Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow

by Connie Vines

  “It’s just you and me, Gertie,” she said philosophically.

  She let out a prolonged sigh when the cabin came into view. She had been behind the wheel for almost two hours. Outside of bringing in her luggage and getting Gertie settled in, she wasn’t planning to do anything else tonight. Tomorrow was soon enough to start working on the new book.

  Shoving aside memories that crowded to the front of her mind, Meredith focused at matters at hand.

  The cabin was actually a rustic euphemism used to describe comfortable getaway. The cabin boasted two bedrooms and small loft that served as her office, living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom.

  At least, she wouldn’t be cramped during her stay, and of course, there was always the scenic outdoors when she wanted a change of pace. Her editor gave her a February 12th deadline for her novel. Two days before Valentine’s Day but also the anniversary date of the 1931 Universal Pictures classic movie, “Dracula” starring Bela Lugosi (Meredith couldn’t help but notice the irony).

  After the book was finished, she’d started looking around for a new place. Somewhere away from Los Angeles where there were just too many memories. San Diego or La Jolla, without excessive amounts of rain or extreme heat, with just enough cloud cover for her piece of mind. For now, this place would do nicely.

  She didn’t say anything to Pippa about putting the Ganesha Hills house up for sale. She knew that her sister only wanted what was good for her, but Meredith wasn’t certain Pippa knew what that meant anymore. Meredith wasn’t confident she even knew what was good for her right now.

  It would have been Pippa’s cue to start wondering if the divorce was such a great idea. She’d voice her opinion that maybe there was a chance Meredith could reconcile with Viktor. It just wasn’t something Meredith wanted to hear, or even consider. If pressed, Meredith was afraid she might break down and tell her sister everything.

  Inside the cabin, she pulled the sheets from furniture, folded them and shoved them on the closet shelf. Then, out of habit, she grabbed a pressed log and electronic log lighter to get a fire started in the large stone fireplace. Gertie, released from the confines of the carrying cage after the long drive, was inside her exercise ball rolling manically around the wooden floor of the dining room.

  Reaching for her iPhone, Meredith pressed the food diary app. After the tofu incident, she devotedly logged in all of her meals. Adding 6 ounces of chicken and 4 ounces of liverwurst to the protein section and two slices of whole-grain bread under carbs, she eyed the other columns. Fruit and vegetables were foods she consumed only by accident. While water and coffee were a must! Water and shark cartilage capsules kept her hydrated and her joints and bones together (literally). Under no circumstances, undead or vegan, could she function without coffee.

  Meredith snagged a slice of roasted chicken and gnawed off a chunk. Since she still considered herself a vegan, it was a blessing that she could barely taste it. Much like Thanksgiving dinner at Pippa’s house, the flavors of food and drink were like a distant memory from childhood, faded and fuzzy around the edges. Meredith could recall just enough pleasure from the act of eating to remind her, of how much she missed it. After blotting her lips with a napkin, she poured her coffee into a mug, and headed for the bathroom.

  Water is the enemy for a zombie’s skin. Meredith discovered on an above ground weblog with surprisingly helpful information. Shopping from the website was a breeze and it included three-day shipping, just like Amazon Prime. Cold cream-Shea butter-horse hoof cream combo, titled phantasm-cream, that kept her sweet smelling and her skin supple. Slathering the cream on from head to toe, she waited for about fifteen minutes for her skin to suck in the moisture. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Meredith leaned over the basin to shampoo her hair.

  Bathroom ritual complete, she put on her favorite pajamas and slippers and placed Gertie in her large cage during the night. While zombies, as a rule don’t require a great deal of sleep, Meredith found she slept like the dead, pun intended.

  Before turning in, she crawled onto the couch to enjoy the crackling fire and the sense of comfort it provided. Enveloped in the memories of less complicated times, she fell asleep.

  She awoke, confused and terrified, the sound of the front door opening. Grabbing a poker she staggered to her feet just in time to see Viktor, white faced, loaded down with suitcases, staring back at her with as much shock as she felt.

