Dead! Troy Dennison Cover image T. Dennison Smashwords Edition Copyright 2012 Troy Dennison License Notes Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may not be reproduced, copied or distributed without consent from the author. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. This one is lovingly dedicated to all you zombie fans out there. I remember my death so clearly. People say that your whole life flashes before your eyes in that instant before you leave this world. That didn’t happen to me; I didn’t even get the edited highlights. For me it was an explosion of light and then a searing pain that vanished in an instant as the .50 calibre Desert Eagle round ripped through my sternum. Blood, bone, and muscle all merged together in the blink of an eye as my heart was shredded by the hollow point round; and then it was over. My body flew backwards; I heard the sharp crack as my spinal column severed under the strain and then oblivion. Blackness; a complete cessation of sight and sound and feeling. I remember my resurrection less clearly. There was a grey fog of awareness, fragmented images, broken and half formed. Snatches of sounds danced in and out of my hearing; words, music and screams. I floated in a sea of numbness, a total cessation of feeling; cocooned in a warm haze. Thoughts flew through my head, dreams and memories and nightmares colliding and falling apart in a frantic, never ending cycle. It took a long time before I realised that the screams I heard were my own; under the circumstances I suppose it was inevitable that there would be some pain. Some pain? Bones were shifting, re-aligning and knitting. The hole in my chest closed and blood, muscle, hair and flesh re-grew. The oxygen starved synapses in my brain began to fire once again sending electrical energy coursing through my regenerating grey matter. It stood to reason that I would want to cry out in anguish; I was being re-born and birth is always a painful process. Coming back to life hurt just as much as dying, but the pain subsided gradually until all that was left was a deep burning hunger. I guess you could say that I died that night because I was a smoker; I lit up my first Marley when I was fourteen and it’s been downhill ever since. I once calculated that if I’d saved all the money I’d ever spent on cigarettes I could have gone on holiday to Miami. For an entire year. It wasn’t the Big C that got me though, and it wasn’t any of the other smoke related diseases that they’ve preached about over the years. I place the blame for my fate squarely on the shoulders of all those anti-smoking Nazi’s that got smoking indoors banned. I used to love sitting in a bar after work with a Bud and a cigarette, relaxing and letting the stress of the day wash away wrapped in a wreath of smoke. It was my ritual for years until the new legislation got passed and buggered everything up for me and millions of others. Every day I’d leave the office, loosen my tie and head downtown to Clancey’s for a couple of hours before hopping a cab home. Six days a week for more years than I can remember until people started giving a damn about second hand smoke. That screwed it up for me and the last bunch of years has never been quite as satisfying somehow. Sure, I could go and stand outside to spark up, but a cigarette in the pouring rain just doesn’t hit the spot in the same way. And how can you enjoy your beer after you’ve been freezing your ass off in the cold just to get your nicotine fix? The day I died was just like any other for me; a whirl of corporate law, meetings, power lunches, phone calls and filing briefs. I worked on the third floor of one of the biggest law firms in the state and I was pretty good at my job. I wore a thousand dollar suit, shirts from Seville, silk ties imported from China and I always looked sharp. I spent the day working my ass off and occasionally flirting with the girls in the secretarial pool over a much needed coffee break. I rolled out of the office at eight on that fateful evening, with the warm fall sky gleaming above the office blocks around me. I said goodnight to the security guards, walked out of the revolving door and lit up a much needed cigarette. The taste of the tobacco felt good and I ignored the frowns of a passing couple as I exhaled. The short walk to Clancey’s was nice in the evening air and I enjoyed the stroll as I anticipated downing a cold one. I picked my regular seat at the bar and my beer was in front of me before I’d put down my briefcase. The crisp taste was good and I could feel the stress washing away as I sipped slowly at the Bud. I chatted to a couple of the regulars and settled in to watch the TV as I started my second beer. I was waiting for the sports to see how the Eagles were doing when the anchorman started talking about the meteor shower. I half listened as he went on about how glorious the rare event would look in the evening sky. Who cared about meteor showers when your team stood a chance of making it to the play-off that year? It was crawling on towards ten and I was on my third beer when I decided to head outside for what turned out to be my final fatal cigarette. A couple of Clancey’s patrons were finishing cigarettes as I stepped into