Bob the Zombie

by Jaime Johnesee

Call, in the same way you raised them. You need to think about them and send your power out to them," Griffin told her. His brow was furrowed and he seemed to be grasping for something else to say. I was just surprised he knew the ritual for raising. Most necromancers keep their secrets close to the chest. They don't like them getting out; it makes finding apprentices more difficult. If the youngsters knew the hows of raising, why would they bother to shadow a necromancer for two years to learn?

  "That's how I resurrected them? I didn't even know them, so how could I have brought them out of the ground?" She looked puzzled and lost.

  "Did you feel badly for the people buried in that cemetery? Maybe you felt a strange sensation at the same time?"

  "Well, yeah, it was a cemetery. Of course I felt badly for the folks entombed there, I'm not a monster?." She trailed off, paled, and brought a fist up to her mouth to cut off a sob.

  "You aren't a monster." I reassured her, "You're magical. You gave those guys a second chance at life, sort of." Okay, I'm not very good at the reassuring thing.

  "Oh, God! Are you happy, Bob?" she asked me with tears in her eyes.

  "Yes, very much so. I got to say goodbye to my mom properly. If I hadn't been raised, my last words to her would have been harsh ones. We'd gotten into a fight about me dropping out of college and not doing enough to help out around the house. Being raised allowed me to make those amends." It was the truth, sort of. I was big on the "sort ofs" tonight.

  "You still see your mom?"

  "I just called her before we came here." I smiled and hoped it didn't look similar to the grimace that it felt like.

  "Oh. So these ghouls, this 'skank'? They'll be happy, too?"

  "Skag." I corrected gently, trying not to chuckle. I was also trying not to tell her the truth. I hated my unlife, at least for the most part. I wish to hell and back my mom had never called a necromancer.

  "Skag. They'll be happy, though?"

  "If you call them once a week, they'll be just as happy as anybody else, living or dead," Griffin skirted the truth like a politician and it was all I could do not to applaud him for his fine verbal dancing.

  "Can I try it with you guys here, so that if something goes wrong, you can help me?" She looked terrified and chewed on her lower lip nervously.

  "Great idea. Just send your power out and think of them. If you speak, they will be able to hear you once a connection has been made." As Griffin gently walked her through what to do, I stood and moved around the living room a bit. It was a beautiful home. It looked like all the original woodwork and fireplace were still intact. She had done a beautiful job restoring it. I felt like I had actually entered the 1890s. She even had the original gas fixtures converted to electric. The original fuse panel was on the wall, and it was all glass. It was really neat to see all the innards on display. Christine caught me looking and smiled.

  "This was the first house in the neighborhood to have electricity, so my great- great-grandparents had the panel put in the living room so everyone could ooh and ah over it. It was a big deal back then."

  "I can imagine." I smiled at her and continued looking at the little knick knacks that lined the mantle and the bookshelves. Some were period appropriate. Then, there were things like her cell phone charger and iPod dock. It was an odd mix, but it worked somehow. All of it gave off the essence of the woman who owned the house, a woman who was currently sitting with her brow scrunched up trying to concentrate all of her energy on calling the ghouls to her. I continued looking around while Griffin gave her lessons on how to perform this bit of magic.

  I wondered how he knew what to do, but I figured that, as a green man, it was just a part of him. Nature spirits, like green men and mermaids, have natural magic flowing through them. Some are empaths, some expaths, but all can feel the world around them in a way that no one else will ever really be able to. Except for the woman I mentioned earlier--she's got so much magical oomph that it would make even a green man cry--but I divagate. I've always wanted to say that. This isn't about Holly Andrews. This is about helping my buddy, Griffin, and my community. I turned my attention back to the witch and Griff.

  "Christine, you have to focus." Griffin spoke to her softly, and she just growled.

  "All I can feel is him." She pointed at me, and I felt awful I was distracting her so badly.

  "Sorry." I hung my head and moved for the door.

  "No! Wait, Bob; she needs to be able to learn this with the distraction of feeling other dead things around her. Christine, you need to focus your energy on finding the ghouls. Look for something like invisible strings attached to you. Do you feel them?" At her nod, Griff beamed and continued, "Pull on the strings. Pull each one until the ghoul attached comes into your mind's eye."

