Deathlings

by Ellery Fenn

  Her eyes widened as she stumbled back. “Oh my god.”

  “What?”

  “Oh my god.”

  She didn’t have to say it. I could see in her eyes that she knew. She wasn’t seeing Corrie anymore, but Lisa.

  “Lisa said you ate her body, but you didn’t. You are her body.”

  The couch slid as she fell into her seat, her eyes glued to me. I sat.

  “Why aren’t you shaking your head? Am I right?”

  I didn’t have to say it either.

  “How is this possible?” She ran her hands over the stubble on the shaved sides of her head. “A zombie and a ghost? From one person. How?” She looked at me like I knew the answer.

  I couldn’t possibly describe the maze my mind worked through as I’d thought over this. I shrugged.

  “Oh my god. Lisa. You’re Lisa.”

  “Corrie,” I corrected.

  “But how? If you’re Lisa’s body, aren’t you Lisa?”

  I gave her my best theory. “Person is body and spirit as one. Dead person is body and spirit as two.”

  “Oh. That makes sense. That’s why Lisa’s so different. She’s always been so self-conscious of her body, always worried about how she looked, and now she’s free of that. And you, you’re her body without worry. Without the pressure of society. Just like an animal. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “It’s like I said. Corpse and Corrie.”

  I nodded.

  She leaned back. “Wow. That’s crazy. Why? Why would you be a zombie instead of just a body? Don’t you have any ideas?”

  If it wasn’t an accident on the universe’s part, I was at a loss.

  She clapped her hands over her mouth again. “Oh my god.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Your face. Your nose. Your hair. Did he do that to you?”

  I nodded, then shook my head. “Did hair myself.”

  “Oh my god. How could someone hurt someone else that bad? When she said he hit her in the head with a rock, I just assumed it was one impact, bang. But your injuries.” A tear soaked into her bandanna. “Oh, Lisa.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, trembling with sobs. I didn’t move. She gagged and turned away, dry heaving for a moment before taking a sip of soda.

  “Sorry.” She wiped her face. “You just really smell.” She laughed through her tears. “Oh god, my makeup. How bad is it?” Her eyeshadow was so smeared it looked like a mask.

  “Bad.”

  “Of course it is.” She leaned back with a sniff. “I’m okay. Do you still have that stick n poke tattoo I gave her?”

  I must’ve looked very confused.

  “On your hip.”

  I folded my waistband over. A messy blob of ink stained the skin on my jutting hip bone.

  “It was supposed to be a rose,” she said wistfully, staring at it for a moment. “Why haven’t you told Lisa?”

  I fixed my pants and gazed at a poster that read The Sisters of Mercy. I hadn’t told her because I was afraid. She’d reject me. She wouldn’t want to be connected in that way. If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off.

  “You have to tell her. It’s not right to keep this a secret. Hey! Look at me. You have to tell her. Or I’m going tell her, and it’ll sound a lot better coming from you.”

  She was right. “Okay.”

  “Good.” She wiped her makeup-stained hands on her tights. “I just can’t believe this. My life was so normal this morning.”

  I doubted she was ever normal.

  “So that’s why you guys get along so well. You’re two halves of one whole. That’s so romantic.”

  She must've had a different definition of romantic than me.

  The couch creaked as she leaned toward me. “Oh my god. You’re kidding. You like her, don’t you?”

  I didn’t like her, I realized then. To like her would imply that the way I felt was transitory, unimportant, when nothing was further from the truth. Lisa consumed me like sensory overload. Lisa was my life, my death, my everything. Without her, there was only decay.

  She laughed in disbelief. “Oh my god. That’s officially the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard of in my life. A zombie with a crush on a ghost. And they’re from the same person!” I could tell by the eyes peeking over her bandanna that she was smiling.

  How could she be amused by my deviant thoughts? I glared at her.

  “That’s so weird, but kind of cute. You guys are really good together.”

  Cute? Good? How could she delude herself into thinking it was anything other than perverted?

  “Lisa and Corrie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  My growl echoed through the shed.

  “Oop. Sorry.”

  I hadn’t believed I was a monster before this, but now I could come to no other conclusion. What kind of creature, what kind of beast, could ever feel this way for a part of themselves, for a soul that once inhabited them?

  “Oh,” Clarisse said. “You haven’t accepted it yet.”

  I listened to the silence of my heart.

  “Oh, but it’s so sweet. You guys really care for each other. That’s better than ninety percent of the couples I know.” She crossed her legs and faced me. “If you don’t feel like you can tell her, that’s okay. Just don’t throw out the possibility. If you have a chance in your life for real, true love, real connection and trust, you grab onto it. You do anything for it. And who knows how long you’ll be around for? You’re kind of falling apart.” She gestured to my hand, where I’d ripped off another fingernail. “Don’t let this go by. You guys are meant to be together, I’m sure of it. And if I have to lose Lisa, there’s no one I’d rather lose her to.”

  The roar of my self-loathing faded to a murmur. I trusted Clarisse. She’d cared for Lisa for years, been there for her, and Lisa trusted her with more than her life. I couldn’t distrust the best friend of my other half.

