by Greg Krojac
He paused for a moment.
“Are you sure you’re not thirsty, Arnold?”
“Positive, thanks.”
Trevor winked at Tracey.
“You will be.”
Tracey was never one to mince her words.
“Tell you what Arnold. You look a bit conspicuous in that get up you’re wearing. How about my Trevor finds you something more normal to wear? And, whilst we’re about it, we can check out the condition of your – um – condition.”
Arnold followed Tracey up the stairs to the bathroom while her husband went to the master bedroom to find something more suitable for the zombie to wear. Still shell-shocked at how helpful the couple was, he sat down on the toilet seat while Tracey unfastened the laces of his right boot. It took a little encouragement, but the boot was soon off. She looked at his foot.
“Not too bad, considering. A bit spongy, but it seems quite stable.”
She set to work untying the laces of his left boot. This one seemed to be more stubborn and determined to stay on his foot. She placed her own feet against the base of the toilet bowl to give her more purchase, gritting her teeth as she put extra effort into trying to remove the boot. Suddenly it flew free, and she fell over backwards with the boot triumphantly raised in her right hand.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
The boot had come off, but so had Arnold’s left foot. The vampire and the zombie sat blinking at the results of Tracey’s efforts.
Trevor appeared at the bathroom door with a change of clothes for Arnold; a pair of trainers, a pair of denim jeans, a belt, and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. He thought the T-shirt design was quite appropriate, but – greeted by a dismembered foot – he knew it would take a lot more than an ironic T-shirt to cheer Arnold up. He picked up the boot and its contents.
“I think I may have to cut the foot out. I don’t want to damage it any more than it’s already been damaged so I’ll take it down to the garage where I’ve got some tools. I won’t be a minute.”
Arnold felt a little embarrassed as Tracey helped him to remove the rest of his clothes and was grateful for the bath towel she handed him to protect what modesty he might still possess. He might not be a live human being, but he was still a kind of human being nonetheless.
After quickly checking the rest of his body, she stood up.
“It looks like I’ve got some good news for you, young man.”
Arnold found it strange to be addressed as young man by a woman who looked at least fifteen years his junior, but then remembered her saying that she had met Trevor nearly one hundred and fifteen years ago – so she was actually considerably older than he was.
“Good news? What can be good news? I’m dead, I’m decaying, and my foot’s fallen off.”
She bent down on her haunches and supported his left ankle in her hand.
“The good news, Arnold, is that your body appears to have stopped decomposing. You won’t revert back to how you were when you were alive – properly alive – but you won’t get any worse either.”
Arnold supposed that was good news. If he was going to stay one of the undead, at least he wouldn’t rot any more than he already had.
Tracey helped him to get dressed as Trevor returned to the bathroom carrying the missing foot, a roll of gaffer tape, and an industrial staple gun. He nodded approvingly at the ‘new’ Arnold.
“Cool.”
He put the objects from the garage on the bathroom floor and studied Arnold’s ankle.
“I reckon I can put your foot back on. It won’t be perfect – you’ll probably walk with a bit of a limp – but that’s to be expected of a zombie anyway. Zombie 101 – zombies shuffle, stagger, and limp.”
Placing the foot against the stump of Arnold’s ankle as if he was connecting two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, he pressed the two together.
“Tracey, if you could wind the gaffer tape around where the foot and ankle meet – nice and tight – and then I’ll staple the two parts together.”
Tracey did as she was asked. She stood up to admire her handiwork.
“Not bad if I say so myself.”
Once satisfied that the ankle and foot were bound together properly, Trevor picked up the staple gun.
“I don’t think this is going to hurt, Arnold, but, if it does, I apologise in advance.”
He lined up the tool and fired the first staple. He looked at Arnold’s face.
“Did you feel that?”
“Didn’t feel a thing.”
“Good. I’ll carry on, then.”
Soon, Arnold’s ankle was wearing a bracelet of almost forty staples. He could probably have got away with using half that number but Trevor wanted to make the join as strong as possible. He stepped back from the zombie.
“Try and stand on it.”
Arnold tried to stand up but was nervous about the foot giving way, so Trevor and Tracey helped him to his feet. Surprisingly, the repair job seemed quite strong.
Tracey cleared a laundry basket from the room.
“Try walking around a little.”
Arnold moved around the bathroom as much as the limited space would allow. He smiled, the first time he had done so since Trevor had bitten him.
“Thank you. Both of you.”
11
Out of politeness, Arnold sat at the table as his hosts ate their evening meal. The food – sausages, mashed potato, and baked beans – had been one of his favourite dishes when he’d been alive, and looked absolutely delicious, but he didn’t feel in the slightest bit hungry. He just felt envious that his hosts could eat it.
Trevor picked up a sausage on his fork.
“You used to work in IT, didn’t you, Arnold? I think you said that’s what you did at Tony and Judy’s barbecue.”
Arnold wished he were hungry.
“Yes. A software tester. I was paid to break computer programs.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was sometimes. But most of the time it was boring financial software.”
Tracey scooped some baked beans onto her upturned fork.
