Deathlings

by Ellery Fenn

  “Gross.” Her footsteps headed upstairs. “She’s menstruating!” she yelled loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

  Clarisse chuckled.

  I swallowed and forced a smile. I couldn’t let her see me cry. “Don’t worry. She’ll start her period soon and it won’t be so gross anymore.”

  She sat up, looking everywhere but my face. “Yeah.” Her cheeks were wet.

  “It really is okay.” I wanted to hug her so much. “I’m doing just fine. I can fly now.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Bet you love that.”

  “Yeah. You want to see?”

  She nodded.

  I flew around the room, grateful for the distraction and the chance to dry my tears. I had to be strong for her, had to prove everything was alright. I circled the ceiling. Clarisse watched, but she didn’t stop crying. I gave her a few minutes to breathe before landing beside her.

  “Hey.”

  She met my eyes for the first time. If she could see that I’d been crying, she didn’t say anything. “Hey.”

  I smiled. “I’ll help you through this. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Can you stop trying to fix everyone and everything? Just let me hurt for a while.”

  “Ouch.”

  She snorted. “It’s about time I said it.”

  We sat in silence, watching the ceiling fan slowly turn. Stop trying to fix everything. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one that ruined everything.

  “Wait a minute.” She leaned forward. “They didn’t find you dead by the road, they just found your dress.”

  I had a lot of explaining to do. “It’s complicated.”

  “You better uncomplicate it.”

  I nodded. “Well, there’s this zombie.”

  She laughed. “Bullshit. You got vampires too? What about Bela?”

  “No, really. I know it sounds crazy. She, well, she found me, and kind of took care of me. I had a hard time accepting that I was dead too. She helped me.”

  Clarisse blinked. “You’re serious.”

  “Deathly.”

  “Don’t joke about that. Not yet.”

  “Sorry.” If I could sink to the center of the earth, I would. “Anyways. The zombie. Her name’s Corrie, and… she found my body before I did.”

  “And?”

  “Well, she is a zombie.”

  “Oh my god. You’re kidding.”

  I pursed my lips. I couldn’t let myself think about what she’d done.

  She laughed in disbelief. “That’s so fucked up!”

  “You’re telling me. Now we have to find a way to get Doug in jail without it.”

  “Wait, ‘we’? You’re working with this zombie?”

  “No, no. Not working. We’re… friends. I mean yeah, I’m still not okay with what she did, but we have a job to do, you know? And it makes a difference when you’re the only two dead people around.”

  “I guess so. That’s so crazy.”

  “Life’s crazy. Well, death’s crazy.”

  She glared at me.

  “Sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. What can I do to help the revenge business?”

  I smiled. Everything was different, but the important things were still the same.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Corrie

  I spent the morning reading in the hollow tree while Lisa followed Doug to the police station. He kept a fairly thorough record. The earliest entry was five years old, and he’d written nearly every week since. At the beginning, his life seemed like that of an average boy.

  May 5th, 1981. Played Portland today. I had a home run and won the game.

  Through the years, his entries had changed.

  December 19th, 1984. Went out with Sarah Richards. She can do some great things with her tongue, with a little persuasion.

  I couldn’t understand his motivation for writing. Perhaps he wanted to remember each of his conquests when he was old and had erectile dysfunction.

  Since it was in his own words, it was difficult to tell what was consensual and what wasn’t, yet none of reflected very well on him.

  As time went on, it became worse and worse, more explicit, more forceful. By the end I knew more about Doug than I ever wished to.

  He had a girlfriend in 1985, Sarah Richards. They went out for several months before she became pregnant. He insisted she get an abortion. She complied, but her parents were devastated. They moved to Washington to keep her away from him.

  How could someone live like this and see nothing wrong with it? To blame the girls themselves for his deeds. He lived as though everything was a grand sexual adventure, every girl waiting to seduce him.

