All was a blur. Months went by waiting for The Agency to give an answer. The snow thawed. Green grass began to grow by the time Sonya heard back and finally they were able to move, just as the outdoors was becoming beautiful and alive again. The Agency was able to send movers to Sonya and her husband’s house. Pack up all their things. Stuff their two fluffy cats, one black and one grey, into crates and ship them off too. Sent a stiff-backed real estate agent to them to sell their house. Sonya watched all this happen without quite realizing what was happening. She felt a pang as she heard her cats meowing, distressed, being carted away from their home. Nothing to do but to stuff themselves into their small car and make the long trip, several days worth, to Aynor. As the drove away from their own bright green town, Sonya felt a pang in her heart. Their friends and neighbors and family all came out to wish them tearful goodbyes and to ask if she was excited. She wasn’t really. She only felt dread, but it all had happened so quickly, although had it? It had also somehow dragged on and on but she had never thought to put a stop to it. As they drove, they saw the ground get drier and drier, and more brown and tan and grey, the color sucked out of everything it seemed. The trees became spikier. At one point they disappeared entirely and only flat expanses of land flew out in all directions before them, desolate under the beating sun. Finally they reached Aynor, and the trees returned, but they were so different. Instead of round and friendly and deep green, they were spiky and dusty dry, hard and reliant in a way that said they had to be or they would die. The smell outside was like a campfire about to go up in flames, like dry cedar kindling. Not the moist verdant scent of home. It felt strange. Their first night in the new place, after getting the kitties settled in their temporary abode, Sonya and her husband went to explore Aynor, the city where she would be working. They found a brightly lit restaurant where fancy people ate dinner, dressed up in their pressed patterned shirts, and slacks, shiny shoes, hair done a specific way, make up and tattoos, and lots of accessories, their entire being saying, “I put a lot of time, effort and money into this appearance.” Sonya and her husband sat, looking very plain in their single colored shirts, Sonya in her black linen skirt, and her husband in his khaki shorts. Hair mussed from travel. Not a scrap of makeup or jewelry. Everyone was eating the most fancy looking food plated up looking like a magazine cover. Chatting. The buzz of activity and sound. Then suddenly, screaming. A woman’s high pitched voice screaming something garbled. A man’s deep voice shouting, “FUCK!!!!!!!” and the sound of a table and chairs being kicked. Sonya and her husband looked in shock as a disheveled woman was being hauled out of the restaurant by an angry waiter, and a man hurled curse words at the diners. He looked like he could be 30 years old, or 70 years old, but it was hard to tell, his face had the sunken appearance of an old person, but he somehow didn’t seem to be that old, almost like a young person who had been cursed by a witch. He wore filthy, raggedy clothes, and the woman walked hunched over almost in half. The diners all sat in shocked silence, forks held aloft in dainty hands as everyone mildly looked around at each other, as if seeking reassurance. Sonya’s heart pounded in her chest. Moments of silence went by before slowly, one by one, everyone returned to their meals as if nothing had happened. A cheerful waiter appeared by their side, “How is everything??” Sonya stared up at him, stone faced. At the office the next day, Sonya walked shakily inside the stone building and into the elevator. She had taken the train into the city and seen outside the window hoards of zombies on the streets, and the regular people just side stepping to avoid them, hardly giving a glance, as if they barely noticed them. Zombies walked hunched over, or to the side, hobbling along, some half clothed, some standing in place like a statue, rocking back and forth, back and forth, over and over. On the train there had been zombies, laughing to themselves, smacking themselves on the head and face, screaming, punching, kicking things. Sonya took her cue from the others and tried to ignore the zombies, while simultaneously keeping a constant eye on where they were located in proximity to herself and her body. They didn’t seem to outright attack anyone, but it gave one such unease to be around one of them, because they were clearly not capable of rational thought, and one could only imagine where that could lead, with a creature incapable of reason. It had never been explained to her, that this was a condition of working in this place, or living in this place. Occasionally a zombie had gotten into their town, but the freezing white winter always drove any away, and kept them away for long periods of time. Here it seemed, the perfect weather had a side effect. Invite your friends and earn rewards
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