“Do you miss it? Your job, I mean.”
“I don’t think I’ve been away from it long enough to miss it yet. But, I won’t be going back to work there, I suppose.”
Tracey agreed.
“I think you can definitely say that you’re retired now. You’ll have to get used to your new lifestyle.”
Trevor cut in.
“Don’t you mean deathstyle?”
Arnold surprised himself by chuckling at Trevor’s wisecrack. This was his new deathstyle; there was no disputing that. He might as well accept it and move on.
Suddenly a strange sensation clawed at the back of his throat. He coughed a little to see if it would go away but it persisted. Trevor noticed his discomfort.
“Are you alright, mate?”
Arnold’s throat started to make involuntary swallowing motions. His throat began to visibly ripple as what could best be described as a mild seizure overtook his throat muscles. He managed to splutter a few words.
“What’s happening to me? I can’t normally feel things.”
Trevor and Tracey looked at each other anxiously. Tracey looked back at the zombie, feeling his discomfort.
“You’d better tell him, Trev.”
Arnold was starting to get worried now.
“Tell me what?”
Trevor took a deep breath.
“I didn’t mean to, but it looks like I turned you when I bit you at the cemetery.”
“What do you mean, you turned me?”
“I mean, I accidentally turned you into a vampire.”
The flexing of his throat muscles was starting to reduce its intensity.
“I’m a zombie, not a bloody vampire, and I’m only just starting to come to terms with that idea.”
“Well, now you’re a zombie and a vampire. The throat palpitations are a signal that you need blood.”
Arnold was not amused.
He stormed out of the dining room, limped upstairs, and locked himself in the bathroom.
Trevor looked anxiously at his wife.
“Do you think I should go up after him?”
Tracey shook her head.
“Give him a little alone time. He’s gone through a lot today. We’ll talk to him a bit later.”
A bit later turned out to be ninety minutes, during which time Arnold’s throat spasms had worsened. He shuffled back into the dining room where the two vampires were still waiting and sat down on the chair that he had vacated an hour and a half earlier.
“So how do I get blood? I don’t want to hurt anyone. That’s just not me.”
Tracey held his hand, ignoring the fact that it was discoloured and had half its skin missing.
“You won’t have to attack anyone.”
“Trevor attacked me.”
“But he didn’t mean to. Sometimes the thirst comes over us unexpectedly and forces us to act against our better instincts. He’s really sorry.”
She nudged her husband.
“Yes. I’m really sorry. It was completely out of character.”
Tracey continued.
“We have a supply of blood. We both need to feed tonight anyway, so we’ll take you with us. Don’t worry – nobody will get hurt.”
The trio waited until after sunset to leave the house, primarily because it would be easier for Arnold to avoid being seen. They weren’t going far, just to the next road, but Arnold didn’t know that. He felt quite nervous. It was one thing to be seen as a zombie by a couple of vampires, but to be seen by regular humans – well, that was an entirely different kettle of fish.
Arriving at 4 Alucard Avenue, Trevor was just about to knock on the house’s front door when Arnold stopped him.
“Are we not going to hunt for blood?”
Tracey grinned.
“Don’t be silly, love. This isn’t the dark ages. We have an understanding with our donors. It’s all very civilized.”
“Donors?”
“Yes, love. We have a legal agreement with some of our neighbours – a contract signed by both parties – which states that we will pay them a fair price for their blood.”
“How many donors are we talking about?”
Well, we don’t want to drain them or cause any ill effects, so we have about thirty on our sign-up list.”
Trevor was getting thirsty too, as witnessed by the ripple forming in his throat.
“Can I knock yet?”
Arnold held up a slightly decayed hand.
“Just one more question.”
“Go on.”
“What about me? I mean, you two are good looking twenty-somethings and they’re used to you. Me…I’m a decaying zombie.”
Trevor had everything planned out.
“Not decaying any more, Arnold. Anyway, I called ahead and explained your predicament. Adrienne has volunteered to be your first feed. Just don’t be distracted by her – how can I put this – her enthusiasm.”
Trevor rang the doorbell and the door opened almost as soon as he had taken his finger off the button. A beautiful young woman with long jet black hair, black eyeliner and black gloss on her lips stood before them. Her complexion was deliberately pallid, but with a hint of charcoal grey blusher. Wearing a short black dress with lace sleeves, she looked like Morticia Adams’s younger sister. She air-kissed Trevor and Tracey, hesitated for a moment, and then air-kissed Arnold. A half-full wine glass was wrapped between fingers whose long nails were garnished with sparkling black nail varnish.
“Hi, guys. Come on in.”
Trevor looked at the wine glass.
“I hope that’s not wine you’re drinking, Adrienne. You know we can’t use your blood if you’ve been drinking.”
The Goth girl waved her finger in faux-offended admonishment.
“Don’t be silly, Trev. I know the rules. I haven’t touched a drop for forty-eight hours.”
She gazed into Arnold’s remaining eye.
“So this is Arnold? He’s kinda cute – in a zombified way.”