  He thought himself untouchable, protected by his status. By his strength. By his power. If he had no strength, if he had no status, his crimes never would have been committed. And if he had no way to commit the crimes, he couldn’t do harm.

  I knew Lisa would be devastated if she read the book. It was disturbing to me, and I wasn’t the one traumatized, the one that blamed herself. How would it affect her?

  The search had begun, and several times I heard them calling. I kept my distance and stayed in the hollow tree.

  “Corrie!”

  I startled and hit my head on the knot above me, tearing my scalp even more. Lisa winced.

  “You’re not going to believe what I did. And I know, you’ll think it’s stupid, but it just happened. I didn’t plan it or anything. And it’s going to be fine.” She bit her lip. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  I closed the journal. “What.”

  “Well… it’s not that bad, really.”

  “What?”

  She closed her eyes and said it all at once. “I went to see Clarisse and accidentally said something and she heard me and thought I was hiding so I had to tell her the truth and I told her about you and she said she’d help us get revenge on Doug, and also she told her boyfriend and they’re both going to be here really soon.” She forced a smile.

  I ate a salmon and didn’t think until I’d swallowed the last bite.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  How could she be so selfish? If word got out and we were found, she could simply hide, while I would likely be contained and studied, denied my right to decompose. If we were found and stopped, what would happen to Doug?

  “No.”

  She exhaled deeply. “Good. That’s good. She’s a really good person, really. I think you’ll like her. Well, maybe. She can be a bit much and she’s kind of emotional since she found out what happened, so just bear with her. And Pat’s a great guy.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “They’re kind of intense, but they’re so sweet, really. Well, maybe not sweet.” She cleared her throat. “They should be here soon.” She moved her scrunchie from wrist to wrist. “She’s my best friend. We’ve known each other forever and she’s like a sister. A sister I have to sneak out to see, but still.” She sighed. “Please be nice. She’s really important to me and I don’t want you to scare her away.”

  Indignation rose within me. Why should I be Corrie the Friendly Zombie? Why should I care about the feelings of her human friends? Lisa was dead now. It couldn’t be healthy to hold onto living acquaintances. Not when I was right here, waiting for her.

  “And, not to mention,” she mumbled without meeting my eye. “You’re kind of beyond important. I just want you guys to get along.”

  I huffed. “Okay.” If I was that important, then she should understand I couldn’t simply not be scary.

  “Good. Yeah. Good.” She poked her head through the tree. “They’re not here yet.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What about the diary? You found anything useful?”

  My stomach sunk. She’d want to read it. She’d be hurt. I nodded.

  She grabbed the book from me, but I couldn’t make my hands let go. We tugged back and forth. I couldn’t let her be hurt by him again.

&nb
sp; “Let me read it.”

  There was no way I could hide its contents from her forever. I reluctantly relinquished. “Careful.”

  She grasped my meaning at once. “I’ll be fine. You can calm me down if you have to.”

  I’d marked each sexual encounter with a leaf. She opened to the first one. His first girlfriend, when he’d lost his virginity. I replayed the entries in my mind. The book was thick with leaves, one on every page near the end. How could one guy blow his load so many times? Didn’t he get tired of coercing and outright forcing girls?

  There was only one entry missing. He never wrote about Homecoming.

  Lisa’s face was composed as she read, suppressing every hint of emotion. The entries were short, and it was only ten minutes before she returned the book to me.

  “Thank you.”

  I nodded.

  She sighed. “It makes me sick, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.” She shook her head as though trying to loose the memories from her mind. “I can deal with it. I’m just glad he didn’t do anything to Clarisse’s little sister. She spent some time around him, and I was really worried about that.” Her hand wandered to where the slip was folded. Her fingertips drifted over the surface. She inhaled deeply.

  I couldn’t understand her. The slip seemed to provide her comfort, despite its disgusting smell and appearance.

  A voice from outside caught my attention.

  “That’s them!” She flitted from the tree to greet them, leaving the lace of the shift to blow in the breeze of her wake.

