Romancing the Afterlife

A Death to Remember

“Holy crap! That was intense man, that was way too f*****g intense!” one of the guys who had been a passenger in the bed of Bruce’s truck said, while frantically pacing. The other guy rubbed his back as he started gagging over someone’s ditch. Bruce held the gun Amber had stolen from her father’s safe to his side. He was a heated mess, breathing deeply staring off into the distance as the car drove away. He was unaware his last shot had hit the back window of the car let alone the back of someone’s head. He had spent the last twenty minutes in blind rage and embarrassment. The wretched zombie succubus had seduced him in front of a beach load of people. People that knew him saw her with him, his only redemption was if he had killed her, but he had failed. He would never live this down, people would forever remember him for almost having had s*x with a dead girl who he had met at the beach, and then allowed her to possibly eat all of them instead of shooting the heinous creature in the head and saving everyone’s life. He would have to find this attractively disguised zombie girl and finish the job, if he ever wanted a cool reputation again. She had made a real victim of him. He could already see the oncoming public shame in his mind. Amber groaned in pain, bleeding on the ground.

“We should get the hell out of here,” one of the guys said, “Someone probably called the cops.”

“Good they can help us hunt her down,” Bruce assured the boy.

“Hey jackass, you just fired a gun in public and this girl is hurt. Unless you want to stand and wait to answer a bunch of questions-“ the other guy criticized him. Bruce shook his hand pointing the gun at him; acknowledging the kid had a point but also making the both of them take a step back. He opened the door to his truck and threw the gun on the backseat and closed it back up. He walked passed the two guys as the sound of many running footsteps approached. Some of the others in the mob were finally catching up, coming to see what had happened. Bruce bent down and picked up Amber and carried her over to the passenger side of his truck.

“b***h bit me,” she mumbled to him. He put her in the truck and buckled her up, as she seemed a bit faint. He walked around and climbed in the driver’s seat and started the truck.

“What about us?” the queasy teen asked.

“You’re on your own,” as he hit the gas and drove off leaving them standing there.

He heard one of them shout after him, “I hope your b***h turns into a zombie and eats you bro!”

Cain unwrapped his ruined woman, she stared blankly straight up at the ceiling and remained silent. He waved his hand in front of her face just to make sure her eyes were still moving. She glanced over at him with a desperate plea, asking him mentally ‘what now?’ and then went back to staring a hole into the emptiness of time and space. Her eyes were like a cartoon’s, a small black dot on a circle of white, sunken into her sockets that seemed wide and deep, making it seem like if she sat up they would just fall out. Her nostrils had suffered some decay, each side of her nose now ended before the cartilage in the middle that could almost be seen under gray translucent skin coming to a sharp point. Her dislocated jaw leaned on her neck, drying out, her mouth looked monstrous, a gaping hole to the back of her throat that looked ready to shallow a chicken whole, with no teeth, a shriveled gray tongue and lips that looked like burnt crust. She chose not to speak from shame of her hideous groaning. Her body had shrunk inside her clothes, muscles and fat had dissolved, she was shriveling. She had no hips, or butt or breasts, just scaly skin covering her rib cage. Her right hand missing, her left hand wrinkled with a few of the bone tips poking out of the ends of her fingers, like the skin had exploded like a joke cigar. Her left ankle made a 90-degree angle outwards, like the ultimate case of clubbed foot going the other way. Somehow he knew despite the injuries and decomposition of her body, she wasn’t feeling any physical pain, her pain was on the inside.

He stroked her hair and most of it came off in his hand. It drew her attention and she looked up at him, with a refreshed look of grief on her face from the visual of her hair loss. She would have cried, but she had run out of black tears. She tried to say something but it came out more like a gasp and groan. Cain lifted her jaw, and did his best to snap it into place, ignoring the disgusting grind and clicks it made. After he thought he had it in place he softly rubbed the side of her face, she didn’t really feel it but she noticed it and it meant a lot.

She noticed a lot about Cain now that she hadn’t been really considering before. She had always liked him a little, ever since the early grades. It felt good to have someone who thought you were special back then, other than your parents. She wasn’t really smarter, or prettier, or more interesting than any of the other girls back then. Cain chose her though, and it was sweet, even though she didn’t like boys yet. Then when she did like boys there were other guys than Cain vying for her attention. Reputation started to matter, and she became more focused on living up to the person Cain had already foolishly believed her to be. She fought to be better, and prettier and smarter than she had been. Never realizing it was all just so other guys might see her the same way Cain already did.

Now she saw their whole situation a little differently. In the beginning she had been very confused, not just from being brought back to life or the how being with an ancient blessed stone that supposedly brought back loved ones, but the why. Why did it work? Why did he think it would even work? Why did he want her back? Why was she indebted to him? Why did she have to be with him? Why couldn’t she go off on her own? Why couldn’t she have her old life back? Why did he act like she was supposed to just fall in love with him? If that was supposed to happen, then why hadn’t it? Why did she not feel this bond he seemed to think they had? Why was he being so selfish? And now, why hadn’t she really appreciated any of it?

She had thought him selfish and a little controlling. Sure he had brought her back to life from the cold dark emptiness of death …..or was it amazing, jazzy and peaceful? She couldn’t really remember anymore, either way it didn’t make him her owner. She had made many demands of him in the last few days trying to rationalize being stuck with him, because if he wanted to keep her then she wanted to be kept, and he had done his best to meet her requests, even if it bothered him. He had even let her go and then saved her when she was in trouble. It was unfair to both of them, and she now had regrets. Maybe she could have started a new normal life, in time incorporating her likes and goals, and finally gone to Europe one day. Now it was too late, she had hurt him and destroyed her beauty, and now lay dying. Again.

