Chapter Nine

N

Audrey makes a lot of noise in her sleep. They are just soft little whimpers and squeaks, but I don't like hearing them. I think it's because she's sad. She is hurting because her boyfriend is dead. God, if she finds out I'm the one who killed him...

I need to find something to make her feel better. Something to keep her mind off her boyfriend and to keep her here. Something interesting. I slump down in my nest of blankets. She's already looked at all of the greatest things I have in here. She even explained what a few of the things are; I honestly didn't know what a majority of the things on my shelves are, I just collected them because they looked interesting. Because they had been important to someone once, and they need to be preserved.

So what else do I know of that can keep her attention? Maybe there's something outside the shop that I can bring to her. I glance at her. She's curled up deep under her blanket, murmuring softly in her sleep. It's still early in the night so I've got plenty of time. All I know is I can't think with her sad little sounds, they make me uneasy. I think it's a feeling but I can't say which one. Besides, that's ridiculous; Corpses don't feel.

I stand up and walk to the door, stopping to check that my steps don't wake her before letting myself out. It's dark outside but it's not difficult for me to see. One of the few perks of being a Corpse, I imagine. As far as I can tell, humans have a much harder time with the dark. The Boneys are out in full force tonight and I make an effort to give them a wide berth. God they are so gross. And they all seem to be staring at me tonight. How do they even stare without eyes? I never really thought about that before. Weird.

I wander through all of the unoccupied buildings around my home, searching for anything new that might hold Audrey's attention for another few days. I find a few odd trinkets, a book with a rose on the cover, and a pair of sunglasses, but nothing all that fascinating. It's almost sun-up when I give up and go back to my house.

The door shuts harder than I mean for it to and Audrey bolts awake with a startled noise. She blinks owlishly even as she sits up in a defensive position. "Oh, it's you," she says and relaxes. She yawns and pulls her blanket back up over her shoulders. "What were you doing?"

I set down the snow-globe I picked up from one of the buildings. "Collllecting," I say and begin emptying my new things from my pockets. I pull out a green bottle destined for the windowsill and then an idea occurs to me. I hastily set down the bottle and then stand in the open space in the middle of the shop. "Awh-dree," I say and gesture for her to join me. "Come."

"What?" she asks, her tired face screwing up in confusion.

"Come," I say more insistently. Sunrise will be here any minute. I lay down on the floor and pat the spot beside me. "Come s-see."

"See what?" she asks, but she finally walks over. I give her a significant look – as pointed as I can with my half-functioning facial muscles anyway – and she lays down with a sigh. "Okay, what am I supposed to be seeing?"

I point at the ceiling and say, "W-watch."

We lay in the morning quiet and as I wait for the sunrise I try to catalogue her presence for my memories. She breathes slowly; in through her mouth, out through her nose. Beneath the scent of human – flesh and blood and sweat – there is a subtle, softer smell. Floral and crisp. She smells like brightness and white and purple and life. She smells like all the good things that are leaving this world; like the pretty things I collect just to remember the world used to be good.

Mostly though I focus on her hand. It's laying on the floor just centimetres from mine, but I can feel something. It's a tingling warmth in my knuckles and barely there but it's magic. My skin is somehow aware of her proximity and reacting. I can feel something.

"N, what-?"

"Ssshh," I say, putting a finger to my lips and then pointing up again. Any second now...

The first rays of the sun creep over the horizon and into the window. They catch in the bits of coloured glass and fabric, bathing multicoloured light across the plaster ceiling. As the sun continues to inch upward the lights change and shift like a kaleidoscope.

Next to me, Audrey gasps. "N, this is amazing," she says. I turn my head and watch the look of awe on her face. "It's beautiful. Did you come up with it on your own?"

I grunt an affirmative, a swell of something in my chest. Pride? "L-like, colour," I say. "Pretty. Alive."

Audrey grabs my wrist and I almost flinch at the sudden warmth against my cold skin. Cold. I didn't even know my skin was cold until she touched me. I am cold and she is warm and soft and gentle. "You're so amazing," she says and squeezes my wrist. "You're so – different." She sits up and looks down at me, cocking her head to the side. "Are there others like you?"

I shrug. If there are other Corpses like me I don't know it. It's not like we have a support group or anything. Corpses Anonymous, isn't that a grand idea?

Audrey doesn't push the subject and she relaxes back onto her arms. "So where do you go when you're not here?" she asks. I lift an eyebrow. "What? You're a Corpse with a house and a collection and hobbies, and you expect me to believe that you don't have a haunt? You've got to have some place where you like to hang out."

And suddenly I know exactly what will keep her attention for a few days.

