by Elisa Hansen
“Not if he listened to me. I didn’t get the chance to explain. We just happen to bump into some dude who’s going exactly where I need to go, and you just let him get away!”
“I do not need him.” The glow went white.
“Well, I do. God! You can’t help me; you’re more bound by Space and Time than ever now. If it weren’t for you creeping him out, he would've listened to me.”
Death looked up from the screen and fixed Emily with a stare.
She stared back. She lasted almost ten seconds before she had to avert her gaze. Okay, so maybe she was a bit creepy too. But nothing like him. She quietly picked at the edge of a jagged broken fingernail. The skin around the nailbed felt loose, itchy. When she peeked back up to Death, he was still staring. “All right, fine,” she muttered.
His attention returned to the screen.
What was so engrossing on that thing? And why was he being so chill all of a sudden? Emily let out a slow breath. It made her chest hurt, but it felt necessary. “If you don’t need them, why did you chase them over here in the first place?”
“Scott Sullivan is a living human.”
“Is that his name? How do you know? Does that thing tell you?”
She leaned in to read the screen, but he turned away from her.
“What about his android? Does it tell you her name too?”
“Her name doesn’t matter to you.”
“Yes, it does.” Emily tilted her face to the sky as she strategized. The flowing cloud wisps made the moon a slow-motion strobe light. “Maybe if I can catch up to them and I know their names or other stuff about them, they’ll listen to me. What else does it say?” Silvery illumination spilled over the pit, and she caught a glimpse of her G18 in the dirt before shadows scampered back across it. It did not look good. “Ugh, robot bitch.”
“It tells me nothing about her.”
Emily crouched and eyed the incline. “I have to get to New York.” The wind in her tangled hair required both hands to keep it out of her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but had to grit her teeth against a sudden clenching in her guts. She eased onto her knees and it faded, but the back of her throat burned. Was this a zombie thing? She didn’t want to think about it. Get to headquarters. “If there’s any place that can save the world, it’s New York.”
Death’s head snapped up. “What?” The wind tugged at his long, tattered sleeves, and impossible volume ebbed and flowed in his robe, but his hood remained in perfect place. How the hell? Wasn’t his hood subject to space and time and wind too? He stared at her expectantly.
Emily blinked back at him as she caught up her hair to braid it into submission. “Um. You asked them about New York before I did.”
Death turned his head and contemplated the horizon. His screen went black, and he tucked it away.
“You did,” she insisted. “What does that Scott guy being a living human have to do with that?”
He turned back to meet her eyes. His burned like pilot lights. “Manhattan,” he said after a moment, “has the most valuable collection of life left. Potential. You’re right. Manhattan…” He lifted a finger as if he would touch it to his unmoving mouth, but it did no more than hover. “The power to reverse the plague is brewing in Manhattan.”
Emily gave up on her braid and returned to him. “Exactly—”
“Manhattan is—”
“The cure—”
“—East.” Death looked again to the horizon. “And so Time is ripe for it. Is it where he is running? It must be.”
“You mean with your horse?” She tugged a strand of hair from her broken fingernail then gnawed at the jagged edge.
“Yes. And it is where I may be able to intercept him myself.” Death’s hands clicked as he brought them together. “Terminate my brethren’s plan for the future of humanity.”
Was there an actual plan? From what they said, it sounded like they meant to passively let the world deteriorate. Was their plan more sinister than that?
“They have led Time astray,” Death said before Emily could stop biting her nail to ask. “If I can catch up to him…” He paused and shook his head. “How can he not realize the gravity of their intentions? He must listen to reason. The balance…”
Emily made herself drop her hand. “So now you want to go to Manhattan too?”
“I must stop Time.”
“Then why did you stop me? Scott and his—”
Death brushed at the air. “You do not need Scott. We can get there without him.” Emily felt a surge of relief at the “we,” but it didn’t do much for her frustration. He retreated from the edge of the rocks.
She did not follow. “How? Do you plan to walk all the way to New York?” Her nail found its way between her teeth again.
He paused. She pulled her finger from her mouth and shoved her hands into her back pockets and waited. Waited.
“They will hurt you, Emily.”
“Oh, please. You were ready to kill me last night.”
“Reap you.”
“Whatever.”
Death turned and walked back to her. As close as he came, she had to tilt her head far back to meet his eyes. She kept her feet planted and forced herself not to chew on her lip. It wasn’t that he made her anxious. She was fine. He was just so… The greenish centers in his eyes flickered like they were taking a thousand snapshots of her upturned face. What did he even see when he looked at her?
“They can’t kill you," Death said. "What they would do would only cause you pain and suffering.”
“You think that scares me?” It didn’t. It couldn’t. She couldn’t let it. “It would be worth it if it worked.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
Emily tore her hands from her pockets. "You—" Her words choked as her broken nail snagged and the whole thing tore off. She slammed her other hand around the finger for a wincing moment. When she dared to examine it, the jagged flesh where the nail hung from its roots looked too gray and bloodless to match the bright raw pain. She shuddered and clenched her hand into a fist.
