This is a continuation of Zombicorns, a zombie apocalypse novella by John Green. It was released under a creative commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike license, as is this piece. This piece follows directly after the end of the story, in which the world is overrun by a kind of corn called Devotion131Y, which gives any consumers of it an incurable disease - AMRV. Those infected with AMRV become zombie-like, and spend their days planting and watering and tending to D131Y. It becomes their Ultimate Concern, and will not eat it because all they want to do is protect it. The main character of the original story, Mia, has lost all of her family members to the disease. She killed her only friend, and left her home in Chicago, heading up to Canada with her dog, hoping that the colder climate prevented the spread of D131Y. This piece is narrated by Deagan, a man who has spent the past year of his life in hiding, constantly running away, trying to avoid getting infected with AMRV.
I look North, in the general direction of the nearest lake, poised to run if I see any bit of gray. We’ve been here for a few weeks, and Amy’s convinced that we need to stay longer. “There’s someone coming,” she always says. Yes, obviously, someone is bound to be near here. But they’ve stopped being someone a long time ago. Amy’s sure that we’ll be able to get out in time if we’re attacked, but if we stay here any longer I’ll be saying, “I told you so,” as an ear of corn gets shoved down my esophagus.
I don’t see anything out of the ordinary this morning, so I quickly gather up some of the sticks littered across the ground. I think they can be used as firewood. I’ve been doing this for months, but I still don’t think I’ve mastered the art of finding wood that has the right level of moisture.
I start to walk back in the direction of our camp ground, and I hear a noise.
I stop, and turn around, cupping my free hand around my eyes to block out the sun. There’s nothing there.
It was probably an animal or something.
Probably.
I start walking again, this time trying to muffle the sounds of my own feet as much as possible. But I hear the noise again.
It can’t be.
No, wait, it really can’t be. It can’t be another gaggle. It’s a bit of a rumbling noise, like a car. They can’t drive cars.
Then I see it.
A truck crashes through a line of trees, and I jump and duck behind a boulder. It comes to a skidding halt. I peek out. The truck was probably once white, but is now so covered with grime that it’s more of a light tan color. I can’t see the driver. A single bark comes from the car. I hide myself behind the boulder again, and stay still for a few minutes, waiting to see if the driver does anything.
After what was probably ten minutes, I hear a car door open, and the sound of someone jumping onto the forest floor. The dog must be out of the truck as well, because I can hear it pacing.
The person starts walking in my direction.
I debate with myself silently. Should I stand up now? Or wait for them to find me? Should I look like I’m hiding? Or dead? Or... just... sleeping?
I don’t get to make a decision, because the person is now standing in front of me. It’s a girl, probably in her late teens. Her messy hair is pulled back, either very light brown or unclean dark blond. She’s pointing a gun towards me, and I realize I should say something so she doesn’t kill me.
“Hi,” I say to her. My voice sounds rough, and I cough.
“Hi,” she says hesitantly. “What was the name of the first person you ever loved?”
I stand up, and brush off the back of my pants. “Well, that’s quite a personal thing to ask someone you just met. Why do you want to know?”
“I.. It’s... Just answer the question!”
“Okay. Um. I... I don’t know.”
“Z!” she yells, and does something with the gun, and oh Zeus I’m going to be killed by a person, not one of them, while getting firewood.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my legs shaking despite this being a good time for my masculinity to be prominent.
She doesn’t answer me, just shakes her head. She steps closer, adjusts the gun so that it’s facing right at my heart. I sniffle.
“Deag!”
And then Amy is there, behind the girl, and never in my life have I ever been so happy to hear her annoying voice. The girl spins around, pointing the gun towards Amy, who squeals and widens her eyes.
“Are you human?” the girl asks Amy.
Amy nods, “Yes. And I can prove it. Ask me whatever. Just - just put that down.”
The girl lowers her gun, and turns to me. “Why should I trust you? Either of you?”
I can’t speak. My brain can’t form words. I have forgotten the entire English language, as well as the moderate amount of the French language that I have learned thanks to Rou.
“He’s human,” Amy says.
“I can’t know that for sure. Neither can you.”
“He definitely is, though. What has he said or done to suggest otherwise?”
“He wasn’t able to recall an emotion-based memory. First thing to go.”
“Oh. What did you ask him?”
“What the name was of the first person I ever loved,” I interject.
Amy laughs quickly. “Ah, see, he’s never loved anyone. Coldest person I’ve ever met.”
