ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Eight

We burst through the door, shaking and terrified about what we will find on the other side. No one has ever brusquely told me to take off my clothes from the business end of a high-powered assault rifle before. We stand huddled tightly together in a group, expecting the worst. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the bright artificial lights, and I briefly wonder how they even have electricity. I blink and notice a woman standing inside, smiling at us. I hold my breath, waiting to see if the soldiers are going to follow us in, but they don't.

I stare at the pretty blonde woman. She is wearing a pair of jeans, a turtle neck sweater, and, of all the ridiculous things to wear during a zombie apocalypse, a pair of red high heels. I make a snap judgement that the three of us can probably take her.

"What's going on?" Megan demands, and the woman's smile melts off her face.

"Lieutenant Nichols didn't explain our procedures to you?" she questions.

Megan shrugs.

"He pointed his gun at us and told us to come in here and take our clothes off," Abby uncharacteristically speaks up, looking just as pissed off as I am feeling.

"And they hit our friend with their gun and drug him off somewhere," I add my own two cents, worry for Ryan eating me up inside.

The woman at least has the decency to look horrified. "I apologize for him. I've talked to them several times about the way that they greet civilians, but until the twenty four hours of confinement, it's like you guys aren't even real people to them." The woman blushes and looks up at us. It is obvious that she hadn't meant to say all that stuff out loud.

"I hope we can start fresh. My name is Miriam, and I am the civilian coordinator for the women that arrive at Camp Freedom. The Lieutenant doesn't always communicate the right way, but I promise you, his heart is in the right place. I will speak to the Captain about his behavior. Your friend will not be harmed further, I can guarantee it. Right now he is in the next room with the civilian coordinator for the males. He is going to be doing exactly what you are doing, and I promise ya'll will be reunited within the half hour." She points to some fluffy towels that sit folded on the bench.

"First thing's first girls, we require that all civilians that enter Camp Freedom decontaminate." Miriam rightly reads the fear in our eyes and lets out a little laugh. "Sorry girls, didn't mean to scare you, that just means have a nice hot shower and scrub really good."

"Did you just say hot shower?" Megan's head snaps around to look at the rows of shower stalls that line the west wall of the changing room.

Miriam's smile gets even wider. "I did," she confirms, pointing toward the showers. "I just need to take your clothes to get washed so that they aren't bringing in outside germs, there are robes beside the towels."

I don't know if we should one hundred percent trust this women, but those men out there used to be the US Army. Maybe they still are.

"Might as well get a hot shower out of it, if they're going to kill us anyway," I mutter, causing Abby and Megan to give me an appalled look. I grab my towel and housecoat and leave them outside the shower stall of my choice. Stripping, I throw all my grimy clothes out under the door and turn on the water.

Hot water and steam surrounds me. I close my eyes for a long minute and let myself enjoy it. I have never taken the time to really appreciate the small comforts of modern society, but after a week on the road encrusted with zombie guts and only having ice cold water to wash it off with...I am sure appreciating it now!

I find a bunch of those little hotel shampoos, conditioners, and soap bars sitting on the ledge of the shower and scrub myself until I'm bright red and my skin feels tight. When the water finally starts to turn cold, I turn off the taps with a feeling of resignation. I have no idea when I might get another hot shower. I'm still not sure how I managed to get this one.