  “Viktor, you scared me—almost to death! What are you doing here?”

  He dropped the suitcases and pushed the door shut. “I was just going to ask you the same thing. Last time we spoke you said you were going to Tahiti for Christmas.”

  The poker slipped from her hand, emitting a sharp ping upon landing on the stone hearth, and she gasped with relief. “My plans changed. What about you? I thought you were spending the next couple of months as writer-in-residence at that institution in Maine.”

  Viktor slung his black wool coat over the back on the couch and sat down. Flashing his leisurely grin that still tugged at her heartstrings, his gaze stroked her face. “Historical Institute,” he corrected. “But no such luck. The funding fell though. It’ll take six months or more for the second grant to materialize.”

  He cleared his throat. “My contingency plans were to spend the next few months here. Of course, I was going to call and ask about it, things being the way they are. . .”

  Now that she had gotten over her fright, Meredith concealed her churning emotions with a spark of anger. “I wish you had called, Viktor. It so happens I’m going to be here until February. I’ve got a book to finish.”

  “I understand.” Viktor wiped a hand across his face, as if to compose himself. “If I promise to get out of here first thing in the morning, I’d appreciate your hospitality for tonight. I’ve been traveling since early this morning. The plane was delayed, then the drive up here. I’m beyond tired.”

  Without a word, Meredith went into the hall closet and took out a pillow and blanket. “Here,” she said, offering them to him. “I only made up one of the bedrooms, but this should do. Take the room at the end of the hall. Good night.” Then, before he could answer, she turned and went upstairs to the loft to sort out her thoughts—or to hide, which would be Pippa’s take on the matter. She wasn’t without feelings or compassion; she reminded herself. Viktor looked pale and drawn, his gray eyes shadowed by even darker circles of fatigue. Clenching her jaw, she held back words of concern. She was the one who was dead, after all. Why was he the one looking so darn tragic?

  ***

  After spending an hour sitting in front of her laptop, toying with the wireless mouse and trying not to think about Viktor, Meredith assembled a disjointed and very lethargic synopsis.

  The sharp “ping” was emitted from her iPhone alerting her to an instant message. Glancing over at the banner displayed on the screen, she saw it was from VND. It turned out that the supernatural world was a high tech one. Newbies were assigned an anonymous mentor and checked on weekly. Her mentor had the humorous (or foreboding depending on your take on the matter) screen name: Vampire Next Door.

  Her hand hovered over the iPhone. Should she respond? Would someone come looking for her if she didn’t?

  Now was not the time, Meredith decided. She couldn’t deal with any additional stress—she didn’t care if an equivalent of a Supernatural Police Force showed up on her doorstep. Viktor, and the unresolved issues in their relationship, and the looming possibility of writer’s block, was enough for her to deal with tonight.

  Snagging her blue pen, she made arrows to shift around her plot-points, and even added text boxes filled with possible character motivation. Conceding defeat, she tossed the pencil on top of a note pad, powered down her computer and trudged off to bed.

  The next morning, Meredith awoke to the aroma of a three-meat Denver omelet with Tapatío sauce and dark roasted coffee. Even though her taste buds were almost useless, her sense of smell rivaled that of any bloodhound. It took her a fe
w moments to place where she was. Then it came back to her.

  She was at the cabin, but she wasn’t alone. Viktor showed up last night, hoping to spend the next few months here. Well, she set him straight on that. He promised to be gone come morning, but obviously, he was still there. Oh well, maybe fixing breakfast was just his way of saying thanks.

  She put on a robe, shoved her feet into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers and advanced into the kitchen. Pale winter sunshine was clinging to the edges of the living room window and she could hear Viktor whistling tunelessly as she crossed the floor.

  “Morning,” she said. Viktor looked up at her with a smile. She was happy to see he looked less travel-weary. He shaved and was neatly dressed in acid washed jeans and a faded red-plaid flannel shirt. A momentary feeling of tenderness swept over her. No one labeled him a fashion slave that was for sure. “Sit down,” he said, “it’s ready.”

