Trailer Park Zombies

onto seeing her in my dream. I shuddered. “But you don’t think so, do you, Dukey?”

“I don’t see how we can be, Fannie Mae. We’re talking about zombies here. All of our friends are dead or dying. We’re huddled in the House with no hope of rescue and a handful of bullets to protect us.”

She sighed and bit her lip. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Change of subject.”

“What do you want to talk about then?”

“Us?”

I grinned. “I think that’s too heady of a subject for right now. Maybe we can do that when we get out of this mess.”

She grinned back. “So never then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Pretty much.” A thought occurred to me. An even bigger grin crossed my face. It occurred to me that this wasn’t really being respectful to Barrett but then I realized that he would want us to go on with our lives.

She saw the look on my face and said, “What? What did you just think of?”

“I’ve got something we can talk about.”

“What?”

“Your name. Why can’t I ever just call you Fannie or FM or something like that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“Please?” I fluttered my eyelashes at her.

She giggled. “Okay, then. I’ll let you in on a little secret. My name isn’t really Fannie Mae.”

“What?” This actually was news to me.

She frowned and looked down and played with my hand. “I was actually born Francine Mary Jennsen. My mom used to go around just calling me Francine when I was little.”

I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a good story. I opened my mouth to stop her but she cut me off. “I never told you about my grandma, Dukey. My Mamaw. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to run away from the trailer and live with her. She lived in town and I probably spent at least two or three nights a week with her. Even when I was little mom was just such a terror to me. She’d yell and scream and just be so hateful and daddy was such a wimp that he wouldn’t say anything. Mamaw was the only one who’d step up to her for me.”

She wiped tears from her eyes. “Mamaw used to call me Fannie, since its short for Francine. Or that’s what she always said, anyway.” She smiled at me through her tears. “She used to call me Fannie Mary and when I was really young I’d always go up to her and say ‘Mamaw, your Fannie Mary loves you,’ but since I was real little I couldn’t say it very well. It became Fannie Mae to me. So Mamaw started to call me that all the time and it kinda stuck.”

I’d never heard her mention any of this in all the years I’d known her. “What happened?”

“I was six when mom came home one day and told me that Mamaw was dead. She’d had a heart attack in the middle of the night and died in her sleep. Ever since then I’ve made everyone always call me Fannie Mae, no shortening and no nicknames. I do that for my Mamaw. Even mom finally relented and started calling me it. I think it pisses her off to no end, but a six year old can be stubborn when you don’t call them by the name they want to be called.”

I put my arm around her. “I’m sorry, Fannie Mae. I didn’t think the story would be anything like that.”

She looked up at me in my embrace and said, “That’s okay, Dukey. I wanted you to know.” She smiled at me. I don’t know what else would have happened because that’s when Washington Jones came up to us and interrupted.

“We have a problem.” He looked concerned and scared as hell.

I sighed and stood up. “Of course we do.” It must have been a big problem for him to come to me.

He tried to lead me away and Fannie Mae stood up, too. “Duke?” Concern was etched all over her face.

I smiled at her. “I’ll be right back.” Hopefully.

Washington led me to the back of the House. There was a group of three or four men standing by the back door. I was glad to see that they’d at least done what they could to cover up the glass. I had my shotgun cradled in my arms again. I wasn’t about to leave that bad boy behind.

Jennings was back there, too. He studiously ignored me.

“What’s going on, Washington?”

He sighed and looked around at the other men. It was apparent that they were leaving this all up to him. “Do you hear that, Duke?”

I cocked my head. “All I can hear is the rain, Washington.”

He pulled me closer to the back door, pushing the other men out of the way. “Listen.”

So I listened as hard as I could. Beneath the rain, behind the noise of the men shuffling and whispering around me, over the noise of the people huddled for safety in the front room, I heard something. I cocked my head at it and got as close to the door as I could. Finally I looked at him.

He nodded at me silently.

I grimaced. “How long has that been going on?”

“About 10 or 15 minutes,” he replied, looking grim.