The girl meets my eyes. “Fine then. But actually,” she looks back at Amy, “I don’t even know for sure that I can trust you or anything you’re saying.”
“Ask me the question, then.”
“Okay, what was the name of the first person you ever loved?”
“Easy. Deagan, that one,” Amy points towards me and I scowl at her.
The girl smirks quickly. I roll my eyes at Amy. “That’s frustratingly true,” I sigh.
The girl puts the gun down on the ground and takes a few steps away from it, towards me. Amy makes an audible sigh of relief. “Tell me something, then,” the girl says, “Anything. Anyone you miss? Your parents? Any friends?”
I shake my head. “I don’t miss anyone. I hated all of them. I’m glad that they’re gone and never coming back. I wish that I missed someone.”
“I don’t understand him at all. But he’s still human,” Amy says.
Everyone sits quietly for a few minutes. The wind is starting to pick up, and a few leaves drop to the ground. Autumn is almost upon us, which is a problem for me, only because it will get harder for me to convincingly say that we need to get farther North. The dog walks over to the girl. He looks a bit like a beagle, almost too much like Dobby. I realize that I lied when I said I didn’t miss anyone, though it would’ve sounded pathetic to say that I only miss my dog.
The girl breaks the silence first. “I’m Mia.”
“Amy.”
“Deagan, though you already knew that,” I pause, “What about the dog?”
Mia smiles and replies, “Mr. President.”
I nod, reach over to Mr. President, and scratch behind his ears. His tail wags slightly.
Amy looks up at the sky. “We’ve been out here a long time. We should start heading back, or Yanenowi will start to worry.”
I stand up and stretch. “She always worries. But yeah, we should go.”
“Are you going to come with us?” Amy asks Mia.
“I mean, if you want me to. Sure,” Mia replies.
“You can bring the truck, if you want,” I say.
“Nah. One of the tires is shot. Apparently driving through the woods is a bad idea.”
You’d think that I would’ve gotten used to this, but it still amuses me every time we come across someone new. It always starts off hostile, and the hostility just fades away as soon as it’s clear that everyone’s human. There’s never any exchange of information that would suggest that we should join together. The basic bond of humanity is enough these days.
Amy starts describing to Mia where we’re going. I search around for the wood that I collected, scooping it up with my left arm. Mr. President follows me, eyeing the sticks. I make a mental note to give him one when we get back.
We start walking back towards camp. The wind is roaring, which I prefer to the silence, where my paranoia can create all kind of horrors. I keep my eyes on the ground, watching the placement of each stone, knowing that I’ll trip if I don’t. Mr. President trots happily beside me.
I start to smell fire. I look up and see Yanenowi and Rousseau sitting in front of the fire, looking at Mia semi-suspiciously. Yanenowi turns to me. “Ah, thank you, Deagan. This is almost out.”
I trip.
Thankfully, I am nowhere near the fire. The sticks fly everywhere, a few of them even managing to land where they would be placed in a few minutes. Amy and Rou are giggling. I see that Mia is trying to hide a smile. Yanenowi sighs. “Nice one,” she says, reaching out her hand to pull me up. I recollect the wood nearest me. Mr. President is a few feet away. He seems to have stolen one while no one was looking.
I hand the wood to Yanenowi. She sits back down next to the fire, motioning for us to join her. “Who’s this?” she asks after we all sit down.
“I’m Mia,” Mia says, her eyes glued to the flames.
“Where’re you from?”
“Chicago, originally. I was there for a while. I’ve been heading up north for a month or so.”
“Why did you leave?” Amy asks.
“The same reason why everyone leaves. There was nothing left for me there. The whole place was over run by corn. I hoped that maybe I could find someone up here. Looks like I did.”
Mia glances around. “There isn’t any corn here. Are there actually no Z’s?”
“What are Z’s?” I ask. We’re probably all putting her on the spot, and I don’t mean to add to the interrogation, but it just slips out.
Mia narrows her eyes. “I - you know, the... zombies? I guess you could call them? The ones infected with AMRV. With the corn.”
“Oh. Them,” I say.
“We don’t have a name for them,” Yanenowi says.
“Z’s, huh? Interesting. In any case, no, there are none here as far as we know,” Amy says.
“That’s amazing,” Mia says.
“We leave when they show up,” I say. “There’s no way to survive with them around. Did you say that Chicago was full of them?”
Mia nods, and pulls her legs close to her, resting her head on her knees.
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