{"id":1956,"date":"2026-05-07T09:19:59","date_gmt":"2026-05-07T14:19:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/?p=1956"},"modified":"2026-05-07T09:43:05","modified_gmt":"2026-05-07T14:43:05","slug":"zombie-girl","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/2026\/05\/zombie-girl\/","title":{"rendered":"Zombie Girl"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Decaying leaves crunched underfoot and a soft breeze stirred the late October air. A horde of zombies shuffled past the playground at the community park. The more devoted zombies were moaning and limping along as zombie children screeched and chased each other down the edges of the gruesome parade. A little zombie with a massive pink cast on her leg and a hospital gown in a wheelchair was being pushed along by an Abe Lincoln zombie. A few paces away, a young doctor zombie, with a plastic stethoscope and a blue surgical cap, was pointedly ignoring her patient.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen tugged at her stethoscope as her mother, wearing more of a generic zombie look with impressively grotesque facial gore, pulled Helen aside into a yellowing grass. She adjusted her daughter\u2019s surgical cap and squatted down next to her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, honey?\u201d She said, \u201cYou\u2019ve barely spoken to Maxine all day.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen was quite aware of this. She hadn\u2019t seen Maxine, her best friend, since Maxine broke her leg last week. She could not believe Maxine had done that. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, turning away from her mom.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cHelen,\u201d her mother said, her voice hardening. \u201cYou need to be the one pushing Maxine in the wheelchair. Otherwise, it ruins your costumes!\u201d Helen\u2019s mother looked behind her. Two superhero zombies, Helen\u2019s little brothers, were hitting each other with sticks. \u201cBoys!\u201d she shouted. She grabbed Helen\u2019s hand and pulled the two of them back into the moaning, oozing crowd. \u201cCut that out right now! Zombies don\u2019t fight each other!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0All around Helen, people wearing fake blood, latex skin grafts and prosthetics, green makeup, and torn-up clothes staggered through the park for the annual Zombie Walk, all in the name of charity: the National Alliance on Mental Illness. It was something Helen and Maxine\u2019s families had participated in each October for the last few years. The night was crisp but the mass of bodies radiated a collective warmth, and they all seemed to be getting too close to Helen. Too warm, too real.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Usually, Helen wasn\u2019t bothered by the zombies; she knew they were fake, after all. But this time something was different. The more realistic makeup, torn flesh oozing blood and pus, skin peeling away to reveal sinewy shreds of muscle and white bone, eyes clouded in milky white and darkened by gaping shadowed sockets, made Helen shudder and look away. She smelled decomposing leaves, wet grass, Elmer\u2019s glue, and burnt plastic. The air was conflicted between the actual rotting of cyclical life as winter approached and the feigned deterioration of the zombie people, imitating death and decay around their true blood-pumping bodies.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 She could see Maxine swiveling her brown-haired head around, no doubt looking for Helen. But Maxine\u2019s sight was limited by the margins of her chair and the blockage of her father, Abe Lincoln zombie, who was pushing her. Helen strategically walked a few steps behind them. She hadn\u2019t even signed the cast yet! In the flickering hazy lamplight of the park, Helen could see signatures and drawings scrawled all up and down Maxine\u2019s leg. This was just an added wrongdoing, Helen thought. It wasn\u2019t right. Certainly, Maxine had taken things too far. It made Helen feel sick. She felt sick like a real virus, a real, infectious, degenerating illness was taking root. It seemed as if Maxine\u2019s secret, the real pain she hid, was now encased in the pink cast around her broken leg, all the way from her hip to her toes. This was something ominous and unknown to Helen, and she was afraid.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen was in fourth grade and Maxine was in fifth, which meant it had been nine years since Maxine\u2019s family moved into the small blue house on East Walnut Street, just down the block from Helen and her family. Both the oldest siblings, they reigned above the littles together. They learned to read together; they joined, and eventually quit, ballet lessons together. Every holiday and birthday they spent together, every summer chalking sidewalks down the block and running back and forth between garage sales, every zombie walk, every new milestone. Now, Maxine went to private school and Helen went to public school, but they still saw each other almost every day.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 In September, Helen had been at Maxine\u2019s house after school. They sat together in Maxine\u2019s bed. The room Maxine shared with her younger sister was cluttered and cozy and bright. There was a pink plastic vanity with sparkly chapsticks and waxy play eyeshadow, purple pillows and fuzzy Ariel and Cinderella blankets strewn across the bunk beds lined with plush bears, elephants, and frogs. Colorful bins full of Legos, action figures, Barbies, and the little cloth clothes that belonged to them were a constant source of argument. A pile of comic books, \u201cTeeny Titans\u201d and \u201cBone\u201d, were stacked next to the wooden dollhouse, plastic wands and mesh-lined fairy wings lay against the bottom bunk, and a half-built Lego house, green and yellow and blue blocks mixed together, sat on the table in the corner of the room.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Maxine and Helen had grown tired of that little kid stuff, and while the younger siblings were upstairs having a snack, they perched in the top bunk with blankets pulled up to their chins, whispering secrets. They had just finished giggling about the boy in Helen\u2019s class who could run really fast when a veil drew over Maxine\u2019s face. She became very still, very quiet.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cHelen,\u201d Maxine said. \u201cCan I tell you a secret?\u201d She pleaded with Helen, brown eyes wide under the thin strands of hair that fell across her face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen tugged her blanket over her head like a hood, leaning closer. