DeadBorn

by C. M. Stunich

  “What happened to my arm?” I ask her point-blank. She doesn't answer right away and instead, lets her body slump sideways until she's lying next to me. Dawson and Valerie are nowhere to be seen and I wonder if they know about Martin yet. Martin. Poor fucking Martin. I feel even worse since I don't know how he died or if there was anything we could've done to save him. I ask Holly about it and the look on her face tells me that she's hiding something from me. Not just about my arm though there's that, too.

  “Galen, I … ” Holly pauses and I can hear footsteps from behind me. It's Dawson.

  “There's some really fucked up noises coming from the warehouse,” he tells us, looming over me with a curious expression. His brown eyes show enough shock that I'm guessing I've been out for awhile. “Oh my god, he's awake.” Dawson switches his gaze to Holly and then back to mine again. Whatever he sees in her face convinces him not to say anything else. That's when I know that my arm is done for. They cut it off or it's dead, destroyed by the lack of blood flow. If that's true then I may as well amputate it because gangrene could set in and kill me. Either way, I'm going to need medical help that they can't give. Either way, I'm dead.

  “Go tell Valerie,” Holly says and Dawson nods, immediately heading in the direction of the offices. I wonder where he's going when Holly reaches down and takes my face between her hands. “Are you hungry?” she asks me and tries to smile. “There's a ton of food in the break room. I could make you a sandwich or a cup of ramen or something.”

  “Holly, tell me about my arm.”

  “I made myself a can of beef stew. It tasted like dog shit, but if you want, I could make you that, too.”

  “Holly, please.” Her eyes are tearing up now, but she's still smiling.

  “There's some cheddar cheese and a box of Ritz crackers. Want that with some slices of ham?”

  “Holly!” My hands come up suddenly and grab the sides of her face. Sensation shoots through my left arm and there's a split second there where I feel like it's completely out of my control, like it could do anything that it wanted and I couldn't stop it. My fingers dig into her cheek and then relax abruptly as if they've just realized what they've done. “Holly?” The word's a question on my lips, one that gets more and more complex by the moment. I pull both of my arms back and cradle the left in the right. Then I look to Holly for answers. But she doesn't know any. I can see it in her eyes; they're almost entirely white, like she's a ghost or something.

  “W-what?” Holly asks and I know she's not asking me, just the universe. I don't blame her. I'm just as confused myself because now that I can finally see my arm, I don't just think that's it dead: I know it.

  The skin is mottled with black and gray patches, a mosaic of dead flesh that spans the entire length of my arm from fingertips to shoulder. The tourniquet is still in place, and I can see from the indents in my arm how tight Holly managed to get it. There isn't an inch of pale pink skin left anywhere on it, even my nails are black.

  “Am I … a zombie?” I ask and although the question sounds stupid, it isn't. I'm generally afraid for Holly, for Dawson, for Valerie, for myself. Holly swallows hard and reaches down to take my hand. Hers is soft and warm and just as comforting as it's always been. It fits it mine like it was made to be there and although there are strange pulsations coming from my arm, I can still feel her as if nothing's changed. She examines my fingers, my wrist, the skin on my elbow and then locks gazes with me. There are all of these emotions swimming around in her eyes like fish. I don't know what to make of them. There's fear there, sure, but there's also relief and curiosity, an all consuming need to find out what's happened to me.

  “No,” she says confidently as she releases me and tries to smile. “But I think your arm is.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Molder

  Thirty-Seven Hours and Twenty-Six Minutes After …

  While I was sleeping, Valerie worked all day on the windows downstairs while Dawson kept watch and Holly took care of me. During that time, there wasn't a DeadBorn to speak of, not in the horizon, not in the building, not in the sky.

  Now there is.

  “No way in fuck I'm going down there,” Dawson says although nobody's asked him to do any such thing. I'm sitting away from the edge with my back to the wall, arm wrapped in shredded T-shirts and fashioned with a makeshift sling. Holly says it's best if nobody knows about it because she thinks either Valerie or Dawson is liable to shoot me. She doesn't mention Martin, nobody does. I wonder if his body is still in the bathroom or if someone's cleaned it up. I decide that I don't want to think about it and try to focus on the crashing sounds that are emanating form the barn.

