Tibby remembered the words out loud.

“Shoot them in the head the radio transmission said. That was when there were still radio transmissions to be heard.”

Tibby lifted the rifle to her shoulder. She got the AA battery in her sights. She pulled the trigger and removed it from on top the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

She grinned and looked down at the white, mop-haired dog at her feet.

“Gotta be a hundred feet to the end of the drive.”

The dog opened its mouth and the usual voice came out.

“Eighty at the most, and a lucky shot anyway.”

“Well, it’s still not bad considering I first touched a gun six months ago.”

A lonely wind whistled and stirred up red dust on the road below.

Tibby looked down the dirt road but couldn’t see its end.

“Why do you look?” the dog asked. “Madden has been gone for two months. The only way he’s coming back is if he comes back as one of them.”

“Shut up!” she snapped at the dog. “You don’t know anything! If Madden’s one of them, he won’t even remember his own name, much less where he came from.”

Tibby reloaded the gun.

The dog laughed. “Memories always remain, even the one’s you didn’t attend to in the first place. You better remember who I am, or you’re going to be in trouble.”

Tibby turned the rifle toward the dog. “I’m about sick of your voice.”

The dog grinned. “Go ahead. You’ll just kill a harmless mutt. I’ll still be around. I’ll never leave you.”

Tibby pulled the gun away. She looked down the lonely country road again. She looked past it at the field and the woods.

“How could he leave a frail, young woman out here alone? He knew I’ve never been nothing but a bookworm.”

“Too bad you didn’t pay attention to me.”

Tibby looked down at the dog. She held the gun in both hands. “It doesn’t matter. When they come, I’ll be ready.”

The dog barked. Then it said, “You better remember who I am.”

#

“I like it better outside. Maybe it’s because I feel less lonely out in nature.”

She was sitting on the well house. The dog was on the ground next to her. His eyes were closed. The woods below were alive with chirping birds.

“I actually know why he left. He said he was going into the city to find better weapons at the armory.”

Tears came to her eyes, but she fought them back.

“He was a good man. I met him after the world changed. He led me away from the city. He knew the zombies would congregate there, because that was where the smell of human flesh was the strongest.”

“Your good man also knew that they would come out here. He knew it was just a matter of time.”

She looked down at the dog, which still hadn’t opened its eyes.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I never sleep.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you. You have to remember. It’s the only way.”

“Are you a good man?”

“You have to remember!”

Tibby went inside.

#

She was back in the old world, dancing in the club, people all around, laughing, their expressions colorful, their movements loose. The bark of the dog wouldn’t let her stay.

Tibby sat up in bed. She was in the girl’s room, with its pink curtains and posters on the wall. She often wondered about the family who abandoned this house. Were they good people? Were they zombies now?

This was where she usually slept, ever since Madden had gone into the city. Daylight was still coming through the windows.

Pushing back a curtain, she saw the dog on the front porch. He was looking down the road and throwing a fit. Tibby looked and saw a human form coming their way. She could not make out its features, but by its gait, she knew what it had to be.

Tibby picked her gun up off the floor. She rushed outside and stood with the dog on the front porch.

“Quiet boy. I’m here.”

The dog stopped barking and spoke.

“No! I won’t be quiet. You have to remember me.”

“There’s no time to argue.”

Tibby lifted the gun and looked through the scope.

It had broad shoulders and black hair. Its face was angular.

Tibby lowered the gun. “Madden,” she whimpered.

“I told you he would remember. Memories remain.”

She lifted the gun again. She could not see the eyes clearly, but she could see them clearly enough. They were vacant.

She lowered the gun again and cried. She noticed the dog looking at her.

“Don’t you dare say another word,” she told it.

The dog looked away and barked.

Tibby shook as she moved into the front yard. She slowly made her way to the road, where she saw Madden stagger a little faster than before. She could make out his horrible grunts.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

She lifted the gun. Though she was shaking, she was still able to get a good look at his head. She pulled the trigger. She saw the black blood fly. She saw his head whip back and then forward again. She saw the dime-sized hole she had put between his eyes. She saw the zombie grin.

Tibby lowered the gun and studied the creature down the road. It stood still for a couple of seconds.

Then it staggered forward.

Tibby gasped. She dug a shell from the pocket of her jeans. She pulled the lever back. With shaking hands, she managed to get the bullet in. She pulled the hammer back. She looked up at Madden. He had to be within a hundred feet of her now.

She lifted the gun and spoke frantically.

“It didn’t penetrate the skull. I just have to wait until he’s closer. It will go through if he’s closer.”

She watched him move at her. His clothing were ripped and stained. Lust dominated his pale face and excitement ruled his grunts. She waited until she could see his faded irises, and then she fired.

His left eyeball disappeared and Madden fell forward to the ground.

Tibby lowered the gun and looked at the motionless thing that was once human. She waited, counting her breaths. She counted twenty.

She moved slowly toward the corpse.

