Chili and a Dream

“Joseph! Catalina! Dinner time!”

Zelda pitched the bucket of zombie gut salad with chia seeds into the automatic feeder, and swiftly shoved closed the door. A second later, two solid lumps crashed into the door from the other side. She sighed at the sound of the automatic feeder toppling over. She’ll have to fix that tomorrow morning.

Since they had been infected two years ago, Zelda had become adept at feeding her children; however, one could never be too quick about closing the door when their children wanted to eat their brains. Also, her children had run cross country in high school. Becoming zombies might have given them an insatiable hunger for human brains and raw flesh, but it definitely hadn’t taken away their physical prowess. A good thing too, because Joseph and Catalina had won every Zombie Field Day since they first qualified to compete, and there was absolutely no way they were losing tomorrow’s. Zelda had been training them every day since last year’s Field Day, as well as feeding them balanced meals three times a day, and sedating them every night to give their muscles a rest. They had every advantage over the other zombies—being the last person on Earth, Zelda was the only one who had the human awareness and critical thinking skills needed to train an athlete, and the only ones she managed were her children.

Zelda left behind the sounds of slobbering in her children’s room and made her way to the garden. The sun was just going down, bathing the fields of her appropriated french medieval castle in a rosy light. The smell of rich soil and flourishing plants permeated the air. Zelda took a deep breath and smiled to herself. This was the life.

As she picked up her hose to water the ghost peppers, Zelda heard a creaking and rolling sound from beyond the towering stone walls. It almost sounded like a wagon—but that couldn’t be right. There were no creatures left besides her that were intelligent enough to drive a wagon. She quickly made her way up the nearest watchtower, and peered out the top. 

It was a wagon, and it was being driven by another human being. A man! Zelda couldn’t believe her eyes. He looked about 20 years old, with brown hair cropped close to his head, and an athletic build. Forty years ago, he might have been her type. Then again, forty years ago, there would have been too many people in the world to meet him. Back when the infection didn’t exist. She yelled out to the man,

“Hey! Who are you?”

The man glanced up in surprise. Even from the top of the watchtower, Zelda could see that his eyes were abnormally light—a pale green or blue, perhaps. He stopped pedaling the wagon and called back to her,

“Howdy, missus! Been a while since I saw a ‘nother human bein’ out’ere! What’chu doin’ all by yourself?”

“Surviving, same as always. Where do you come from?” Zelda replied. “I thought I was the only human left!”

“Yeah, I never got a chip planted. Parents were anti-govs, ya know? Anyways, I’m Clyde. Can I come in?”

Zelda scrutinized his wagon, which looked like it was piled high with fresh meat, and headed for the gate to let him in. 

Up close, Zelda could see that Clyde did indeed have a wagon full of meat—there were multiple deer carcasses in there, as well as countless rabbits, birds, and...was that...prairie dog? Zelda’s mouth began to water. It had been so long since she had tasted fresh meat. It was one thing to shoot a zombie who had no sense of self preservation in the face, but animals were skittish, and hard to pin down. The meat in that wagon would be a rare, delicious feast for her and her children. Even better, the protein in the fresh meat would guarantee her children’s victory at Field Day tomorrow. It was decided. She had to get that meat. 

“Come in, come in!” Zelda exclaimed. “Let me help you with that wagon. Oooh, it’s heavy—maybe I could cook us a stew tonight with some of that delectable looking meat, and lighten your load a little?”

Clyde grinned in response. “That’s a first-rate idea, missus…?”

“Please, call me Zelda.”

“Missus Zelda. Lovely place you got here too. Sure is a lot of space for just one person, innit?”

“Oh, my children also live with me. They’re quite shy though—they get nervous around strangers, so you probably won’t meet them until after dinner tonight,” Zelda replied.

“Wow, you have children? You don’t look a day over twenty, Missus Zelda. How old are y’er children?”

Zelda laughed. “They’re thirty years old tomorrow, Mr. Clyde, and I’ll have you know that I am far older than twenty. But thank you for the compliment. I haven’t gotten one of those since human society still existed!”

They shared a chuckle and walked into the castle together.

* * *

Zelda stooped in her garden, picking ghost peppers. She made sure to pick only the reddest, ripest looking peppers. They were for dinner that night—she was making a very special spicy venison chili. This chili would be so hot, it would break the Scoville scale. One spoonful, and Clyde would keel over from the spiciness. Then, she could keep all that fresh meat for herself. And her children, of course. This would feed their muscles more than beans ever could. 