  She eyed her plate, filled with protein—of the non-vegan form. Had Viktor known she was no longer a vegan, or was it only a lucky guess? She didn’t dare broach the subject. Her life become such a collection of secrets. Once upon a time, her life had been uncomplicated, and she was happy. Glancing at Viktor, she wondered if he was happy. His expression gave no to clue to his thoughts. They ate in virtual silence. Finally, as Meredith sipped coffee, she asked, “When are you planning to leave, Viktor?”

  He pushed his plate, with his half consumed breakfast, aside and began gathering up the empty dishes. “Is that any way to speak to the man who just cooked you breakfast?” He was being strangely flippant and Meredith didn’t know why. “What’s this all about?” she asked, helping herself to a second cup of coffee.

  He sat down across from her; his hands folded “Meredith. We’re adults, can’t we work something out? I was hoping to stay here until I could find somewhere else to live. I’ve got a book due too, in March. And quite frankly, since my plans in Maine fell through, I can’t afford to live in a hotel until then.” He gave her a measuring look. “I don’t like to remind you, Meredith, but your parents gave this cabin to both of us.”

  She knew it wasn’t easy for him to ask, and she knew his point was a valid one. Still, she didn’t see how it was possible. They had split up because it was too difficult to live together. How was this supposed to work now—especially with the divorce hanging over them? Moreover, her dietary needs, her grooming rituals and who-knew-what-else weirdness she’d acquired since becoming a zombie, would be privy to him. She tried not to squirm.

  “I’d like to help you out, Viktor, but I just don’t know. It’s not a good idea.”

  “I won’t disrupt your routine, Meredith. I’ll take charge of the housework and cooking.”

  “I’ll cheerfully loan you some money,” she offered.

  “No,” Viktor shook his head. “Give me a couple of weeks here, and we will call it even. After all,” he reminded her, “it was your idea to sell our house in Ganesha Hills.”

  She bristled. “You did agree Viktor. I offered to let you purchase my share—”

  “I know,” he nodded, “but I agreed to sell our home when I expected to have a place to stay.” His gray eyes focused on her face. “Admit it, neither one of us wanted to live in that house alone. Just meet me halfway on this, Meredith. Once I finish my book, I’ll be on my way. I give you my word.”

  Viktor had always been a man of his word. They fought and they argued, but he always kept his word, even if he had to gnash his teeth during the process. Meredith felt her better judgment creeping away as his charm worked on her the way it invariably had. Before they had met, she’d always dated men who were lacking in personality and rather short on smarts. When she met Viktor, his undercurrent of old-world charm and casual good looks had been spellbinding; his intellect and confidence astonishing.

  In those days Meredith had liked having Viktor explain the finer points of rugby, gourmet cooking, and eastern European history and philosophy, to name only a few of his topics. Unfortunately, the same traits that caused her to fall in love with him helped drive them apart when she got tired of feeling like a junior partner in the relationship.

  That, and the fact that he’d ridiculed her writing ambitions. “Why don’t you do some more serious writing?” He asked her once while she was working on the first draft of The Isis Factor. As far as he was concerned, her genre fiction was a waste of time. To Meredith, his comment was like a brutal stake through the heart of their marriage.

  Yet even now, sitting across from him and remembering how his insensitivity toward her career had hurt; Meredith couldn’t deny the fact that she was still in love with him. Love—or lack of it, had never been an issue between them, only a lack of understanding. She knew no matter how much she still loved Viktor; nothing had changed.

  “Look, Viktor,” she began, “if this is some scheme to get us back together—”

  “Believe me, it isn’t,” he answered, his features restrained. “I’m just in a financial bind until I get the remainder of my book advance, or until we sell the house. I’ll stay out of your personal space, Meredith.” He seemed to sense her hesitation. “I expect we will both be too busy to get into any trouble, don’t you?”

  Chapter Three

  Surprisingly, in the days to come, Meredith had to admit his words had been something

  of a prophecy. They worked out an almost effortless scheduled work, house, meals, chores and, even TV time.

