The first time it happened I was alone.
Alone and horrified, to say the least, at the sight of the dark black pool of blood staining the sidewalk in front of me. The sensation hit me like a bus, and I was unsure whether the vile, nauseous cramping feeling deep in my stomach or the sheer shock was worse. I don't know how long it had been since I vomited, or even felt remotely sick, but it hit me hard and fast and I was kneeling on the ground below me, expelling the black death from me within seconds.
My hands shook violently, reverberating up my arms and into my wheezing chest. Flashbacks of the dark days fill my head, images of skulls crushed and brain matter spattered all over my neck and arms, hands grasping at flesh, ripping and tearing. When I was dead all that filled my brain were these images, less clear but better welcomed; now I spend my nights trying to forget, willing them out of my vision and into the dark parts of my mind where I don't have to think of them.
I was doing so well today, too, minding my business outside the stadium walls on my way to the inner city on a shopping mission, Julie's birthday gift ideas floating around in my mind, dancing with the guilty feelings of lies and sneaking around, forcing away the darker images for a while. But instead there I was, staring shell-shocked into my pile of black muck on the sidewalk. The stench was rancid, like someone grounded up day old roadkill and served it on a concrete platter, the color a shade lighter red than the oily paste that clotted my veins weeks earlier. I stayed there for a while, waiting for more, wondering from where in my body it had come and why. It made no sense why after weeks of living a normal, human life – eating, sleeping, sweating, bowel movements, and all other bodily functions – now my body was expelling the left overs of my dead life. Was the plague still inside of me?
After a few minutes of panicked contemplation I stood and shook myself off, wiping my hands off in the grass beside me and ditching the now-stained hoodie I had stolen from the late Grigio's closet. It was freezing out this early in the morning, and I knew I probably should have waited to find a replacement before leaving my source of warmth but in some weird way I enjoyed the cold, welcomed the cold dew nipping at my arms, raising the hairs there and running a shiver up my spine and causing my hands to shake harder than they already had been. Call me a masochist, but after years of feeling utterly blank you start to take feelings willingly when they come to you, painful or terrifying, satisfying and erotic and everything in between. Which is why I tried not to think too much on my episode on the sidewalk, resolving that it was just a part of the healing process, the bodies final attempt at expelling my sickness from me. I continued on into the city, found what I was looking for – an old jewelry store.
The store itself was long since emptied, the display cases turned on their sides, glass broken. From the outside it looked like a dead end but I pushed further into the store anyways, carefully sliding along the open space between the broken glass cases until I reached the backroom, empty and destroyed as well. I managed to get a shelving unit off it's side and upright again, finding beneath it a heavy oriental rug. Pulling it back revealed what I had hoped it would, a hatch leading down into the basement in which I found an assortment of beautiful, sparkling treasures. It was like something out of a pirate movie, X marks the spot... if X were a dusty old rug.
I spent hours in the dim room with just a flashlight and a bag, filling it with potential presents, the amusing image of a little boy at a yacht club on Halloween entering my head, going from door to door of all the boats filling his bag with necklaces and rings in place of sugary goods. When I did finally finish my selection, I left with my bag and flashlight to make my way back to the stadium where Nora was waiting for me in her empty room, having told Julie some story about being sick and how she shouldn't be near. My excuse wasn't nearly as easy, an elaborate tale had to be woven and even after it was told and believed by Julie herself it felt flimsy and see through, like halfway through the day she would figure out my plan and come looking for me. But she hadn't found me yet if she was looking, and I had made my way back through the stadium doors and into Nora's apartment without fail. She snatches the bag from my hands without so much as a hello and dumps the items onto her bed, glaring at them with intense scrutiny. We argued for hours on what decision to make (she had at first decided that I had chosen all wrong and that I should go back for more, of which I thoroughly disagreed and told her she could go herself if she so wanted) but eventually settled on two items, one from me and one from her. My condition was that we pick the two best pieces and I give her whichever Nora thought she would like best. A ring seemed too much from me, so a shiny silver band embedded with blue stones rests in a box wrapped in thin newspaper and tied together with a pink ribbon, the words 'from Nora' scribbled on the side. It had been my favorite, the band simple yet elegant, but I was apparently not allowed to give it to Julie, a ring an 'inappropriate' gift from someone so new into a relationship... I didn't realize there were certain zombie-boyfriend approved gifts, but I obliged either way. I knew that Julie wouldn't think anything of it, but I had the feeling that Nora had really wanted the gift to be from her so I let it pass, deciding on a rose gold watch instead. Simple yet useful, beautiful in a less noticeable sort of way. I rubbed my shirt sleeve up and down the band over and over, attempting to bring a shine back into the old metal, and boxed it with a bow when I was satisfied.
