Zombie Foot has a Cell Phone!

I’ve been scared to walk by Zombie Foot’s house again. But the next day, Ian insists, “Just tell me where it is and I’ll just go check it out. You don’t have to go.”

            So, I do. Tell him. But then at the last minute, I tag along. We walk up the block quickly. My heart is pounding. What if Zombie Foot wakes up and attacks us? What if Zombie Foot is really attached to a dead body and then what? Will we call the police? Run for the hills?

            As we approach the house, I crane my neck to look for the dead car. Glance across the street to Crazy Cat Lady’s disheveled abode. All quiet over there. We keep walking. I’m looking looking without looking….and then what?

            No dead cars? Did we miss it? We backtrack and stop at the house directly across from CCL’s. This house is a twin of hers. Peeling grey paint, overgrown weedy lawn. And….no car?

            “I know this is the house…” I murmur, shaking my head.

            “Are you sure?” Ian asks.

            “Yeah, look at it. Doesn’t it seem like a Zombie lives here?”

            “You’ve got a point.”

            “So what happened to him? I didn’t imagine the Zombie Foot!”

            “No, I don’t for a moment think you did,” he assures me.

            “Well, I guess Zombie Foot drove away….” I joke.

            He chuckles, “Yes, looks like it.” And we start up again, walking toward McBryde, before turning into the golden afternoon light, a silly tree catching sunbeams on Christmas ornaments dangling from its limbs.

            Then, today, it’s my morning walk, and I decide, by myself, (I can’t believe I’m so brave!) to walk by Zombie Foot’s house again. As I approach, I slow, again feeling my heart pounding, the fears around Zombie Attack or Dead Body Discovery racing through my mind. And this morning, I see the car---it is parked on the lawn, its windows partly open, the dirt thick on the sides making what was once a white car, grey.

            And inside….

            OMG! Zombie Foot is on a cell phone! Not the foot, mind you, but the senior citizen whose foot it must be. Today the foot is propped up against the rolled down window again, but it’s covered in a dirty thick grey sock. Zombie Foot man, with his bushy grey hair and his stubbled face, is intently playing with a cell phone.

            Of course! What else would you do on a Saturday morning after a long night of Zombieing?

            I could stop and talk to him. It does occur to me for a split second, but then, no, he’s on his phone. Busy.

            Plus, I’m scared.

            I mean, what’s up with him in the car, on his phone today, sleeping the other day? (I assume that’s what he was doing when I first spied Zombie Foot)

            He lives in his car? Yeah, that’s probably it. But then who lives in the house that he’s parked in front of? What’s up with that?

            Walking so much, I see so much. The day-to-day lives of people I pass become clearer to me each morning and afternoon. Living in cars is one of the realities of our society. It’s tragic and sad and just wrong. I mean, Zombie Foot must be in his 60s. Or maybe older. What’s a senior citizen doing living in his car? Did he live in his car before the pandemic? Or has he lost work as a result of the plague and now has to live in his car? The landlord kicked him out of the house but told him it was okay if he parked his car on the front lawn and lived there?

            It’s appalling! That here we are, the richest country on the planet, but there are senior citizens living in their cars for whatever reason. I mean, why? All those billionaires in Silicon Valley are always bragging about how much they give to charity, but hell, where’s that money for guys like Zombie Foot?

            He’s not getting any charity.

            I feel so bad for him. But yet, again, I feel so helpless, too. What can I do? This seems to be my common refrain since the pandemic started.

            At least Zombie Foot has a cell phone. Maybe the landlord is letting him use the Wi-Fi and he can watch Tiger King on his phone.

            And one of the tigers popped out of the phone and mauled him!

            Ok, Cj, this is ridiculous. But, I do hope that at least the phone keeps him company. It does seem to be a comfort to so many people in our world at any time, but maybe, esp., at this time.

            I hurry up the street now. A mocking bird swoops down from a telephone pole, singing and screeching. A soft breeze blows my scarf round my neck. The purple irises in some lady’s garden burst in rapturous abandon.

            It’s a normal morning in the neighborhood.

            But it’s not…..