  She thought Lisa and I were destined to be together. I wanted to believe her, but she could so easily be mistaken, seeing something where there was nothing.

  I pressed the newly exposed flesh on my finger. The pain was a welcome respite from my rambling mind. I couldn’t think when sensation overwhelmed me, burned through me like cleansing fire, like baptism.

  Pat entered the shed, a frightened expression on his face. I realized then that I hadn’t heard him spray painting for several minutes.

  “So my dad is friends with this guy on the police force, right?” He looked at us expectantly.

  “And?” Clarisse prompted.

  “And he just called my dad to plan their golf trip next week, and he said the craziest thing happened at the station. In one of the rooms, there was this weird mist and a really loud screech that they thought was the pipes. But when he went to show the maintenance man, they saw the shape of a person on the floor crying, just for a second. A silver, transparent person.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lisa

  I didn’t know how long I’d been floating aimlessly, invisibly, through the streets. I stayed in the room for what felt like an eternity, crying, trying to make sense of their conversation, and only left when someone came in. I’d wandered ever since. It was almost dark.

  There was nothing we could do now. Doug explained it so well, wrapped up the whole story with a nice little bow. He had the detective on his side, and if he could fool a professional, who couldn’t he fool?

  I found myself in front of Pat’s house. My heart dinged like a microwave. Without meaning to, I’d led myself to Corrie again.

  Pat was still spray painting the shed. He went slow, drawing the project out as long as he could get away with. One side was done. All black.

  I glided through the wall and let myself be visible.

  Corrie and Clarisse were leaning toward each other and talking in low voices like old friends. The journal sat abandoned.

  “Hi guys.”

  “Lisa,” Corrie said.

  “Lisa!” Clarisse jumped up to hug m
e. She went right through. “Oops.” I floated through her and sat on the workbench. “What did you find out?”

  I shrugged.

  Corrie rested her hand on my knee. “You okay?”

  Her eyes sparkled as they always did, but her face was scrunched with concern. She stared straight through me into my brain. I could see the wheels turning in her head, see her puzzling out exactly what the matter was. I couldn’t keep a thing from her.

  “No. Nothing’s okay.” I fell into Corrie’s arms. I hadn’t meant to, but it happened anyway, like the wind blew me into her. Her arms closed around me. I wasn’t going to complain. I smushed my face against her neck, fighting back tears. “Doug told the detective it was all a set up. He said I planned the whole thing so I could run away and people wouldn’t blame me. Said I cut myself to put the blood on the dress. Said Clarisse convinced me to do it.”

  “What?” Clarisse exclaimed. “Are you serious? That bastard’s going to blame this on me?!”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. The detective believes him. Everyone believes him and feels sorry for him ‘cause this teenage mastermind framed him.”

  I wiped my nose and sat up, still encircled by Corrie’s arms. Her head was bare, no makeup or turban. I couldn’t help but enjoy the sight. It settled my nerves, as soothing as her scent was.

  Clarisse giggled. I blushed when I realized I still sat on Corrie’s lap, and hopped onto the workbench.

  “I have no idea what to do,” I said. “If even the detective believes him, how can I expect anyone to not believe him? It’s over.”

  “It’s not over,” Clarisse said. “I’ve got some stuff here that’ll take his reputation down a notch. Or ten notches.” She waved her notebook.

  I forced a smile. “That’s great.”

  “Come on, Lis. Don’t count us out yet.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  The door creaked open.

  “Oh, hey Lisa,” Pat said. “My mom’s hounding me to come in. I think we better break it up.”

  And just when I was feeling better.

  Clarisse shoved her notebook and the journal into her bag. “I’ll hit the library before school tomorrow and get those copies made.”

  Pat’s mom shouted indistinctly from the house. He winced. “You’d better go home.”

  “I’ll walk so you can stay and keep an eye on the shed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Clarisse reached out to give me a hug and this time I hugged back.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said. “And good luck.” She directed the last part to Corrie and closed the door behind her.

  I was surprised by the relief that instantly spread through me. It was good to be alone, even though I already missed Clarisse. The dark, the cool, the isolation. Peaceful. Perfect.

  “Why’d you take your turban off? And your makeup?”

  Corrie shrugged. “Clar-iiise not care.”

  “Well that’s good. I’m glad she’s getting used to you.”

  She smiled. The stupid tingle in my stomach returned. “Me too.”

  I curled up on the loveseat. “She get a lot written?”

  Corrie nodded and pulled a fish from her bag. A can of soda sat rejected on the workbench.

  “Is that yours?”

  She followed the direction I pointed and growled. I laughed.

  “Guess you didn’t like it that much.”

  She started on another fish.

  I settled back against the cushion. Everything was still, dark, silent, exactly what I needed. I was exhausted, and even though I couldn’t sleep, I needed rest.

  Corrie swallowed her last bite. “I’ve something to tell you.”

  She looked uncomfortable, and it had to be important if she was willing to talk that much.

  “What’s up?”

