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Rose was in prison when news of the apocalypse hits. The rec room, to be precise, along with half a dozen other inmates. She idly flicked through a magazine, attention only half on the TV, but a startled gasp emanating from somewhere nearby caused her to look up and turn towards the news report.
An emergency breaking news headline flashed on to the screen. Cars were burning, the windows of buildings had been smashed in, and people were running amok, abject terror on their faces. Rose furrowed her brow in confusion. What could possibly be making them so afraid?
Then she saw it – or more accurately, them. It was like something out of a movie, or that TV show that people kept bugging her to watch. They were humanoid in shape and wore human-like clothing – though it was certainly bedraggled – but their faces. . . the way that they moved. . . it was decidedly other. Rose wasn’t one to scare easily, but these beings – these zombies, the frazzled newscaster frantically announced – were grotesque.
Every person in the room was staring at the screen now, their attention rapt. The newscaster continued on, talking about experiments gone wrong and contamination – when the feed cut out, leaving only static in its wake.
The inmates burst out into a cacophony of chatter – Was this for real? Was it some kind of elaborate joke? – but Rose remained silent. The same questions were burning through her mind, but she’d never been one for senseless babbling, always preferring to sit back and analyse the situation carefully. That report had been on a legitimate news channel – one she recognised, one she normally watched at home. The newscaster was regarded as one of the best in the country – there was no way he’d sign on to do such an elaborate practical joke – would he? But didn’t this have to be a joke? Zombies weren’t real – they were the product of Hollywood, of poorly written books, of violent videogames – not the real world.
Suddenly itching to have something to do, something that would alleviate the senseless worry that had begun niggling at the pit of her gut, Rose got up off her seat. She moved towards the TV, which was still picking up only static. She flicked the button on the side in an attempt to change the channel, and noticed with a stab of dismay that the next was in the same condition. And the next. And the next, and the next, and the next. The one after that was playing a re-run of a cooking show.
This was not good. If the majority of the channels were down, this meant that something bad had in fact happened. Perhaps a storm? It was plausible – a storm or other kind of bad weather could have interrupted whatever kind of bad joke had been planned, knocking out most broadcasting systems. Rose cast a frantic glance out the window – not a trace of a storm cloud in sight. In fact, the skies were remarkably bright and sunny.
This was actually happening. The zombie apocalypse was actually happening.
And faced with the prospect of the end of the world, Rose could think of only one thing – Luisa. How was she? Where was she? Did she already know?
Rose left the room quickly, thumbing the cell phone she had concealed on her person. No-one noticed her leave, which in itself was an oddity – she was used to dozens of eyes tracking her every movement, fearing what she would do next. It seemed that the apocalypse had broken them of that fear. At any other time, the loss of such power would infuriate her, but as things stood, she gave it only a passing thought.
She clicked ono Luisa’s number, taking a brief moment to admire the picture she’d set with the contact info. It was taken during the years they’d spent together after she’d become Eileen. Despite everything they’d been through – which, you know, was probably mostly her fault – they’d been happy. It wasn’t something Rose had ever thought she’d be able to have, despite her multiple offers to Luisa to run away with her. Rose had snapped this particular picture when they’d been lying in bed together one morning, and Luisa had been laughing rather adorably over something she’d said. Her smile was bright, and there was a shine in her eyes that Rose had wanted to memorialise.
Looking at it now wasn’t helping the gnawing worry in her gut. The call went through – meaning that the cell-towers were still operational, for the moment at least. She bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet as she listened to the dial tone. As every second ticked by and there was still no answer, Rose’s anxiety increased. Finally, after thirty seconds had passed – the longest of her life – she heard Luisa’s voice coming from the phone.
But all it told her to do was to leave a message.
Rose frantically tried again, and again, and another hundred times only to receive the same response. Luisa wasn’t answering. She always answered when Rose called – even just days after she’d killed Emilio, Luisa had answered. The fact she was doing otherwise now wasn’t a good sign.
She forced herself to think rationally about this. There could be any number of reasons why Luisa wasn’t answering her calls. It didn’t mean she was dead. She could have lost her phone in the initial insanity, it could have broken, she could be holed up somewhere with no cell service. It didn’t mean she was dead.
The only thing Rose could now be certain of was that she needed to get out of here.
Ironically, prison was probably one of the safest places could be during the zombie apocalypse. The DOJ ordered food in bulk, so there was enough to last months or maybe even years if it was rationed properly. Back-up generators ensured that the power would stay on, and the high walls as well as the barbed wire was sure to be at least moderately effective in keeping the undead out.
