Outside, between gusts of wind, you can hear the Zombies. Not in the hallways but on the street. There is just so many of them. On the streets they move. Always moving.
Joe and I sit on the roof and watch. Sometimes we see someone we'd seen before. Maybe the day before- maybe more days. Doing laps. But only some.
Joe: “Can you shoot a gun in space?”
“No- I don't think so.” I say.
“Really? Didn't they do that in Firefly?”
“Yeah- but- remember they had, like, used an oxygen suit to put the weapon in, right?”
“Oh. yeah, right.” He pauses to think. Then: “Can you shoot lasers in space, then?”
“I don't think laser guns are real. I think.”
“They have lasers in CD players.”
I nodded. “Well, so- yes, then, I guess, maybe, if you had a CD player. You could probably play it in space.”
“So,” Joe says. “Lasers work in space. You know, through deductive reasoning.”
I flick on the flashlight to see Joe’s face. Lost in his mind, he looks happy for a change. So much death for this young kid to live through, to witness. His childhood lost between the gun shots, and the shuffling of feet.
Joe says, through a burgeoning smile, “Well, that’s something to live for- making a laser gun.”