by Cerys du Lys
I am trapped in a cage made for dogs and I'm in the most horrifying pain I've ever felt in my life.
"Help me set this up!" someone says; a woman.
I turn towards the voice, keeping my face downwards, trying to at least keep some part of me dry. It doesn't work and the rain collects on my head, soaking my hair, and dripping down onto my forehead and into my eyes, but still I try.
The woman looks familiar. She's pretty and probably about as old as me. Does she work with me? There's another man, too, and he helps her set up a tent alongside my cage. They place it right next to me, on the other side of the bars.
It is a small, regular tent, like one that a younger child might play with in the backyard. It has openings at either side so you can enter from two places. They place one of the openings so that it's at my back. I can see it by looking over my shoulder, but I can't move any more than that. I want to—I need to—but I can't.
Why are they setting up a tent and why won't they let me out of this cage? Why aren't they helping me?
I know why now. I am dead and a zombie and they aren't. They're human and regular and I wish I was too, but I can't be anymore. I desperately want to be normal, but I'm not, and they're afraid of me.
I'm afraid of them, too. I don't know what they're doing.
The woman's name is Desiree and she's a friend of Evan. I went with Evan to a movie theatre last night and we made love in one of the seats. I don't understand how none of the other theatre patrons noticed this, but... no, there was no one else in the theatre except us.
Everything is gone and abandoned and Jonny, who is like me, let us in. He eats popcorn and feels a little better because of it. I think he's lonely and enjoyed the company. I would do anything to visit him right now and escape this rain-filled cage of agony.
The two of them outside my cage set up the tent fast.
"I'll take watch for now," Desiree says.
The man nods to her. "Let me know if you need anything. She doesn't look like she's going anywhere, but better safe than sorry."
But what if I need something? I try to say the words, to ask them for help. The only sound that escapes my throat is a thick, sickening croak.
...
The tent is set up and I am alone again. The man left, going somewhere inside my house. It isn't actually mine, but I've come to think of it that way. It's definitely not mine anymore, though. They've taken it for their own.
The woman, Desiree, went into the tent some time ago. I can't see her now since I'm leaning against the cage, desperately hoping the rain will stop. Thunder roars above me, sounding as if it might strike me down on a whim. Lightning must have flashed but I can't remember seeing it, nor can I see very well with the acidic pitter-patter of rain pelting my body and burning my vision.
I push back against the bars behind me. If I felt better, stronger, maybe I could push them over and free myself, but I don't. I haven't felt strong since I became like this. I'm weak and that's how I ended up this way, isn't it?
Evan is strong. Evan isn't like me. He says he likes me, but he isn't like me.
Was it a lie, though? The man from last night told me that it was planned. He said Evan took me away from my house so they could set up camp here. Why, though?
I'm confused. I'm always confused, but this is even more confusing. If they wanted to take my house, they didn't need to shuffle me away from it. If they came, they could take it, and nothing more. What would I have done about it?
They could trap me, too. They could do anything. I'm nothing right now, no one important. I'm me, Sadie, and only two people care enough to call me by my name.
Evan does because he likes me. I believe this and I don't believe that other man.
Desiree does, but she hates me. She's trapped me here, brought me horrible pain, and even now I know she's hiding in the tent behind me. She's there, safe, and even if she had no tent, the rain doesn't bother her. She could dance in it, sing, splash in puddles and make a mess.
She's pretty, too. Desiree is everything I wish I could be again.
Through the thick sting of rain and the thuds of thunder, I hear the zipper of the tent opening behind me. Why is she opening it? To talk to me and torment me and torture me more?
"Sadie?" she says.
I say nothing. There's nothing to say.
Desiree squeezes close to the bars and I feel the weight of her body pushing against me. I lean against her, but not because I want to; it's impossible for me to move or lean anywhere else. My arms press against the bars and I keep my head down, huddled close to myself. If I shrink, there is less of me, and I won't feel as much pain. That's what I hope, anyways.