Several other inmates had realised this, and had elected to stay holed up here in here rather than make an escape attempt. Others, of course, had similar lines of thinking to Rose – they knew that their loved ones were on the outside, and they had to make sure that they were okay. Instead of waiting and coming up with a concrete plan, however, they had rushed out as soon as the opportunity had presented itself. Rose imagined that most of them were likely dead, now. She understood the impulse – not knowing whether or not Luisa was dead or alive was driving her slowly insane – but she knew she’d be no use to her girlfriend if she ended up zombie food.
She’d have to plan methodically, make sure she had the essentials she’d need for the journey so she’d be able to get there safely. Luckily, meticulous planning was her strong suit.
The first thing she’d done was make her way to guard HQ. Most of them had already deserted, leaving only one man who looked like more of a scared teenager than anything else. Rose made quick work of him, stealing his gun before the lifeless body even had a chance to hit the ground, shiv driven straight through his heart. She felt about as much remorse for this as she usually did – that is to say, very little. A lone guard wouldn’t have survived long in a prison of scared and angry inmates, anyway. She searched the room, taking anything that looked useful and that she’d also be able to carry.
Food had been the next step. Almost as soon the news had reached them, the inmates had placed pretty tight controls on the kitchens, agreeing that tight rationing would be needed. Under any other circumstances, Rose would commend them for their forward thinking. However, as she was trying to escape, it was an annoyance more than anything else. Nevertheless, their barricade was not impenetrable, not for someone with the right skills, and she managed to pilfer enough for the journey.
Her last and potentially most crucial step was her getaway. The Marbella would be the first place she’d look, given the last she’d heard, Luisa was running it. Rose had been so proud of Luisa when she’d heard of what she’d done – it was about time she gave that piece of shit what was coming to him – and she was glad that Luisa had finally seen through his crap. It wasn’t healthy, how she’d sacrificed her own happiness again and again in order to fold to Rafael’s every demand. Of course, people would probably say the same thing about Luisa’s relationship with her – but she comforted herself with the fact she at least cared for Luisa – most of the time, the same could not be said for Rafael.
Her problem was that, on foot, the hotel was over a hundred miles away. It would take her far too long to walk that, and would require crossing territories she’d guess were now infested with zombies. No, she’d need a car. Luckily, carjacking was one of the first criminal activities she’d gotten into – she’d been little more than a child, too young for the drug world but also eager to make an impression on Elena’s criminal cronies. It had worked, too – within a few short years, she’d become the boss of a criminal enterprise of her own. It had been a long time since she’d done something as simple as jack a car, but, she thought as the door of the vehicle in the parking lot popped open with a click, it was like riding a bike. Never forget how.
Time to go.
The city was almost in ruins. Rose drove mainly at night with lights only when she really needed them, but even that was enough to show her how rapid the deterioration had been. On the news, buildings were in the process of being looted or burned down – but now, several long days later – that process had been complete. It looked like some kind of natural disaster had hit it - which, she supposed, had happened, in a way – cars were in wrecks on the road, buildings appeared almost destroyed and homes had been boarded up. The normally bustling city was eerily quiet, save for a sickening tearing sound that Rose didn’t want to think too hard about. She didn’t like most people, but she had to admit that getting torn apart by a monster seemed a pretty grim way to go.
As she neared the Marbella, the roads became harder and harder to navigate. She needed to stop – the rest of the journey would have to be made on foot. Rose was no stranger to dangerous situations, yet even she had to admit that the prospect of venturing outside the protection of her vehicle and into zombie-infested territory was terrifying. She’d seen the way that faces – real, human faces – would become sunken-in and begin to resemble a months-old corpse rather than an actual person. She couldn’t help but picture what her own face would look like, and shuddered. It was not an attractive thought.
As she moved stealthily across the streets of Miami, confrontation with the creatures was inevitable. She tried to avoid it as much as possible – this wasn’t some action movie, she didn’t have infinite ammo. And besides, she wasn’t an idiot. Gunshots were loud – the average prison guard doesn’t carry silencers – if she fired her weapon, it was bound to attract more that she’d then have to dispatch. Coming face-to-face with them was. . . disconcerting, different to just catching glimpses as she sped hurriedly past them. Rose had spent a lot of time in Miami, grown to know a lot of faces in this particular area by sight if not by name, and though the zombies looked distinctly unhuman, she could still see glimmers of who they once were in their appearance. She thought that one of the walkers that she’d been cornered into shooting might have been one of her old henchmen.
