Notes from a Necrophobe

by T. C. Armstrong

  “Close your eyes or you’ll get poked by the blush brush.” I can’t believe I’m sitting through this. I’ve never, ever worn makeup before. “Hold still for the mascara or you’re going to look like a raccoon!” Forget raccoon, she’s going to make me look like a geisha! I won’t have a shred of dignity left after tonight. “You can open your eyes now, but for your lipstick I need you to…oh good, you’re already pouting, that’s perfect.” Ugh, this stuff feels as thick as toothpaste.

  “Who did your hair?” Mom asks Nemesis. She’s impressed with the elegant arrangement of Nemesis’s ‘do and is probably plotting to have the same done with mine.

  “Linus, I mean Anna did. Who knew she would be so good with hair?” Nemesis turns her attention to me and slyly asks, “Just wait till you see what I’ve found for Ghost to wear!”

  That’s it, I’m out of here! I jump up and run out of the room as fast as I can, which isn’t very fast because I’m not used to wearing a long dress. Heck, I’m not used to wearing a dress at all. I head straight for the “ballroom” which is really the basketball court decked out with junk made to look like Halloween decorations. I still don’t want to go, but my mother will be looking for me there and I don’t want to face her wrath if she finds me hiding in some dark corridor.

  For a moment I feel like I’ve stepped back into our old life—it looks very much like a typical high school Halloween dance. The only difference is that the costumes look cheaper. There’s a bride with a dress made out of toilet paper, a skeleton with white bones chalked onto a black sweatshirt and pants, and an octopus with eight bouncy arms made of corrugated pipe. He probably doesn’t want to dance with anyone; you can’t get remotely near him with all those appendages. I see more and more costumes that are typical of the homemade variety: vampires with black trash bag capes, hobos created from the more worn-out refugee cast-offs, and the laziest of costumes: bedclothes. There’s one thing that’s missing, the most popular costume that used to frequent the parties and trick-or-treating of old because it was so easy to pull off; all it needed was some ripped-up clothes and mottled makeup, but it’s something you will not find at this party because, along with soldier costumes, it was banned.

  There are no zombies.

  I scan the room to look for anyone I might want to hang with and see Houston. It looks like Nemesis shared her Drama Club discovery with him as well, or maybe it was pinched from the chemistry classroom. He’s got a long white lab coat on and his hair is spiked out in all directions. (Jello? Sugar water?) Just to make sure there’s no confusion, there’s a label/tag that reads “Mad Scientist.” Houston doesn’t notice me. He’s too busy in his own world as Sir Bustamove. I smile as I remember how much Hou loved to dance. He said it was the one thing he could do well and the only time he felt popular. He certainly seems popular now. There’s an ever-growing circle of admiring girls around him. I decide not to bother him. He looks happy as he dances with wild abandon.

  The beginning strains of Passion’s “Only a Suggestion” changes the tone and I see people nervously looking around for someone they can comfortably slow dance with. Who would choose a slow song? I know that Nadia and Nemesis are in charge of the playlist, they’ve been writing down requests all day. Maybe I can ask Nemesis later…wait, never mind. Nadia and Kaboom take to the dance floor in a confident embrace, so I’m guessing it was her.

  All of a sudden Buck materializes at my elbow. “May I have this dance?” he purrs menacingly in my ear. Is he kidding? He picks on my brother and struts around like the prince-of-all-I-survey and I’m supposed to get cozy with him?

  “What are you playing at?” I ask.

  He looks crestfallen. “I’m serious.”

  I want to say, “Not a chance!” but I remember my mother’s “Your outbursts have far reaching consequences” lecture and instead say, “No thank you” …perhaps a little too firmly.

