*
Famine and Morrigan had detached themselves from the main room and sat on a small sofa in an adjoining space. They watched the myriad of fancily dressed party guests pass by. Morrigan was always surprised by how pretentious these beings were. She smiled and acknowledged them as they went by but she had no idea who any of them were.
“I’ll be glad when this is all over. I hate being fake like this.”
Famine glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. “How much longer anyway?”
“It’s supposed to be over by midnight.”
“That’s so incredibly ordinary for supernatural beings. Why not three or four in the morning?”
A tall zombie with an almost purely skeletal face passed by, tipping his hat to Morrigan. She nodded at it. “Because these things like sticking to tradition. For some reason they think midnight is the best time to end any social gathering. They say it leaves time to do other stuff. I suppose they have a point.”
Famine stood up and stretched. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I really just want to go home.”
“Please, don’t even worry. I think just showing up counts for something.”
A well-built young male ghost floated by Famine and smiled at him. The spirit’s vestiges of his former human form remained strong through his flickering green glow. He had short chocolate brown hair that hung loosely around his face, features that were so delicate that they bordered on effeminate, and a pair of deep blue eyes that radiated warmth and kindness. His voice was soft. “Hello there.”
Famine was completely taken aback by the ghost’s beauty and grace. He weakly nodded and managed to reply in his strongest masculine voice. “Hi.”The specter continued on into the ballroom and became lost in the crowd. Famine hurriedly went back to sit next to Morrigan. He was smiling broadly and looking past her shoulder onto the dance floor. She glanced back to where he was looking and then at him again, her grin was almost as big as his.
“Did you see something you liked?”
Famine finally looked back at Morrigan. He was still smiling. “I think I did. I didn’t know you knew such nice people.”
“Honey, I don’t know who that was. I told you everyone here was a stranger. Why don’t you go and talk to him?”
He was genuinely shocked and stammered at first. “Me talk to him? I don’t think so. Besides, he’s a ghost.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well…I don’t know. Anyway, what do I have to offer?”
“Did you really notice how he said hello?”
Famine folded his arms and defiantly stared forward. “No. I won’t make a fool of myself. I wouldn’t know what to say.”
Morrigan put her arm around his shoulder and leaned in. “What are you afraid of? Really? You beat some sad delusional asshole just a couple of days ago. He could’ve put The Reaper out for good if it weren’t for you. Now you’re going to let a boy stop you from continuing a winning streak? Talking to him is nothing compared to what you’ve done before.”
Famine said nothing. He kept his eyes forward as he if didn’t hear his friend. He knew she was right. He had accomplished a lot lately and had had felt proud of himself. Nothing could stop him from doing even better. It just took a little more nerve. Besides, the mere presence of the young ghost made him feel different. It wasn’t like the crush he had on the lead singer of the Raging Draculs. His body felt like it had been dipped in a vat of warm water. His insides felt as if they were melting and his mind was taken off into the clouds. He hated leaving Morrigan like this but she was right. The chance had to be taken. He quickly stood up and held his head high in the air.
“You’re right! I’m going to see him”“That’s what I like hearing, sweetie...”
Famine bent over and hugged his friend. “Thank you so much Morrigan. You’ve been such a wonderful friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well thank you,” she said laughing, “but if I were you, I’d go before it gets too late.”
Famine broke away from Morrigan and hurried into the main ball room. Buxtetude had replaced Bach as the party goers had broken into two groups, one on each side of the room. As soon as the new music started playing, the revelers began the Passacaille. He couldn’t see the dashing young man anywhere. Another door sat directly behind the parted crowd. Famine saw what looked like a garden beyond it. He ran across the dance floor past the revelers. Some of them scowled and some of them uttered curses. That didn’t matter now. He was past the doorway and in the garden within seconds.
He stood in a large greenhouse-styled room; it was completely encased in glass and was filled with a great many types of lush green foliage. A couple of benches stood in the center of the room near a small fountain. He walked into the room, looking around and calling out.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone here?”
No one answered. He could only hear the constant trickling of the fountain. Walking a little further into the room, Famine turned a corner and found himself in a smaller section of the room. At first he saw nothing. Just as he was about to call out again, he heard someone’s voice.
“Help me!! Please!”