  Her eyes squinted tighter, and she began pulling with her hands, though I don't think she noticed that part.

  "I got one!" She opened her eyes and cheered.

  "Great job! Keep going until you've caught them all. Then you'll be done for the day. You will have to do this at least a couple times a month to keep them in line and make sure they don't turn feral."

  "I can do that." She smiled and closed her eyes, presumably to call the other ghouls to her. Griff got up and came over to stand by me. For a moment, we stood watching her pull with her hands, grinning broadly every time she called a ghoul to her.

  "You think she'll keep up with it?" I asked.

  "Yeah, I do. It's hard realizing your life isn't what you wanted it to be. It's even harder when you realize you aren't the person you thought you were meant to be. I think she'll do the work it takes to get her to where she feels most comfortable. I think she will find this has helped her life in ways she never expected it to." Griff smiled and nodded his head at her. "I'll check in with her and help her deal with her powers. It's not going to be easy for her by any means, but at least she isn't alone in it. She will have me, and the ghouls, to help her get through it all."

  "What if the ghouls don't want to be leashed like this?"

  "Not really their call anymore."

  "Doesn't that worry you?"

  "No. Once called, they have to obey her, Bob."

  "What if she gets a bit power hungry and decides to use them?"

  "That's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it." His use of the word "I" instead of "we" let me know he planned on dealing with this situation alone. I opened my mouth to tell him he didn't have to, that I would be there to help, but my tongue fell out. I sighed and stapled it back on, noticing Griff cringe when I did so.

  It amuses me to see people's reactions to me pulling myself together. Sometimes folks smile, and other times they vomit. Occasionally they laugh or smile. Most often, they cringe or wince. They assume it hurts, but it doesn't. My nerves don't work as well since I died. I can feel things, but pain is one thing I don't feel as strongly, except brain freeze. The enemy of zombies everywhere is the dreaded Slurpee.

  So delicious we can't resist it, and yet every time we give in, we slurp so fast that we wind up with one of those horrible ice migraines. Totally worth it, though. Seriously, have you ever tried a Pepsi Slurpee? It's like two frost angels are dancing up and down your tongue with unmitigated joy. There is truly nothing better on a hot day. An added bonus is that the cold helps keep the heat from making us smell worse. The more Slurpees we consume, the less the decomp works us, causing less disgust from those around us. I'm not saying it stops the stench totally--there is aforementioned deodorant for that--but it sure does help. Plus, like I mentioned, they're delicious.

  Griffin brought me out of my reverie by elbowing me in the ribs. I couldn't feel much pain, but there sure was a lot of pointy pressure behind it. He pointed at Christine, who was smiling and looking like a completely different woman than the one who had opened the door for us. Gone was the pale timid creature we'd first met, and in her place was a sweet, lively woman who seemed more sure of herself than she had before. I smiled.

  I'm all for
a happy transformation; I just hoped all the power she was feeling, the one responsible for her new personality makeover, didn't turn bad and cause her to go to a dark place. Then again, I'm a bit of a fatalist in optimist's clothing. Hope for the best, but expect the worst. I think I read that embroidered on a throw pillow somewhere. If not, someone ought to get to work stitching it.

  "Well, it was great meeting you, Christine, but we have to run. I have a bar to clean up and Bob here has a horde to get back to. Thanks for being so open and for calling the ghouls so they don't cause anymore trouble." Griffin shook the woman's hand, gripping it tightly.

  "Yeah, we will come by every now and again to help you out where we can." I grabbed a small pad of paper and a pen off the desk near the door and wrote down my cell number. I handed the pad to Griff, and he added his number to it and passed it to Miss Whitaker.

  "Feel free to call anytime with any questions you have. I'll be there to answer them and help you out on your way through this difficult process. It's not easy coming to terms with a new power and whole new life. You're doing great now, but there will be times you will feel down and blue. Call me. I'll come by and cheer you up." Griff put his other hand over her clasped ones to show her he meant it.

  "Thank you both so much. I'm sorry the ghouls caused you such trouble. I am even sorrier I didn't know what I was doing when I