What a Woman

"Sir?" asked a young woman, as she and her dance partner clasped hands.

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often meet with zombies on their walks to Meryton.

"Well," she began, "there are the few lucky days where we do not meet any of those ghastly undead...but, on the whole, I'd say there's usually at least three lurking between our home and Meryton."

"I see," answered the man, "and do you not fear to walk that path as a result--for it seems to me that such a road, filled with such hoards of zombies, would be quite treacherous for young ladies to traverse alone."

The woman looked into his blue eyes, a slight prickle of annoyance in her mind at his seeming condescension. "I assure you Mr. Redgars--"

"Please, call me William," he interrupted, sheepishly.

"Well then, William, I can assure you that we are quite capable of defending ourselves." Then, lifting her chin slightly, she said, "In fact, my youngest sister, Rose, actually takes immense pleasure out of slaughtering our not-so-alive counterparts."

"Indeed?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "And what do you think of the subject, Ms. Hamilton?"

"I?" she asked rhetorically, "Well, I suppose I share--to some degree--my sister's craving for blood. You see..." She looked away, as if revisiting some long forgotten memory, "...my little brother, Oliver, he...Well, a few years ago--when this dreadful plague began--he was bitten. None of us knew yet that a bite from a zombie would transmit the infection, so we simply called for a doctor to address the wound and expected little Oliver to make a full recovery."

Her sad gaze flickered back to William and then away again, as if she couldn't stand to look at another person as she told her tale, "Well, two days later Oliver was dead. My mother was the one who found him, actually...She had been bringing him some breakfast and found his poor little corpse just laying there in bed." Her eyes acquired a bright sheen, as though she was resisting tears, and her voice became tight, "He was so young and innocent--he didn't deserve to die like that." She shook her head, "No, he didn't deserve it..."

"Then the next day we buried him, said our last words, and thought that we had seen him for the last time--How I wish that it had been--for the next time I saw him was by the light of a full moon, covered in dirt, moaning and helplessly stupid. I had thought at first that a miracle had occurred and he had somehow come back to us, but upon closer inspection I saw that he had merely become one of the undead--and before my sisters, mother or father could see him in such a state, I grabbed the nearest shovel and killed him. A final death."

Her gaze shifted to William again, eyes locking onto his, "So, do I enjoy killing zombies? No. But do I enjoy getting revenge for my brother every time I hack off one's head? Yes. Does that answer your question, Mr. William?"

William inspected her face, sensing the passion and strength the fueled her just behind her face's delicately beautiful mask, "I do."

"And do you enjoy killing the abominable undead?" she reciprocated.

"Why, yes, I must confess that I do--it's definitely a forte of mine."

"I see," said Ms. Hamilton.

William continued to stare into the young woman's face, noticing that her eyes were a bright, burning green. His palms began to sweat and a drop of perspiration down his face shattered his cool and calm facade--for he found Ms. Hamilton quite enchanting.

"Ms. Hamilton," he began, nervously, "I wonder if..."

"Yes," she asked expectantly.

He swallowed hard and continued, "I wonder if you might want to practice with me sometime--fighting zombies, that is."

She looked at him curiously, "Well, I suppose I could arrange that."

"Perhaps I could teach you a few moves of my own," she said with a smile, "Oh, and please, call me Sophie."

"Sophie," he said with a grin--the word tasted sweet on his tongue.

"Well, I--" Sophie began when all of a sudden a loud crash was heard from across the room as one of the giant glass windows in the ballroom shattered. Screams commenced and those without the courage to stay and fight the mob of undead that were inexorably about to enter the building fled--Sophie and William being pelted by their retreating bodies as they fought against the tide.

William gauged the situation: "Looks like there's about twenty of them out there, and a few are already starting to make their way in."

Sophie was also staring hard at the zombies, a plan formulating in her mind. "You take the left and I'll take the right--we'll simply kill them as they enter, that way we'll have the upper hand and they won't be able to surprise us from behind."

"Are you sure you can manage, Ms. Sophie?" he asked skeptically, "After all, that dress of yours doesn't appear to be very conducive to fighting."

Sophie looked at him defiantly and said sarcastically, "Oh, you think so?"

Then, reaching down to one of her fashionably embroidered stalkings she pulled out a knife and said, "Well, luckily, I always come prepared," and commenced to slash the skirt off her dress, revealing a pair of men's trousers underneath. "Let's do this, shall we?" she asked, then began running toward the zombie infested window.

William watched her in amazement, then said, "What a woman," before taking off in Sophie's wake.


Inspirational Quote of the Day:

"He made no answer, and they were silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often meet with zombies on their walks to Meryton," Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith