“Not without the promise of a raucous applause or a standing ovation,” she retorted, taking our standard tip reply and one-upping it.
I groaned louder than the zombies behind me. “You’re not making this easy on me.”
“I’ll do your hair and makeup along the way.”
My groan turned ecstatic moan. “I’ll gather the troops. You go find me a pretty frock and some makeup.” I pointed to the stores behind us. “Something nautical, please.”
“Awhore there, Captain!” she replied, saluting.
“Ahoy,” I corrected her.
She shrugged and was off. “You say potato . . .”
“Let’s call the whole thing off,” I grumbled to myself, finishing the song’s refrain.
In any case, with clearly no choice in the matter, I went right as she careened left, heading in to a dense pocket of undead.
“Pick the biggest one!” she hollered back my way.
I nodded my head, turned it back toward the milling throng and shouted. “Halt!” They halted. And, fine, I’ll admit it, that part of my zombiehood I enjoyed. It wasn’t a cold, frothy margarita, but the subservience was exhilarating just the same.
Through the lifeless horde I walked, searching for the strongest and, fine, best-looking men I could find. Shallow? Yes. But the waters beyond were deep enough for me, so a little superficiality was clearly in order.
And so with eight of them now following me, we converged with Lola, bags in her hands, a smile of sorts on her face. We then meandered our way down the metal plank, arriving at our vessel a short while later.
I stared at it and gulped, as usual if only in my head. “Think she’s seaworthy?”
Lola nodded. “She looks to be made of some sort of polymer, clearly not wood, not after all these years. We just have to take the tarp off of her and hop in.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hop?”
She scratched her head. “Okay, so hop might not have been the best choice of words. But with ten of us here, we can all help.”
I lifted my hand up to stop her cold, so to speak. “They can do it. We can watch. Or, better yet, I can get de-boyed and then get re-girled while they de-tarp and help each other and then us onto that . . . that . . . thing.”
She nodded. “Deal.”
Great, so we had a deal. Except, our hands came up with all low-numbered cards, not a pair or a full house or even a lovely queen to be had. In other words, while I slipped into a rather fetching pair of navy slacks and a white satin blouse with gold brocades along the shoulders, a sensible pair of flats on my feet and a short, well-styled if not frightfully dusty wig on my head, the zombies, upon my command, removed the tarp and hopped in. That is to say, after an hour or so, the tarp was floating in the bay, the six of them scattered around it, the current taking them to unknown shores.
“Well, that was fun,” I said, staring down at the lucky remaining pair. “And see what can happen when we attempt to hop?” I pointed to the body-barges that were floating a few hundred yards away now. It would take a while for the water to seep in. I was glad I didn’t have to witness it.
She sighed and stood arms akimbo. “Got it. Now go round up six more.”
“You’re serious?” Again I pointed to the floating corpses.
While she, in turn, pointed to the safe duo, both of them groaning as they stood like statues within the kayak. “We’ll simply learn from our mistakes.”
I turned and headed back to the throng, mumbling and grumbling all the while. “Yeah, because zombies are such terrific students.”
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
Somehow we “recruited” more rowers—two more times, one mishap following the next—and somehow we all made it aboard, seated, with oars in hand. Then we had to teach eight dead guys had to paddle—without splashing and without capsizing us—and we were off. Simple as that!
I then turned to Lola and she turned to me, makeup at the ready. “You know,” I said, “if this thing tips over we’re all dead.”
“Er.”
I nodded as she began to apply. “Deader, right.”
“Think of it as an adventure, Creature,” she said as she began to lay down ample foundation.
“Let’s see,” I said, between pursed lips. “I flew across the country, landed on a tiny strip of runway beneath the Statue of Liberty, broke into a stadium, rescued a Tony Award-winning actress, killed my once close friend in a disco, with a disco ball no less, with radiation I shot out of my friggin’ eyeballs, and you want me to seek out even more adventures?”
“Two-time,” she said, starting in on my eye shadow.
“Two-time what?”
“Two-time Tony Award-winning actress.”
I stifled a grin. “That’s what you got out of my tirade?”
She shrugged and swiped the brush across my fluttering lid. “I stopped listening after that.”
“You know,” I said, “I think you might have been a drag queen in a past life. You certainly talk like one.”
She grimaced, her hand frozen above my eye. “My past life ended three hundred years ago, Creature. Right about now, I’m concentrating on salvaging my next one.”
I reached out and patted her knee. “I’m sorry, Lola,” I apologized. “I’ll . . . I’ll stop complaining.”