When the world comes to its inevitable end, Kim doesn't think: one, that it will end while she's still alive, and two, that it will end with a motherfucking zombie apocalypse. Then again, she also didn't expect some psycho punk-ass motherfucker to try to kill her, Abernathy, and Zoë a week ago.
Same rules still apply, though. It's Wild West up in this motherfucker, and Kim is not playing around, not with the director who thinks he's going to mess up her hair by trying to eat her brains or the make-up girl that she thought was cute up until the bitch tried necking with Kim with her motherfucking teeth.
Abernathy can't say shit anymore about Kim's Roscoe. It just saved their asses. Again.
"This is not happening. This is not happening," Abernathy says for the seventh time, holding up some frou-frou makeup brush like that's going to protect her.
Kim grabs Abernathy's arm and hauls her to her feet. "Come on. Where's Lee?"
Abernathy blinks, and Kim snaps her fingers in front of Abernathy's face to get her ass moving. "I don't know, Kim. I don't know."
"Where the fuck did you see her last?"
"In the—Her trailer," Abernathy says.
Kim plucks the makeup brush out of Abernathy's hand and tosses it. There's not much they can use for weapons, but at this point, a fucking hanger will be better than nothing. Kim happens to find one better, the rod in the closet, and shoves it into Abernathy's hand.
"What the fuck is this for?" Abernathy asks, staring at it.
"A motherfucking zombie tries to eat your ass, you swing and hit that motherfucker in the head, got it?"
Abernathy seems to snap out of the stupor she's in, and her eyes go big and wide, and Kim just hopes she doesn't go into shock or something because that is guaranteed to get their asses killed, and Kim absolutely refuses to die. "Zombies, Kim! What the fuck?"
"I don't fuckin' know, and now is not the time to discuss it. We've gotta get Lee and then get Zoë and get the hell out of this mess. Stay close."
Abernathy grabs Kim's arm and squeezes, and Kim has to peel her fingers off before she cuts off the circulation or some shit.
"Not that close, bitch. And you had better not fuckin' hit me with that. Now let's go."
Karma's a motherfucker. By the time they reach Lee at her trailer, she's already been zombie-fied, and Kim feels extra fuckin' bad, but that doesn't stop her from shootin' the bitch in the head before she bites Kim and Abernathy, and shit gets really real. Lee deserved better, and they owed her big time for leaving her ass with the hillbilly, but Kim plans on saying all of her prayers and getting the hell out of here.
She has the grace to cover Lee with a sheet first. "Let's move. We gotta get Zoë."
Several miles away from the hotel, Abernathy finally asks, "What the fuck are we going to do, Kim?"
No need to front since this shit is obviously happening, so Kim tells her, "Not fucking die."
The first part of the impromptu plan of 'not dying' is: get some motherfucking guns.
After they save Zoë's ass at the hotel.
They find Zoë gleefully swinging an iron like a fucking ball and chain, and as they're running down the stairs (they're never getting a room on the third fucking floor again), Zoë decides the fastest route down is to slide on the banister, so of course, the bitch starts tumbling head over feet the rest of the way.
"Goddamn," Kim mutters, jogging as fast as she can to make sure Zoë's not hurt before she starts laying into that ass.
"I'm okay!" Zoë pops up at the bottom of the stairs with a grin and a wave, and if anyone's going to survive a zombie apocalypse, it will be Zoë fucking Bell.
Abernathy slumps against the wall and then races downstairs after them. "Oh my god, Zo, how in the hell—You know, if this was me, I would've gotten my ass eaten. I swear you are the luckiest woman I know."
"Yeah, I really am," Zoë laughs and dusts off her hands. "So let's go kill some more zombies, huh?"
Abernathy grips Zoë's shoulders and looks like she wants to shake some sense into her. Kim knows that's a fruitless fucking endeavor. "You do realize that this is not some Quentin Tarantino movie, right? This is real life, and those zombies are fuckin' real."
"Ah, come on, Abbie, lighten up. You have to admit this is pretty exciting. I visit you guys, and I get car chases and zombies. I knew I'd love visiting you in America!"
Only Zoë, Kim silently sighs.
"Let's just go," Kim says before Abernathy starts arguing and more zombies start blocking the exits and one of them gets bitten. "We need more fucking guns."
"No. No, no, no, no, no," Abernathy says, holding her hands up against the gun that Kim is trying to give her. "I don't do guns."
"It's not that hard, Abs," Zoë says with a grin and then chambers a round.
