Feel Again

Disclaimer: Don't Own "Warm Bodies"

Chapter 4: A few days

Dylan lay strangely on the couch asleep. His leg practically bent over the arm rest, an arm under his head, while another across his chest. All through the night, he tossed and turned practically fell off the couch though manage to get back on during the night, ditching the sleeping bag. He even snores. It almost sounds like a Corpse when breathing winter air, feeling the goop in the esophagus. The sun was rising, the rays hitting his face causing him to stir and wake up. Brown eyes meet clouded grey. Suddenly he stumbled off the couch awake pointing the knife at me.

Seriously?

I simply sat there watching him. After several minutes realization struck him and our surroundings. Dylan sighed stretching his back then looked around the room for some. Whatever he was searching for wasn't here that he groaned facing me.

"I'm hungry?" he said.

I stared at him trying to remember what humans eat. They don't eat their kind, for its consider Cannibalism. Do they eat dogs? There was a dog lurking in the alleyway of the theater last night. Or what about those earthy things they eat that comes from the ground. What are they called again? Vegetables?

Dylan growled slamming his fist on the tables. "Can't you just let me go, Zombie?"

"Not safe," I said, shaking my head.

"Not safe?" he repeated before saying sarcastically. "Then you got to find me something to eat then. Because I'm hungry…Please? I would really appreciate it for some food."

Nobody ever said please to me before. I nodded, standing up and grabbed my purse awkwardly putting it on. Just as I'm about to leave, I turned around saying to him, "Stay here." Then left heading to the mall. The weather was nice and there were hardly any Corpses out for a stroll of Boneys. Usually Boneys stay inside until night. Something about the sunlight would increase the process of decay and turn their remaining flesh into jerky. Just when I was about to reach the malls entrances, a few corpses were forming a herd walking towards the theater and storage dock.

I paused sniffing the air to smell, Dylan. He didn't stay at the theater like I had asked. I groan, doubling my steps taking a shorter route to the storage unit road tripping a little. Several minutes later, I found Dylan hidden behind an abandon truck watching the Corpses on the other end. I quietly walked up to him grabbing his shoulder. Instantly he jumped, turning around along with my wrist in a different angle holding a knife to my throat. We stood like this for a moment until he calmed down.

"Not safe." I scolded him while looking around to see the others haven't walked over yet. I touched the stab wound collecting more blood and smeared it on his face and neck. Surprisingly, he's a head taller than me than I expected. He stiffened with a disgusted groan, but allowed me to continue camouflaging his scent. Once done, I leaned forward smelling him to smell death and fresh scent of body odor off him. With a nod of approval, I stepped back offering a hand. "Come. Follow….me."

"Thanks," he said, accepting the hand. When he turned around he stiffened to find twenty more corpses looming.

"Be dead." I told him. He stared at me confused so I showed him an example of the basic position of arms rose up ahead and give a slight groan. "Got it?"

Dylan nodded and raised his arms. We started to walk, except he made these strange gurgled sounds of some dying cat continuously. I furrow my brows looked at him strangely like staring weirdly like he had two heads.

"Too much," I said.

"Oh," he said. He kept his arms down hunching his shoulders, looking down giving the occasional groans.

We walked through the herd colliding, shuffling, and bumping into others till reaching the other side. Once on the opposite end, I spoke to him. "Told you not safe."

"Alright, I got it." Dylan muttered. "But I'm still hungry."

.o0o.

Dylan scavenged through the concession stand searching for food. I don't think the popcorn and soda would be edible to eat. But Dylan would take no for an answer on his conquest of human food. His search was appeased when he gave a heroic praise lifting some sort of container of corn chips with cheese on the side followed by a water bottle. We grabbed some more of the sealed pack food and return to the staff room for more privacy.

He sat down by the table ripping the seal and dunks the chip in the cheese then hummed in delight. I stood there unsure what to do. When he noticed me staring I gulped. Shit, stop staring. You're doing it again. I thought, quickly turning my back and walked towards the mini-fridge under the tarp fetching a bottle of beer. His eyes widen in delight, taking the bottle.

"Thanks," he said surprised, opening the top with his bare hand.

I sat on the couch across from him amazed in how humans eat. How they just dig in without deciding which area presume to digest, let alone lack of savoring the flavor. Dylan took a sip of his beer and gave some sort of sigh resting his head back.

"Man, I can't remember the last time I had beer." He said then started eating his meal. "I guess you're not that bad, Zombie."

I didn't like how he was calling me Zombie. Sure, I can't communicate with him clearly nor have a strong memory as him, but doesn't mean I have to be treated like some animal.

"I have a name….." I started trying to remember my name.

"You're kidding?" he replied which I shook no. "What is it?"

I closed my eyes trying to remember deep down, mustering. "K….K-k-k-k…?"

"K-k-k-k?" he repeated trying to collect the pieces.

This conversation is not going well. Seriously, I want to kill myself all over again if it's possible. "Kkkkk…"

Luckily Dylan asked. "Does your name start with a "K"?"

I nodded excitedly, touching the necklace on my chest pointing at the K on it. He leaned over to see the pendent slightly and return to his seat deep in thought. So now he knows my name starts with a K. That's a good start, right?

