The Loving Dead

by Amelia Beamer

  She let out a sigh that she hoped sounded romantic. She leaned close and spoke in his ear. “I guess I’d say my sweetie took me out on a Zeppelin ride.” She almost said “sugar daddy,” but changed her mind. Walter was charming in his way. He always smelled good, and he kissed well, and when she was with him she felt safe. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start having real feelings for him. She wouldn’t tell him, though; he wouldn’t like that.

  He put an arm around her. She’d said the right thing, then. She had no intentions of telling anyone about what they did together. Only her brother Jacob knew anything about him. She didn’t like to think of herself as the kind of girl who would do what she was doing. Over coffee, on their first meeting, Walter had made clear his proposition. It wasn’t like anything she’d done before. She was curious, and at the same time she wanted to run and tell someone. She knew that if she had, it would have been funny, and she would have had to turn him down. Walter gave her the impression, maybe purposefully, that he was lonely. And though she’d agreed to do what he wanted, he still insisted on a courtship period of sorts. Lingering glances, holding hands at the movies. Nice restaurants. Museums. He was the only person Kate knew who actually went to theatre and opera. She went with him when he asked, but after the first few times she stopped being impressed. She’d excuse herself during the intermission and walk around, watching the old men checking her out. She’d thought about chatting them up. For the amount of money Walter spent on dinner and a show, she could throw a huge party, or go gonzo at her favorite bookstores. But she did enjoy the time with him. He made it easy.

  So when he finally kissed her after dinner, she let him take her to a hotel. He’d booked the room in advance, she realized, which was a disappointment. After that, they still did cultural stuff, but it usually ended in sex. They were discreet: hotels—the kind with a minibar and name brand shampoo. They never stayed the night. His wife went out of town regularly, and Kate had worried about what she’d say when he finally invited her over. She found the thought of going to his house skeevy, but he never asked, and then she started to wish he would so that she could turn him down. It was one thing to fuck a guy, and it was another to sleep next to him. Asleep, she might fart or snore or steal the bedclothes. He might. They’d both have morning breath. She’d have to trust that he would find it charming, or at least not mind too much. It was like that old joke about the woman who wants to ask her boyfriend to help pay for her birth control pills, but she doesn’t know him well enough to talk about money.

  “So what are you reading?” Walter asked. Not, “Have you read anything lately?” but “What are you reading?” She liked that.

  “The Firedrake, on your recommendation. Turns out it’s not about dragons at all. I was telling my brother about it and he made a joke about how drakes were really just male ducks. As in, ‘I thought this dragon would be a little scarier. That it wouldn’t waddle so much.’”

  He smiled. “But do you like it?”

  “Oh, yeah. Once I got used to how short the sentences are.”

  They talked about the novel for a while, and then about reading and storytelling. He knew a lot, and liked to talk about it, but he also liked it when Kate came up with stuff. She wished she were in school full time, not just because it would give her more to crib from, but because she found books fascinating. She’d taken a few classes, and still wanted to get her degree in literature, though she knew it would largely be useless in terms of getting a job. Even in-state tuition was steep. She’d vaguely hoped she could get Walter to throw down for it, if things were still going well by the fall. She was waiting for him to offer, though she wasn’t sure she’d accept it.

  On the intercom, Matt was keeping up a steady patter about the landscape and the features of the airship. “The hull is only 2,200 pounds, and the entire ship is kept alight by the second lightest element in the universe, helium.”

  “He, he, he,” Walter said.

