Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow

by Connie Vines

  More than anything else, however, writing the book had been a way for Meredith to examine just what was wrong in their marriage. It taught her that both of them were to blame—

  Viktor no more than she. Meredith also learned a great deal about Viktor—his motives, his beliefs, his habits.

  Given their differences—Viktor and hers, and those of her two literary characters that reflected them—how were they supposed to save the tattered remains of their marriage? They couldn’t, of course, and that’s why her characters—just like she and Viktor—were divorcing. She had given her heroine an incurable condition very similar to her own. This, sadly, had provided the final proof the marriage was beyond redemption.

  ***

  It might have been the foreboding brought on by impending ‘singlehood’, or simply the hypnotic hum that seemed to be taking over her mind, but Meredith jerked awake in the dead of night. A deep, commanding voice was shouting, “Wake up. Wake up. You must join the others!”

  She shot out of bed, not easy for a zombie to do without a dose of Bengay. Clutching her blanket to her chest, Meredith’s frantic gaze searched the shadowed corners of the room for the trespasser.

  “Others?” she shouted back, seeing no one in the room, not even Gertie. “What others?”

  The voice kept repeating the words, over and over.

  It wasn’t until the third repetition that Meredith realized the voice was coming from inside her head. Swell. So, this was the zombie episode everyone whispered about. Her herbal tea and tofu incident was unnerving, but this; this really, and truly sucked.

  Refusing to give into the paranoia, crying, screaming, and head pounding she’d witnessed in other zombies—she tapped her heels together in a comical imitation of Dorothy Gale trying to exit the Land of Oz. But when she saw a demon face pressed up again her bedroom window, she let out an undignified scream. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real,” she reminded herself. Fumbling through the contents of her handbag, she tried to ignore the raspy crackle of the demon’s hot breath melting the ice clinging to the muntin bars of the window.

  Meredith gripped the barrel of the EpiPen. Then, uttering a cry that would make any ninja proud, jabbed herself in her thigh.

  A massive fiery tingle shot though her entire body. Man-oh-man, did it hurt! What idiot screen writer though zombies could feel no pain?

  Chapter Six

  Jittery, shaky, and more than a little confused, Meredith sat at the kitchen counter three hours later. A cup of coffee in one hand, EpiPen still imbedded in her thigh, Meredith wondered if these hallucinations were going to be a daily occurrence. She hoped not. This was even worse than waking up in a body bag.

  She was pretty sure it wouldn’t make it through alive, or whatever, a second time.

  Maybe she should call Viktor. And tell him what? That she was a mental mess. No. Bad idea. She’d text her mentor, VND, just as soon as she could figure out what day it was. Oh, and she’d need to do something to plug the hole the EpiPen was going to leave in the tissue of her thigh.

  While she was staring mindlessly into space, her cell phone rang. Meredith nearly levitated out of her chair.

  Fumbling and stumbling, she answered the call on the third ring. It was Pippa, sounding like her usual bubbly self. And, as usual, she got directly to the point.

  “How would you like some company while you watch the New Year’s Day Rose Bowl Parade tomorrow?”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Meri, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Meredith was certain her still tingling lips were due to her surprise at the sudden turn of events, not the just EpiPen and her bout with terror. Allowing the memory to fade away, she seemed to have a better grasp on reality. “I’m fine, Pippa. What about Elvis and the twins? Don’t you want to spend the day with them?” she asked.

  “Elvis has a video movie marathon with the Karaoke sing-a-long bonus DVDs planned for the day. Believe me, I won’t be missed. I’ll toss a few items in an overnight bag and be on my way. I can be at the cabin. . .say by dinnertime. Will that work for you?”

  “Yes. I would really like that.” She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell Pippa about what had transpired during the past month, but she found herself saying, “You know, Pippa, Viktor was here with me for a while. It was platonic. He just needed a place to stay. Everything was great for a while and then we started to fight—”

  “I know all about it,” Pippa interrupted. “Viktor was here to see me yesterday. We had a long talk and, well, Viktor wants you back.”