He knew the owner immediately. It was the ghost for whom he was looking. A suddenly movement caught his eye. The young man bolted out from beneath a canopy of green branches with a look of terror on his face. A trio of huge zombies ambled out from behind him with their arms outstretched. He saw Famine and ran towards him with great speed.
“Help me!” he screamed.
Famine stepped forward and met the ghost. “Get behind me.”
Just as he got around him, the zombies approached and stopped a few feet from them. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of these rotting bastards.”
All three zombies were dressed in Edwardian attire and seemed to have been dead a short while. Perhaps they hadn’t gotten the update on how to dress either, thought Famine. While they still had most of their flesh, what remained was bluish-gray and covered in slime and mold. They looked to be fairly young as well. The tallest of the zombies stepped forward and waved a fist at him. His voice sounded as if he were talking through dirt and gravel.
“This isn’t any of your business, kid, get out of way!”
Famine spoke defiantly to the attackers. “That’s not going to happen, I suggest you away and leave this guy alone.”
“Or what?” asked another one of the zombies.
“Or else I’ll kick your rotten asses,” Famine answered.
The trio of the dead laughed and pointed at Famine as if he were the village idiot. The ghost whispered into his ear. “Just scare them if you can. I don’t expect you to fight.”
“I have this,” he replied, “Don’t worry.”
The tall zombie spoke again. “I’m not going to ask you again, buddy. Get back and let us do our business.”
“You really think I’m afraid of you? Please. I’d defeat you all with both arms tied behind my back. You lot are nothing but a bunch of nothings. Three of you against one of him? That’s not manly at all.”
“We’re stronger than we look. We can take you both and then some,” said the zombie who had been silent until now.
“Then come on. I want to see what you have!” Famine shouted.
The tall zombie looked back at his friends and motioned at Famine with his thumb. “Can you believe this guy?”
“Let’s just get him!” shouted another.
Famine stepped closer to the group. “Come on then!”
The tall zombie growled. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you!”
The trio suddenly lunged forward. Famine put out his arms out to defend the ghost. The tall zombie reached them first, trying to fling him off his ward and into the fountain. Famine resisted and held strong, throwing his attacker into a nearby group of small potted trees. The other two zombies had gotten hold of the ghost’s arms and were pulling him in opposite directions. One of them said something about making a wish and the
other laughed. Famine was about to take them when he was grabbed from behind and tossed to the ground with a great force. His body was wracked with sudden sharp pain. A burning sensation began in his chest and began to spread outwards.
The tall zombie looked down at him with a sneer and kicked him in the stomach. He gasped and grabbed his abdomen. The burning now spread through his arms, down his waist, and into his legs. His mind was filled with a loud buzzing and he saw nothing but a binding white light. He felt the tall zombie kick him again but the pain wasn’t as sharp. A sudden rage gripped Famine’s mind and he wanted nothing more than to hurt his attackers. He felt one last kick from the tall zombie before he grabbed the rotting thing’s foot and twisted with all his strength. He heard the thing scream and curse. Famine felt renewed power and rage building up within him and he stood. He could barely see through the haze of light…it was like looking through gauze. The tall zombie was standing awkwardly in front of him swinging his fists. Famine’s anger had grown to a crescendo. He took a shot at the zombie and sent the thing flying across the room. It hit a wall, fell to the floor with a thud, and didn’t get up.
Now that the main perpetrator was dispatched, Famine turned his attention to the other two. They had stopped their attack on the ghost and were staring at him with disbelief. He found his voice. It was deeper and stronger than his usual voice.
“Get away.”
They stepped away from their quarry and tried to escape through the door into the main ballroom. Famine quickly caught up with them, grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, and bashed their heads together. They screamed in unison, much his delight. With a last bit of rage-fueled strength, he kicked one of the zombies square in the ass and whipped the other around to deliver a punch to its rotted face. Famine felt the burning begin to wane.
The buzzing in his ears and the light blinding him began to lessen. By now the tall zombie had gotten up and had collected his equally beaten up friends. It looked at Famine and shook its fist. Famine made a quick move like he was going for them again and the zombies flinched and ran off. He could hear the ghost trying to say something but he was still too far lost to make out what it was. Within seconds, however, the burning had stopped and his head and eyes were clear.
“You got them! You really got them!” said the ghost clutching his chest.
“I did?” asked Famine rubbing his head.
“Yes, you did! Thank you so much!”
The ghost walked over to him with his hand extended. “My name is Devon. Devon Wilshire. I’m new here in the Borderlands.”