  “What do you take me for, a chemistry major?” Still, she smiled. Kate was grateful for the relative quiet. The view distracted the other passengers, who were talking and gesturing at the landscape. Kate and Walter made their way back to the loveseat in the rear of the cabin. The conversation of passengers around them was calm, almost somnolent, punctuated by little gasps and exhalations of awe. Kate realized that she hadn’t slept much. She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

  The hills of Marin were in the distance, and soon they were looking out at ocean and islands, bridge and city. San Francisco. It was beautiful. Adrift, Kate found herself thinking about how it had felt last night. Michael’s fingers, surprisingly gentle. How much she’d needed to come, and how easy it had been. She thought about Jamie’s warm nipples in her mouth. How patient Jamie had been. She rewound to the beginning, in Jamie’s car, and wished she were back there again. She’d take Jamie somewhere else, somewhere safe, and none of the other events of last night would happen. No one would turn into a zombie. She wouldn’t hook up with Michael. It would be like every other day. Kate didn’t sleep around normally; she preferred her adventure and drama to come from movies and books. She liked Walter because he was drama-free. Mature. The sex was pretty good; almost as good as he thought it was. She liked being with him because she was in control. He wanted her more than she wanted him. He couldn’t hurt her.

  Kate became aware of how long she’d been quiet. “So it’s St. Peter’s day off,” she said. “Jesus is filling in at the Pearly Gates, and this old man comes up in the line. It’s near the end of the day, and he’s tired of the normal question-and-answer that Petey always does. Instead Jesus says, ‘Why do you think you’re here?’ It’s kind of like what the cop says to you after he pulls you over. Old man says, without skipping a beat, ‘I am merely an old carpenter. I have been looking my entire life for my long-lost son. I have looked everywhere in lands known and unknown. People have said he would be here.’ The old man is obviously emotional. Jesus is affected; everyone knows that Jesus must have daddy issues, what with a mom who swore she was a virgin. Jesus looks closer at the man’s face. His nose looks awfully familiar. Jesus drops to his knees and says, ‘Father?’”

  “Wait,” Walter said. “Before that, Jesus says, ‘What does your son look like?’ Old man says, ‘He has holes in his hands.’ Jesus says, ‘I have holes in my hands.’ Old man says, ‘And he has holes in his feet,’ Jesus says, ‘I have holes in my feet.’ Jesus drops to his knees and says, ‘Father?’ and the old man says ‘Pinocchio?’ That was one of my mother’s favorite jokes.”

  “It’s funnier your way.” Neither of them laughed. She tried to think of another joke; she’d told Walter all of her good ones already.

  “Honey? Are you OK?” a man said, loud enough to make her turn and look. “Honey?”

  The pink-haired girl sat on the floor. She was no older than Kate, and she had long nails the same color as her hair. She was skinny enough that you might think she was a dancer, or an anorexic. Kate would have tried to befriend her if they’d worked together, or frequented the same coffee shop: she looked like a nice girl. Perhaps she was here with her sugar daddy, too. He squatted near her, reaching down a hand to help her up.

  “Rebecca?” a middle-aged woman said. “Sweetheart?” Kate hadn’t realized the woman was with the girl and the man. That explained everything; they were a family. She calculated what it would cost for the three of them to be up in the Zeppelin. She had a working-class disdain for rich people. Kate’s own folks considered McDonald’s a sit-down meal.

  The girl let out a low moan. It was the same exact moan as Jamie’s, when things went bad. Kate’s mouth went dry. This couldn’t be happening. She looked around the airship cabin. Windows, windows everywhere, but a drop of a thousand feet. She wasn’t going to get out of this.

  “Something’s happening,” the girl said. Jamie had said something like that. So had Cameron, Kate thought.

  The girl’s eyes were white.

  “Honey. Let me help you up,” her father s
aid.

  “No,” Kate said. “Don’t touch her.” She moved towards them. Too slowly.

  The girl took his hand and brought it to her mouth. She bit the side of his palm. He yelped. She’d drawn blood. She lay on her back in the aisle, looking at her hand as if it had betrayed her. Then she smiled, and licked her lips. The whole cabin was watching by now, their chatter ceased.

  Kate cursed. She should never have left home. Abandoned Michael to deal with their friends. She’d been a selfish asshole, running away as if none of the zombie business had been real. She angled towards the flight attendant; pulled him a few steps away, trying to be discreet. “We need to land this airship,” she said. “If we can get everyone off the ship quickly, we can avoid making a scene.” The cabin was small; there was nowhere to quietly stash a zombie. Perhaps they could tie her to a chair.

  “We’re on our way back,” the flight attendant said. Below the ship was nothing but ocean and rocky islands.