“I’m a fucking zombie now," she whispered. She set her jaw and lifted her face to Death’s unchanged expression above her. "Nothing scares me. Why should it? The worst has already happened. Nothing except not getting a cure and not stopping this from happening to other people.”
He remained motionless for a long moment before giving a slight tilt of his head. “Vampires scare you.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
“Don’t they?”
“No.” She took a long chest-hurty breath. “I mean…” Vampires? Why the hell would he even mention vampires? She looked down and picked her hanging nail loose, flicking it to the ground with a shudder.
“You need no pretense with me, Emily.”
“It’s not like that.” No way he could understand how important autonomy was to her. Had been. Used to be. And it wasn’t a fear thing. It wasn’t. It was a pride thing. But if he hadn’t worked that out from her story this morning, it wasn’t going to get through his skull. Why waste breath she didn’t even have? She cleared her throat and busied herself with attempting to contain her hair again.
“A vampire was here with them when I arrived. You did not see him.”
“I don’t care.” She contemplated the waning moon as she concentrated on braiding the snarls over her shoulder. The moon reflected sunlight. Totally not fair that it did nothing against vampires. “Seriously. So what? Why are you trying to change the subject? What could a vampire even do to me now?” That was one thing she never had to worry about again. At least until she got cured.
“Not to you…” Death trailed off.
Emily glanced his way. Was he going to finish that thought? “You…” Her hands stilled on her hair at the sight of him. With his head cocked at an angle, the light in his sockets faded, almost too dim to distinguish. His fingers tangled in the sides of his robe. What? She peered over her shoulder, but the night air hung empty behind her. She blinked an
d turned back to him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His eyes flickered. Then his gaze drifted, and his hands fell at his sides.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. She opened her mouth to insist on an answer, but then he finally spoke. “You reminded me of someone.”
“I did?”
He gestured to the hills beyond the pit. “We do not need Scott and his unliving companion to get to Manhattan.”
For a moment, the change of subject annoyed her, but that “we” proved too distracting, too promising to let go. “Okay. But even if we got there without them, how would I get in?” She knotted the end of her braid. “Like you said before, I’ll get blown to pieces by their guard squad before I open my undead mouth.”
“Hm.”
That’s right, hm. She waited to see if he’d offer anything more, then she stepped to his side. “Think about it. If Scott can get in, he can get me in. If I can get him to listen to me.” Another step. Two could play the proximity game. “If you’re worried about them hurting me, come with me.” She lifted a hand, almost touched his sleeve, but hovered above it. “Help me.”
He ignored her gesture and tapped his fingertips together as he gazed east. “If only I had my horse.”
Emily blinked and dropped her hand.
Okay. Fine. Whatever. She strode to the ledge. “Well, I’m going after him.” She turned her back on Death and crouched. “Have fun hitchhiking across the country.”
As she slid down the incline, gravel scattered and rocks broke loose to fall with her, but she landed without injury. She tried to ignore the tender pain where her nail used to be as she searched for her gun, but that made it throb worse. At least she wasn’t full of holes. Without Death, how could she get close enough to talk to Scott Sullivan? She considered terrain shield options, but when she found her G18 among the shadows, the thoughts dissolved, and she groaned. The polymer was scorched and melted by the laser blast, and the trigger would not even fit her finger. “Robot bitch,” she grumbled. “I could kill her.”
“No, you couldn’t.” Death’s voice came from directly behind her.
She jerked up and put a hand to her chest. But nothing raced underneath it. A shudder wracked her frame, and she forced an exhale just to feel it move. "You know what I mean.”
“Unlife is as resistant to my power as undeath.”
His power? His touch killed people, of course, but even when he just stood there, he had an obvious effect on the living. Could she work with that? “Scott trembled like a scared puppy at the sight of you,” she mused. “But his robot was fine the whole time. So, unlife? That’s a thing?”
“I mean nothing to machines like her.” He brushed past Emily across the space. “The living who are not ready for me, like Scott Sullivan, hate and fear me.” He paused at the gap in the walls and gestured for Emily to follow.
“Some people aren’t afraid of death, of you.” She made herself sound as chill as possible as she accepted the invitation. “Or at least they say they aren’t.” She tried to wiggle her slagged gun into its holster, but it refused to fit.
“Do you fear me?”
“No." No? No. That was actually the truth. Instead, she felt… Well, she had a lot on her mind. They emerged into an open area where the wind settled into a soft breeze. "I’ve gotten used to you. And I’m not alive.”
Death stopped, turned around, studied her. "Your fear ended while you yet lived. You invited me. Your time had come. You were ready to embrace me.”
Emily blinked. Why did he have to keep using that word, embrace? His hands lifted as if he meant to demonstrate. Oh my god no. It was too similar to her first vision of him rising from the abyss. She could taste the cold gun again, hear the explosions, the screaming.
She took a quick step back. "I…well…" She glanced away, cleared her throat, and took a moment to note the different paths leading through the rocks around them. "I was out of options."
"Indeed."
Indeed, indeed. Ugh. Get a grip.
