Free Nashville Summers by Grayson Elliot

Chapter 1
    The mild Sep tember air hit my face hard as I strolled down Tecumseh Avenue of Garrote, New Mexico, casually swinging my arms and glancing from side to side.  I was searching out what I could see in the dim rays of the setting sun and the light of the few remaining streetlamps that hadn't yet been broken.  With every step I took the empty gas can held tight in my right fist smacked into my thigh.  It created a rhythmic pattern that I found amusing.  On either side of me sat peaceful looking suburban homes, many dark and deserted, some with missing doors or smashed and broken windows.  I took no notice of that.
    I scowled exaggeratedly and held up my gas can to eye level.
    "Fucking thing," I growled, punching it weekly with my left hand.
    "Why can't you just stay full on your own?”  The can made no response.  I lowered it again, still scowling, and continued on my way in the general direction of the gas station.  If only I had a car, I thought.  At 19, I really should have one, but I unfortunately didn’t.
    Suddenly , I became aware of a slight noise to my left.  My nerves tensed, and adrenaline rushed.  Would this be another fight?  There had been too many lately... but when I turned to look I allowed myself to relax slightly.  There was nothing out of the ordinary, just a boy, maybe a little older than me, shooting hoops in his driveway.
    It was a damn fine boy at that t oo.  I found my gay hormones flaring as I admired his lean form, covered only by a pair of basketball shorts and a yellow muscle shirt with the number '6' on the back.  When he jumped I could see his muscular legs flex appealingly.  I smiled, and watched as long as I could without him noticing my stare.  Once he did, he just smiled back, clenching the ball under his arm with one hand and wiping a spot of perspiration off his forehead with the other.  "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.
    Before I could respond he threw the ball at my chest quick as lighting.
    "Here, take a shot.”  I was even faster though.  I dropped my gas can to the ground with a clatter catching the ball.
    Faster than ever, I dribbled up the length of the driveway towards the basket and the boy.  When I got closer he got in my way in an attempt to stop me.  Once again I was faster than he expected.  I swiftly faked left, pivoted on the heels of my feet, and slipped by him.  He tried to grab me but I was slippery as an eel.  I ran all the way to the basket where I jumped up higher than I had thought possible and slammed the ball in.  It bounced a little on the pavement and then rolled downhill where it landed at the boy's feet.
    He stooped over and picked it up with an inexplicable hung ry grin on his face.  "Nice work," he said, moving closer to me.  I began to notice a familiar odor in the air, becoming ever so stronger the closer he got.  My shoulders sagged a little in disappointment.  This guy seemed so cool and he was definitely hot.  But from the smell of death he gave out and the aura of light around his eyes, there was no denying the truth.  He was a zombie.  Now, I would have to kill him.
    With an undead roar he threw the b asketball into my face and lunged for me, the bloodlust driving him forward with inhuman force.  For the third time the zombie boy underestimated me.  I ducked under the ball and met his charge by punching him on the face as hard as I could.  That dazed him for a few moments but he kept coming.  That's the way it was with zombies... you gotta kill 'em before they start hurting.
    Unfortunately, I had no chance against a zombie in a fist fight.
    For all my strength , I had no way to kill them unarmed.  As I gave the zombie boy another kick to the stomach to slow him down, I regretfully thought of the chainsaw I had left at home.  It had already slain so many of this guy's undead kin, not that it would do me any good now - it had no gas.
    "Your brain is mine !”  The zombie gave another roar and