I was halfway to the Grigio house when I wished that my jacket was still with me, my thin polo lacking the hiding pockets that the hoodie had. I managed to sneak it past Julie in my back pocket, her welcoming kiss almost forcing it out, but I back her against a wall and push it back down while she's distracted. It takes every fiber of self control my new body has to detach myself from her body in order to find a hiding spot for her secret gift. I claim hunger and she leaves me to serve a plate of plain rice and microwaved broccoli for me while I changed, ripping through clothes and shoes until I found an old, barely used pair of boots in her closet and shove it inside, ripping off my shirt and grabbing the first one around, pulling it on. I turned around just as she entered the room, smiling and holding two plates of unappealing, bland mush. I smiled and kissed her cheek as I took the plate from her, and she snickered when she saw my shirt was on backwards. I set the plate down to fix it and instead found myself ripping clothes off instead of putting back on. First my shirt, then hers, her food a forgotten mess on the floor beside the bedside table. I lifted her, new muscles straining as she wrapped her legs around my hips and started grinding into me. I wished I hadn't skipped that day's physical therapy as I walk her over to the bed, back muscles strained, screaming in protest. I ignored it of course, used to the sore muscles and weak bones that came along with the post-death healing process.
She had me underneath her, tongue making it's way down my neck, leaving wet, hot kisses everywhere. I groaned as she moved on me, slowly, repeatedly, my hips following her rhythm instinctively. I grabbed frantically at the side table, blindly looking for the small square packages that can be found all over her room, thrown haphazardly about during frantic, dark nights and slow, early mornings. It's been only a few weeks and already we have blown through almost half of our supply, thinking not about the difficulty of actually finding a condom nowadays. I should have though of this while I was in town earlier but chances are the stores anywhere near are wiped out completely, and a road trip is starting to sound nice anyways. We got lucky on our last trip into the airport, emptying out some poor soul's packed vacation supply. When my fingers finally found purchase on the object it was seconds too late.
"Shit!" I exclaimed, pushing her off quickly and stumbling into the bathroom. I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wall, letting my body finish inside my new, clean pants. I hear her at the door but don't look up, my cheeks hot with shame. It isn't as though this was a rare occurrence, my new body is obviously not able to function on as regular a basis as it used to, leaving us with several uncomfortable conversations and a handful of ruined nights.
I suddenly remembered the violent vomiting incident from earlier this morning and wonder if I should tell Julie, but decide against it; there's no need to worry her now, especially right before her birthday; She's going to be angry enough having received gifts that she insisted we not get her. I cleaned myself up, leaving my pants in a pile on the bathroom floor and walked naked back to her room, where I find she, too, had gotten a head start undressing. She smiled coyly at me and my worries suddenly found themselves far away for the remainder of the night, waking the next morning with the incident completely erased from my mind.
I am glad to have woken first this morning, giving me the perfect opportunity to prepare things; Julie could sleep through a hurricane as long as it was dark out, so I hung a dark blanket over the window and quietly closed the door. Nora arrived just as I was about to string the makeshift 'Happy Birthday' sign I asked the school kids to make. They seem to like me, the children, there is some sort of weird draw toward 'zombies' for them and, even though I am very much alive now, and every day more and more of the dead are coming back to life, they still call me 'Mr. Zombie'. I don't mind, they at least have the decency to treat me with some kind of respect, odd as it may be.
