Zephyr observed Zomcolt as he trotted down the far corridor towards the bathroom and spare bedroom. He was huddled up in his blanket nest and sipping at a cup of hot water with narrowed eyes. His hoof was still bandaged up from the cheese incident and he was left with a lot to think about. Now, a different pony may question the sentience and awareness of Zomcolt. Perhaps wonder if there was still a pony’s consciousness somewhere inside, waiting to be let out. But those ponies were not Zephyr.
He was thinking that Zomcolt looked really hot.
Honestly, how could Zephyr have not noticed it before? Especially after Zomcolt had bandaged up his hoof, which basically meant that Zomcolt probably liked (or at least tolerated) him. What better basis for a romance than casual undead acquaintanceship during the snowpocalypse?
Besides, Zephyr had a lot to like about Zomcolt. He was super muscular, could push a mattress halfway across a cabin, and had the kind of wings a stallion could bury himself in. Seriously, Zephyr had brushed up against those wings once on Zomcolt’s rounds and it was like being touched by the sun princess herself. Those scars were also really working for him. Everypony loved permanent nonfatal wounds. Made him look distinguished. He could go on, but the point was that the whole package was well up Zephyr’s alley and the weird translucent fur that showed his insides was quickly becoming less of a turn-off and more of a fun quirk.
So, as Zomcolt entered the main living area to continue his usual rounds, Zephyr left his nest and saddled up next to his new potential romantic interest.
“Hey, Zomcolt,” Zephyr greeted. “How are ya?”
No response.
“I hear ya, I hear ya,” Zephyr agreed. “Found anything interesting on your patrol today?”
No response.
“Ah, the same old daily grind, huh? Well, hey! Maybe this time, I’ll keep ya company while you do your rounds. Ever heard about the intricacies of mane styling?”
No response.
Zephyr took that as a sign to continue indefinitely.
They were on their fourth patrol around the cabin since Zephyr had started talking to Zomcolt and he showed no hint of stopping.
“—So, I had to tell him that he was committing a crime against pegasus culture. I mean, really? A lightning bolt for a mane? I know he was just some colt barely into his teens, but that’s just tacky and it was my duty as a beautician to tell him that. Of course, instead of understanding that I was saving him from public embarrassment, he took it as an insult to his very—”
They were in the bedroom with the corpse of the other zombie. Zephyr chose to ignore the third wheel and continue talking to his (maybe) stallion.
“—And my sister doesn’t even take my advice. I mean, she could really use some tips on getting that literal rat’s nest under control and I do mean literal. I once saw her keep three possums in there and I didn’t stop screaming until the next day. Of course, I’ll have to take another stab at it when next I see her because I mean, of course, she’s still alive. She’s the toughest pony I know. She even has a bear for a friend!” Zephyr’s breathing became ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. He forced himself to calm down with a gulp and continued on. “And there’s also Rainbows who is major hot, but like not as hot as you, or at least a different kind of hot since you’re—”
They sat before the living room window, staring out at the vast white expanse outside.
“—So I was looking at your mane and thinking that you could totally rock a pompadour. Give me ten minutes and I could make you look even better than you already do!”
No response.
“Just gotta say the word, big guy.”
No response.
“A single word and we can have you looking fierce.”
No response.
“Wish I had at least your name, Zomcolt.” Zephyr sighed. “Much as I gave you the perfect nickname, I’d prefer using your actual name instead.”
A grunt.
Zephyr stopped and perked his ears, somewhat disbelieving that he’d heard anything from the undead stallion.
“Did you say something?” He asked.
“Fla—”
Leaning forward to look at Zomcolt’s face with a stunned expression on his own, Zephyr was amazed to see the zombie’s throat muscles contracting as he tried to speak. It was a clear struggle as Zomcolt let out small pants between contractions, but the effort was clearly bearing some results.
“Oh dang, you’re really trying to talk right now. Wait, are you trying to tell me your name?” Zephyr squealed in delight. “That’s amazing! Come on, you can do it!”
“Fla— sh,” Zomcolt forced out.
“Flay shoo?” Zephyr scrunched up his face. “That doesn’t sound right. Maybe if I repeat it a bunch I’ll figure it out? Flay shoo. Flag Shoot? Flashoo? Wait. Flash! Your name is Flash!”
A grunt.
“Tartarus, yeah!” Zephyr exclaimed, pumping his wings up and down in excitement as he danced in place. “Zomcolt’s actual name is Flash!”
Another grunt. Zephyr interpreted the reply as excited.
“Well, Flash. You are in the amazing company of Zephyr Breeze, which I hadn’t told you before now for some reason.” Zephyr chuckled nervously before he extended a wing to and, on realizing Flash wasn’t moving, shook the undead stallion’s wing directly. “Nice to meetcha!”
“Nigh. Cee.” Flash answered. “Me. Eet.”
“You said more words! That’s—” Zephyr yawned “—oh shoot, your boy Zephyr is getting tired.” Another yawn. “Make that very tired. Guess I need to catch some z’s.”
Zephyr patted Flash (his name!) on the back and flopped into his nest. He pulled the covers around himself leaving Flash to stare out the window. He knew Flash would be returning to the corpse room soon. Sure enough, several thumps resounded signifying the departure of Flash from the room.
Feeling a strong sense of companionship toward the newly speaking zombie, Zephyr called out, “Night, Flash.”
After doing so, he shivered, the cold penetrating his fortress of fabric. He wrapped himself up tighter but it did nothing to stop its advance. Unwelcome thoughts began to come to mind as he felt himself get colder. The colt with the dumb lightning bolt for a mane. His sister. Rainbows. A single question at the forefront.
Were they okay?
He felt a hard spasm run through his body as unbidden scenarios came to mind. How they could have died from either the cold or a zombie. That they could have become zombies themselves, wandering Equestria, and looking for flesh to devour. His breath hitched as he felt himself become overwhelmed with panic, trapped in his own thoughts.
Abruptly, it all stopped as he felt something soft cover him.
Getting up from his nest, he noticed first that he had tossed off his blankets while trying to sleep and that a massive wing of yellow feathers now covered him in their stead. Following the limb to its source, he saw Flash laying down near him, his wing outstretched over Zephyr.
It was confusing, but Zephyr was touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Flash,” He said.
Tucking himself back under his new feather comforter, Zephyr drifted off to sleep, pleasant dreams filling his mind as he felt a feeling of warmth envelope him.