Arnold failed to see how anybody could possibly describe him as cute. Zombies aren’t cute by definition. She moved her focus to his decomposed left hand.
“Kinky. I’m looking forward to hooking up with you, Arnold.”
She spun on her Dr Martens and walked elegantly back into the house, followed by the two vampires and the zombie.
A rather odd-looking middle-aged couple who looked more like twins than husband and wife sat on a velour sofa. They stood up to greet the new arrivals. Trevor made the introductions.
“Hilda, Harold, this is our new friend Arnold. He’s a new member of our community and is a little overwhelmed by the transition – transitions – that have happened to him.”
Harold and Hilda responded in unison.
“Hello, Arnold. Welcome to our support group.”
Arnold found their penchant for dressing and speaking identically far creepier than the fact that his new best friends were vampires.
Adrienne was impatient. She’d been looking forward to donating since she’d received Trevor’s phone call explaining the situation. Arnold, on the other hand, was nervous.
“How does this work then, Trevor? I don’t know if I can just bite Adrienne. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”
Trevor approached Hilda, who stretched her neck to allow easier access for Trevor’s fangs.
“It’s a lot more technical than just biting someone’s neck. Watch what I do, and then I’ll talk you through your first feed.”
Trevor rested his fangs on Hilda’s neck as if marking the exact spot where he was going to penetrate her skin. Suddenly he drew his head back and his head became a blur as he thrust it forward, penetrating Hilda’s skin at the exact spot where his fangs had previously rested. Arnold watched as Hilda’s eyes opened wide and 350ml of warm blood seeped out of the puncture wounds and passed into Trevor’s own circulatory system.
Arnold flinched. It looked like it should be painful – for Hilda – but she appeared none the worse for wear for the experience. Years of donating had left her rather blasé about the whole process.
Trevor pulled his teeth away from her neck and pointed to where he had bitten the woman’s neck.
“If you look closely, Arnold, you’ll see the puncture wounds disappearing and in a few seconds there’ll be no evidence of Hilda having donated.”
Arnold found the whole procedure macabrely fascinating.
“Doesn’t it hurt the prey?”
Trevor shook his head.
“We don’t call our donors prey, Arnold. It’s politically incorrect these days.”
He licked his lips.
“And no, it doesn’t hurt them. The technicalities are quite incredible. When I rested my fangs on Hilda’s neck – without actually biting it – I was marking the entry point. I reared my head back and then plunged my fangs into the exact spot that I’d marked – like a laser-guided missile, I suppose. My fangs then released an enzyme that both anaesthetizes and heals so that Hilda felt no pain and then the wounds self-healed almost immediately. It’s a real marvel of evolution.”
Adrienne was getting impatient.
“Come on, Arnold. My turn.”
Arnold was feeling nervous, but his rippling throat reminded him that he definitely needed to feed.
Adrienne pulled down the shoulders of her dress a little so that Arnold would have a clear target area.
He rested his fangs on where he thought he should bite and then pulled them away quickly. He turned to Trevor.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Trevor.”
Trevor took hold of Arnold’s head and placed the zombie’s fangs on the Goth’s neck, a little to the left of where Arnold had previously positioned them.
“Of course you can, Arnold. You have no choice. If you don’t
, the thirst will get worse and you’ll attack someone indiscriminately.”
“Like you did when you attacked me?”
“I’ve said I’m sorry for that, mate. Sometimes an impulse takes over but it’s rare. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, it’s much better to do it like this, with willing donors.”
Adrienne was getting bored with all the talking. She took Arnold’s hands and cupped each of her breasts with them, over her dress. A memory of the porn actress who had touched him up fleetingly entered his mind. Arnold went to take them away, but Adrienne wouldn’t let him.
“Leave them there, Arnie. It helps.”
Arnold couldn’t see what benefit there was to him holding her breasts but, if that’s what she wanted, who was he to argue?.
Trevor was ready with the next instruction.
“Now, draw your head back and be ready for the unexpected.”
Arnold moved his head backwards and was shocked when it suddenly shot forward again of its own accord, his teeth puncturing Adrienne’s skin exactly how Trevor had said they would.
There was a strange dribbling sensation as the enzymes seeped out of his fangs into the Goth’s bloodstream but that was nothing compared to what Adrienne was feeling. She began to tremble and waves of hot tension and then cool calm washed over her. It was almost confusing – it felt so good that it almost hurt – and she wanted more but she wanted it to stop at the same time. Every muscle in her body tightened and her upper thighs began to quiver. She broke out in a light sweat and it felt as if a waterfall was being turned on inside her. She let out a moan of satisfaction and slumped to the floor as Arnold removed his fangs. A look of panic shot from his eyes, as he looked at her motionless body.
“Oh my God. Have I killed her?”
Tracey smiled at the zombie.
“No. Don’t worry. She’s just had a pretty intense orgasm, that’s all. She’ll be fine in a minute or so.”
Arnold was relieved.
“You could have warned me.”
Trevor laughed.
“And miss the look on your face?”
Adrienne sat up again, feeling a little groggy but satisfied.