Walking back into the kitchen, Zelda set her latest basket of ghost peppers next to the vat of boiling chili on the stove. She turned to head back out to the garden, when she suddenly heard a low moan coming from the hallway. Aauuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh, it went. Oooooaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. Zelda peered out to investigate. Strange. There was nobody there. 

Suspicious, Zelda made her way up to her children’s room. Sure enough, the door was swinging on its hinges, wide open. She sighed with impatience, and picked up the can of Zombie-Away that she always kept by the door. She didn’t have time to deal with this. If her children managed to off Clyde while she was cooking, then all the better for her. She had a feast to prepare. 

Returning to the kitchen, Zelda separated a portion of the chili into another pot, and dumped five full baskets of fresh ghost peppers into it. Huh, that was weird. She could have sworn there were six baskets. Nevermind. There was no way anyone could survive even one full basket’s worth of ghost peppers in the chili, let alone five. Clyde’s meat would be hers by the end of the hour. She turned her attention to the chia seed pudding. She and her children would savor this feast while Clyde’s heart went into shock. Joseph and Catalina would love the fresh human meat, and tomorrow, they would dominate the race. It was truly a stroke of good fortune that Clyde had turned up when he did. 

At last, the feast was ready, and Zelda piled it all onto a serving cart. Rolling into the dining hall, she was met with Clyde sitting at the head of the silk-draped, twenty foot, solid mahogany banquet table. How presumptuous. That was her seat. She began unloading the dishes: steak wellington, chicken with marsala risotto, lamb chops with blackberry chutney, baked eggplant parmesan, and dozens more—dishes that she had spent hours perfecting for this meal. The chia seed pudding in it’s delicate crystalware, looking like dragon fruit flesh. The tender roast duck, dripping with a fragrant orange glaze. And finally, the pièce de résistance: the ghost pepper chili. Zelda set one bowl in front of Clyde, and one at the place to his left. He would regret taking her seat.

“This all looks scrumptious, Missus Zelda,” Clyde gushed. “And these dishes. So beautiful. Is this antique china?”

“It is indeed,” Zelda replied. “I thought it would be fitting for this extra-special chili. The recipe’s a family secret, you know? Passed down through the generations.”

“Well I’m honored that I get to try it then. Say, are these spoons genuine silver? They would fetch—they would have fetched quite the price at the market. Before the apocalypse. Of course. Because the market doesn’t exist anymore.” Clyde swallowed hard, and took a sip of water from a jewel-encrusted gold goblet. 

“Yes, yes, genuine silver. Also a family heirloom,” Zelda replied, exasperatedly. “Only the best to eat this very delicious chili with, am I right?”

“Of course, of course,” Clyde replied. “These goblets though. Are these real sapphires on the rim? Their clarity is astounding.”

Zelda sighed as quietly as she could. “Yes, they’re real sapphires. Shall we eat now? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. Why don’t we try the chili first? Here, on the count of three. One…two…”

Zelda hastily swallowed a spoonful of chili. Looking bemused, Clyde did the same. A second passed. Ten seconds passed. Then: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The world was flashing white, or maybe black. Zelda couldn’t really tell. There was a ringing in her ears that reminded her of the church bells from her childhood. Mother used to make them go every Sunday, even though they weren’t even religious. Was it Sunday? Shoot, she had to get changed. She tried to get up, but found she couldn’t use her muscles. It was then that she realized she was laying curled up on the floor. Why was she on the floor? She couldn’t remember. Why was it so cold? She couldn’t stop shivering. Vaguely, she recognized the sound of someone screaming. Actually, it was two people. One of them was her. She was screaming. She was screaming in pain. Her body was wracked with pain. There was something wrong with her body. Did she have a body? Where was her body? What was her body? Who was she?

“Zelda,” she dimly heard a voice cry out. “Zelda!”

* * *

A full moon hung in the inky velvet sky. In the fields, a symphony of moans and shuffling bodies was the only sound to be heard. Were a person to walk by and observe the scene before them, they would notice that the mass of bodies was headed towards a towering french medieval castle. Perhaps they would even pick up on a faint scent of blood in the air. Of course, there would never be an observer. The zombies always overcame in the end. When the last human on earth was gone, they would be the only ones left. Wandering unceasingly, for the rest of eternity.