The Ghosts of the Zombie Apocalypse (4 page)

  The man sighed with relief as he crossed over the threshold of the city’s border and into a blanket of open fields...as he fell flat on his face. It looked as though he had tripped by accident but when Henrietta looked down at him he was hugging the ground happily.

  For the rest of the day the man walked steadily away from the city toward a mountain range in the distance. Surprising enough, there was a large lack of things trying to kill him out in the field. Well there was that land slide that sent him sliding down into a raging river full of rapids which threw him out on the other side just as wild dogs started barking at him from the opposite bank where he fell in. After watching that kind of thing happen all day was beginning to make Henrietta feel kinda desensitized.

  Watching this man dodge mind blowing danger by happenstance lost its thrill when you finally accept that he isn't going to die by any normal means. Invulnerability really had a way of killing the fun of danger when there wasn’t any real consequence. It wasn't that she wanted him to die now, it was more she was just exhausted from being on the edge of her seat that he might die at any time. It was like watching daredevils do mind blowing stunts all day without incident. She understood that the stunt is suppose to go off without a hitch but the thrill of it all depended on the illusion that everything could go very wrong at any time. That’s what made danger exciting.

  As the sun was setting behind the ash swollen world, Henrietta found that they had made it all the way to the middle of a forest. The man looked exhausted from all the walking and surviving he had to do today. She had to admit that she was beginning to admire his resilience, especially for being the most interesting uninteresting man in the zombie apocalypse.

  As a ghost that tells and listens to stories for her entire afterlife so far, the only real story they really had left to tell were their experiences. Henrietta reasoned that if this man could ever find anyone to talk to he would be crazy interesting simply for surviving this long even before he got into surviving all the extra crazy stuff he had been through. In a weird way she was suspecting that the universe was making up for such a lack of personality for him by dumping every experience on him all at once. The universe was starting to appear weird like that.

  In the twilit of dusk the man stumbled his way over some roots to a nook in a nearby tree. He then laid down comfortably in it and closed his eyes. Henrietta sat there watching him until he fell asleep. There wasn’t any stars out tonight due to the ashen cloud cover so she got up and started to walk around the forest. It was then that she realized that the city wasn’t hit by a nuke. This forest wasn’t that far from the city, if it had been nuked these trees would have been splinters. That realization just made her ask the question; who would want to fire bomb a city this late in the apocalypse?

  Henrietta floated up above the tree canopy and sat in the branches as she looked out and watched the city burn. The city’s flames had died down to a softer orange glow. It felt strange to watch it burn down to the ground. She had spent most of her adult life in that city and all of her death. She was very attached to that city but part of her was also glad to see it gone. It was a feeling that she didn’t know she had. Death was weird.

  Henrietta sat all night staring out at the orange cityscape until the sun began to peak its head over the horizon. She began to yawn as she stretched her arms purely out of habit before she descended to the forest floor. Landing with a *fwoof* that made the ash and leaves scatter, she began to look around for the tree that she left the man at last night. When she quickly spotted the tree she found the man still asleep where she left him. H
HH
e looked so peaceful as he slept curled up into a ball like an adorable soot covered puppy.

  With the man clearly still exhausted from yesterdays exploits Henrietta decided to go and look around. The forest was green and lush with ferns and moss. After a bit of wandering she found a flock of deer. As she approached them they looked up and bolted away as if spooked by her.

  “Well that’s something new.”

  As Henrietta wandered around some more it became apparent that the forest felt so alive, more so than she could think a forest would normally be. It may have been her ghost eyes messing with her but everything had such a healthy glow irradiating from them. Up in the distance she spied a lone cabin. It stood out but only so much. It really looked like just another part of the forest.

  Making her way over to the cabin Henrietta felt full of curiosity. It was small and charmingly covered in moss. As she stepped up to the front door it burst open as a gunshot burst out through it instantly striking the man behind her who she thought was still asleep in that tree. Somehow he had noiselessly made his way here which unsettled her just as much as it did to see him get shot. As he fell to the ground a curmudgeonly old woman came out holding her shotgun ready. She kept it trained on the fallen man as she cocked it sending a spent shell bouncing away.

  "Oh my God!" Henrietta shouted out of shock "Why did you do that!? He was still alive!"

  "Really?" The old woman said with more youth in her voice than Henrietta expected “He looked pretty dead to me.” She went over and nudged him with her boot.

  “Looks even more so now.”

  Henrietta stared dumbfounded at the old woman as she patiently glared back at her with one eye while the other one watched the fallen man like a hawk.

  "Well?" The old woman said "Aren't ya gonna say something? It's ain't every day you get a response, don’t ya? At least not from the likes of me now anyways."

  "Lady." Henrietta said flatly after the shock passed "After the yesterday I had following this man...not a lot is gonna surprise me today."

  The lady grinned at her and cackled. It was a proper cackle too. The man started to moan which made her re-aim her shotgun with purpose.

  "He's not dead." Henrietta said "I'd bet anything on that."

  "A bit special is he?" The lady said not taking her eyes off the man for a second.

  "Survived two building explosions, a fire bombing, accidentally forged a high river through some bad rapids, and no zombie pays attention to him."

  "Sounds dead enough to me." The lady said ready to fire

  "...and cries to himself."

  The lady hesitated. She
was
looking a lot less old now and
a lot
more like a lady.

  "Ah hell." She said lowering her gun. "You better come inside while I fix him up."

  The lady went inside and shut the door tightly as Henrietta followed her through it. The cabin was neat and clean with a lot of assorted things hanging on the walls. A good portion of it was covered with strung up drying herbs.