Famine brushed off his clothes, smiled, and reached out to shake Devon’s hand. He reminded himself the kid was a ghost and he couldn’t touch him…but he tried to anyway. Devon was a little more solid than he expected. Trying to hide his shock, he spoke in an overly friendly tone. “I’m Famine. It’s nice to meet you, Devon. I’m glad that I could’ve helped you out.”
Devon glanced back to the ballroom. “Those guys didn’t like me much. They were out to get me from the moment they saw me.”
“Really? Why?”
Devon bit his lip. “They didn’t want someone of my nature to be here.”
Famine didn’t understand. He cocked his head to one side. “You mean a ghost?’
“No. I’m a gentleman who prefers the company of other gentlemen. I don’t know the term humans use for it now…I’m sorry. But you know what I mean?”
Famine was dumbstruck. He had never met anyone else like that since he had come the other Realms. The feelings he had been having were ones he had never discussed with The Reaper, Llorona, or Ankou because he felt uncomfortable doing so. Telling Morrigan was easy because she didn’t care. He had felt like he was the only one around like that and was utterly alone. Now here he stood looking at this incredibly handsome being with the same feelings.
“I do. Believe it or not, I’m the same way.”
Devon’s face registered total surprise. “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“No. I was coming to look for you so that I could talk to you. I was hoping that you were like me.”
Devon’s face went from surprised to happy almost instantly. He brushed a lock of ghostly hair from his face and pointed towards the bench in the center of the room. “Let’s have a seat over there and talk.”
The two of them sat and looked into the ballroom. No one spoke for a few seconds. Famine broke the silence.
“I was able to touch you. I haven’t been able to do that with other ghosts before. Are you a real ghost?”
“Yes,” Devon answered, “I am a relatively new one, though. From what I understand that helps.”
Famine was intrigued. He turned and faced Devon. The glowing light from his face cast a warm glow that he found comforting. “How so?”
“Do you know what we are? I mean do you know how being a ghost works?”
“Not really. We sort of keep to ourselves in The Deadlands.”
“I see. Well, ghosts are sorts of stray energies. Instead of being consumed to feed and continue the survival of Death, we were able to get away for one reason or another. We need to be fresh to keep the process alive. Escaping sort of puts us past a ‘best-by date’ and Death loses interest. The collectors hate stale food. We’re tangible for the first few years after dying but lose cohesion as time goes on. Our memories and personas waste away with it. Pretty soon we’re noting more than mindless raw energy. We go on with a vague idea of what it was to be alive but we have no interest in pursuing it. We just exist.”
Famine cast is eyes down. “That’s so sad. Even though I’m dead, I know what it’s like to be alive. I know that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been struggling with it it. I just can’t figure out what I am.”
Devon reached out and touched his shoulder. It was as warm as his glow. “I hope you can find an answer soon. It’s hard to be caught up like that.”
“It is. I just wish I had someone to talk to who knows what it’s like. I have a great friend named Morrigan. She’s helped me through some rough times but she doesn’t know what it’s like being like me. She’s never had to worry about remembering where she came from.”
Devon inched closer to Famine. “I would be glad to help you through whatever it is that you need…if you want.”
He looked directly into Devon’s glowing eyes and grinned. “I think that would be awesome.”
“I’m glad I can be of help.”
Devon locked his eyes onto Famine’s and the two stayed that way for several seconds. Famine suddenly turned away and cast his gaze to his feet. “So yell me a little about yourself, Devon. How long have you been here?”
“Like I said, I am relatively new to this world. I don’t remember an exact time but I don’t think it’s been any longer than a few weeks. I honestly lost track of how time passes since I got here. It’s not the same as it is in the human realm. Anyway, I lived in Boston. My family was pretty wealthy and we lived in a rather large house. We had maids and butlers and all that sort of thing. It was nice because people treated us better.”
Famine looked totally drawn into Devon’s story. “That sounds like a nice life. I don’t remember any of mine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Why?”
“Because my maker took away my memories. He just says I’m better off without them. It just makes me sad, though. I wish I knew where I came from.”
Devon leaned in closer. “Your maker?”“Yeah, I was made by the Reaper…The Grim Reaper….Death itself.”
“Really? Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know that, either. He keeps all that information to himself.”
“That’s hardly fair. He should tell you these things. You have a right to know.”