Desiree presses a finger through the cage and touches the side of my arm.
My senses flare and I feel her heat. Eyes wide, staring at the ground, I start to breathe heavily and try to calm down. Her finger feels nice, warm, but only there, only in that small place. Her touch isn't like Evan's, but different. Softer and quieter.
"Sadie," she says. "I'm so sorry. I... I was jealous of you. I'm so, so sorry."
I choke down the taste of bile and manage to speak. "Why are you jealous?" I ask.
"I..." She starts to say something, but stops.
I lean against her and I hate her, but the feel of her finger against my arm is like a soothing balm. The rain hurts, it stings, it rips, but a little less now. A very small amount, but it's enough.
"I never knew Evan before," she said. "We met after all this happened. He's the only one in our camp who acted regular, though. Everyone was worried and scared and we all thought the world had gone to shit, but Evan stayed optimistic. He's not always happy, but he's never upset about what happened. He wants it to get better. Everyone else... they... they don't care. They want themselves to feel better and that's it."
I rock against the bars, listening. If I keep my body moving, I think I can avoid some of the raindrops. I know I can't, not really, but I can't make myself not move anymore, either.
"I liked him," Desiree said. "I thought maybe he might start liking me, too. We were friends, but I hoped we could be more. Evan, well... he never hoped that. I was jealous of you two going on a date, and that's no excuse, alright? I understand." Desiree sounds mad; but not at me, at herself. "Evan never brought me anywhere. He never asked me on a date. I tried so hard, but the more I tried the more he avoided me, and then... then there's you. And he hates me, Sadie."
"I'm sorry," I say. Not because I really am, but because it seems like the right thing to say right now.
"No." Desiree is crying. I don't understand it. "No, it's not you. It's my fault. I shouldn't have done it. I'm stupid. I know that and I know I can't do anything about it now. Alex has taken over your house. It's your house, but I destroyed it and I'm so sorry. I swear, I am, and you don't have to believe me, but..."
Someone yells to Desiree from the back porch. "Hey, Desiree? Alex, Evan, and I are heading to get some gas for the generator. We're leaving you and Tom here. Be careful, alright? It doesn't look like she's going anywhere, but just in case."
The tent, I realize, is set up so that neither side is facing the house. Desiree abandons me, leaving me alone again, and the thin trail of heat from her finger dissipates in the rain like a quick cloud of fog.
I hear her shuffle through the tent, though I can't look. The only thing I can do right now is turn to the side. I see the man, but he doesn't bother looking at me. Desiree exits through the other side of the tent.
"Yeah, James. I'm all set," Desiree says. "It's kind of nice out here. The tent reminds me of camping trips in the rain when I was young. I'll let Tom know if I need anything. I should be fine, though."
James leaves and Desiree returns.
"They're leaving," she says. "They should be gone for an hour or two. I know I can't make up for what I did, but I'm going to get you out of there."
...
I lean against the bars, half sitting on the grass and partway on the edge of the dog b
ed. I am an animal, apparently, fit for captivity and barely allowed any common decency. To protect them from me, I guess. No one wants to protect me from this, though. No one's even thought about that.
Maybe Desiree has. I don't know. She didn't think about it before all this happened, but she's thought about it now.
She has a small wire cutter and she uses it to snip the cage. Not all at once, nor too fast, just in case. I doubt anyone can hear her, but Evan, Alex, and the other man have only just left. They may return, they might have forgotten something. I don't know. It's hard to think right now.
The rain hits me, assaulting me, but there's been so much rain and for so long now that it almost feels normal. I feel as if I've lived this way forever, lived with the sensation of welts and bruises covering my entire body for my entire life. It hurts, but it is bright, too. Sharp, flashing, and it is who I am now.
"It's the rain, isn't it?" Desiree asks.
"Yes," I say.
"Evan told me about yesterday. He mentioned those people in the theatre and how they ran from the fire sprinkler system. He kept looking out the window upstairs, staring at you. He said he hoped it didn't rain because he thought there was something bad about it for people like you. He tried to tell Alex, but Alex refused to listen. Alex said not to worry about it because you weren't a witch from Oz. I guess it was supposed to be a joke, but I think it just pissed Evan off more."
