you! I'll- I'll see you tomorrow!" I said with excitement.

As she left, she turned around to wave and give one last devious, mischievous, honest, and genuine smile.

"Bye!" I gave a great big smile as she disappeared into the night.