Kim ignores her and focuses on Abernathy. "If you remember, we're dealing with fucking zombies out there, so you"—She shoves the gun into Abernathy's hand—"better start doing guns."
"Oooh," Zoë says and bumps Kim's hip, "sounds kinky. Maybe we can try that later?"
Kim holds a hand in front of Zoë's face. "One, I will deal with your crazy ass later." She points at Abernathy. "And two, you, don't fuckin' shoot me. Even by accident, and we'll be straight."
"I've never shot a gun in my life. This is—" Abernathy jumps, dropping the gun and ducking behind Kim and Zoë when something bangs against the shelf behind her.
Kim and Zoë both aim and shoot, and between the two of them, they drop the zombie like the motherfucking badasses they are.
"First lesson," Kim says, stuffing Abernathy's purse with boxes of bullets and more guns, "don't panic and don't drop the gun"—She thrusts another one into Abernathy's hand—"and aim for their fucking heads."
Two weeks in, and it's like motherfucking Zombieland up in this bitch.
Even better: these are classic zombies. They aren't like the quick ones from 28 Days Later or the mutated lunatic bastards from Resident Evil. These zombies are slow and mostly bump into things, so as long as her, Zoë, and Abernathy aren't being complete fucking dumbasses, they can shoot the zombies and get away every time.
Being in a car also fucking helps.
Kim twists the steering wheel, and Zoë whacks another zombie with the steel bat they picked up ten miles back. Zoë whoops, and Kim smirks. "Take that, motherfucker."
"Can you two please keep it down?" Abernathy sighs from the backseat. "I'm trying to sleep if you don't fuckin' mind."
Four weeks in, they raid a grocery store for some supplies, and Abernathy asks, "So what happens next?"
Zoë pops up from behind some shelves and nearly gets her ass shot.
"Damn it, Zoë!" Abernathy snaps, making a show of taking several deep breaths.
"Sorry, mate. So what did you ask?"
Abernathy throws a bag of skittles at Zoë's head, but Zoë catches it, rips it open and pops a few in her mouth. "I asked what happens next?"
Zoë's grin brightens like she's been waiting for one of them to ask just this for weeks. Knowing Zoë, which Kim does, she has. "What always happens next when there's a zombie apocalypse, of course."
Abernathy looks at Kim, and Kim shakes her head, but it's too late.
"We have babies!"
Abernathy and Kim share a look and then stare at Zoë. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?" Kim says first. She waves a hand to shut Zoë up before she says some more crazy shit. "And how in the hell do you think that's going to happen? Do you see any convenient dick around? Because I sure as hell don't."
Abernathy holds up a finger and shakes her head. "And if you say zombie dick, Zoë, I swear to God, so help me, I'll—"
Zoë shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "With each other, of course!"
Zoë laughs, and Abernathy gapes, and Kim's not sure how to fucking react. Abernathy starts stuffing her purse full of chips and drinks, muttering, "Zoë's lost it. That's the only explanation. The world has ended, and Zoë has fucking lost it."
"Hey, I haven't lost it yet. Look at it this way, mates, isn't it our duty to re-populate the human race?"
Abernathy throws up her hands. "I need a fuckin' smoke."
"Found some a couple aisles back," Zoë says and tosses Abernathy two packs, one after the other. "So what do you guys think?"
Abernathy shakes her head, and Kim is still trying to digest how in the hell Zoë comes up with ideas like this. "You're out of your fuckin' mind. We are not having this conversation. Zombie apocalypse is enough for me, thanks." Then Abernathy waves a smoke in Zoë's face and fixes her with one of those prissy stares. "But so help me, if you get me pregnant, Zoë, I will kill you, do you understand? I can't fucking handle this shit."
Kim holds up a hand to put a stop to the entire conversation. "Uh-uh. You had it right the first time, Abernathy. We are not having this fucking conversation." Kim points at Zoë when she opens her mouth. "Uh-uh, I said zip it, bitch. Not another word from you. We're leaving before some more crazy shit happens while we're up in here talking about shit that's not even possible."
"Ah, come on, Kim." Zoë bounds over to them and drapes an arm over both of their shoulders, squeezing them. "Who says it's not possible? Don't you want to have my babies?"
Abernathy dips out from under Zoë's arm, throws up her hands, and heads for the door. "How is this my fucking life?"
"Love you, too, Abbie!" Zoë says, jogging after her.
Kim shakes her head and snags several bottles of water and ignores Zoë 's skinny white ass. They've got some more motherfucking zombies to kill.