  “You spoke with Viktor about this? I never asked you to get involved,” Meredith snapped.

  “I’m not involved,” she replied soothingly. “Like I just said, he just stopped by and we started to talk. He gave me a message to pass on to you, and I did. That’s it. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, okay?”

  “Don’t come by just to talk about the divorce, Pippa. I mean it.”

  “Cross my heart. . .and all that other stuff,” she promised.

  ***

  Pippa arrived at the cabin, armed with a grocery bag filled with munchies and treats a few minutes after Meredith had signed off from an Internet blog her mentor had messaged her about. Discovering the ‘voice was a rite of passage’, Meredith found herself in better spirits. After giving Pippa a quick hug, she ushered her into the living room.

  “Remember how we used to do this when we were kids?” she mused. They had watched the re-telecast of last year’s parade highlights on KTLA and were now sitting in front of the fireplace, Pippa roasting marshmallows and Meredith gnawing on a freeze-dried slice of Christmas goose.

  “Sort of,” Meredith answered. “Though I must confess, my taste buds have changed since then.”

  Pippa chuckled. “Ya think? I still can’t get used to you chowing-down on so much protein.”

  Meredith tried not to flinch. “Nor can I.”

  “Elvis is that way about his blood-sausage . . . he just can’t seem to give it up.”

  Meredith gave her sister a sideways glance. “When did that start?”

  Pippa pulled a thread of sticky marshmallow from her chin. “Um, about the time he transferred to the night shift. About four years ago. Why?”

  “No reason,” Meredith replied, an uneasy feeling descending upon her. “Just wondering, that’s all.” Night shift, blood, gothic décor. Did that make Elvis a . . .? No, she wasn’t going there. “Is it time for cocoa?”

  “The mix is at the bottom of the grocery bag on the counter.”

  “I don’t think I’ve got the milk in the fridge,” Meredith warned her sister.

  “Let’s go over to the restaurant,” Pippa said. “They make it so yummy.” She was already putting on her coat.

  “Oh, but it’s nicer here and it’s so cold out there,” Meredith argued. “Can’t you do without the cocoa? “I’ll go to the store for milk first thing in the morning, I swear.”

  “Come on, I’m your guest, humor me,” Pippa urged, tossing Meri’s coat and hat across to her. “It’s not like it’s snowing or anything. We’ll take my car, and we’ll only stay a little while. I promise.”

  Meredith checked her watch. “Okay, but it’s almost ten. I want to be back here before the New Year.”

  The El Mexicano was filled to overflowing with New Year’s Eve revelers but the host led the two sisters to a booth in the rear, the same booth Viktor and Rhonda had shared only a few days ago.

  “I don’t believe it!” Meredith said, stopping in her tracks, her gaze moving between Pippa who stood beside her, and Viktor who was seated at the booth. “Pippa, you aren’t going to explain this away!”

  “Not now,” Pippa said, sliding into the seat across from Viktor. “Before you go storming out of here, just listen for a minute. Viktor has something to say to you—he had something to say last week—but as usual, you didn’t listen.”

  “Pippa, this really isn’t any of your business,” Meredith said, trying to muster as much dignity as
she could in the situation.

  “I know that, Meri, and I wouldn’t have gotten involved if I didn’t think the two of you could make your marriage work. You belong together.” She slid out of the booth and motioned Meredith to take her place. “It’s up to you two now to work it all out. I’m leaving. Elvis and the twins are waiting for me up at Big Bear, we are going skiing tomorrow.”

  She bent and gave Viktor a quick peck on the cheek, whispering something in his ear. “Happy New Year, Sis,” she said, giving Meredith a hug. “It’s time to start working on those New Year’s resolutions. Good luck!”

  Meredith watched her sister melt into the crowd, and then reluctantly sat down tossing her hat beside her on the booth.

  “Have some champagne,” Viktor said, filling two glasses as he spoke, but Meredith shook her head.