  She cleared her throat. “When you saw your dress-” She stumbled over every word and pushed through. “You thought I ate your body.”

  I sat up straight. The ringing in my chest intensified. “You didn’t?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then where is it?”

  She looked dejectedly at the floor and slowly pointed at herself.

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I’m your body.”

  The numbness returned. Crickets screeched outside the shed. What was she talking about? Why would she say that?

  “How?”

  “Woke by road. Took off dress. Cut hair.”

  The image of her running into the clearing that night, bloody and gruesome, came to mind. Of course, I wouldn’t recognize her. I didn’t want to believe it, but she was right. I knew she was right. I could feel it.

  I buried my head in my hands. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me too.”

  I was too tired to even cry. This couldn’t be happening. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A dog barked in the distance. “Was scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  She shrugged.

  “Ugh.”

  How was it even possible? How could my body have a personality so different from me? How could someone split in two like this? Why? Why would it happen? Why would she lie?

  “The slip,” I groaned.

  “Yes.”

  “I assumed you took it off my body.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I was forced to my feet. Exhaustion could wait. “This doesn’t make sense. I’m me. You’re not me. If you’re my body, then why don’t you act like me? Which one of us is the real Lisa?”

  “Both.”

  I paused in front of her. “You’ve thought a lot about this.” She’d worked through the whole thing on her own and left me completely out of it. Threw half the equation out the window.

  She nodded.

  “I can’t believe this! This makes… less than zero sense. A person has a spirit and when they die that spirit either goes to heaven or hell. I assumed if I let go and let myself float apart, I’d end up in one of them. But if you’re, well, not alive, but awake and aware and thinking, then that doesn’t work. Ugh!” I paced faster.

  “We’re both Lisa.”

  “No!” She sat there so calm, didn’t listen to a word I said. “I’m Lisa and you’re Corrie and that’s that.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “Lisa and Lisa’s body make Lisa. Lisa dies and body and Lisa apart.”

  “Well yeah. Duh.” She was stating the obvious now. Like she thought I was dumb. Lisa and Lisa’s body. You mean plain old Lisa?

  “When alive, I part of you. You’re diff-erent now.”

  I folded my arms. “Different how?”

  “Leader.”

  I hated to admit that she had a point. I felt it, like I was having a growth spurt. I was changing. I was different.

  “I don’t want to hear this,” I said. “I don’t want to think about this.”

  “Have to.”

  “No!” I lunged at her, moving without thinking. She shrunk back. “You listen to me! This is a bunch of bullshit. Zombies and ghosts aren’t real, and they definitely don’t come from the same person. This is-” I waved my hands. “Unnatural. Evil. I can’t- I can’t do this. I have to go.”

  And I did.

  Chapter Twenty

  Corrie

  The night was deep, lonely, and long.

  I ran through the conversation in my head, noting every word, every inflection, desperately trying to devise a way I could’ve said it that wouldn’t have pushed her away. It was a pointless task. She was overwhelmed by emotion. There was nothing I could’ve done differently.

  How could she not feel the truth? I was connected to her, drawn to her, like I was fire and she was oxygen. Was she not as connected to me? Of course not. Fire destroys oxygen, changes it irreversibly. Why? Why should she ever wish to be near me now?

  She would move on, as she should have, as she would have, had I not woken by the road. I would be discarded, like every corpse.<
br />
  Oh, why was I reanimated! What force of the universe gave me the life after death that I never should have had? Decomposition would be my only release.

  To die, to sleep. Nature begged me to join her in matrimony. Death and Life, eternal companions. She would be the priest, would write our vows in blood. And then, with ceremonies complete, we would walk hand in hand to our marriage bed. She’d lay me down, plant kisses on my open sores and warm me with her everlasting embrace.

  What bliss! To be consumed by your bride.

  I closed my eyes and laid on the loveseat. My fiancée would come and find me.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Lisa

  I made my way to Clarisse’s house. There was no one else to turn to, no one I could trust. I floated in through the front door. Kelly watched TV as Isaac read to Maria. Marx sat beside them, engrossed in the story as much as his owner was. Like they always did. Like every night.

  Clarisse’s room was downstairs. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small, perfect for the two of us. I spent so much of the night there that it felt like my room too.

  The walls had a few tastefully placed posters. Her bed was stacked with several mattresses, and covered in soft gray blankets and pillows, as well as a few stuffed animals that she hid from anyone but me and Pat.

  I took one of the photographs that was stuck in the frame of her mirror. It was of summer camp, of the time we met. I hardly recognized us. I looked so happy, and she looked so ordinary.

  “Um,” Clarisse said, staring at the mirror. “Lisa?”

  I smiled. She was seeing a floating photograph. I raised my brightness.

  “Phew. Just about scared me to death.” She frowned at her pun.

  “Can I keep this?” I waved the photo.

  “Sure,” she said. I floated to my usual seat beside her. This was how we always sat, her at the head of the bed and me at the foot. “Why aren’t you with Corrie?”

  I shrugged. I could see her in my head, flinching away from me, worry and fear in her eyes as she told me the truth.