* * *
Norm had wedged himself behind the wine rack a few days ago to see if he would fit and hadn’t bothered getting out. Why should he? He wasn’t in pain, he didn’t sleep, drink, or eat; he had nothing to do but think. How long had he been down here? A week? Two? The apocalypse could have come and gone and he wouldn’t know.
No, that was daft. He was the apocalypse.
Truth be told, Norm doubted Archi would notice his absence, but how long until someone missed Samuel?
Just staying here, not eating my father, Norm said to the bottles of wine, more to hear his voice than because he was hungry. He wasn’t. Was that odd? It was hard to remember how it had felt to be the slave of desire, emotion, and need.
Hold on, had the shadows on the stairs just changed? Was he about to be discovered? Norm squirmed farther against the wall, his head scraping against the racks of wine.
There was a dull scream, then a blob reached the bottom step and crouched by his father.
A human blob.
A human blob with a brain…
Norm shut his eyes. He hadn’t eaten in weeks. He was wasting away, his once-large gut now a flap of loose skin. What better sustenance than a brain? He could practically taste it… and how long was it since he’d tasted anything? Nothing else mattered! He scrambled out of the tiny space, arms extended, and thrust himself at the visitor. He shouted, I’m sorry! but the visitor was so busy screaming that she probably didn’t hear him. Norm grabbed her dress. She tried to pull away, so he bit her neck to stop her squirming.
Norm tore away a chunk of throat but it tasted like cigar ash so he dropped it onto the ground. Blood poured from her neck and the woman sank to her knees. Her brain was right there, beneath that thinning hair. Norm held her steady and placed his teeth against her head – sweet ecstasy! – and bit…
His mouth wasn’t wide enough! He couldn’t crack the skull! The brain… He was so close! Norm roared, renewed his grip, and pressed his teeth harder against the head. When that didn’t help, he rammed his teeth against her skull. It didn’t pierce it, but one of his teeth lodged in his bloody victim. Norm pulled her head up. Maybe he could get the brain through the eye sockets…
But wait… she wasn’t a proper meal. The need to feast, to taste her world, shrank and left Norm feeling foolish and weak. His hunger shrivelled away. How was that possible? He’d been famished a second ago.
The woman scrambled for the staircase. When Norm didn’t pursue her, she grabbed a wine bottle from the rack and held it out in defence. At least, that’s what Norm thought the blur was doing.
“You bit me!” she shouted.
What did you say? Norm asked.
“Who is that? Norm?” The woman rested her back against the wall and edged up the stairs.
I can hear you! Norm said. He wanted to jump with joy but he’d probably break a leg, or hip, or both. You understand me! he said.
“Of course I do, Norm!” The woman was angry it seemed. How odd emotions were. “Have you been down here all this time?” she asked.
What time?
“No one’s seen Samuel for a fortnight!” She sounded hysterical. Her voice rose to a squeal. “What happened to him? Why are you covered in scabs? Where is your arm? And who the hell is that?”
Dad said she was a zombie, Norm said, staring at the headless female corpse. Which reminds me, you need to write a sign.
“What?”
Before you can’t move you arms.
The visitor – Samuel’s neighbour, what was her name? – would be losing muscle control every second. At least she wasn’t running away.
You have to write “Stay away” or something, Norm said.
“Why?”
We’re zombies! Perhaps he should have raised that point both earlier and more gently. Oh well. We have to stop anyone coming to the house.
“But… I don’t want to be a zombie,” Gladys said. Gladys! Was that her name? It didn’t matter. Gladys would correct him unless she, like him, wanted to be a new person. Did changing your name change who you were? Was the connection intrinsic or arbitrary? The door had been intrinsic, he’d decided: even when closed, it was still a door not a wall, because it could ope—
“Norm?”
Norm shook the thought away. Bits of scalp drifted toward the ground. It’s fine. You just need to… What are you doing?
“Nothing.” Gladys looked down and found her limbs flapping in an invisible gale. “I can’t control them!”
It’s happening too fast! Norm looked around for help. Get a pen or something!
“Norm, you’re acting crazy. There’s no such thing as zombies.”
Norm glared at the swaying floral blob.
“I mean, you’re flaking…” she said, “and the missing arm is… and you did try to eat my brain, but…” Gladys stared at the corpses, then nodded. “Okay.”
Norm’s eyes drifted back to Samuel’s corpse. I wish he was still alive, Norm said. He fought them when he was a boy. I thought he was making it up. I don’t suppose you know about zombies?
No, said Gladys. My parents never talked about it. No one did. I heard there was a fire.
Norm noticed that Gladys’s voice was clearer than before, more immediate, like a thought not a sound. Norm also had a… sense, a notion, a mental image of where Gladys was and what she was doing.
Not that I’m complaining, she said, but I don’t feel like eating brains.
Wait until you see one, Norm said, trying to ignore the lingering feeling that he’d missed another chance for perfect happiness. Maybe next time – not that he wanted there to be a next time. And he certainly wasn’t complaining.
What happens now? Gladys asked.
I don’t know, Norm said. What were zombies supposed to do if they didn’t want to kill people?
I think The Bill is starting.
Bovicide, Zombie Diaries, and the Legend of the Brothers Brown Page 8