Something wet on her lips that slipped between them like velvet and touched her tongue.
Warmth spreading outward from that drop.
Something stirring in her again.
More on her lips, like droplets of life.
Blood.
Her eyes snapped open and the dark shapes looming in her vision immediately resolved themselves into the shapes of the zombie's face and the body of a dead pigeon, dripping blood.
Blood.
She sat bolt upright, fangs flashing, and tore the bird out of the zombie's grip and shoved it into her mouth, sucking greedily. The blood was sour and already cooling, and there was precious little of it, but it coated her aching throat like ambrosia and sent out waves of warm comfort that banished the dull, constant pain that had begun in her stomach but had spread to every inch of her hollow body.
Her thirst was barely sated when the dead thing clenched in her shaking hands grew cold and ran dry. Denial nearly forced her to hug the carcass to her chest and beg it to give her more. Ruefully she lowered the bird from her mouth and let it roll out of her hands onto the dusty ground, panting lightly.
"Feel better?" She heard the zombie's thick, deep voice in the wake of the last delicious wave of tranquility. She blinked owlishly and saw him perched atop an overturned car, outlined in the light of the sunless dawn as a classic '75 Corvette, flecks of sunset orange paint still clinging stubbornly to its rusted sides. She smiled.
"I remember driving one of those," she said, feeling herself snap back together. All the edges that hunger had dulled became sharp again. It suddenly occurred to her that her hands and mouth had been untied. She gazed at her white hands blankly.
The zombie glanced under him. "Huh. I missed out on that little piece of history."
She swallowed. "Thanks for the drink."
The zombie shrugged. "It was her idea." He jabbed a thumb at the little girl, curled into a tiny snoring ball against the sleeping dog's side. "I would have just let you die."
"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "But you have to admit, I did help you. I did kill some zombies. With my hands behind my back, no less." She cocked a smile.
The zombie was silent, staring with unfocused eyes at the ground in front of him. Her eyes roved from his skeletal face to the girl and the dog curled up beside the car. She smiled again just to see the tiny, innocent little girl snuggled peacefully into the mangy, filthy fur of the hulking, corrupted undead dog.
"So I got that the dog's name is Cerberus. Very appropriate. What's the girl's and yours? Do you have one, or shall I just continue to call you Spanky?"
"Call me Spanky and you'll be carrying your teeth around with you in a jar," he growled. "The girl's name is Zoe. I'm Dirge."
"Dirge," she repeated, her smile widening. "Now that's original. I thought most zombies were either 'Uuuuuuuuungh' or 'Aaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuu'." She chuckled at herself, wondering briefly whether she had gone too far.
"Well... I'm not 'most zombies.' "
She breathed a quick sigh of relief when his shovel remained safely on his back and not sticking out of hers. "No, you certainly are not."
"What about your name? You have one, or is it just Mrs. Dracula?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "No, no, not Mrs. Dracula. I'm Cress. Short for Crescendo."
"Your parents must have liked music a little too much." Dirge examined a hangnail on his thick grey finger, but never let his eyes off her for long.
"Not my mortal parents, no. They called me Verushka... at least... I think they did. I'm not sure anymore."
Dirge scoffed. "At least you remember your name. The first thing I remember was waking up and feeling worms in between my toes."
Smiling, Cress crossed her legs under her and began picking bits of dirt out of her threadbare tank top. "I've been meaning to ask you about that, now that I'm not bound and gagged."
"Ask me about what? I don't have much to tell."
"Where you came from. I came across some opened graves a few hours back ... but I guess I know what those zombies were after now." She glanced over at Zoe, her childish, unlined face twitching in a dream. "Were you one of them?"
"In that cemetery, yes. One of them, no."
Cress narrowed her eyes. "So... what are you?"
Dirge shrugged his massive shoulders. "I don't know what I am. All I know is what I'm not."
"Cryptic enough, if you'll pardon the pun." She flashed a smile, feeling the atmosphere bearing heavier on her with her every failed attempt at bringing a smile to the zombie's stoic face. you're both dead. when was the last time you saw a dead guy belly-laughing? The voice of her new self grumbled. Cress sighed and gave up. "Where'd you pick up Zoe? I didn't smell her when I was sniffing around your graveyard."
Dirge visibly prickled, his eyes lighting on Zoe's sleeping form. "I thought I read somewhere that one of vampires' weaknesses was gravedirt."
Cress' patience was wearing thin. "You, of all people, should know not to believe everything you read about the dead." She locked eyes with him. "You evaded my question. Where did you find Zoe?" The last vestiges of dark power were spinning like gossamer threads out of her eyes and connecting them with Dirge's.
"She found me," he said reluctantly, her weak hypnosis barely touching his mind. She blinked, and the cobwebs vanished. The momentary strength the bird's blood had given her was already waning. time for a change of tack, she thought grudgingly.
"Dirge, you have my word that I will not harm the girl or her family. I apologize for my actions earlier, but it's quite difficult for me to imagine I'm the only one here who's laid eyes on her and thought 'tasty snack.' "
A low rumble came from the zombie's broad, powerful chest. "The word of a vampire..."
"Is unbreakable. If I could, I'd show you where it is written."
"Vampires come with rulebooks?"
"As a matter of fact, they do, smartass," Cress scowled at Dirge, skepticism glaringly visible in his eyes. "Vampire law was written way before your great-great-great-grandparents even thought about being born. You show me zombie law and I'll gladly hurl myself out in the middle of the desert at midday."
nice change of tack.
Cress snapped her mouth shut. "Look, just understand... I won't kill Zoe. I can survive on animal blood if I have to."
"Looks like you're going to have to," Dirge said.
"And I suppose you'll keep tying my hands up and gagging me." Cress stretched out on her back and let her eyes wander up to the dismal morning sky. The bruised clouds looked more like a concrete wall than the wispy vapors of nothing they really were.
"Yep."
"How will you learn to trust me if you never give me a chance to show you?" She asked, once again feeling pinned under the zombie's thumb and hating it.
"Who said I wanted to learn to trust you?"
okay, screw change of tack.
"You know, a hundred years ago– no, even fifty years ago, I would have been walking around with you on a leash." Cress turned over on her side, away from Dirge. "I'm going to sleep while I can."
"You just woke up. Don't tell me vampires need their beauty sleep."
She humored him with a nice, toothy grin. "Keeps us young," she purred.
"Riiiiiiight. Well, before you doze off..." She heard the angry, prolonged croak of the Corvette as Dirge heaved himself off it and approached her. She felt the improvised rope wind painfully around her wrists again, and she felt the detestable gag force its way into her mouth again.
a deal's a deal.
Oh, shut up.