"It hurts," I say, trying to find the strength to speak without wanting to bite my tongue from the pain. "I don't know why. Water always hurts. We can drink it alright for some reason, but when it's on the outside of our bodies, it's so painful."
"I'm sorry," she says.
"It's not your fault." And in some rare display of my humanity, I add, "I don't think either of us checked the news for today's weather."
Desiree laughs. She tries to stifle it because this isn't a funny situation, but she can't. She laughs and she presses her entire hand through the hole in the cage she's made. Her fingers wrap around my arm and her palm presses lightly into my skin. It's a soft, friendly touch, and though I'm unsure if she's a friend or not, I like it.
"I always thought Evan was a little crazy," Desiree says. "A good kind of crazy, but still crazy. You haven't seem them—or, I guess maybe you have—but it's so dangerous now. The zombies... I mean, you know? I don't know what to call them now. I lived here alone and my family lived over a hundred miles away, so I have no idea what happened to them, but I've seen what can happen to us."
"I know," I say, and I nod. Then I say something I don't think I should say, but I say it anyways. "I... I think that some of us enjoy it. I don't know for sure, but I think they do."
"What?" Desiree asks. She clips free more of the cage and there's a larger hole now. Not enough for either of us to move our entire bodies through, but large enough for both arms or a head.
"We don't need to eat anyone," I say. "I think it probably does help, but I haven't. Evan and I met another man like me yesterday, too, and he said he hasn't ever, either. We don't need to, but I know that the warmth helps. It's small and there's always a little urge to get warm in any way I can, but I think some of us, the others like me, want to do it. I think they want to kill and to eat and to..."
I don't say any more. I don't even know if any of this is true. It's an idea I've had for awhile now, but I always wanted to forget it. I want to think that everyone is almost normal and that we are a victim of consequence, but then I think that some of the others embrace their abnormality and truly do become zombies and monsters.
They are angry and they want to destroy and in this world they're given free reign to do what they like. Others do it, so why shouldn't they? Others do it because they give in, or they feel like they need to and the pressure or depression or isolation becomes too much. Still more do it because they want to and because they desire it. They are cold like me, and isolated, but in an entirely different way. They don't live in a harsh, violent world, they have become it and want it to prosper in it.
"I don't know," Desiree says. "You're not like that, though. I don't think you'll ever be like that. I don't know you, Sadie, but Evan really likes you. He talked about you all last night. Not constantly, but every so often. I don't think either of us could sleep and Alex forced us to stay in the same room, so..."
"You slept together?" I ask. I think knowing the answer will be painful, but I don't know if anything can be more painful than the rain. It's better if I find out now than when I feel good and regular. If I ever feel good and regular again, that is.
"Just in the same bed," she says hastily. "Not anything else." I get the feeling she's hiding something from me, but I don't ask what. Maybe I don't actually want to know. "I like Evan, but he likes you. I just want to be his friend still. I don't know. He wouldn't stop talking about you, anyways. He'd say something fast, then stop, and neither of us would say anything more for a minute, then he'd say something else, and... he did that all night. It was sweet, you know? Not for me, but for you, and..."
"He asked you to help me, didn't he?" I ask.
"No," Desiree replies, deadpan. She sounded happier before, but now she's not. "Evan's given up. It's honestly really sad. Alex is blackmailing him. He says that if Evan helps fortify and secure a place here until spring, he'll let you and him escape then, but only if he doesn't come near you or say anything to anyone about you. I think Evan's planning to do that, or try, but I don't want him to. You two need to be together."
I cry and I don't know why I'm crying. Crying hurts, but it's already raining and nothing can hurt as much as that. The tears slip down my cheeks and I taste salt on my lips. It reminds me a little of the popcorn from last night. I only ate a few fluffed kernels, but the memory of it brings me some small amount of happiness. With Evan.