  My arm feels almost normal. What keeps me from forgetting about it completely is this nagging pull, like someone has a string wrapped around my wrist and is trying to control me like a marionette. The place where Martin bit me, which still carries tiny indentations of his teeth, feels warm, almost hot, like it wants to sweat but can't. If it wasn't for those things, I might've been able to pretend it didn't happen. Except for the black, leathery skin of course.

  “Do you think it's another one of those fire faces?” Dawson asks and I can tell that he's read my journal because he glances back at me and kind of smiles.

  “Dunno,” Valerie replies as she paces beneath the oak tree like a cougar awaiting a deer. She seems so confident now, like she could kill any of the DeadBorn, even the angels. “But I won't feel safe spending the night with it there. We have to find out what it is and take care of it.”

  “I'm not going down there,” Dawson repeats and Valerie rolls her eyes. When she glances back at him though, I can see that she's grown fond of him in the few, short hours that they've known each other. Maybe he reminds her of a brother, a friend, a cousin, someone that could very well be dead. I keep my thoughts carefully bare and try to focus on keeping my arm still. It wants to move around, raise up to the sky and proclaim that it's still here. I figure it must be some type of side effect from my brain, probably glad to have the limb back in place. But that's only because it doesn't know how it happened. I do. It was magic. Not good.

  “I was just thinking we should try something like this.” Valerie lifts up her shotgun, aims carefully and blows a hole in the grass near the barn. She looks like a lead in a big budget film with her chestnut curls trailing down her neck and her brown eyes focused and clear. She looks good with a gun, too. It suits her.

  The crashing and banging stops but just for a split second. Then there's this massive shriek and the wood on the barn starts to bow outwards, like the pressure inside's just too great for it. It doesn't hold long and soon the wood is scattering across the grass, flinging red boards as far as the edge of the parking lot. Most of them look rotted and old, like they should've been replaced a long time ago. It's an illusion though, one caused by the monster that's stepping through the gaping hole with long, crooked legs and skin like tar. It's black and bubbly, covered in pustules that burst when it moves, spraying yellow and green goop across the walls nearest it. Its head is vaguely human but situated on the end of such a short neck that it blends together and looks like a bulbous lump. The thing's hunched over, too, spine twisted forward and bent like its skinny arms. Its a creature out of my worst nightmare, the most horrible DeadBorn yet.

  “It's an ooze spitter,” I say and I think then that the name doesn't quite do it justice. It's horrible, too horrible for any English words that I know. It raises its head, sniffs at the air with two tiny slits that line the front of its face and then vomits green sludge onto the ground at its feet. The goop steams and even manages to melt the foliage around it, erasing the grass from existence like it was never there in the first place. It's worse than fire even because fire, at least, leaves ashes. This leaves nothing. “Holy shit.” I don't know what else to say. Cussing is the only thing that seems appropriate at the moment.

  “How do you think we get rid of this one?” Valerie asks and I notice that Holly isn't even looking at the ooze spi
tter, she's looking at me, staring straight into my eyes. She's trying to tell me something, but I'm not getting it.

  “Look for a heart, maybe?” Holly suggests and Dawson and Valerie both turn to look at her. Holly immediately holds up her hands and rushes to explain. “That's how we got rid of the fire face, and this is a demon, too, so it would make sense.” Dawson turns away and scratches his head while Valerie lifts hers up and catches the eyes of the ooze spitter. I can tell the moment that it sees her because it grins. Black, crusty lips pull back and the whitest teeth I've ever seen on anyone, let alone a monster, flash the sun right back at us.

  “Don't see anything from here,” she continues, unfazed. “Maybe it's in the back?” The ooze spitter screeches, the sound echoing across the refuge, shrill and untamed. Even the birds stop singing when they hear it. When the DeadBorn starts to run, all is quiet except for the sounds of its pounding footsteps. It's coming right for us.