  “I’d like a glass of tepid water with a straw,” she told the server who’d appeared at the table. When she left, Meredith turned her to Viktor. “I wish you and Pippa hadn’t cooked up this little farce,” she said icily. “The two of you have no idea what you are dealing with, why our marriage can’t possibly work!”

  “Calm down, Meredith. It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad? Of course, it’s that bad!” she hissed. She could feel her eyes protruding as she reined in her anger. He could be so infuriating without even trying. “I’ll be the judge how bad my news is Viktor.”

  Viktor placed his goblet on the table. “All right, Meredith. I’m listening.”

  Meredith tried to form the words to explain what had happened to her. She even tried to mouth the words in a practice run. Instead, she sat, silent.

  Viktor’s eyebrows knitted together. When she didn’t speak, he leaned back against the tufted vinyl booth, arms crossed. “Meredith what was of such importance that you—”

  Perhaps it was his get-it-over-with look, that sent her over the edge “I’m dead,” she blurted before scrunching her eyes closed.

  “Dead?” he repeated softly.

  “Yes. Dead.” Her words were a bit more forceful, and she lifted her right eyelid just enough to gage his reaction.

  “Indeed?” he said in a bored voice.

  Meredith couldn’t believe his reaction—or lack thereof. She pictured Viktor’s possible reactions. Run from the building, declare her insane, laugh in her face, even all of the above. Sitting calmly was never on her list. She was angry and growing angrier by the second. “Indeed. What do you mean by that? I tell you I’m dead and you. . .you—”

  He smiled at her. A smug smile that revealed his dimples. “Prove it.”

  “Prove it? What do you mean?”

  “I would think that my request was self-explanatory.”

  “You want me to prove I’m dead?” She hated that the final word came out like a squeak.

  He nodded. “Yes, that is what I am asking of you Meredith. Not an unreasonable request on my part.”

  “Viktor,” she began, enunciating each would so that he could better comprehend the seriousness of her statement. “Believe me when I tell you I’m dead. Dead as in not breathing. Dead as in dead-as-a-doornail. Viktor I’m really, really dead—”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  Meredith knew her gaze mirrored her conflicting emotions. When she began to speak, Viktor shook his head.

  Tossing several bills on the table, he stood. “Let’s go for a walk. This matter cannot be discussed here.”

  Meredith glanced around the room. He was right. The crowd had grown larger as the hands of the clock edged nearer to midnight. The last thing she needed was the press getting wind of her conversation.

  Waving a general goodbye to everyone, Viktor helped Meredith with her jacket before shrugging on his own.

  “Pippa dropped me off,” she said as an apology. “Would you like to go back to the cabin?”

  Viktor nodded. “Yes. We have much to discuss.”

  “Ya think?”

  He shot her a warning look. “Your sarcasm is quite unbecoming.”

  “Sorry.” Even as she said the word, she knew it was a lie she wasn’t sorry at all. “Viktor—”

  “Meredith I will explain . . . however I must be certain of your . . . awareness.”

  “Awareness? Awareness of what?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I am not one of your students!”

  “In this case, Meredith, I beg to differ. The Supernatural World isn’t your area of . . . expertise.”

  Well, that certainly stopped her in her tracks. Glancing down at her cream Moncler short quilted lace-up snow boots, Meredith counted to ten. Twice. “Oh, and of course Dr. Viktor, it is a world of which you have intimate knowledge.”

  “Correct.”

  Meredith hadn’t thought it was possible for a non-breather, but she gave a snort of disbelief.

  Viktor grunted. Yanking a pair of black gloves from his jacket pocket, he handed them to her. “Wear these. The cold is bad for your . . . skin. See your veins are beginning to show blue.”

  Meredith glanced down at her hands, noting the blue under tone beneath white and gave a cry of distress.

  “Put the gloves on your hands,” he instructed. “You will be fine in a few minutes.”