  Buck scowls and stomps off across the dance floor, pushing startled people out of his way as he goes. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this later. Maybe one dance wouldn’t have hurt. I scan the room, wondering how much longer I have to hang around before I can sneak off and get out of this dress. I look back at the doors and see that there are guards posted at each and every one of them. What are they doing here? Does our dancing pose a danger? I turn back to the room and give in to the music. “I steal a glance across the room…” Passion croons…

  And then I see him. He’s standing in the back far away from the reach of the tacky disco ball lights. I give a small involuntary gasp, and I don’t know why. He looks…different. Different and yet familiar at the same time. What has changed? True, he’s in some sort of a costume with a stripy blazer, a trench coat, and a bow tie, probably acquired through the Drama Department’s “Dick Tracy” production. But other than that he has the same hair. It’s not “treated” like Houston’s but it’s still thick and dark and wavy and just a bit tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s wearing the same shoes, the same jeans, the same shirt…It must be the look on his face that is different. He’s scrutinizing me with an expression I’ve never seen before. Does he not recognize me in a dress? Do I really look that different myself? Is he disgusted that I seem to care about this stupid dance enough to wear a formal dress and makeup? And why can’t I take my eyes off of him? He’s looking right at me, straight into my eyes, but I can’t turn away…what is wrong with me?

  Nemesis slinks her way towards Ghost and the moment is gone. She looks irresistible in that dress. I’m sure once Ghost gets a look at her he won’t look anywhere else again. It makes me sick to my stomach and I hate myself for feeling this much emotion over a stupid boy. For one brief moment I was glad to be wearing an alluring dress, to have smooth shiny hair, to have tried a bit of makeup. I found myself craving his attention and then basking in it, but I’m only a blip on his radar screen with beauties like Nemesis and Nadia around.

  “No one else, no one else...” sings Passion and I feel a new pain, the pain of rejection. I see Nemesis whisper something provocatively in his ear and the hurt deepens. He keeps his eyes on me while she seduces him, or is he even looking at me? I can’t watch the two of them anymore so I let my gaze, along with my hopes, fall to the floor.

  When I look up again I freeze—Ghost is no longer at Nemesis’s side. She’s looks back at me and grins like the cat that’s just got to the cream. I search for Ghost and to my surprise I see him heading straight for me! All I can hear is the music, “It’s just a suggestion just a sensation that I have...” and all I can see is Ghost as he makes his way towards me. And then I start to understand why he’s so familiar and desirable at the same time. The trench coat is what makes the penny drop: Ghost looks just like my favorite actor from Dr. Who, David Tennant. I can almost hear my friends from the Life Before laughing at what a geek I am, and I don’t care.

  Ghost stands in front of me, but all I can do is study him wordlessly. Was he always this tall? He’s not tall like my six-foot-one tall brother, but he’s tall. He’s not completely like David Tennant either; when he plays the Doctor he always has a crazed look in his eyes. Ghost’s eyes are the same deep shade of brown but his are calm and serious, like he’s studying you. Except at this moment they’re bright, shining even. How could I not notice this all those times we ran together or bantered together, or escaped the very jaws of death together?

  I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t; he just takes me by the hand and gently pulls me to him. Without even thinking about it, we’re slow dancing. I’ve never been this close to Ghost before. Well, apart from the time he picked me up and pulled me out of that ribcage and that time he held me to stop me from lunging at the locker room door…but this isn’t the same. This is, this is…

  …this is making me blush. If any other guy tried to drag me onto the dance floor I would have socked him in the guts, but with Ghost it feels natural. I’ve never been at a loss for words before, especially around Ghost. He may be a man of few
words, but I’m not. I just say what I feel. I pause in my thoughts to tune into the song as it sings, “You’re a beacon in the dark…” I’m too embarrassed to admit to how I feel so I look at him and ask, “What made you decide to do this?”

  He smiles back down at me and I’m reminded of another face similar to his…with Ghost’s pale skin and perfect proportions, he looks like Michelangelo’s David. I’m forced to look down again to hide a new rush of blush. He brings his lips close to my ear and says, “I was planning on asking you to dance to my favorite StandOff song, but Nemesis told me it was bumped by one of Nadia’s requests. She told me it’s still on the list but so far down they might not get to it till another dance. She suggested I make my move now.”