  “Fuck!” Dawson shouts as he panics and fires off a few rounds into the demon's head. Nothing. It doesn't even slow it. The bullets whiz through the flesh and out the other side, taking bits of the creature with them. But it isn't enough, not by a long shot. Dawson starts to back away, fear taking over his face and clouding his eyes with indecision. He doesn't know what to do.

  “It's like a logic puzzle or something,” Valerie says as she squints her eyes and doesn't flinch a bit. “We've gotta figure out what makes it tick and then spin the clock back, you know what I mean?”

  “Fuck no,” Dawson whispers, but I notice that he doesn't move, doesn't even act like he's going to run. Holly moves forward, past Dawson, and stands next to Valerie as the creature doubles back, gallops away from us, and pauses at the edge of the parking lot, just out of range.

  “Water trumps fire … ” Valerie says, thinking aloud as the ooze spitter sniffs the air again and opens its mouth wide. “And bases trump acids, right?”

  “How do you even know that crap is acid?” Dawson asks as he runs his fingers nervously down the barrel of his gun. Even though it can't help him, it's a symbol of protection and I think that's what he likes. Sometimes illusions are better than truths. None of that will matter though if the ooze spitter kills us all. Could it melt the building down around us? Maybe it could project its vomit through the air, hit us even though we're on the second story? We just don't know, and when Holly glances back at me, I can see that she doesn't know either. When they say that knowledge is power, they aren't kidding.

  “Well, we've got to try something,” Valerie says as she takes another shot at the ooze spitter. It doesn't react, not at all. It just stands there and watches us, obviously quite a bit more intelligent than any of the other DeadBorn we've seen thus far. That makes it scarier. That makes it deadly.

  “Experimenting with that thing will just get you fucked,” Dawson says as he sighs and tosses a look over his shoulder at me. His almond eyes are pinched and tired and the skin around his face looks paper thin. I don't think he can take much more of this. “Let's just keep doing what we've been doing. If it wants to sit there, let it.”

  “No,” Valerie says firmly. “We can't stay inside forever. Eventually, we're going to need to go out. Do you want that thing waiting for you on the other side of the door?”

  “Maybe it'll go away?” Dawson says, but it sounds more like a plea than a question. Valerie turns her head and I can see that she's sorry he has to go through this, but that she's determined to protect him. The two sentiments are at odds with one another, so she takes the practical route and tells him the honest truth.

  “That's even worse. If it goes away and hides then we'll never know if we're safe.” Valerie turns back to the ooze spitter. “Let's get it while we can.”

  “Hell yes,” Holly says and the two women actually smile at each other. “Should I go down there?”

  “No!” I'm shouting the word without even realizing that I've opened my mouth. Holly looks back at me and her smile softens. I want to tell her that she looks so brave and strong standing there with the blue sky framing her slender body, blonde hair blowing gently around her face. She looks like a guardian angel sent from Heaven to protect me from the demons of Hell. She also looks like she's already made up her mind, and I know beyond a doubt that she'll do what she wants to do.

  “I'm safe from Patricia's DeadBorn at least, so it makes sense for me to go. That way, I only have to worry about the demons.” Valerie's nodding and rubbing her chin in thought.

  “I've got a guess, but of course, there's no guarantees.” Holly's already nodding in agreement. Whatever suggestion Valerie has, she'll do, as long as it's reasonable. That's just the way Holly is. “I know the damn things don't die when you tear 'em apart, but what if we, say, blew off their fucking legs? Can't walk with no legs.” Holly snaps her fingers and the ooze spitter's rancid, swamp green eyes swing over to her face and rest there. It makes me want to break the damn thing's head off its shoulders. Don't you dare look at my Holly like that, like she's some kind of insect, a fly for you to crush. I close my eyes and let the anger ride through me until I'm calm again.

  “If we do that, it'll have limited mobility. Then we could get rid of its arms, maybe its head, until it's practically helpless. That way, we could experiment on it until we find a way to get rid of it like we did the … ” Valerie pauses and I fill in the word for her.