Eggs and bacon are cooking within minutes, the smokey smell wafting through the house, making my mouth water like a fresh, pink brain would have... whoa, I really need to knock that off. Stop thinking dead thoughts; Julie might think it funny with the dark sense of humor she has, but one slip up in a crowded room and its lights out for me. There's already been several attempts made on my life in the past couple of weeks, mostly Grigio's followers and other skeptics believing I've tricked everyone and will come for them after making a meal out of my girlfriend. Julie puts on a tough face, boasting about how she could take any one of them down before they even got to the front door, but she still checks the deadbolt every night before bed.
I heard the door open down the hall and turned, smiling, and was greeted with the most disgruntled look she could possibly have mustered. Julie stood at the edge of the kitchen, clutching a badly wrapped present in the hand of one of her crossed arms. Hip cocked, hair a wild mess of mats and tangles, I smiled a wide grin that said 'you're beautiful even in the mornings'. Or maybe it said 'you're totally not scary right now'. Either way, if she's scary and ugly most mornings, this morning she was especially... unkempt. The way she chucked my present haphazardly at my chest doesn't help the matter either, but I managed to catch it and place it safely on the table.
"Happy birthday," I said, kissing her forehead and attempting to run my fingers through her blonde mess. I failed. She elbowed my ribs and walked over to pick the gift up, waving it in front of my face.
"What is this, R?" the gift coming dangerously close to hitting my face, I grabbed her wrist.
"Well, in my defense you weren't supposed to find it." I replied, prying the gift from her grasp again.
"You didn't hide it very well; seriously, you threw a pile of clothes onto a pair of shoes? Those shoes haven't seen daylight in four years but they happen to be out of the closet this morning. Hmm." Oh right, that's where I put that. I tried to remember why I did such a terrible hiding job when memories of the previous night flashed through my mind. I shook them from my head, remembering Nora's presence.
"Nora got you something, too," What a solid defense. It did deflect her attention though, and I took the chance to finish cooking our meal while she chewed her friend out about making me lie and do her dirty work. Although it's true, I find it funny that she automatically assumes that I was forced to go against her wishes, maybe a jerk reaction from when I was dead and less able to make thoughts of my own.
I was in the middle of flipping the omelets when suddenly I burped, loud and wet, the acidic taste of bile immediately entering my mouth. I swallowed it down with a distasteful expression on my face. Seconds later it happened again, but instead of acidic bile I taste the tangy, metallic taste of blood, yesterdays episode suddenly breaching the front of my memory bank. I managed to swallow it back down as well, and quickly grabbed a glass of water to wash it down with. I drank three cups before I was satisfied that it was going to stay washed down, then turned to see if I'd been noticed. The girls were still arguing, now in the other room, and I sighed in relief. The last thing I needed was to upset Julie today. Anymore than I already had, that was.
I served up the food and we sat down to eat. Julie eventually got over it and opened her gifts, thanking us for the gesture even though we were 'stupid' for it. I smiled and watched them converse about gossip within the town, Nora's love life – or lack thereof, chiming in every now and then but I was, for the most part, content just listening. Her voice reminds me of ocean waves, memories of soft ocean currents and far off gulls enter my head when she speaks and water crashing against rocks when she laughs. It's a good thing, too, since I spent so much time listening to her speak when I couldn't. Had I met a gruff-voiced girl that day and brought her home to my airport I may not have kept her around as long. I think that now, but Julie could have the voice of a monster and I think I'd still love her. I just wouldn't listen to her as much... I realize they're talking to me after a while and think it a good time to tune back in.
"What was that?" I asked, picking up plates and putting them in the sink.