  I think this song is perfect. Passion is now singing, “It was so easy to give you all I had…” This is poetry to my ears; I think this may be my new favorite Passion song. Suddenly Ghost’s words sink in and I look up in surprise. “Nemesis said all that? I thought she was coming on to you!”

  This makes Ghost laugh. I’ve never heard him laugh before. It’s a beautiful sound. It’s full and deep and…perfect. “You’ve read her all wrong. She’s amused by me, but she’s not into me.” My body relaxes in response to this and I lay my head on his shoulder. “She did add,” Ghost continues, “that, quote, ‘You’re fooling no one, Ghost, it’s obvious how you feel and if you don’t do something about it now you will always regret letting this moment pass by.’”

  “She said that? What a sweet girl.” I don’t think I’ve ever called anyone sweet before except in sarcasm, and Ghost laughs again. I really do like his laugh. I’m going to have to think of things to say that he’ll find funny so I won’t have to do without it again. “I’m glad you finally feel that way about her. I think you two would make good friends.”

  I don’t want this song to end. I also don’t want this moment to end so I’m just going to soak up the closeness of him while I still can. I give in to the music and listen to Passion sing

  What more is there to fear, it’s not the way you appear

  It’s the way you stare right through my soul

  And in that murky moment that you refused to flee

  From the love we tried to conceal…

  I look up again and ask, “What is your favorite StandOff song? I’d love to know the tune you were going to ask me to dance to.”

  Ghost’s lips part to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer. An unexpected sound cuts through the gym, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s the fire alarm. It’s slashes through every level of consciousness and brings the party to an abrupt stop. The General’s voice replaces the music and he orders us to return to our rooms, “…for our safety.”

  In the space of the silence that follows I can hear the distant sound of shots being fired and Naked’s frantic barking.

  HOUSTON

  We look ridiculous sitting on our cots in costumes, waiting and wondering aloud about what’s happening. We’ve never had a fire alarm go off here. We may have had practice runs with fire drills back when this was a high school, but since this turned into a refugee center we’ve not heard the alarm, not even for a test. Where would we go if there really was a fire anyway? To an outside meeting place? That’s not an option anymore. Bet the soldiers have a secure meeting place in case of emergency...

  “Do you think there’s been a breach?” Asks Doom.

  “How could there be a breach?” I reply. “We’re surrounded by high walls. Those high walls are patrolled by guards. And don’t forget the towers at each corner. You know, the ones with the snipers?”

  “What if the water from the downstairs locker room leaked out of the barriers the soldiers put up? Maybe there’s someone who just got infected by it running around the place!” I look about me because although the voice is familiar, it doesn’t belong here. It’s Linus, and she doesn’t bunk with us. I sweep the room with a glance and realize that she’s not the only one out of their assigned room—the whole of Dumb Luck Club is here! Maybe they wanted to be with friends in a time of crisis. If things get any worse, we can grab Mom and Jess and head up to our clubhouse. The soldiers don’t seem to care where we are right now. Whatever is going on outside has their full attention.

  “No,” sighs Nemesis. “The shots were from outside the building, and everyone was required to be at the dance.”

  “What if some people got away? What if they wandered outside? Maybe it’s raining!” Jess offers. She sounds as scared as she looks. She’s sitting in Mom’s lap with her arms wrapped tightly around her. She normally doesn’t like that (“Mom! I’m not a baby!”), but she doesn’t seem to mind now. Mom looks tense, like she’s ready to spring into action. Only KC and Ghost seem sleepy and relaxed.

  Nadia’s squeaky-cute voice pipes up. “No, they wouldn’t let anyone leave. Didn’t you see the guards at the door? I wanted to go to the bathroom to freshen up, but they wouldn’t let me go out! Not even for a second!”

  Kaboom is sitting next to Nadia looking all serious and solemn. “There were no shots fired from inside, so it’s safe to assume the danger isn’t from within. They stopped shooting outside half an hour ago; yet the lockdown is still in effect. If there was a pod of zombies, I mean, the Infected, they would have been taken out and we’d be free to move about.”