  Meredith, a day person, worked on her laptop computer in the loft during the morning and afternoon. Viktor, a ‘night owl,’ transcribed his hand-written notes on his old Apple computer at the kitchen table after dinner and into most of the night.

  They had been living together for a week when she came downstairs in the morning to find Viktor asleep on the couch.

  He was wearing jeans and T-shirt; his wet shoes carelessly tossed into a corner.

  She frowned. Something wasn’t right. Viktor was tidy, almost to the point of psychotic; ritualistic in his routine. The scent of pine and snow were heavy on the air. He smelled as if he’d spent the entire night tromping through the woods. The cold had seeped into the pores of his skin, and his cheeks were wind burned. Viktor was not an outdoorsman; he was a scholar. Wasn’t he?

  Six months ago, she would have thought so with absolute certainty. Now, who knew? Viktor was different. Less distant. . .more human. She knew that didn’t make any sense. Of course, he was human! He seemed. . .vulnerable—yes, that was it— and less self-assured.

  All of which is none of your concern, Meredith reminded herself. Reaching for the paper filter and can of dark roast Yuban, she readied the coffee maker. It was her day to make breakfast; she didn’t need to concern herself with anything else.

  Still something about Viktor was different. Meredith tried to push aside the feeling, but it continued to nag at her. She’d noticed the change in Viktor the night he’d arrived.

  Don’t go there.

  Still, he was pale (toothpaste white was a more accurate description), his angular face shadowed with exhaustion. He looked. . . . dead, well—she should know; almost dead anyway.

  “Get a grip Meredith,” she ordered. She knew the zombie mind wasn’t always rational, especially when it was time to eat. Instinct shoved reason over the side of the cliff any day of the week.

  She was starting to become a little agitated with each passing minute. What was happening to her?

  She wasn’t experiencing that crawl from grave to eat human brains feeling that many zombies experienced. Yet. However, the fog that fell over her mind was unnerving. She’d heard a humming sound that vibrated through her head that was constant. Hypotonic was the only way she could describe it. The experience had begun two months ago, and it was not a very pleasant one. Usually the sound wound down to a mild annoyance, after about twenty minutes. Today, however, it was a zing though her brain. Perhaps she should jab herself with her EpiPen.

  If she jabbed herself now, she could get back to the bedroom and pull herself toge
ther before Viktor awoke.

  While she was dallying with the thought, Viktor jerked awake and sat up.

  When their gaze met, it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. His gray eyes lost their entire luster in a single moment. She saw the concern, empathy, frustration and the hurt. It was the first time she ever felt his pain.

  The pain invaded her entire being.

  She was trembling so hard she had to lean against the counter for support.

  She gave a tiny whimper of distress, and then the pain was gone. Meredith shook her head to clear her thoughts. While the fogginess in her mind had lifted, her senses and her awareness of Viktor heightened. This was not a change for the better, she quickly realized.

  Whereas before, his charisma manifested as old-world (or rather arrogant) charm; now his allure was deeper, and to her surprise, darker. Before she could process the event, the aroma of coffee teased the air, and Viktor padded barefoot into the room.

  It took a moment or two for Meredith to regain her composure, and shove the humming sound to the edge of her consciousness. Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, Meredith stepped back a pace and wedged herself in the corner of the room. Viktor was much too observant. The last thing she wanted was for him to start asking questions. “What kept you on the couch last night?” she asked.

  “Writer’s block,” he replied, walking over to close the kitchen blinds before reaching for a thick ceramic mug and filling it with coffee. “Right in the middle of a battle scene, I couldn’t recall . . . I mean, I couldn’t locate the logistics in my notes. You know how precise my research must be.”

  “Yes, your reputation is hinged on historical accuracy,” she agreed. Resisting the urge to comment on his frequently mind-numbing narrative tone, Meredith cleared her throat before taking a quick sip of coffee. “Did you go for a walk?” she asked, waiting for his response.