You have a right to know. Those words struck Famine deeply. Yes, he did have a right to know his past. It would only be then that he could discover more about himself. That might take away some of the anxiety he found himself dealing with. <
br />
“Maybe so but, he’s not going to tell me anything. Sorry my story’s so dull. I’m just a dead boy without any idea of who or what he really is…or where he came from. How did you get here, Devon? How did you die? That is, if you want to tell me.”
Devon glanced at the ballroom. A loud chorus of raucous voices came from the room. He chuckled and then turned his attention back to Famine. “Sounds like they’re having fun in there. No, I don’t mind telling you. I was past my time to meet my parents at a social function and trying to get there was fast as I could. I didn’t think and took a back alley I shouldn’t have. It was really late. There were certain…elements of society…around that part of town, you see. I didn't realize these sorts of people hung around alleys. I didn't them until it was too late. They killed me and took my money ”
Famine’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry!”
Devon smiled and patted his leg. “It was my fault, honey. Like I said, I didn't use my head.”
“That doesn't make it any less tragic. Dead is still dead.”
“That’s sweet sort of thinking. Anyway like you, Famine, I’m a rather lonely thing. I have no one in this realm to be with. I think I died too quickly and didn’t have time to do much. Something about being young when you die makes it harder to make an easy transition. Do you know what I mean?’
Famine knew all too well and he had been told that very recently. Here he was hearing it from someone who knew firsthand what it was like. “I do,” he replied.
“I’m rather glad I ran into you tonight. I think you saved me in more ways than one. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It was nothing, Devon. I don’t know how I did it but I’m glad that I did.”
“Let’s say you meet me tomorrow for a show. I know a delightful group of ghouls who do marvelous musical theatre of sorts.”
Famine’s mind was a jumble of emotions and thoughts. So much had changed so quickly and he was having a hard time taking it all in. It all seemed surreal. But here was a good-looking young man asking him out. What more was there to say? “I think I’d rather like that.”
“Good! Then it’s a date! Say, I—“
Devon’s words were cut off by a familiar raspy voice. “Famine, child! Let’s get out of here!”
Ankou was standing in the doorway with his stovepipe hat in his hands. He was turning it over and over again. “We’ve put in our appearance and it’s time to leave! I want to get the hell out!”
Famine was beyond embarrassed. He stammered. “Uncle Ankou…I’m…not ready…”
Ankou gave him a curious look. “Not ready? What do you mean?”
Famine gestured towards Devon with his head. Ankou nodded and his tone softened. “I see. Well, I hate to break your conversation but we really need to go. Morrrigan's waiting for us in the cart.”
Famine turned to his new paramour and grinned. “I’m sorry. It looks like I have to go now.”
Devon leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “It’s ok, I understand. Just come over to the Scream Queen Theatre tomorrow at nine. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I’ll be there.”
He looked from Ankou to Devon and back to Ankou again before rising and walking to the doorway. He turned and waved at Devon, who smiled and waved back. Once they were out of the room, Ankou spoke again.
“Why were you talking to that ghost and why did he kiss you?”
“Uncle, please.”
“I know what you are, Famine, and I don’t mind. But I think you could find a better being in The Deadlands. Doesn’t Morrigan know any nice young male things?”
Famine shook his head and sighed. “I don’t care about that. Devon was nice and I liked him.”
As they exited the house and went into the night, Ankou put his hat back on. The night sky had been clear when they came in. Now a few wispy purple clouds covered the moon. A few of them streaked the ebony canopy with an unnatural beauty. Ankou glanced up. “Looks like rain. Anyway, far be it from me to tell you how to live young man, but I just don’t think you know much about their kind to get involved.”
“Their kind?”
“Ghosts! I don’t trust them and neither should you.”
“I’ll take my chances, Uncle Ankou. Whatever happens, happens.”
“I hope for your sake nothing happens and I’m wrong. The last thing you need is to have your heart broken.”
Famine stepped into the cart and took a seat next to Morrigan. He pulled his jacket around himself. A cold wind had picked up and made the night chilly. While he tried to put his uncle’s warning out of mind, he thought about the good parts of the night. He had met someone with whom he had a connection. As Ankou yanked the reins and drove the cart away, he hoped the rain would hold off. The last thing he needed to deal with was a storm.
EPISODE NINE:
ONCE HUMAN (
Keeping Up with the Deadlanders Page 12