"Okay, does Kelly sound familiar?" he asked, sadly I shook no. "Kendra? Karoline? Kitty? Kesha? Katharine? Karrie?" We ended up in silences for the names don't sound familiar. "How about I call you, "Kay"?" I smiled slightly at him which he nodded. "Okay, Kay it is then?"

"Kay," I repeated liking the name.

"I need to get home, Kay." Dylan said.

I shook my head, "Not safe, Dy…lan." Wow way to chop his name.

"I know," he said. "Look, you saved my life and I appreciate it. But I got a little sister at home who is probably worried by now. You know this place better than I, so I think you can get me out."

No, he just got here. He can't leave so soon. Come on Kay, think of something. Tell him he has to wait. Tell him they'll notice him. Tell them they have strong scent memories and hunt him down within minutes. Okay, bit exaggerating on that statement there.

"Must wait," I manage to say. "They will…They'll notice."

Good job!

"How long?" he asked.

"Few days?" I guessed. "They'll forget. Then all clear."

Dylan stared at me amused standing up and taking a seat next to me on the couch. "Are there others like you?"

Maybe, though we like to keep to ourselves and can't verbally speak. I thought, giving a shrug.

"Wow, I mean, never in my life have I heard a zombie talk. Minus the moaning, grunts, and groans." He said. There was something in his eyes that change. They were no longer sharp and intense with caution. No, they were softer now full with curiosity. He leaned back on the couch giving a stretch. How his muscles flexed caught my attention, but in a non-hunger way. "So a few days, huh? What am I supposed to do for a couple of days around here?"

I stared at him with an idea. Getting up to hand him his chips and beer then lead the way to one of the theater of a good movie to watch. Since he is a guy, I assumed he wouldn't want to watch romance or cliché chick flick. Telling him to say and chose a seat, I headed to the projector room switching film to put in "Now you see me" Some comedy, action, thriller might do the trick. When I returned, Dylan stared at me confused as I took a seat a couple of chairs away. The film started and we were no longer in the world we lived in but that of the silver screen. There was laughter, awes, and Dylan giving some commentary into it asking questions. He was a completely different person.

After the film, we went to the arcade kicking the coin machine down to get some cash. Although I hardly occupy the arcade since my fingers doesn't function well as his. So I stood there and watch him enjoy himself through the gun game, shooting down aliens. When he got top score after hour, we return to the staff room him scavenging through my collection of CDs.

"What's with the entire disc?" Dylan asked going through the pile ordered by color. "Don't know how to use an IPod?"

"I like the pic-tures." I answered.

"Yeah, since you only play the vinyl here." He noticed picking up the disc. "Not that you don't have a bad taste for classic rock. Poison was an awesome band. My dad used to play them, Bon Jovie, Billy Joel, Collin Philip and such. But I gotta asked, what's wrong with these?" he held an 'Imagine Dragon' CD.

"Zombie…fingers…" I mumbled out.

It took him a moment to translate till realizing I can't work the CD player easily compared to a record player. There was something about the machine I can't quite understand let alone other things to punching buttons or why when I put it in no music comes out. I probably went through twenty players before giving up and focused on record and projectors.

"Good thing I'm here then," he chuckled plucking a disc into the player and music blared out from the speakers. I jumped slightly from the blast of music then relaxed a bit. "Relax; Imagine Dragons are an awesome band."

They sound a bit off key compare to the other songs I usually listen to. But something about the beat is intriguing. Dylan banged his head to the music walking around picking up more discs reading the cover. "One republic, Maroon 5, Of Monsters and Men, Linkin Park, Ed Sheeran, Avril Lavigne, Thirty Seconds to Mars. Holy shit, you have all these albums and never listen to them?"

I shrugged unsure how to reply towards that question.

"Hey stop shrugging." Dylan said, punching me in the shoulder. "It's a very non-committal gesture." I shrugged again out of habit only to be punch in the shoulder. "Seriously."

I attempted to shrug but stop. Dylan nodded in approval, before going through the CD covers. "These are awesome albums. How did you get these?"

"I coll—ect things." I answered.

"You can say that again. You, my undead friend, are a pack-rat." He said then got up to put another CD in the player. "There used to be an awesome book store where every best literature and music was sold. You would've loved it. Sold movies as well, and on book premieres everybody would stay up to midnight for a trilogy or series. It's so cool." He paused for a moment. "Was so cool."

Throughout the day, everything has been quite refreshing. Dylan seemed to loosen his guard down and showing a side of him that Shelby never saw. He is free going and had a lot on his mind, bringing up his little sister Abbey occasionally. He loves his sister, I can tell. We went through my collection, playing or somewhat playing with objects. Turns out he can play the guitar as he play a few songs stroking a few cords. He offered me a go, but it wasn't musically enchanted as his. What caught me off guard was when he sat behind me, placing his warm hands on mine, his chest against my back instructing me what to do. I try to think of disgusting things for his heart beat kept thrumming in my ear and mouth started to water. After twenty minutes, he gave up on the lesson and suggested on doing something else. I had to excused myself for a moment and grab a quick bite of Shelby's brain to relieve the hunger.

After a quick snack with a memory of Shelby and her parents driving towards the wall when a Zombie attacks, luckily they escaped, things went normal. We did arm wrestling, though I'm not strong enough to say it was fair game. Played more music, watched another movie, and gazed at a lava lamp. For the first time in my life I wasn't going through the motions.

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