"I said, I want to go outside for my birthday. Grab some food for a picnic and go, I don't know, to a park or something. We can take Mercey," she said, knowing that I'll go anywhere and do anything if I get to drive there. I voiced my agreement and we found ourselves driving along the coastline upstate. I don't usually stray so far from home but the day feels so light it's hard to imagine running into problems, so I step out of my comfort zone and we find ourselves eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on a blanket overlooking the coast.
The day goes by quickly and we were driving back far too late, still hours away when the sun began to set. It made me nervous, but we were back within sight of the Stadium before the light was completely gone. We spend the rest of the night drinking beers and talking. About nothing, about everything. Nora talks about boys and Julie listens. Julie talks about light subjects mostly, something she learned at a meeting or how pretty the water looked or how we need to bring home my turntable and records. She smiles and nods and laughs, but I can see the darkness behind her eyes, swimming there with dark memories and broken promises. Her smile falters when her father's name is mentioned at some point, and although she shakes it off quickly I catch it. I get it now, I think, and how could I have not seen it? She didn't want a present or a party or a birthday cake... because her father wasn't here with her. Now I look into her eyes and all they say is 'sad orphan girl,' and it brings me down.
Nora passed out somewhere around two, curled up in a blanket with Julie on the couch, the light of the small television screen flickering onto their faces. The volume was down low, playing some prerecorded reruns on an old DVR box, and I could easily have mistaken Julie as asleep as well, but when I looked over her eyes were wide open and bright. They didn't meet mine when I turned, and I could tell she was lost in thought, the images on the screen blurry like background noise.
"Hey," I whispered, her eyes darting over to mine. She said nothing. Her eyes were wet, tears pooling, dangerously close to falling. I extracted her from the couch, lifting her bridal style and carried her into her room, placing her gently on the bed, tears still glistening safely on the edge of her lids. She sat silently as I gently tugged off her shirt and pants, folding them and placing them neatly on the floor beside the bed. I undressed myself to my boxers and crawled in, coaxing her to lay down and pulling the comforter all the way over our heads. It was pitch black under the sheets, but I still felt the wetness when I kissed her, knew the tears had silently spilled here where it was safe. Her body shook with each silent sob, and I laid there, holding her tightly against my chest, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair, the only comfort I had to give. My words couldn't help her, she knew it as well as I. It took an excruciatingly long time but eventually she calmed down, and pulled her face from my chest and kissed me. Slow, gentle at first, but with the passing minutes it became heated, her need for comfort replaced with a different kind, and we made love slowly, silently in the dark.
When it was over, and we lay on top of the hot sheets in the dim moonlight, she finally spoke.
"You want to know the really twisted part of it all, R?" I nodded, deftly twirling a strand of her hair in my fingers. "All I can think of is how I miss my mother." she doesn't meet my eyes, and the guilt in her expression surprises me.
"After all the horrible death that has happened lately – my father, Perry – the only person I really miss is her. All day I thought about visiting her grave, wanted to be sitting there on an empty hill of dirt with her buried dress. The big two-oh and I don't have any parents to share it with." she met my eyes then, "You're my family now, R. You, Nora, and Rosy. I can't express how grateful I am that you're here. My zombie boyfriend, the best one a girl could ask for."
I smiled, kissing her forehead. She smiled, too, finally. "How about we go tomorrow?" I suggest, "Let's spend all day tomorrow there, visiting her. We can make PBJ's again and bring the red blanket, okay?" she nodded vigorously and I found her mouth with mine.
She straddled me then, kissing me with fervor and passion, her slender body grabbing me hard, rough, her face smiling and her eyes laughing. That carefree spirit was back, ocean waves rolling in her laughter, crashing against my soul. I could not have imagined a more perfect night, do not have a memory as great as right in that moment, everything joyous and light, hushed laughter and warm sighs.
Everything was perfect.
So I really wasn't expecting it to happen again right then, at the worst moment it could have possibly chosen.
A/N: Well, this is my first fanfiction that I've written since the eighth grade, and it's my first draft. So, that being said, constructive criticism is welcomed.