He's trapped now, like me. We're both a mess. I doubt the pain he's feeling is like mine, but I don't think either of our pains are any less than the other; we're both the same, but different.
We need to be together, Desiree said.
"What about you?" I ask.
"I'll come back here," Desiree says. "I actually have no idea how this is going to work. Evan is gone, but after they return, once Alex realizes you're missing..."
"Evan will get in trouble," I say, finishing her sentence.
"We need to figure out a way to get him away from there before they return," she says.
"How are we going to leave in the first place?" I ask. "Isn't there another man inside still?"
"Right," Desiree says. I feel the shake of her body pressing against the bars of my cage as she nods. "I think I have that part settled. I know it's hard, but wait here a moment, alright? I almost have this cut away and then we can leave. I'll see if I can find a raincoat, too."
I nod feebly and murmur a "yes" but what else can I do? If I don't wait here, where will I go? There's nowhere to go.
Desiree leaves, shuffling out of the tent, and out of the corner of my eye I see her jogging through the rain towards the house.
...
This was a risk, Desiree thought, but she needed to do it. She hadn't taken risks since everything had gone to hell almost half a year ago, but she would now. She hadn't had a reason to before, hadn't thought she should. Everyone wanted to live quietly, right? They wanted to pretend like nothing happened and plow over the ruins so they could build anew.
She couldn't do that anymore. Evan never wanted to escape, he wanted to return. He wanted to fix the world and rebuild what was left of it. To Desiree, Evan was wonderful. He didn't try to sugarcoat anything or hide behind difficulties and he didn't change who he was. Evan was real and regular and maybe the only normal person left in the entire world.
And she'd tried to destroy that. It hadn't occurred to her before, but she ended up trying to completely obliterate the exact thing that she loved about Evan. His smile and optimism, his absolute assurance that maybe everything wasn't the best ever, but it'd all work out in the end.
She coul
dn't completely fix it, she knew. But she refused to pretend like nothing happened. She wouldn't try to plow over her problems and attempt to build her relationship with Evan anew. She would rebuild what she'd broken, even if she couldn't, and that was it.
She doubted he'd want to talk to her again and that was fine. Last night, sleeping fitfully next to him, listening to him open up to her, had been the best night of her life. She was tired, so tired, but it didn't matter. It seemed a tad depressing to say, but she'd experienced the highlight of her life with Evan last night, and she doubted anything else could come close.
It didn't depress her, though, it made her feel optimistic. It made her feel real and regular and normal. And maybe, just maybe, she could be wonderful, too. Like Evan. She knew she'd never be as wonderful to Evan as Sadie was, but she could be wonderful for herself. She wanted to try.
Opening the glass door on the back porch of Sadie's home, Desiree let herself inside. Rain dripped off her clothes and soaked the floor beneath her, leaving a puddle of wetness by her feet. Tom sat on the couch, lounging around, staring at the bleak skyline through the living room window.
"Hey," she said.
"How's it going?" he asked. "Everything good?"
"Yeah, it's just..." She hesitated, grinning.
"Yeah? It's just what?"
"I know the guys are going to get gas for the generator, but you know they're going to want to use it sparingly, right? It's not like we can just kick back and relax on the couch and watch a movie or anything."
"Fucking right," Tom said, grumbling. "I used to love watching football on Sundays. I don't even know when Sunday is now."
Desiree knew this. Tom always whined about it. He was jealous of Evan and his laptop and solar array and small DVD collection. Desiree mentioned it to Evan once, and he said if Tom just asked he'd let him borrow the computer (under supervision, of course) so he could watch a movie or whatever, but Tom never asked. Tom was one of those people who liked to complain, but didn't want to put forth effort to fix his grievances.
"The generator has some gas left in it," Desiree said. "I watched a movie last night. What Alex doesn't know won't hurt him, right? If you want to help me power it up, you should have an hour or so before they return. You could watch something quick. I doubt Alex will let anyone do it later, so..."