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cYou have to promise not to tell anyone,\u201d Maxine said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cI won\u2019t. Cross my heart.\u201d Helen said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Maxine was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt with a pink sequin heart in the middle. She pulled her sleeve all the way up to her elbow, revealing her pale skinny arms. She twisted her arm wordlessly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 On Maxine\u2019s inner arm near her elbow, were two scabbed-over wounds. Cracked red crust drew stark lines against Maxine\u2019s white skin, like a warning. \u201cI did this,\u201d Maxine said after a moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhat?\u201d Helen did not understand. Why was Maxine showing her these scrapes? She must have fallen on the blacktop at school or something. She squirmed under her blanket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cI did it. I don\u2019t know why.\u201d Maxine stared into Helen\u2019s eyes. \u201cSometimes, I feel like I need to. Like maybe it helps, to hurt.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cNeed to? But why?\u201d Helen said. She reached out slowly and touched Maxine\u2019s arm like it might fall off or bleed at her touch. Maxine\u2019s skin was warm and smooth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cI told you, I don\u2019t know. I use my nails. At night sometimes. I scratch and scratch and scratch until it bleeds.\u201d Maxine looked down at Helen\u2019s hand, then drew her arm away, tugging her sleeve back down and looking away. \u201cBut you can\u2019t tell anyone. You promised.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen nodded slowly. She felt a gnawing deep in her stomach, like this was something bad, something dark. But she didn\u2019t understand what it meant.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen was aware that there were things about Maxine\u2019s life, Maxine\u2019s family, that she didn\u2019t know. They were best friends forever, of course, but some aspects of Maxine had always been hazy and far away to Helen. Maxine was always the one getting in trouble, always the one making the littles cry. She listened to angry music and read weird books and sometimes messaged strange faraway people online on the computer in the office when her parents weren\u2019t around. Sometimes there would be yelling and slamming doors and afterward, Maxine would hiss and stalk around the house like a caged animal. But she never fought with Helen. All Helen knew was that a promise was a promise, and she loved Maxine.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 They didn\u2019t talk about it anymore, and the days and weeks went on as normal. September gave way to October and the humming of life outside began to slow down, the leaves began to fall. Helen didn\u2019t think about Maxine\u2019s secret much. Of course, sometimes Helen would stare at Maxine\u2019s arms when her sleeves were rolled up. She followed Maxine like a shadow after she fought with her parents, just to check. Sometimes at night, Helen lay awake and wondered what could be happening down the block in the small blue house on East Walnut Street.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 But then, weeks later, Helen\u2019s mom told her that Maxine broke her leg at school and had to get a cast and a wheelchair. The secret was suddenly red hot and burning in Helen\u2019s mind, telling of Maxine\u2019s injury. Why would Maxine break her own leg? That surely hurt far worse than any scratch or scab. Now she couldn\u2019t run or play, she couldn\u2019t walk down the block to come over, and what about their plan for the zombie walk? They hadn\u2019t even chosen which zombies they were going to be yet! Now it was surely ruined. Helen\u2019s mom said Maxine had tripped at recess and cracked her femur on a concrete step. Maxine had taken it too far, Helen thought. She was so beside herself that she refused to talk with her mom about it at all.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 On the day of the charity walk, everyone transformed into zombies at Helen\u2019s house. When Maxine\u2019s family had arrived, everyone rushed at her. Helen\u2019s parents cooed and clucked, and her brothers tapped on the plaster that wrapped her leg and took turns propelling themselves about on the crutches she used to go to the bathroom. Everyone signed the cast, even the adults, except for Helen. \u201cI\u2019ll do it later,\u201d she said. She ignored the hurt that hung in the air around Maxine after this.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 The mothers bustled around, pulling out costumes and paint and makeup. They made each of the children put on warm underlayers, despite their protest. \u201cUndershirts will ruin the costume!\u201d Maxine\u2019s sister cried. They did the makeup for the fathers first. Abe Lincoln zombie and pirate zombie emerged from the bathroom groaning and asking for brains, chasing kids around the house, shrieking and giggling. Fresh cookies cooled on the counter under a dish towel. <\/span>The Nightmare Before Christmas<\/span><\/i> played on the tv. Helen was stoic on the couch. One thing about Maxine\u2019s wheelchair, it made her slow and her movements awkward. It was easy for Helen to escape when her friend tried to start conversation.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cHey Helen, Drew M. signed my cast. Come look!\u201d Maxine said, turning her chair with her hands on the wheels to face Helen.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m going to get a cookie.\u201d Helen said. She had left the living room before Maxine could reply.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 After the dads, Maxine and Helen were up. Everyone said making them doctor zombie and patient zombie was an excellent idea. Very fitting, with Maxine in her cast and wheelchair.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen had still barely spoken to Maxine. The neon pink cast offended her, taunted her. Helen sat on the bathtub ledge as the mothers turned her friend into the undead. Maxine tried to say something, searching for eye contact with Helen in the reflection of the mirror, but the mothers hushed her swiftly. She had to be still, they said. They created dark circles around her eyes, smudging the eyeshadow with purple and red and yellow around the edges, caving in her cheeks with contour and darkening her lips.