Near the Marbella – Rose could almost see the doors – she became cornered. Five zombies came out of the woodworks at once, their grotesque, humanoid bodies ambling towards her at an alarming speed. She took out two of them easily, and turned to shoot the third – only to hear an anticlimactic click as her gun revealed that it was out of ammo. She scrambled at her belt, searching for her extra clip, but it was no-where to be found. She’d used it earlier!
She scrambled backwards, running now her only option, only to hit a literal brick wall. There was no way out! As the walkers pushed forward, Rose felt pure, unbridled panic well up within her. She’d never been this out of control before, never stuck in a situation so desperate. The only time that had come remotely close was when she’d been arrested outside of the Marbella and seriously, what the fuck did this hotel have against her? But even then, she’d been frantically working out contingencies, thinking of ways to escape. Here and now, there was no way out. This was it – this was the end.
She was fucked.
All she could do was choose how she’d go out, and she would not do it trembling in the corner like a coward. She stood up straight and squared her soldiers, preparing to meet the maker she’d been so sure didn’t exist.
That was when she heard the three pops, one after another. She stared in confusion as the zombies keeled over, dead – or at least, re-dead.
She looked up, and her heart almost stopped when she saw the person responsible for the fatalities.
‘Don’t look so surprised,’ said Luisa, a light smile on her face, ‘You know ours is the greatest love story ever told.’
For perhaps the first time in her life, Rose is rendered entirely speechless. Luisa. Luisa was alive. Luisa was alive and had just saved her from a hoard of zombies. Luisa was alive and had just saved her from a hoard of zombies with a gun. Luisa was alive and had just saved her from a hoard of zombies with a gun and had used her line.
That was, to Rose, perhaps the most shocking thing of all.
But god, she looked beautiful. Her hair was tied up into a practical ponytail, she wore a badass leather jacket and looked comfortable holding the gun – maybe she had payed attention in those lessons that Rose had insisted she have, after all.
After long moments played out in which neither did or said anything, merely revelling in the fact that both were still alive, and gloriously so, Luisa stretched out a hand, definite smirk playing across her features now, and said, ‘Come on. It’s time to go.’ Rose went.
To her great surprise, Luisa led her in to an underground tunnel complex within the Marbella that Rose herself had installed. How did she even find this place? Dozens of people milled about, and the walls were lined with all kinds of supplies – food, weaponry, medical equipment. It seemed to function as some kind of base.
Of which Luisa was, apparently, the leader. Rose kept a careful eye on the other woman’s face – whatever softness that had crossed it as they had met outside had vanished, replaced instead by a hard, cold exterior. It reminded Rose rather harshly of herself, of the person that she would become when she was around her henchmen.
The comparison wasn’t entirely fair, though. Yes, Luisa looked authoritative and yes, the people looked towards her with respect and perhaps the barest trace of fear, but that was only a fraction of the emotions she could see in their eyes. They loved her, too. They loved that her first instinct was to seal the doors so that they and their families would be safe, they loved that her second was to check on the wounded and help with treatment in whatever way that they could and lastly, they loved that her third was the way that she managed to muster up a small smile for them, no matter how grim the circumstance.
Luisa cleared her throat, and the occupants of the bunker stopped what they were doing to listen. ‘Everyone,’ she said, in a tone that was friendly but nevertheless brokered no argument, ‘This is Rose. Some of you,’ she said, eyes flickering to the corner of the room where Rafael and his family were gathered in stony silence, ‘Are familiar with her. She’s going to be joining the group. Does anyone have a problem with that?’
Most of the occupants of the room raised no objections. There was a time that they might have – but that time had passed. Over the past couple of days – which felt like a decade – they had all become killers. They had all seen people that they loved die. They were all tired.
Everyone, it seemed, apart from Rafael. He got up angrily from his seat, rage written in every corner of his face, and said, ‘Like hell. Like hell is she staying here. Not here. Not in my hotel. Not around my family.’
Luisa looked at her brother coldly. ‘Sit down. She can and will be staying here. The decision has nothing to do with you. This is my hotel, in case you have forgotten.’
‘I won’t stand for it,’ said Rafael hotly, ‘I won’t.’
Luisa shrugged. ‘Then don’t. You know where the door is. You’d still be out there, had I not dragged you through it.’
Rafael positively glared at his sister, but sat down without uttering another word. Rose was awed. She’d known that Luisa had finally stood up to her brother – had always been the largest advocate for her to do just that – but seeing it in action. . . it was beautiful. She was beautiful.