AUDREY

I flick curiously through the shelf of vinyl records that N has collected, appraising the titles and artists. Honestly, it's a pretty great collection. There must've been a good record store nearby that he's raided to get all of these. There was a really nice one in Ohio that I used to visit when I lived there but I could never buy anything. The nuns didn't exactly give us an allowance. These though – these are really great.

I stand up and examine the record that's sitting on the player. N had put it on last night just as I was falling asleep and the crooning woman's voice had lulled me to sleep. Curious, I turn it so I can read the label. Patsy Cline. The name sounds familiar but I don't think I'd ever listened to it before. Her voice somehow made me think of melancholy and my dreams had been sad, memories of the people I've lost haunting me.

I can't help but wonder if that's the reason N picked it. Despite the fact that he's a Corpse, he seems to have a better understanding of human emotions that most humans do. I think maybe he knew that I was sad and he found music to emulate that. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. In fact, the more I think about it, every time he has chosen a record since I've come here, the music has somehow echoed the way I feel.

I glance at the door and wonder just where N has gone. I asked him where he liked to hang out and after telling me to wait here he had vanished. I had no idea what he's up to, but he's been gone a while now.

Just as I'm thinking that, the door opens and N slips in. His gaze lands on me and he nods. "Come."

"What were you doing?" I ask curiously, putting the record back in place and crossing the room to his side.

"Mmaking sure, safe," he says. He leans out of the door and checks both directions before gesturing for me to follow him. "N-no Corpses."

My eyes widen in surprise as I realise what he means. He was checking to make sure that the path to wherever this special place is is clear of Corpses. He's going to take me there and he was making sure I'm safe. I stay close behind him as he leads the way down the alley behind the shop. We move quietly down a series of side streets and back alleys until we finally reach a dead end alley hidden behind an overgrown bush. In it is an ancient blue Bronco parked facing the back fence.

N stops and gestures at the truck with his eyes wide. "Hhhere," he says and then opens the driver's side door. "I th-think here."

"In a truck?" I ask. I run a hand along the chipped and rusting paint of the truck's body. "It's a beautiful truck. Classic. Kind of like your taste in music." N smiles and nods at the open door. I walk over and climb into the seat, placing my hands on the steering wheel. "I miss driving."

"W-what does it fee-eel like?" N asks, leaning against the open door and tilting his head questioningly.

"Driving?" I ask and he nods. "It's such a rush. You're just cruising, fast. Flying over the ground, the wind rushing in your hair. It feels like freedom." I look over and N has his eyes closed, a look of almost serenity on his face. I brush my fingertips around the circle of the steering wheel and smile. "You know, this truck is in pretty good shape. If we can find a few new parts, we can probably get it running again."

N's eyes snap open and lock on me with a frightening intensity. "F-fix it?" he asks and something in his fragmented speech sounds eager.

"Well sure," I say, climbing down out of the truck. I walk around and lift the hood, squinting in at the dusty interior mechanics. "It looks like the engine and that are all still here. I'm no mechanic so I can't promise anything, but I think it really just needs a new battery."

"Can f-find that," N says, coming around to stand beside me. He squints at the engine and I can see his eyes scouring over every detail of the mechanics with rapt fascination. "W-what is it?"

"This here," I say, standing on my toes to point at the square truck battery. "It's what gives power to the truck. If there's an auto shop around here somewhere, they probably have some of these sitting around still. It may take a few tries to find one that still has any juice but it's a shot."

The hopeful look that appears in N's puppy-dog eyes would melt even the hardest of hearts.

"So, do you know of any car parts shops around here then?" I ask, resigning myself to repairing the truck now. There's no way I can turn him down after that look. It's a good thing I've picked up on some basic car mechanics' training in the Compound, because I never learned anything about it living in the orphanage. Thankfully the Compound is pretty insistent on everyone learning a little bit of everything so we can be useful wherever we're most needed at the time.

"You s-stay ho-mmme," N says, frowning.

"Like hell," I answer. "You'll need my help finding out which one will work for this truck. You can't read, can you?" N dips his head. "Exactly. You need to be able to read the labels to know which one is the right type. So I'm coming with."

To my shock, N rolls his eyes. The gesture is so incredibly human I can't help but laugh and shake my head. "Fine," he says and folds his arms over his chest. "S-stay close. Quiet."

"I will," I agree. "It's not like I want to be eaten, N." He nods, a look of reluctant acceptance on his face. "Okay, Cheekbones, lead the way." N grumbles something, presumably about the nickname, and rubs his face almost self-consciously.

Before I can say anything – did I really just hurt a Corpse's feelings? - he rubs his fingers into the still-open wound in his sternum and traces them down the sides of my neck. I grimace at the smell of the congealed blood but I know it's necessary. He explained yesterday that it masks the scent of my living blood and it works best by putting it over my pulse point where the smell is strongest. I don't know how he learned this, or if it was just a lucky guess, but it's kept me alive so far so I'm not about to question his methods.