  “Fire faces.”

  “Right.”

  Everyone is silent while Holly thinks. When a grin spreads across her face, I know that she thinks it's a good idea. For a moment, I'm relieved because I think that means she'll be staying on the roof.

  “But it's either got to come closer or we've got to go down there because the shotgun's only going to be effective at about forty yards.” I look over at the ooze spitter, sitting pretty across the vast parking lot which is big and round, made for buses and RVs as well as cars. The DeadBorn's on the opposite side, maybe a hundred yards away from us. Shit. I look up at Holly and see that she's thinking about her game plan.

  “I'm a good shot,” she tells Valerie without any sense of shame. “If I go down there, and it comes at me, I shouldn't have any problem hitting it. I'll take a couple of extra shells, too, just in case.” Valerie nods and just like that, Holly's loading up the pockets of her borrowed sweatshirt with ammo.

  “I'll be ready,” Valerie says. “If something happens, try to stay out of the line of fire, okay?”

  “Got it,” Holly says as she comes over and kisses me gently on the lips. I reach around her neck with my right arm, careful to keep the left still and whisper into her ear.

  “I love you and be careful,” I tell her while tears sting my eyes and I feel like the world's biggest wimp. I should be going down there, not her. But she's right. She always is and so I don't even suggest it. I'm injured – well, that's up for debate, but at the very least, I can't use my left arm – and I know almost nothing about guns. Plus, I'm susceptible to all of the DeadBorn while Holly isn't. She's the most logical choice, the only choice.

  “I love you, too,” she replies as she stands up and loads the shotgun. “And I always will.”

  ***

  Thirty-Eight Hours and Four Minutes After …

  Holly disappears into the building with the keys in hand and I hold my breath until I hear the front door open. There's always a chance that a zombie could be around any corner. Those nasty unborn children seem to pop up everywhere, and even though we haven't been attacked by one yet, that doesn't mean it could never happen.

  Even though I'm not feeling a hundred percent, I stand up and walk carefully to the edge of the roof for a better view, making sure that I stay behind Dawson and Valerie in case something happens. If they had to fire and I was in their way, something horrible could happen to Holly. The nightmares I've had about being melted come flashing back, and I have to fight my brain to keep from imagining Holly's face putrefying under the spitter's goo.

  The damn thing is hunched over now, nostrils flaring as i
t takes in Holly's scent on the wind. It whimpers a bit under its breath as she comes forward in a jog. No sense in wasting any time, that's my Holly. I bite my tongue to keep from calling out to her. If I did, she'd turn back right away to see if something was wrong. I promise myself that I'll be extra quiet for her.

  “Hey you,” Holly says as she tries to get the stupid thing to stand up. The way it's bent over right now makes it hard to shoot. Holly could hit it in the midsection or possibly the head, but it could still run and that's exactly what we're trying to avoid. The ooze spitter squalls and lets yellow-green acid dribble down its mouth where it hits the pavement and sizzles like it's on a frying pan. “Yeah, you, you fucking bitch.” I doubt the DeadBorn understands English, but something in Holly's voice seems to make it angry. It snarls and shakes its head. Pustules and boils burst on its skin and leak blood and an orange fluid that I've never seen before. It's a fucking nightmare on legs and Holly's walking even closer, spine stiff, gun held up to her shoulder like it's no big thing. “Come and get me, you monstrous sack of shit.”

  The ooze spitter rises to its feet and towers over Holly, casting the ugliest shadow I've ever seen across her face while the dying sun frames its body and limns it with a beautiful pinkish glow that it doesn't deserve. When it starts to run, I close my eyes involuntarily, squeeze them as tight as I can until I hear a gunshot.

  “Move to the left!” Valerie screeches and my eyes fly open just in time to see Holly take a dive on the pavement and roll towards a row of empty parking spaces. Valerie fires her gun in time with Dawson and two shots hit the DeadBorn's left hip. It's a meaty mass of dangling, rotten flesh that flaps when the monster runs, but it doesn't slow it down. It's still after Holly.