I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

Life Can Be A Scream [Z-O-M-B-I-E-S Bucky x Reader] Part III

Part III - "Team Spirit" is Not Another Word For "Group Haunting"

The remainder of the day seems dim and vapid. Nothing extraordinary has happened – except for me discovering that my metal desk has a wobble and I've exhausted nearly every conceivable method of stopping it and made more ink splatters on my math homework than a Jackson Pollock original. I've learnt that the zombie boy I met earlier is named Bonzo and I've already befriended him, somehow. He's really big and tall, but he's the sweetest zombie that I've met so far. He's also introduced me to one of his best friends – the intelligent, curly-haired girl from earlier – whose name is Eliza Zambi.

"So, half-human?" Eliza's thin brow quirks suspiciously. "How does that work?"

If I had a dollar for every time that question had been asked, I would be very wealthy right about now. The answer to that question definitely wasn't simple, either. Genetically, even some scientists and medical doctors were stunned that a 'creature' like me could even exist. I was the first of my kind and I gave people with many impressive doctorates a serious migraine. Split down the middle, I had some zombie genes (the strange skin tone, eye colour and green roots) and some human genes (which made me slower, more temperate and more in control of myself than a regular zombie). Although I couldn't quite give reasons for the how, I could name the why with perfect accuracy.

"My dad was a part of a scientific study over in the city," I explained. "My mom was a part-time scientist and data analyst. They spent a lot of time together and fell in love," I bit the inside of my cheek, "But they decided not to get married, with all the stigmas and stereotypes. Then my mom met my stepdad."

"Zin-tag garm-a-lam."

Bonzo puts his hand on my shoulder. It's a nice gesture and I smile up at him.

"So, no Z-band?" Eliza doesn't seem to have registered the 'gushy details' at all. Go figure.

"Nope," I answered. "My nerves and brainwaves are more like a human's, so I can usually go without one."

"Usually?"

The Half-Zombie Inquisition, anyone?

"I do have flare-ups sometimes," I fiddle with the hem of my sweater, "When my heart rate's too fast or I have too much adrenaline in my system. I can usually calm it down if I focus it on jogging, but I have to keep a spare Z-band if I feel my pulse going too fast. Here," I pull out the small machine, "It's in my pocket."

This has impressed Eliza somehow, though she doesn't say anything to admit it.

The bell rings and signals the end of the day. Standing from my chair, I slide everything into my open backpack and try to fight the stab of irritation and chagrin at the thought that I started my day so full of expectation and excitement – and now I'm dreading the thought of coming back tomorrow, facing the humans instead of the zombies. They seemed almost scarier somehow.

Bonzo says something to me in the zombie dialect, but Eliza buts in before he can finish his sentence.

"Yeah, we're looking for Zed," Eliza replies coolly. "You can come with us if you want. We're mostly just going to be gawked at by the normals and be given suspicious looks, but you can tag along if you don't mind sticking out."

I get the feeling that she's referencing my beanie, which I've been kneading on my lap for the last half hour. I had been thinking about putting it on again – she was right about sticking out – but I decided against it and stuffed it into my pocket.

"My dad's going to take a while to finish up here. So, yeah," I smiled. "I'm game."

I briefly mention that I saw Zed earlier in the corridor but feel too guilty to admit that I ditched him.