  "My name is Mist." Mist said as she grabbed some assorted herbs off the wall. "Invincible your man is, is he?"

  "Not in the normal sense but yes. It’s that or he is one crazy indestructible zombie who likes to gaze out at the stars and sleep out of the wind."

  "That don't mean he hasn't turned in between now and then you know. Tricky thing zombieism. By the way, where is your corpse? I only ever seen ghosts following their own flesh now a days."

  "I sorta...lost track of it when he fell out of a window and distracted me..." Henrietta said as she looked and felt embarrassed by this.

  Mist gave her a long glaring look.

  "So it seems..." Mist said making it sound like it meant a lot more than the sum of her words. "Anyways here hold this."

  Mist handed Henrietta a bowl and suddenly let go of it. Henrietta leapt out to catch it but it flew threw her fingers as if they weren’t even there. The bowl bounced on the ground while a series of emotions crossed Henrietta's face, mainly bewilderment, shock, irritation, embarrassment, and most importantly surprise that she tried to catch it. Mist just stood there studying her.

  Henrietta looked up at Mist annoyed "You know I'm dead don't ya!"

  Mist glared at Henrietta just a second longer than what she felt comfortable. "Sorry about that, it must have slipped my mind with me being so old and alone out here. Nothing to worry about though. The bowl was empty."

  Mist picked up the bowl and put in some herbs when she began to meticulously grind them up.

  "So when did you die?" Mist said conversationally

  "It was about...four months now...I think."

  "Bad death was it?"

  "I thought it was until I seen a hundred more like it. It happened before I knew about the outbreak...it was before any of us knew. We...I mean me and my friends. We were out jogging when we were…over ran. Some of us were run over by cars trying to escape as we tried to out run…all of
them
." Henrietta said as she stared at her feet.

  "You never talked about it to anyone else yet, have you."

  It wasn't a question. Henrietta shook her head no.

  "We, I mean the other ghosts and I, don't talk about our own deaths much. We save our swan song for when we get desperate. Mostly we focus on other stories."

  "Like ones about the survivors your corpses kill."

  "Yea...like those." Henrietta said as she felt put on the spot. Oddly she felt responsible for her corpse’s actions for the first time ever.

  "Don't look like that. No one can blame you for what your disembodied animated corpse does with its free time."

  Henrietta looked a little relieved.

  "But I can blame you for taking pride in what it does. Really, you all should be ashamed."

  "Well it's not like we can make up our own stories now can we!" Henrietta said defensively. She felt ashamed and angry that this woman was pointing out her secret shame.

  "Is that what you all think? Goodness gracious."

  "What!"

  "Nothing, nothing. Here smell this."

  "Smells like peppermint."

  "Really? Needs more rosemary then."

  "No. No! Don't change the subject! Go back to what you meant."

  "Oh you mean about how ghosts are made? Well when one ghosts love another very much-"

  "-What!?" Henrietta interrupted "No! I mean about the-wait what? How ghosts are made? What are you-? Uh...What? I...I think...I think. Whut? Uhhh…I'm getting kinda...tired."

  "Well go have a nap and I'll tend to your totally not dead friend outside. There is a nice ghost bead in the attic that you can rest in."

  "That...What?...That sounds...sounds nice? How do you...*yawn*…make a…*yawn*…a ghost…bed."

  Mist took Henrietta gently by her ghostly arm and lead her upstairs.

  "You make it out of spirit wood and moth silk cloth.”

  “That can’t *yawn* possibly…be a real thing.” Henrietta sleepily said skeptically.

“It’s not, but it makes a good lie.” Mist said bringing her to a small hand carved wooden cot.

  Plush white sheets covered the mattress and looked invitingly soft as Mist helped Henrietta lay down on it.

  “Sleep tight.” Mist said motherly before she left the room.

  Henrietta closed her eyes as the world went electric. She felt ghostly and light, even more so than normal. A nice thick sweet sent hung in the air all around her and made her feel soft. It was so thick and tangible it felt like a soft ethereal blanket on her gentle ghostly skin.

  When Henrietta awoke she was still in the small cot. She looked closely at the wood to see it was covered in beautiful etched carvings. Over on some other bed next to hers was the man she had been following, laying unconscious and covered in bandages. She then tried to get up and found that it was a little difficult. After the third try she managed to sit up and get to her feet. A noise from downstairs made her float through the floor to find the old lady sitting at a table drinking some tea.

  "Good afternoon. I see you slept well, care for some tea?"

  "I'm dead. We don't really eat."

  "Smart as ever I see. Well I can safely assume you haven't spent much time in Thailand. They build these spirit houses and place food and drink out for spirits all the time.”

  Henrietta looked blankly at Mist mainly out of bewilderment.

  “Come over and have a cup anyways. It'll make you feel better."

  Henrietta reluctantly came over and sat down at the table. Mist poured her a cup and sat it down in front of her.

  Henrietta just stared at the cup on the table for a minute before giving Mist a questioning look.

  "How do I...?" Henrietta said confused

  "Just enjoy it. You're made of the same stuff as that tea."

  "How does that work? Is it ghost tea?"

  "All tea is ghost tea, or rather it can be. Trust your instincts. You didn't need lessons on how to eat when you had a corporal body. This body is a lot like your last. Just...
different
."

  Still confused Henrietta leaned over her cup and sniffed the tea. It was sweet and bitter. She wasn't much of a tea person when she was alive and wouldn't know what good tea would have been like. But sitting here smelling this tea in front of her made her wish she had tried more tea when she was alive.