the warm night air. I bummed a light as they headed back inside and found myself alone on the sidewalk. I listened to the hum of the city as I smoked, enjoying the cigarette and anticipating catching a cab a little later. I had some lasagne in the refrigerator that would make a quick meal when I got in and then it would be bed; alone as usual. I was looking at the buildings as I smoked and something drew my eye up towards the cloudy sky. There were dozens of faint streams of pale green light shooting across the night. I realised straight away that it was the meteorite shower. It was a beautiful but somehow eerie sight. I couldn’t see properly from where I was standing so I moved down the block a short distance. There was a dark alleyway here that cut between the buildings and I had a clear view of the heavenly splendour. I forgot all about my cigarette as I watched the glowing streaks of light blazing across the darkness. I guess that’s why I didn’t see the mugger creeping up the alley behind me; I heard the sharp click as he chambered a round in his gun though. I never got a good look at his face; the alley was dark and I was rather preoccupied by the gun waving in my face. It was a huge silver cannon with a barrel that looked like the mouth of the Jersey Tunnel. The guy was nervous and he waved the gun menacingly in my face as he demanded my wallet and cell phone. I’ve always thought that I’d be brave if something like this ever happened to me. I guess I was deluding myself because instead of wrestling his weapon from the guy’s hand all I felt was terrified. He screamed at me, urging me to hurry; the problem was that my phone and wallet were in my jacket back in the bar. I’m not sure if what he did was deliberate or an accident; I guess he thought I was screwing him around. One second he’s screaming abuse in my face and the next there’s a flash of light and a sound like thunder. Something punched me in the chest and I felt myself flying backwards. I don’t think I even felt the sharp crack as my head bounced off the sidewalk. The last thing I remember as my life slipped away was the streaks of light in the sky. They looked so beautiful that I thought I could lie there all night and watch them. But then my vision blurred and they swam out of focus until everything went black It took me a long time to realise that my eyes were open because the blackness persisted. I tried to move but everything ached and it felt like I was swimming through treacle. It seemed to take forever for me to raise my arm and when I did it bumped into something hard and unyielding. A lifetime later I had both my hands pressed against the hard surface. There was something soft covering it; cloth of some kind and I pushed gently. I felt something move and I pushed again, harder this time. The coffin lid popped open and harsh, artificial light flooded my vision. I was shocked to realise that I was lying in a coffin. How the hell had I got here? Was it some sort of crazy practical joke? Of course I had no idea who would play such a stupid prank on me; Barry from Finance maybe? It was just like him to pull something crazy like this on me. That was when I remembered the gun and getting shot and that was when the confusion set in, and then the panic. I blinked and looked around as my surroundings came slowly into focus. I was looking up at a beige coloured ceiling that slowly swam in and out of focus. I stared at it for what seemed like forever before I tried to look around and that was when I saw the pale silk linings on either side. Turning my head was difficult because my neck felt stiff; I was going to need a good massage to get all the kinks out of it. The office had its own small spa and gym and as I lay there I decided that would be my first call once I figured out where I was. I certainly wasn’t at home, so maybe I was in hospital? That made sense to me, after all that’s what happened when you got shot right? But I didn’t remember getting here and I had no recollection of paramedics of ambulances or an ER. I struggled to sit up; every muscle groaning in protest. It was a slow, painful process that an arthritic old man would have done more quickly than I could manage. My back popped unpleasantly as I forced myself upright. The loud cracks reminded me unpleasantly of the sound of that idiot’s gun and I suppressed a shudder at the memory. The room was quite small, with a deep red carpet, a few idyllic paintings were on the walls and a large floral display occupied one corner. I really was sitting in a coffin that had been placed in the centre of the room on some kind of table. The first order of business was to get out and find someone to explain what was going on to me so I lifted the lid covering my legs and climbed out of the coffin. I hit the floor hard and lay there for a while wondering why my body was refusing to work properly. I was probably medicated or something; that would explain the fuzzy feeling in my head and the lethargy in my limbs. I rolled over, slowly picked myself up and stood, swaying for a long moment. There was an uncomfortable itching sensation in my chest and I scratched at it absently with one hand. I realised that I wasn’t wearing hospital scrubs; I was fully dressed, but