  “How soon?”

  “Twenty minutes, maybe a little less. We can’t just land anywhere, you know. It takes a landing crew, a big flat space.”

  “You understand that this is a serious medical emergency?” Kate said, trying to keep her tone even.

  He ran his fingers through his pretty hair. “What?”

  Kate took a deep breath, wishing Michael were there. Then she stopped wishing that and started wishing she’d never left the house. She sat next to the girl, who parted her lips and flicked her gaze over Kate, sizing her up. The girl moved her mouth, as if trying to work out what to say. She propped herself up on her elbows, jutting out her breasts. Already her movements were jerky and unnatural.

  “Excuse me,” Kate said. “I don’t want to do this, but it’s best for all.” She straddled the girl, who let out another moan. Kate put her hands on the girl’s forearms, trying to judge whether she was more afraid of being bitten or scratched.

  “What are you doing?” the middle-aged man who wasn’t the girl’s sugar daddy asked. “Get away from her.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Kate lied, smiling at the parents. “You have to trust me.” She turned to Walter. “Give me your belt.”

  He stood in the aisle. “Kate? What’s going on?” Walter put his hands in his pockets and then took them out and put them on his hips.

  “She’s not in her right mind. We need to help her.” Kate looked to the group of watching passengers. She didn’t want to be doing this. “Please, you have to believe me.”

  “How dare you insult my daughter?” the woman said, raising her voice. “She’s Phi Beta Kappa!”

  “She’s going to be a zombie,” Kate said. “Walter, that belt, please.”

  “You’re not doing anything to my daughter,” the man said. “What is this spectacle about? Rebecca, you stop this right now.”

  His daughter bared her teeth and started humping Kate.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Kate said. The girl’s pubic bone was positioned exactly right. She shifted her weight onto her thighs, over the girl’s hips, hoping to still the girl’s movements. Kate tightened her grip on the girl’s forearms.

  The girl’s mother broke the moment. “Rebecca, honey, do you have something to tell us?” Her voice had lost its anger. “Because we’ll love you, no matter what, you know that. Your cousin came out, and everything was fine, remember? Have you been together long?” She smiled at Kate. “What’s your name, love?” Her smile was meant to cover her panicked tone, the way that women hide things.

  “Wish it were that easy,” Kate said. “I mean, not to imply that your daughter’s easy.” She willed herself not to blush. What was she doing? She shifted to kneeling, her shins on the girl’s thighs, creating a safe distance between them. “My name is Kate.”

  “Alex, and my husband is Jerry.”

  Kate did not reach up to shake Alex’s proffered hand. The zombie licked her lips. There was blood on her teeth. This couldn’t go on. Kate took another look around the cabin. Even the cockpit had no door. There was nowhere to put a zombie. But there was another door. The bathroom, she remembered.

  “Walter, please,” she said. “Your belt.”

  From behind Kate came a familiar sigh, and a familiar sound of a clasp unfastening, and leather sliding against fabric. “Anything for you, honey. But if you think you’re scoring points with this coming-out story, it isn’t doing anything for me.” He was joking, from his tone of voice, but also concerned, and confused.

  The girl exposed her neck, the universal submissive gesture. Kate had a distinct urge to see what that pale, perfect skin would taste like. She pushed the thought away. Then reconsidered. She was missing something important. Then she saw it. The zombie’s skin was unbroken; there were no obvious marks. The girl turned her head, showing off the other side of her neck. The skin was unbroken. Kate looked at the girl’s arms and hands. There were no marks.

  The father had his bitten hand in his mouth. He was drooling blood into a Kleenex. He gripped the back of a chair with his other hand. He seemed like the kind of guy who would faint at anything worse than a scratch. How long had it taken with Cameron? Ten minutes? They’d been on the airship longer than that, so if the girl had been bitten, earlier, maybe it was a matter of metabolism. Maybe girls could hold out longer. But that didn’t entirely explain how Jamie had taken hours to turn. Jamie hadn’t had any bites, either. There had to be more than one vector, unless it was airborne. Kate wouldn’t let herself consider that possibility. Was it an STD? Then why hadn’t Kate gotten it herself? Perhaps some people were immune. Kate hoped she was.