“Ugh, ah, ahm sorry,” she spoke.

“It’s okay.”

“Nooooo, I ruined it, I’m gross. Not what you wanted. Nobody ….everyone wants to kill me. I’m a monster.”

“I will never stop loving you. You’re the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. Literally what could be more amazing than this?? More amazing than you?” He took her face in his hands, and closing his eyes he kissed her dead lips. He saw her as she was in life, beautiful and bright, and he did not feel the cracks in her lips or taste the decay in her breath. . For that one moment, when Lucy felt truly ugly and unwanted, and was lower than she had ever been in her two lives, Cain showed her how much he still wanted her. He saved her again, reassuring her tortured soul with a loving kiss, and for that, in that moment she loved him in return. She felt comforted, and warm inside, and tired. Warm and gentle sleep.

He broke away from her, half expecting her face and body to have been back to itself. Healed from a kiss like in a Disney movie. Instead she laid a decrepit corpse, snoring away. He left The Box quietly, not wanting to disturb her beauty sleep. He’d check on her later.

Bruce slowly paced back and forth holding the gun in Amber’s room. Amber was sleeping soundly on her bed. Her shoulder resting on a towel in case there was anymore blood. Bruce didn’t know much about first aid, but the bite had stopped bleeding. He worried that it was only the first step and she was gradually going to turn into a zombie, he watched her carefully looking for any changes. Practically jumping from fright when she let out a soft snore.

He had taken Amber to her house, because he lived with a nosy roommate and an often drunk father who slept on their couch. The last thing he wanted was more people involved. Amber had mentioned earlier in the night that her parents would be out, so he thought it best to leave her there where they could find her when they got home. They would know best what to do and Amber would explain to them what happened, unless by the time they got home their daughter was a flesh craving zombie and ate their guts. He stayed just in case, for their sake.

He had been in her room many times before, but usually under more inebriated and sexy circumstances. Her room was very pink, as a child her parents had painted her walls and most of her furniture at her request. Instead of having it redone, she had simply put up a lot of posters and stickers everywhere. The pop culture of the last five years was layered all over the place. Her clothes also lay all over the place, it was summer and she had sweaters in a pile in the corner. He had almost tripped three times on the same two shirts, never picking them up. Bras were spread out across a chair, he assumed for easy selection, and a pink She-ra panty hung on the corner of her 38” television screen, making him wonder if that was a casualty of the last time he had been here.

Amber stirred and yawned, then opened her eyes to the barrel of a 9mm pointed in her face. She screamed out which in turn caused Bruce to panic and yell in surprise as well. He stepped back and tripped on the two shirts, falling against the wall and to the ground. Amber sat up and grabbed a glass half full of water from her bedside table, lifting it up ready to throw at him.

“Don’t hurt me,” he cried from the ground in an embarrassingly effeminate tone.

“Don’t shoot me,” she lashed back at him, “What the hell is your problem?!”

“You were bit, I think you might be turning into a zombie.”

“Oh s**t, really?” She put the glass back down on the bedside table, spilling a little water on the floor. She tried to look at the bite mark, but couldn’t see it that well. She touched it and it was sore. “Figures she’d be a cousin of Lucy’s,” she remarked more to herself than Bruce.

“Lucy, what does this have to do with Lucy?”

“That freak was here earlier, I told you that. God, you never listen. She wanted Lucy’s shoes. Said she was her cousin.”

“Lucy doesn’t have a cousin.”

“Well she must, didn’t you see the resemblance? Did you kill her?”

He sat up and scratched his head with the hand that wasn’t holding a gun, still stuck on her first question. “She was a brunette though.” Amber threw a pillow at him that struck his elbow. “No, I took some more shots for you but she got away with some others,” he told her slightly annoyed at losing his train of thought.

“What others, who was in the car?”

“I don’t know, Janice Rawlhaerich?”

“What? That frumpy hobbit looking girl? That’s weird. Wait, I bet I know who she’s with, she’s with Cain Lewis! He was with her before.”

“He doesn’t have the balls to handle some monster, probably peed his pants and she ate him. I’ll finish her off, if you know where to find her” He lifted the gun up, admiring it in his hand.

“Yeah, I think zombie mode of Call of Duty is over buddy. People are going to be all over this now. I can’t be associated with this, we have to cover up and deny. My dad can’t know I had his gun.”

Bruce didn’t really understand what she was talking about, but he followed her instructions. He reloaded the gun, put the safety back on, wiped it clean and put it back in the safe from where she had originally taken it. Amber changed her clothes and put some gauze and tensor bandage on her collarbone and under her armpit. If anyone asked she would say she hurt it playing tennis. Bruce also had a very thorough hot shower making sure he didn’t have any remaining zombie bacteria on him. Afterwards they discussed their alibis about being at the beach incident, but not being a very active part of the mob that chased her. Anything else they would deny. Once they felt they had sorted out the details, Bruce asked her again if she was absolutely sure she wasn’t becoming a zombie. When she said she thought she was okay except for having a mild headache, he suggested having s*x. She reluctantly accepted his offer since he was already sitting in her room wearing only a towel and as some sort of validation of ownership against zombie Julie trying to steal her man friend.