My Zombie Honeymoon: Love in the Age of Zombies Book One by James K. Evans

doll and short-wave radio!”
    “Did you just say ‘ your blow-up doll’ ?”
    “What?! No, of course not. I said your blow up mattress and short wave radio.”
    She looked at me askance then said “That’s right, all this and my good looks and my charming personality! I should be charging you!”
    “As long as you give me my money’s worth,” I said, immediately realizing it could be taken the wrong way. I could feel my cheeks blushing as I quickly said, “Let’s get this underway. I don’t how long it’ll be safe.”
    When I glanced up, Michele was smiling at me. She’d obviously noticed my blush. Which, of course, made me blush more. I hate blushing.
    “Ready when you are,” she said through her smile, arching one eyebrow.
    I turned my head to hide any further blushing. “Which is the heaviest?” I asked, picking up a few to test their weight.
    “Probably the inflatable mattress. It’s over thirty pounds,” she said pointing out the box. It was a queen sized mattress with a self-activating pump, the box said. Sounded comfortable. I bent at the knees and grabbed the box, straightening out as I lifted. “Ready to get the door?”
    “Set the box on the counter, I want to make one more check outside,” she said, moving into the living room. I did as she suggested, waiting until she got back before I hefted the box again.
    “You do that so easy!” she said, “I had to drag it across the floor! The coast is clear, but will you be able to carry it all the way?”
    The box really wasn’t that heavy. I wondered if she was flattering me on purpose.
    “Sure, no problem. I’ll let you open the gate, close it behind me, then scoot ahead and open the door to my house.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” she said, grabbing what looked like an overnight bag. “Ready?”
    As I nodded, she cracked open the door, took a quick look around, then opened it all the way.
    “It’s show time!”
    I headed out the door and toward the gate. Behind me Michelle quietly closed the door then sprinted in front of me. She opened the gate, again looking around, then opened it wide enough for me to get through.
    Smart girl , I thought, Quiet as a mouse!
    As I went through the gate, I looked toward the street. No zombies in sight. That was a relief.
    Michelle closed the gate behind us, then quickly headed to my house and held the door open for me. She bolted it behind us as I headed toward the hidden trap door.
    “Where’s the trap door?” she asked me. “I can’t see it!”
    I put the mattress down, then walked over and placed my weight strategically on one board. It looks like the board has an uneven crack in it, but it’s actually weighted so one end lifts up if you step on it just right. When the end lifts up, you can see a ring to grab. Michelle grabbed the ring and pulled. The trapdoor opened, the wood plank ends staggered so there was no obvious seam in the floor.
    “Very nice!” Michelle said. As she continued lifting the door, she said, “Why is the door so light? I expected it to be heavy!”
    “It has a counter weight,” I explained, “that’s what makes it so easy to lift.”
    “Sweet!” she said. We grabbed her stuff and went down the stairs where we placed them in an empty corner of the room.
    When we went back upstairs, I said, “Let’s leave the trap door open. I just wanted to show you how it works.”
    Michelle looked pretty awesome in the dim light with my gun sticking out of her belt. We made three more uneventful trips. After the fourth trip, there was barely anything left. “Do you want to take a last look around?” I asked.
    “No, this hasn’t been my home for long,” she said, “it’s really just a house. The stuff in the house matters to me, but that’s it. I don’t have an emotional connection to the place.”
    What happened next was a combination of mistakes. First, in our haste to finish, we didn’t check outside for zombies. Next, when she opened the gate for me, she glanced