  I listened without moving.

  “Hi Pat,” Lisa said.

  “See, it’s just like I told you.” That must’ve been Clarisse.

  “Holy shit.” A boy’s voice.

  “That’s what Clarisse said.”

  “Wow.”

  “I promise I’m not scary. I won’t hurt you or haunt you or anything. I’m still the same Lisa.”

  I didn’t have many memories of life, but I knew that wasn’t true.

  “It’s not you he’s worried about. It’s that zombie of yours. I got to say, Lis, I don’t think it’s very smart to be working with her. We can handle this on our own.”

  I took a steadying breath.

  “Not a chance. Corrie’s essential. It’s not up for debate.”

  “Okayyy.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Maybe you should sit down, babe.”

  There was a thump.

  “Okay yeah, that’s good. Have some water.”

  “Um,” Lisa said. “Maybe not from the creek. There’s a lot of dead fish.”

  “Gross.”

  Lisa laughed. “You sound like your sister.”

  “Don’t say that! She’s so annoying, oh my god.”

  “She’s not that bad. That’s just how sisters are.”

  Jealousy crept through me. I could never have an easy, natural conversation with Lisa. My hand wandered to my throat. My vocal cords would never cooperate.

  “How would you know? You’re an only child.”

  “How are you guys so calm? You’re a floating… thing, for Christ’s sake! And you’re standing here chatting like you’re not actually dead. Oh my god. You’re dead. Like, for real. Holy shit.”

  “Can we not talk about that?” Clarisse said sharply.

  “Sorry it’s just… holy shit! I can’t- oh my god! Lisa. We have Spanish class tomorrow.”

  “Well I don’t think I’ll make it.”

  “Yeah no kidding. You’re dead.”

  “Maybe you should go back to the car,” Clarisse snapped.

  “No, I’m fine. I just. Wow.”

  I fantasized for a moment about bursting from the tree and lurching toward them with drool hanging from my mouth. I smiled at the thought of them running and screaming. The smile faded as I pictured Lisa’s face. I could never hurt her like that. I would be the good little zombie.

  A fly buzzed around my face before settling into the hole in my cheek. At least someone didn’t mind me.

  I stopped listening. Pat repeated his awe, Clarisse repeated her disapproval, and Lisa repeated her reassurances. I focused on the motions of the fly as it crawled over my cheekbone. I was lucky to be dead. No uninjured human had ever felt this strange sensation. Its nibbling on my flesh was almost comforting. A reminder of death. Memento mori.

  After a few minutes, Lisa’s voice came from beside the tree. “Come on out, Corrie. Pat’s calmed down and Clarisse wants to meet you.”

  I doubted that but left the tree anyway. I was suddenly very aware of how ridiculous I looked in this turban and these human clothes. Being naked would be better than this.

  Clarisse and Pat looked ridiculous too. She had a mohawk that stuck up at least a foot over her pale face. Her eyes were as dark as a raccoon’s. She wore a leather jacket and boots that were the most impractical things I’d ever seen.

  Pat wasn’t much better. His hair was black as well, fluffed wide in a haphazard arrangement. His makeup matched his girlfriend’s, down to the lipstick. They looked like black and white pictures, and more like siblings than a couple.

  His eyes widened as he stumbled back. “Holy shit.”

  I rolled my eyes. He needed to expand his vocabulary.

  Lisa made a pleading face at me. I could almost hear her telling me to ‘be nice’.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “She talks.” Clarisse folded her arms over her chest, her lips pressed together in what I assumed was an effort to stay calm.

  “That doesn’t make it better!” Pat said.

  Their scent was harsh and unnatural as I breathed through my frustration. I wasn’t an ‘it’. Granted, I wasn’t a person either.

  Clarisse squinted at me. “Is that makeup? Lisa, did you do that?”

  “I tried.”

  Apparently, I looked even worse than I felt.