“Oh, Madden. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The head moved. Tibby froze in her tracks.

“It’s just nerves. Memories remain, and so do nerves. It’s just nerves. That’s all. It’s dead.”

Its arms moved. It raised the upper part of its body. It looked at her and growled as black blood dripped from two holes in its face.

Tibby reached to the front pocket of her jeans. It was empty. She checked her other front pocket.

“No. I didn’t forget to get more bullets.”

The zombie got up.

Tibby checked her back pockets, remembering how the radio had said just a bite was enough to make you one of them.

She didn’t have another shell.

Tibby fell as she darted away. She landed hard on the road and looked behind her. The zombie was no more than ten feet away. The smell of its decay made her stomach lurch. She got to her feet, hearing the whoosh of the zombie’s swing as she moved away. She didn’t get far before she felt the cut on her right knee and her gait changed.

The sound of the zombie’s grunts grew closer as she limped into the yard. She looked over her shoulder to see it closing in.

Half way across the yard, she slipped again. She screamed as the zombie closed the last few feet.

She heard the dog bark and then felt it run right over her back. Tibby looked back to see it grab the zombie’s ripped pant leg with its teeth. She heard it growl as it shook its head. She also heard it speak.

“Run! Get away and remember me!”

Tibby turned and got to her feet.

She heard the dog’s yelp as she made her way to the house. She rushed through the foyer and into the kitchen. She slipped again. She hit her head on the counter on the way down.

#

The Biology Professor had brought in a guest lecturer, some white-haired neurologist. Why did she care what he had to say? None of what he said would be on the test. Besides, she was an English Literature major. She was just taking this class because she had to have a science elective.

“You there, in the back row, the girl reading the Charles Dickens book instead of listening to me.”

Tibby looked up. She couldn’t believe he was addressing her. She looked around at the hundred other students in the classroom. Most were taking notes. Some were looking straight ahead. None seemed to care that the man standing at the front of the class was speaking directly to her. It occurred to her that all these people were dead. This was what remained.

“You’re the dog,” Tibby called out. “I mean, you’re the voice.”

“Yes, I am. Now you have to remember what I said.”

Tibby thought for a few seconds. “But I didn’t pay attention. I was just a freshman in college. I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know the world was going to change.”

The neurologist placed a hand on his chin and then said, “It’s going to be just an echo then, but an echo will do. Look down at your book, dear, like you did on this day.”

Tibby did as told. The neurologist spoke.

“Today I want to talk to you about the different parts of the brain. I’ll start with the brainstem. This is often called the primitive brain. That’s because, in evolutionary terms, it was the first part of the brain to develop. It’s also the most prominent part of the brain in lower life-forms, such as reptiles and fish. In humans, thought, as we know it, does not occur in the brainstem, but this part of the brain is still very crucial, because it contains the life centers. We can live without the thinking centers in our forebrain, but without the brainstem, we die.”

#

The words continued to echo as Tibby came to. The zombie was in the doorway, looking down on her. The gun was beside her. Tibby grabbed the gun and rolled.

The zombie grunted its protest. Tibby got to her feet and saw the package of shells on the dining room table. The zombie was almost on top of her. She fell backward, knocking over the shells. The shells fell around her. She grabbed one at random. The zombie grinned as it looked over her body. She got the shell loaded and the hammer back. The zombie growled, sending shivers through her.

She screamed at it, and it screamed back. She kicked at it, making contact with its legs but doing no damage.

“Come on! Come for me! Eat me! Go ahead!”

The zombie growled one last time and then came down. She darted to the side and it landed beside her. Its mouth was open.

She pulled the rifle back and then rammed it into the zombie’s mouth. She quickly bent it upward before the zombie could pull away. She squeezed the trigger.

What little iris was left in its remaining eye rolled back in its head. She pulled the gun from its mouth and rolled away. Remembering how it had gotten up on the road, she quickly got to her feet.

The zombie’s head had fallen, so she could see the hole in the back of it. She thought she had probably hit the right spot, but she reloaded the gun and shot the still creature in the back of the head again, just to be sure.

Afterward, Tibby walked into the front yard where she saw a mixture of mop-hair and blood.

She fell to her knees.

“No. You were all I had.”

A new voice came. This one came right from her mouth.

“Don’t cry, my dear. You’ll always have me.”

—-

Bio:  Joshua Scribner is the author of five previously published novels.  He has published short stories with Whispering Spirits, Astounding Tales, The Secret Attic, WNRC, Dark Fire, Ethereal Gazette, Escaping Elsewhere, Mega Print Ink, Nevermore Magazine, AlienSkin Magazine, Fables, Camp Horror , Aphelion, Thirteen Magazine, Echelon Press, and Seasons in the Night.  His stories also appear in the anthologies Trip the Light Horrific, Tabloid Purposes 2, Riverdale Short Story Annual 2005 and Chimeraworld 3.  Up to date information on his work can be found at www.joshuascribner.com.