Saving Bootsey – (fiction)

            Sometimes I do feel crazy. But I figure everyone is feeling at least a little crazy right now. I hoist the limp body of Bootsey over my narrow shoulders and continue on down the hill. He’s not dead, just lifeless. There’s still hope for him, at least that’s what I tell myself.

            I guess it’s a bit sad when the only living being you know is scraggly gray cat. I guess it’s even worse when that cat is partially zombified, and isn’t technically living. But he has the potentiality of coming back to life, and that’s more than I can say for anyone else I love.

            All I have to do is find the healing flower. It’s rumored to smell like honey and be the color of the perfect sunset. I may not know where to look, but I’ll know when I find it. Bootsey is all I have left, I will find that damn flower if it kills me. It’s not like I would have anything to live for if it weren’t for Bootsey.

            He fought off the zombies the best he could, clawing and hissing at them until he was cornered. He managed to get away with his crazy acrobatic skills, but when we finally got to safety I noticed a small scratch. A zombie scratch.

            He started turning slowly, his eyes fading from yellow to red and his fur becoming coarse and dry. I put a muzzle on him to keep him from biting, and little cat booties to keep him from scratching. He wasn’t yet bloodthirsty, but he was already poisonous. Now he has entered into the final phase of the transformation: hibernation. The calm before the storm.

            He will sleep for exactly twenty-four hours before his eyes open for the last time. All of who he was will be gone. I’ve got my watch strapped securely around my belt. The change will be complete in four hours and fifty-two minutes.

            Thant means that I have four hours and fifty-one minutes to find that damn flower. I continue on through the dense forest, looking for the color of the sunset.


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