  She did as he said, then quickened her pace to catch up with him. The countryside was a blanket of white, the pine trees powdered with fresh snow and the air crisp with the heady fragrance of pine. The only sound was the crunching of snow beneath their feet.

  “Viktor?” She heard the fear and uncertainty in her voice.

  “Yes?”

  “You aren’t breathing, are you?”

  “Ah, I was wondering when you were going to notice.”

  Chapter Seven

  Once they arrived at the cabin, Meredith was calmer. When she realized Viktor was a non-breather, she had to bite back a blood-curdling shriek. She knew it was a stupid reaction. After all, Meredith hadn’t taken a breath in more than six months. Still, it was a shock to discover one’s soon-to-be-ex-husband was dead. I mean, really, really dead! How long had he been dead? How could she not have known? How did one keep such a thing a secret?

  How?

  When did it happen?

  “Meredith,” Viktor prompted when she remained, motionless, on the front porch. “Perhaps you should step inside.”

  She nodded, and grabbed the edge of the doorjamb for support.

  “I’ll hang our jackets on the hook to dry out. Would you like to take off your gloves?”

  Meredith followed his instructions. Thankful, for once, for not having to sort things out for herself.

  “If you’d like to take a seat; I’ll ready a pot of coffee.”

  “Gertie—”

  “I’ll see to Gertie.”

  It wasn’t long before Viktor had a pressed log blazing in the fireplace, Gertie rolling around in her exercise ball, and a mug of hot coffee in Meredith’s hands.

  Viktor sat down on the couch and Meredith felt the cushion shift from his weight.

  For a few minutes neither spoke, they sipped coffee while staring into the dancing multicolored flames.

  She sensed Viktor was selecting his words with great care before he spoke, Meredith, for once, kept her mouth clamped firmly shut.

  “Meredith.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you recall before we were married, my speaking of my youth?”

  “You mentioned that you and your brothers lived in Eastern Europe. . .” she experienced the mesmerizing pull of the memory and the deep rumble of Viktor’s voice.

  “I told you I was the seventh son, of the seventh son. I told you my family was from Romania and we lived in Bohemia, in what is now the Czech Republic. I told you I came to the U.S. as an adult.”

  Meredith nodded in agreement. “And?”

  “And,” Viktor gave a slight smile, his incisors more pronounced that she recalled.

  “I knew you did not fathom what I was telling you. I knew y
ou could not understand the implications. I told you because I wished to be truthful. Though I knew you could not truly understand . . . because you, as a human, had no point of reference.”

  No point of reference. The words clicked. “Viktor what are you trying to say? What is so significant of being the seventh son of the seventh son?”

  He gave her a searching look. “Are you still set on obtaining a divorce, Meredith? Or is there hope we can try to make a go of our marriage?”

  Meredith felt her newly honed zombie-senses go to red-alert. “Viktor, what are you saying? Um. . .what are you doing?”

  Viktor moved closer, taking her mug and setting it on the coffee table. “Do you want me to kiss you goodbye, and walk out of your life forever?”

  Meredith gazed into his gray eyes, intensely hypnotic.

  “No,” she found herself saying. She didn’t want Viktor to walk out of her life, she realized. Meredith wanted to salvage their marriage.

  He placed his hands over hers. “I know that I still love you, Meredith. I have never stopped loving you. I have an ego—a very large ego. What I said about your writing abilities and about your novels, was unforgivable.”

  “Yes it was,” she agreed, before she stopped herself, “I made mistakes too Viktor. I shouldn’t have called you. . .stuffy.”

  Viktor laughed. “Yes you should have. I am incredibly stuffy.”

  Meredith tried not to smile. “Yes. You are.”

  Viktor leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on her lips.

  “Now, wife, it is time for me to explain my past.”

  “Explain?”

  “Yes, Beloved. Look into the fire. . .”

  As Meredith stared into the flames.

  “I am going to take you on a journey. Look into the fire, Meredith,” Viktor said. “Beyond the flames.”