N sets off back down the alley with a vague motion that I should follow him. I keep close in his shadow as we walk, trying to imitate his shuffling limp on the chance that we happen across any other Corpses. It's not until the main road that we actually see anyone else and the male zombie ignores us as he continues to scratch aimlessly at a wooden door. I want to ask N what that Corpse is doing but I can't risk talking now so I save the question for later.

A few blocks away from the alley we come across a dilapidated AutoZone. Nearly all of the windows that front the building are broken out and it's clearly been pillaged a time or two, but there's still stuff inside. N and I go in through an empty windowpane and I immediately head for the back wall, where a row of shelves stand beneath a hanging sign that says 'Batteries.' More than half of them are missing but there's a wide enough supply left that we may be in luck.

"Here we are," I say, stopping in front of a section of large truck batteries. One of them is leaking acid onto the floor, burned clean through its plastic casing, and two more have been damaged beyond use, but there are three that look like they might be usable. "I have no idea which ones have any power left in them, so we should probably take them all. Help me carry them? They're kind of heavy."

N nods and picks up two of the batteries by the cheap plastic handles. I hoist the last one into my arms and we head back to the alley. It's slow going with the extra weight and we have to take a detour around a cluster of Corpses that have gathered on the main road. My arms are aching by the time we make it back to the hidden alleyway.

"Alright," I say, wiping off my hands on my stained jeans. "Let's see what we can do with this thing."

N and I pass a good two hours fitting in the new batteries and testing each of them. The first one doesn't work at all and the second one chugs but won't hold the charge once we turn the ignition. It's not until the third one that we get any real spark of life in the engine. N's eyes brighten at the deep, throbbing hum of the engine trying to run.

"This is the one," I say earnestly. "Looks like there's a few more things we'll need though. This truck's been abandoned here for a while. Needs some new oil, might want to change out the spark plugs and fuses if we can find some. Thankfully it looks like whoever was driving left it with a nearly full tank though so that's nice."

"We n-need to go b-back?" N asks.

"Yeah, but first I need some lunch," I say. "I'm starved. We'll go back for the other things after."

N nods and escorts me back to his shop/house. I dig through my basket of food and finally settle on cold tinned beans. Mmm, gotta love the wonder of preservatives and tinning, food can last forever. I pry the lid open with the screwdriver and eat, watching N browsing through his record collection.

"N, can I ask you a question?" I ask between mouthfuls.

"Jus-st did," N responds with a small quirk of his bluish lips.

"Smart ass," I say, laughing.

N's lips lift a little higher and he seems to finally settle on an album. "Ask," he says as he puts the record onto the player.

"Do you have to eat people?"

N doesn't answer for a minute, focusing on getting the vinyl started. He closes his eyes through the crackle and thump, and then finally turns to look at me when the rock ballad begins. "Yes."

"Or else you'll die," I guess and he nods. "What about healing, do you heal? I mean, you've got all those injuries," I say, my eyes lingering on the brown stained hole in his shirt from where I'd thrown my knife at him. "Do you feel them? I mean, does it hurt?"

"No," he says simply. "I d-don't feel."

"You don't feel pain at all?" I ask. I mean, we've always had suspicions. When you shoot something in the chest and it just keeps coming, odds are the injury doesn't bother it. But it's not like we've ever had a chance to ask one for sure.

"D-don't feel at all," he corrects, frowning.

"You can't feel anything?" I ask in awe. I've never really considered that possibility before. What would it be like, going through life without feeling anything around you?

N rubs his hands together as he walks over and sits down in front of me. "N-nothing," he says.

"I'm sorry, that's so sad," I say. "I can't even imagine what that must be like."

N shrugs again. "Bett-ter than b-being Boney."

"Boney?" I echo. In response N hisses, imitating the shriek of the Skeletons with eerie accuracy. "Oh, the Skeletons! You call them Boneys? I like that, it fits somehow." As I consider what he says though, a frown steals across my face. "So the Boneys, they start out as Corpses?" N nods. "Does that mean – are you going to become one of them someday?"

"Mmaybe," he says, a bit furtively, picking at his fingernails. "They are C-corpses that giv-ve up."

I sigh, the injustice of it welling up in me. N is conscious and sentient, and it's not fair that he is forced to exist like this. He is kind and emotive and expressive, and yet his only options in the world are to die - either by starvation or being shot - or to become a mindless monster. He deserves better. He deserves to be alive.

"Audrey." I look up and N is watching me closely with his head tilted to the side. "Y-you are mad."

"I'm fine," I say, hastily downing the last of the beans. "C'mon, let's get back to working on that truck."