  “I’ll fix that,” she said. “I’ve got some high coverage foundation that’ll really smooth that out.”

  “What about the wounds?”

  Clarisse shivered. “Sew them up, I guess. Won’t help for the nose though. I don’t know what to do about that.”

  Their calm discussion of radically changing my appearance was irritating. I had no desire to look like anything other than myself, especially not a human. Yet I understood the necessity of blending in.

  “Am I the only one that smells that?” Pat asked.

  Lisa hurried to explain. “Corrie’s decomposing. Corpses smell.”

  “Huh,” Clarisse said. “That’s kind of funny. Corpse, Corrie.”

  “I never noticed that,” Lisa said. I didn’t meet her eyes.

  The couple flinched as I took a step forward. “Work.”

  “She’s right,” Lisa said. “We should probably get started.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lisa

  I sat next to Corrie in the back of Pat’s car. His staring in the rear-view mirror was getting old. Clarisse talked the whole time, her voice that frantic pitch she used when she was stressed. Corrie stared out the window blankly.

  “If only there was some way to get the entire class on our side,” Clarisse said. Her mohawk jabbed into the ceiling. “Let them all know what happened. That could go a long way. But how would we convince them?”

  “Oh.” Corrie handed me the book. “We have his journal.”

  “What?” She turned to stare at me and grabbed it from my hands. “How did you get this?”

  “It was in his room.”

  “You were in his room?”

  “We snuck in.”

  “Both of you?”

  I glanced at Corrie. I was getting sick of Clarisse acting like Corrie wasn’t a person, like she was optional. “Yeah, we’re kind of a set.”

  “Huh.” She flipped through the pages, stopping to read now and then and vocalize her feelings at particular sections. She read the rest of the short drive to Pat’s house. Lake Oswego wasn’t that big. Everything was pretty close together.


  “Duck.” Pat pulled into the driveway. I pushed Corrie down onto the seat.

  She looked up at me curiously as I lay on top of her. “Sorry.”

  “S’okay,” she said. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off hers. It was strange seeing her this way. It wasn’t right. Corrie was a creature of the night, a terrifying, beautiful monster. She shouldn’t be hiding in a backseat. Her dark eyes sparkled as they stared into mine.

  The tingle flared in my stomach, and I was aware of every spot my skin touched hers. I looked away quickly, blush rising in my cheeks.

  “Okay,” Pat said. He turned to look at us and shuddered. “Clarisse and I can probably block the zombie from view until we get to the shed.”

  Corrie growled.

  “You know,” I said, my hand firm on the back of her neck to control me as much as her. “Her name’s Corrie.”

  “R-right.”

  I helped Corrie out of the car, careful to keep her from view of the house. Pat’s yard was fenced with trees. Our only worry was the peering eyes of his family. Clarisse’s mohawk was a perfect screen as we shuffled to Pat’s shed.

  He let us in. There was a workbench, an old loveseat, and posters all over the walls. Enough room for all of us if we squished. Corrie sat on one end of the couch, Clarisse on the other. I hovered in the air. Pat sat on the workbench.

  “So,” I said. “What do you think of the journal?”

  Clarisse dragged her gaze up from the floor. “Yeah. It’s good. I mean, it’s horrible, but we can definitely use it to our advantage. He doesn’t come outright and say, ‘Hey, I raped this girl’-” I couldn’t help but flinch at the word. I held the memory of the night before in my mind, of Corrie holding me. I was safe now. “But it’s still sketchy enough in places that it really can’t be interpreted as anything else.”

  Pat looked out the window. “I need to keep my family’s attention off the shed. Eric comes out here sometimes. And, no offense C-Corrie, but you really stink.” She shifted in her seat. “But I’ve been thinking, and I’ve been telling them that I was going to spray paint the outside of the shed, and the smell of that’ll cover up any of- your smell. And it’ll keep anyone from coming out here. So-” He hopped off the workbench. “I’m, uh. I’m going to go do that.”