Mail Jeevas watched me curiously, light green eyes blinking in quiet interest. A perky little bow tie brought the attention to a dashing suit, coated with a little filth, the sleeves rolled up past the elbow.
"H-hey!!! L-Let me g-g-ooo!!!!!!!!!" With my free leg I launched a kick to the zombie's face, with as much force as my body would allow.
Mail gave me a blank look, eyes uncaring.
"How long was I asleep?" He mumbled, staring around at the gloomy graveyard, not yet giving up on his hold on my ankle.
"Ahh, uhh." I stuttered, my voice shaking like an earthquake, trembling as much as the fine quavering in my whole body, rendering me helpless, immobile. I was unconditionally petrified.
"Dang, that was some party." He rubbed his eye wearily, as if he just woke up from some long nightmarish dream.
I couldn't help but stare, for a scary undead corpse, he was quite the little cutie.
"Where's Mello?" He asked me, eying me. "And how the hell did I end up in this hole? Are you a whore?" He looked me up and down.
I opened my mouth to speak, but a strangled little peep squeaked past my lips.
Wait, my brain's wheels were beginning to church again, Mello was a nickname for Mihael. Right?
"Mihael?" I whispered, unable to speak regularly until I got used to the dead man in front of me.
Mail let go of my ankle and grabbed the collar of my long sleeved sweater, "How the fuck do you know about Mel's real name?" He hissed, eyes wide, surprise sparking up on his dead face.
"I-I'm a re-reporter." I choked, "I do research," I gestured towards my bag.
"No one knows about our real names, so how do you know??!" He shook me anxiously.
"I-You... You're-you're dead! And so is Mihael and L!" I tried to push him off me, he reeked like dirt and mildew.
Mail shoved me down on the damp ground, crawling on top and pinning me down, I was going to die, he was going to take me to his world of dead people, where the devour each others livers!!
"Wait, I'm dead?" He brought his face dangerously close to mine, noses touching, "I'm dead? Am I a vampire?" His cold breath blew straight in my face, smelling old and stale, and was that... a whiff of cigarettes?
"No! You're not a vampire, you... go back to your grave, you..." I was at a lost of words.
He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, "I don't wanna go back. So I really am dead huh? How did I die? And where is Mello?" Mail cocked his head.
With a shaky finger, I pointed to Mihael's grave just a few feet away, "Please get off me." I whispered, my voice dry and scratchy.
He clambered over to Mihael's tombstone, resting into Indian style position, staring at his friend's memorial.
I should take this time to plan my escape, but the longer I watched Mail inspect his companion's grave, the less I wanted to pick myself up and make a dash for home. I watched in what might have been the loudest, longest silence ever as Mail buried his face into his hands, mournful. This man was no doubt in pure unadulterated anguish.
I propped myself up on my elbows to where I could get a better view of the sorrowful red head. Pulling myself onto my hands and knees I did something unexpected, even unbeknownst to me. I crawled over to Mail and patted the perished man on his shoulder. His dead gloved hand flew at me, and knocked me away. My batted-away hand, fell on the ground, sinking into the dirt.
The whole ground caved, Mail sliding down, his green eyes open in shock. I scrambled away from the deep hole making itself known in the ground. Great, another filthy pit.
Upon now realizing, this hole was creating right over Mihael's grave. And when the first hole occurred earlier in the night, Mail came crawling out.
Did this mean...
I didn't have time to speculate as Mihael Keehl's hand came shooting from the damp earth. Dirt fibers flew this way and that.
Here comes the second dead male of the night.
A long waxy hand sprun out another few feet away, from L Lawliet's grave.
Oops, make that three dead men.
If you believe me frightened before, I tell you that now, I was truly, utterly, honest-to-God petrified.