  “Is she OK?” a woman asked. As if given permission by the comment, everyone else in the cabin had something to say.

  “What are you doing? Why are you sitting on that poor girl?”

  “Are you bleeding, sir?”

  “You should tie her up.”

  “Throw her out the window!” Everyone had an opinion.

  “Oh, look! Alcatraz,” one woman said, distracted by the view.

  “You know, I hate to say it, but her family could sue you, child,” a man said. “Good Samaritan laws aren’t as strong as they could be. My firm would be available to represent you if necessary. Your father here can serve as a witness.”

  “Everyone please calm down and return to your seats,” one of the pilots called.

  Kate couldn’t take it anymore. “Simon says everyone take one giant step back,” she said in a threatening voice.

  The group stood back, except for Walter, who said, “Mother, may I?” He wasn’t one to leave a straight line lying on the table.

  “No, Daddy,” she said without thinking. She’d meant to call him “Daddy” for some time now; he’d hinted that he wanted her to, but she’d held off, never sure if he didn’t actually mean the opposite. “Tie her hands for me,” Kate said. She considered the mechanics of the situation. “Slip the belt in behind her knees, then raise it up to above her waist and cinch it around her hands. Got it?” Kate looked at Walter to make sure he understood. “You have to trust me.”

  He winked. Maybe this was turning him on; maybe he thought this was a stunt. She could feel Walter working the belt up behind the girl’s thighs. Kate moved to give him room. He tightened the belt over the girl’s hands, latching it at the loosest hole. Walter was a trim enough man. Then he grazed Kate’s ass with both hands. At least she hoped it was Walter’s hands.

  “If everyone could please be seated,” the flight attendant said in a weak voice.

  The girl moaned, and Kate sat gently on her rib cage, holding her elbows. “Sorry,” she whispered to the girl. The universe was telling her she shouldn’t have left the house. Everyone there might be zombies already. She’d have nothing left to go home to. Dealing with this situation wasn’t going to make amends for abandoning her friends, but she had to do something if she hoped to see them again.

  “What are you doing?” the girl’s father said. “I’ll sue you for all you’re worth, child, you and your father.” The girl’s
mother started crying.

  “Someone open the bathroom door?” Kate said. “We can put her in there. Just for now, until we land, and we can radio for an ambulance to meet us.”

  “Just let her up, so that she can sit down,” her father said. “She’s not hurting anyone.” He put his bitten hand in his pocket, and wiped the blood from his lips onto the sleeve of his sport coat.

  “Throw her out the window!” a man said.

  The bathroom probably couldn’t be locked from the outside, while a seatbelt would hold the girl but not keep her from biting someone else. Throwing the girl out of a window was beyond considering, although they did open. Kate took a breath to explain.

  “You’re not sticking her in the bathroom,” the girl’s father said. He was distraught, one arm around the girl’s mother. “We don’t even know what’s wrong with her. I don’t think it’s an overdose.”

  “Um, if everyone could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts for landing,” the flight attendant said again.

  “You’re kidding,” Kate said. She half-rose from the zombie, then turned the girl face-down. The zombie drummed her toes on the floor. She turned her head to the side; her tongue protruded. It was already turning gray. Soon the only pink on the girl would be her hair and nails.

  “Sorry,” the flight attendant said. “FAA regulations. If you can get off of the girl, perhaps she can be seated.”

  Kate grew angry. She turned to the flight attendant. “You people don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

  “Do you?” the girl’s father snapped. “Show some respect. I ought to show you the back of my hand.”

  “Which hand, the one she bit?” Kate couldn’t stop herself. She looked to Walter, who shook his head. The girl’s father outweighed Walter, and the fight would not be in his favor. The girl’s father grabbed Kate’s hair, pulling her to her feet. Kate struggled, her vision blurring from the pain. “Ow, fuck,” she said.

  The man let go, looking ashamed. Kate fell into the aisle.