  “So what do you think it is?” asks Mouse.

  “I think that there’s too many of them to shoot.”

  JESSE

  I’m doing what I’m best at: I’m hiding. I knew the club was going to meet without me. It’s like those horror movies KC and James used to watch in our basement, they think I’m too little to hear whatever they’re going to talk about. That’s why I’m hiding behind the split kits, eavesdropping on their conversation. And while I listen I can see why they want to leave me out ‘cause what they’re talking about is scary, even scarier than those movies.

  “The alarm went off because the dead arrived in droves.” Ghost’s voice.

  “How do you know? You weren’t there. You were about to play kissy-face with Katatonic here!” That’s definitely Doom’s voice.

  I both hear and feel Ghost sigh in the darkness. “I know because last week I found a way to the roof and had a look myself.”

  “What? How could you do that, you could have been killed!” KC sounds weird, like she cares or something.

  Ghost doesn’t snap at her though. “Don’t worry. I went up there in full raingear.” His voice sounds soothing just like my mom’s does when I’m sick.

  “How did you get up there?” I think that might be Linus’s voice.

  “If you go to the loft level of the custodian’s office, there’s a set of stairs that lead to a door to the roof.”

  “So let me see if I’m hearing you right. You’re telling me that from up there you could see ALL the way across the compound to the outside wall? You must have seriously good eyesight.” I’m not sure whose voice that is, but it doesn’t sound nice. I want to tell that mean-sounding voice that Ghost has got that super-cool night-vision gadget I saw him wear at Eric’s house, and if the soldiers took that then they probably left the binoculars in his split kit. I bite down hard on my tongue instead. I can’t say nothing ‘cause if they find me they’ll make me leave. I don’t want to stay ‘cause I don’t like being left out…although I really do hate being left out. It’s more like, well…even though they’re talking about pretty scary stuff, I’m even more scared to not know what’s going on.

  Ghost ignores that person anyways. “I’ve been up a few times, just to scope things out. You can keep out of the soldiers’ sights if you hide behind the vents. Besides, the guards in the towers are mostly focused on what’s going on outside the walls, not inside. I used to sit up there and wonder why I didn’t see any of the dead. I knew they were there. The soldiers couldn’t have shot them all the night we ran in. And every now and then a breeze will carry their malodorous scent to me.”

  KC interrupts Ghost with a spooky vo
ice. “The writing on the Rock said ‘They watch from the trees.’”

  Everyone gasps except me, ‘cause I don’t really know what she’s talking about. I hear a few excited voices say, “I didn’t know that!” and “There’s new writing on the Rock?” and “What else did the writing say?” But KC says it’s not important now and she’ll tell them about it later. Ghost has stopped talking for a moment like he’s thinking about what KC just said, but then he goes on. “I think the Infected are doing the same thing they did in our neighborhood. I think they’ve been camouflaging themselves in the woods and waiting for an opportunity to get to us. Something must have happened to bring them out. I went up to the roof after everyone fell asleep last night. There was enough light to see what was going on; the soldiers had their searchlights trained on what was happening beyond the walls. And in those lights I could see the dead pressing up against the wall in the hundreds.”

  I shiver at the thought of all those gross bodies surrounding our new home just like they did our old home. I want to ask why the soldiers didn’t start shooting at them, but I can’t without getting kicked out. Could they be out of bullets already? How will they protect us if they’re out of bullets?

  I hear someone breathe out slowly. “Wow. At least the soldiers are letting us move about now. I mean, the walls are high and we’re inside a fortress. How are they going to get in?”

  “I’d feel better if there was barbed wire on top of those walls so those things could get stuck in it. Why don’t we have barbed wire?” That sounds like my big brother.

  “Probably the same reason none of us could get it for our home: the government used it all up for their fortresses and the factories couldn’t keep up with demand. Besides, they’re not going to waste it on the least important refugee center of them all. Remember, we’re not even sure if the outside world is aware of us. There’s no one out there to miss us and no communication from us, so we no longer exist, right?” Count on Doom to make things worse.