Chapter 1: Genesis

When you're alive, your days are numbered and you know it's going to end eventually. But after you die... you have so many unlimited possibilities. You haven't really lived until you die... well, that's my philosophy, anyways. I don't know if I'm like, the expert on death or whatever, but since I'm already dead, I guess that makes me the authority on most things mortality-related. And besides, until I died, I never felt so free.

I must have had a name once. Sometimes I try and search my brain for what it could possibly have been, but I can never remember. Nowadays, people call me Blue Baby. Most folks call me Blue. I live here in the basement with my buddies. There's Judas, who is a devout Satanist, and pretty Maggie, who's exactly the opposite. There's Big Samson the bodybuilder, Eve the goth, and Cain the gamer.

And then... there's me. The cyanotic zombie.

It's not a bad life (or in my case, not-life) down here. Our mom, psychotic murderess though she was, was smart enough to lay in enough supplies to last till Judgment Day. There are blankets, fresh clothes, water, and soap. Canned and dried food, a small camp stove, and even a big jar of candy, which Big Samson is strictly forbidden to touch because of his severe chocolate allergy. It's cool in summer, warm in winter, and keeps out rainwater and dirt. All in all, there's enough stuff down here to keep all six of us fed, clothed, comfortable and clean for a long time.

Since I don't think I have anything to lose, I often go exploring the basement. One time, I found a couple of dusty old arcade machines, so Cain and I often go there to play some pinball, Galaga, and Super Meat Boy. Cain is my best friend, but you wouldn't know that by the sheer number of insults we hurl at each other when we play. Usually we keep it to pinball, because I'm actually amazing at Galaga and Cain's quick reflexes make him so good at Super Meat Boy that it's kind of unfair. I honestly believe he plays it in his sleep, and he's the only person I know who can complete the entirety of the game with his eyes closed.

Sometimes, though, I just have to get away. And when I do, I draw. There are big pads of white paper down here, and lots of pencils. So if I absolutely must be alone, I settle down and sketch. It's difficult, because my clumsy dead fingers can't hold a pencil very well and I often soil the paper with the dirt on my hands, so all I can do are a few pieces of childish chicken scratch. But it's enough.

What my buddies don't realize is that while much of me is dead, my hearing is very good. Before my great adventure, I managed to overhear Maggie and Eve talking about me while I was drawing. They weren't actually looking at me, so I set down my pencil and listened in.

Maggie: "Poor Blue. I feel so sorry for him."

Eve: "Yeah. I wonder who he was before he died."

Maggie: "He's so brave, though. I thought it was so sweet when he gave you his blanket last winter."

Eve: "It brings tears to my eyes, thinking about him. It must be so harsh, being dead and not even knowing who you were or where you came from?"

At that point Maggie turned to look at me, so I quickly swiveled my head back over my drawing pad and pretended to scribble away at it.

She advanced to my shoulder and cocked her head, looking at the paper. "What is that?"

I showed her. "It's supposed to be you." I had drawn a vaguely girl-like humanoid with too-long curly hair.

Maggie smiled at me. "It's... um... nice," she said, reaching for my hand, then stopping herself and withdrawing.

After the girls left, I looked at my hand. And I realized why nobody, not even Cain, wanted to touch it. It suddenly looked uglier, disgusting. The skin was a sickly shade of blue and the few fingers that remained were rotted and bug-eaten. Shame washed over me like an icy tsunami. I threw down the pad and shuffled over to the broken shard of mirror in the corner, where I beheld myself in a new light. Through eyes blurry with death, I saw my unhealthy blue skin and the necrosis feasting on my body.

I hung my head. Eve's words had lit a match in the darkness of my mind, and filled it with a new drive. I knew there was something in the basement... I just had to figure out what was going on.

It was time to reclaim my humanity.