The group began to disperse shortly afterwards. Luisa took Rose’s hand, holding it almost reverently, and led her towards a room to the side. It was cramped – just room for a double bed and a small bedside cabinet, but it had a door that closed, thus affording them some privacy.
When the door shut, Luisa’s carefully composed demeanour fell apart. She flung her arms around Rose, and seemed to almost sob into her neck. ‘I’m so glad that you’re alright – I – I was s-so worried about you. I didn’t know, I didn’t know if – if you were d-dead or if you were alive.’
Rose held on to Luisa, soaking in the feeling of having her in her arms once more. It felt better than she was able to describe – almost like she could breathe again, after months of struggling for breath. Normally she’d recoil at the corniness of that sentiment but she thought that maybe, for once, she’d let it slide, and simply enjoy having her girlfriend back.
After a while, she pulled back, curiosity reluctantly getting the better of her. She smoothed back Luisa’s hair, catching a tear leaking from the other woman’s eye with her fingertip. ‘So,’ she said, in an effort to lighten the mood a little, ‘I have some questions.’
Luisa laughed. All this felt like déja vu. She’d said something very similar on the submarine, back when everything had felt so complicated but had been relatively simple, at least in comparison to now. ‘Ask away.’
‘How did you manage to find this place?’ It was only one of a dozen burning questions.
‘I didn’t, technically,’ Luisa answered with a small smile on her face. She looked more than a little pleased with herself. ‘The police did, during that first investigation, but they didn’t know the extent of it. I know you, Rose, I knew there would be more to it than that. I knew you’d have secret entrances, secret rooms within the secret bunker. I knew you well enough to know where to look for them. When. . . everything happened, I gathered what people I could convince to join me and came here. They brought whatever supplies they could carry from their own homes, and we share what we have. There’s a rota, we scavenge for more each night.’
Rose smiled, pride shining in her eyes. She kissed Luisa’s forehead. ‘Look at you, always using that big brain of yours. I always knew you were a genius, Luisa, and it’s about time others realised it too.’
Luisa beamed at the compliment. Everyone always undermined her intelligence – they thought that a sunny smile equated with stupidity, that she was the sum total of her mistakes. Not Rose. Never Rose. She cleared her throat, trying to get herself into a clear enough mindset to continue with the Q&A round. ‘You have more questions?’
Rose nodded. ‘Your brother, where does he fit into all of this? I saw the way you talked to him back there.’
Luisa sighed deeply. ‘Yeah. Before I took the hotel, he said some pretty awful things to me. Every negative thought I’ve ever had about myself, about my choices, he just. . . threw them back in my face. I only told you about maybe half of it, over the phone. He left – or, well, I suppose I threw him out, after I told him about the will. I didn’t see him for a long time, after that. I had people keep an eye on him, but I couldn’t do it myself. I couldn’t face him, not after what he said. You were right, Rose, the whole time, you were right about him.’
Rose cocked her head to the side, unable to bring herself to be cocky about this. The tone of Luisa’s voice – heartbreak mixed with shades of anger – was too pitiful for her to do anything but sympathise. ‘So why is he still here? You didn’t have to include him in this.’
‘Because he’s still my brother. I kind of – hate him – right now, but he’s still my brother. We may not be related by blood, but I’ve spent all my life being his big sister. That doesn’t just go away because I’ve finally accepted that he’s kind of an ass. Okay,’ she corrected, after hearing Rose’s scoff, ‘A major ass. I couldn’t just let him die. His kids – who I actually get to see now! - ’ Her expression brightened at mention of the children, ‘- need him. I wouldn’t deprive them of a father. They don’t deserve that.’
Upon seeing Rose’s less-than-enthused expression, she said, ‘Don’t worry. It’s not like it was before. He knows where we stand. He knows that he can’t control me anymore, try as he might to do otherwise.’ She exhaled, glad to be finished her almost-rant. ‘Are we done? Anything else?’
Rose internally groaned at the idea of having to put up with Rafael for what looks like is going to be the rest of her life. These kids better be worth it. But she supposes she can put up with it, for Luisa’s sake at least. And there were distinct advantages to this new. . . more confident Luisa.
She smirked at her girlfriend, her tone lighter and less serious than it had erstwhile been. ‘There is one more thing,’ she said, feigning stupidity, ‘When exactly did you learn how to use a gun so well?’
Luisa returned Rose’s expression. ‘Oh, you remember perfectly well.’ Her voice dropped a couple of octaves, ‘Want to see what else I remember from that particular day?’
Rose did. She did very much.