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen watched Maxine bruise. She wondered if Maxine\u2019s sister had noticed her scars. What about Helen\u2019s brothers? She didn\u2019t want them to see. She didn\u2019t want them to know.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Then they dabbed Elmer\u2019s glue onto Maxine\u2019s cheeks and neck, and as it dried it flaked off white and crusty. They painted thin blue and purple lines across her face, blending them with a sponge.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen watched Maxine\u2019s skin peel and bubble with popping veins, peeling like the scabs on her arms. Were there more underneath her sleeves? How many times had Maxine bled in the night? How did she clean up the blood under those teal princess blankets?\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Lastly, the mothers procured the fake blood, the red eyeliner, the liquid latex, and began carving out gashes and cuts, a slit in her neck. They ran clear lip gloss over all the red, making it glisten and shine in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Boxes of makeup and paint cluttered the green tiled counter, the mothers wielding brushes and sponges as they transformed Maxine. A sharp chemical smell filled the enclosed space, but was that the makeup, or was that what blood smelled like? Was that an eyeshadow brush, or a fingernail, digging lacerations into Maxine\u2019s skin?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Helen watched Maxine turn bloody and grotesque and distorted. Helen watched Maxine turn dead. Is this what will happen to her? Is this what she wants? Maxine stuck out her tongue and scrunched up her now horrible face, looking at Helen in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Maxine giggled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cMaxine! Sit still.\u201d her mother said. Maxine\u2019s silly face was gone. She seemed to be waiting for Helen to make a face back, to crack a joke, to do something, say anything. Helen stood up and ran out of the bathroom.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen was scolded for not sitting still and for throwing a tantrum. She refused to let the mothers do her makeup until zombie girl was wheeled out of the bathroom.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 That night, they reached the halfway marker of the walk, a little sign in the grass. Helen looked at Maxine in the chair, half her normal height and completely dependent on the people around her. The body that hid her secret was vulnerable to everyone\u2019s pity, everyone\u2019s curiosity. Who was Helen, to leave her like that? It wasn\u2019t like Maxine had a contagious virus. Anyway, they always spent the zombie walk together. Helen marched up to Abe Lincoln zombie. \u201cI\u2019ll take it from here, Mr. President.\u201d Maxine\u2019s dad smiled and stepped away. Helen took hold of the push handles. She was struck by how light Maxine felt in the wheelchair. She had imagined it would be more difficult to push her forward.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cHelen! Where have you been? What\u2019s wrong? You\u2019ve been ignoring me all day.\u201d Maxine turned her head, her haunting face scrunched up, painted eyebrows furrowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cDid you do it on purpose?\u201d Helen said shortly.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cWhat?\u201d Maxine said, struggling to twist around in her chair. Her voice was loud and rough.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYour leg. Did you break it on purpose?\u201d Helen said. Maxine looked so small within the bulk of her cast, leg bound pink and thick and prominent for everyone to see.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Maxine paused. \u201cWhat? No. That\u2019s dumb. I just tripped! It really sucks cause now I have-\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cPromise?\u201d Helen interrupted before Maxine could finish. She saw her hands quivering on the rubber handles of the wheelchair.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cCross my heart.\u201d Maxine\u2019s voice was quiet, now.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen sighed deeply. She imagined the vow moving through Maxine\u2019s arteries, making her real human heart glow with a seal of promise. Zombies aren\u2019t real, Helen thought. Zombies aren\u2019t real, and Maxine was going to be ok. She wasn\u2019t decaying, and she was going to be ok.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Helen looked at her own hands again. They were stained with fake blood. She had forgotten. She, too, was a zombie tonight.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cDoctor Helen?\u201d Maxine said. \u201cWill you sign my cast?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cYes,\u201d Helen said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cOk.\u201d Helen could not see Maxine\u2019s face as she pushed her along amongst the groaning undead, but she could hear the smile in her voice.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 They continued along, Helen pushing Maxine like she should have all along. Helen knew that a promise was a promise, but she also knew that a crossed heart was no good if Maxine was hurt. She didn\u2019t understand Maxine all the way, but she could try, and maybe trying meant telling someone who could help. For now, she could be a zombie girl with Maxine and not let go of the rubber handlebars.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Darkness shrouded the horde of zombies as they shuffled past the gazebo at the community park, nearing the end of the walk. They were dreadful, their bodies feigning ruin, but they were alive. A little zombie with a massive pink cast on her leg and a hospital gown in a wheelchair was being pushed along by a young doctor zombie with a plastic stethoscope and a blue surgical cap.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Decaying leaves crunched underfoot and a soft breeze stirred the late October air. A horde of zombies shuffled past the playground at the<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[30],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1956"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1956"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1956\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1958,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1956\/revisions\/1958"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1956"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1956"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1956"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}