She forced another unnatural deep breath and attempted to clear her throat again, but a fit of coughing seized her. Her stomach clenched, gripping tighter than before. The gun fell from her fingers as the pain bent her double. Between ragged inhales, she spat sticky green onto the ground. It left the taste of mildewy towels coating her tongue.
“What the hell?” she gasped. She could feel Death standing there watching her. She turned her back to wipe her mouth. “I thought you said my transformation was complete. What’s happening now?”
No answer.
So he didn’t know that either.
“Am I rotting? Is that it?” She rubbed at her face, shuddering as the pain faded. “Am I just going to rot apart and disappear until I finally die?”
“You will not be dead.”
“Ugh, whatever!” She turned back to him. “Why not just call it that? I’ll be all gone. I don’t get it. If that happens, won’t you take my soul then?”
“Your existence and what you call your soul no longer have anything to do with me no matter what becomes of your body.”
“Are souls not even real? What is it then? What do you call it?”
“Words do not matter.”
“But you reap souls, right?”
“I reap life.”
“But is there a difference? I mean plants don’t have souls. Do animals?”
“I reap human life.”
“Zombies and vampires used to be human.” She snatched up her gun. “But you say you don’t have power over them. Does that mean they don’t have souls anymore? Does that mean I don’t have a soul anymore?”
Death sighed and started walking.
She darted after him. “What about Scott’s robot friend? She doesn’t have a soul, right? I mean some human built her. They couldn’t build a soul into her. No one has that power. I have to have more soul than she does.”
Silence. Walking.
“What’s going to happen to me, then?” She stepped ahead so she could see his face as she matched his pace. “If I rot completely away. There’s just, what, nothing?”
"Why do you think you'll rot completely away? Undeath is immortality." He said the last word with particular disdain.
“So I won’t just keep rotting?”
“It depends if you keep ripping off your own fingernails.”
“What?”
He waved a hand over her. “Your flesh has the look of rot. Your blood is sludge in your veins. Your body cannot heal like a human’s, but your wounds also won’t spread or rot further than their surface appearance.”
So he did know some things about undeath.
Emily picked at her sleeve over the bite on her arm. “So this…?”
“Is just a hole. And so it will remain.” He stopped at a line of boulders. “There is a road beyond these rocks.”
“Hang on.” She moved around him. “Zombies fall apart. They’re animate, constantly decaying corpses.”
“No.”
Yes. She shoved the gun into the back of her pants. “I’ve seen them walk their own feet off.”
“Have you?” Death paused in his progress along the rocks to regard her. “You’ve seen the ones you meant to destroy. Have you ever observed them for lengths of time when left to their own devices without threat or the temptation of human flesh to drive them to distraction?”
“What? How could I?”
He shook his head. “Emily, if you are careful not to further damage your undead flesh, you could last indefinitely. You feel stiffness in your muscles and bones, but you can still bend your joints.”
Emily flexed her hands. What stiffness? “I…”
“Perhaps you are less quick than you were.”
Was that supposed to be a pun? She doubted it; he probably just meant slow. She sure didn’t feel slow. “Is that why the fast ones are fast?” she asked. “They’re not as damaged yet? They get slower after they take hits?” Was she going to get as slow as the
slow ones if she got shot?
“No.”
“What’s the difference then? Why are some zombies fast and manic, and the rest like the walking dead?” Would her speed make a difference for the cure?
“You are quite certain you’ve never been bitten by a vampire?”
She blinked. “Quite.” Maybe he wasn’t listening to her story that morning after all.
“Hm.” He lifted his hands, turned them over as if he expected to see something new about them. “Your speed must be due to my part in your creation.”
“What do vampires—? Wait. I’m like this because of you. Doesn’t that make me less undead?”
“No.” He dropped his hands and drifted through a shadowy space in the tall rocks.
“Wait.” She jogged after him. On the other side of the boulders, she stopped short. After so many hours of uneven wilderness, the desolate stretch of a paved highway snaking into the desert looked out of place in the night.
“Yes?” Death examined both directions.
Emily followed his gaze. Neither went east, but they would cross other roads eventually. One way appeared endless and empty as far as the horizon, nothing but mile markers glittering in the moonlight. If Scott had gone that way, he’d still be in sight. The other way bent around the hill. That’s the way he must have gone. “That’s the way I’m going.” Emily brushed off her hands and faced Death. He stared in the other direction.
“If you’re not coming with me, then I have one more question for you.” She’d hesitated to ask about his brethren; she didn’t want to poke a sore spot. But he was calm now, and she had to know. “What did that hag lady on the zombie horse mean when she said she was my mother?” Pestilence? It felt too weird to say the name aloud.
Death’s head moved left and right as he considered the road. “Just as I bring death to humanity, she brings the plague of the undead.”
“So she’s Undeath?” That name wasn’t much better.
He sighed. “She may as well be.”
“And you two made me this way together.”
“It was not intentional.”
Yeah, she knew his intention. She fought back an irrational scowl. “Why doesn’t she want people to die anymore?”