the suit wasn’t the one I had been wearing to work. That puzzled me as much as my surroundings. The room had a single dark wood panelled door that could have been oak and I headed for it. Whatever drugs they’d pumped me with were making it tricky to walk and I seemed to be lurching like a drunken bum as I staggered towards my goal. Maybe I was hungover? What if I’d had more to drink than I thought last night and just dreamed the shooting? That seemed to make sense to me and it would explain the way my head felt and my body’s complete lack of being able to function properly. Yeah, I’d gotten loaded and dreamed the whole meteorites and mugger thing. Of course that still didn’t explain why I was wearing different clothes or the whole waking up in a coffin thing. The mild itching from my chest was a persistent nag as I staggered across the little room. I paused and scratched at it again and then pulled at my shirt to see what was irritating it. The buttons seemed too tiny and my fingers didn’t want to work properly as I struggled with the shirt. I tugged at it and one of the buttons popped off; this certainly wasn’t one of my shirts and I didn’t recognise the tie either. The material parted and I looked down at my itching chest only to get another unpleasant shock. There was a slightly jagged Y-shaped incision carved into my skin; I could see the point where the three arms met. Thick black stitched held the ugly wound together and I knew instantly where I had seen that sort of thing before; it was what happened during an autopsy! That was stupid. No way was it an autopsy scar; they only did those on dead people and I certainly wasn’t dead. Corpses don’t walk around, they don’t breathe and they certainly don’t crave a cigarette the way that I was. It had to be one of those fake things made of rubber that they use in the movies; a prosthetic. That was it exactly and it was the glue that was making my chest itch! I patted my pockets searching for a cigarette and lighter but they were empty. That frustrated me but it crystallised my plan of action. First I was gonna find someone to explain what the hell had happened to me (Barry was still my prime suspect) then I was going to bum a smoke, find a coffee and figure out how to get home. I lurched towards the door again, weaving like a drunken sailor – how much beer had I had last night? The door had a large ornately decorated brass knob and I reached for it with fingers that felt like someone else’s. I had just as much trouble with the door knob as I had with my shirt. My hand persisted in not working properly and it took me an age to grasp and turn the knob. The door finally swung open and I staggered into the corridor behind it. There was more of the same décor that the room had contained and any other time I’m sure I would have found it comforting and relaxing. There was a sign on one wall, but my eyes swam at the words and refused to focus properly. Whatever; I turned right and made my way along the carpeted corridor in what I hoped was the right direction. I needed to be in the office by seven and I was worrying about the time. My watch was missing though and I had no idea of how long I had been passed out. I couldn’t be late for work, it was unthinkable. In all the years I’d been with the company I’d always been on time and I wasn’t going to start letting them down because of a hangover. There seemed to be just one thing that I was certain about right at that moment; Barry was a dead man when I got my hands on him. After what seemed like an eternity of walking I found myself in a warmly lit reception area. There were more flowers here and sitting behind the reception desk was a middle aged Hispanic guy in a security uniform. He turned to look at me as I staggered into the reception and his eyes widened. I raised my hand in a friendly greeting and smiled. “Hey buddy, where am I?” I said. Or at least that’s what I tried to say. It came out as mush that sounded more like a moan than proper words. The security guard almost fell off his chair as he scrambled to his feet and crossed himself in an overly dramatic gesture. Who does that when they see someone with a hangover? The guy was in a panic and I realised that I could actually smell his sweat mingled in with the aroma of the flowers and his deodorant; yuk! As I approached him the guard scrambled back, placing the reception desk between us. The guard’s hand scrambled at his belt and I realised with a start that he was going for I gun. I put my arms up, trying to reassure him but that somehow made him panic even more. He kept repeating the same thing over and over under his breath, “Los muertos! Jesús!” I had no idea what that meant and I tried to tell him that it was okay but my mouth still refused to form words properly. The guard finally released the clip on his holster and he tore the stubby black gun from his hip. His hands shook as he levelled it at me and I tried to beg him to stop. The guard closed his eyes, pulled the trigger and that was when I got shot in the chest for the second time. It tickled. I’m not really sure how many volts a taser is meant to produce but I was damn grateful that this one seemed to be faulty. The guard opened his eyes and stared at me in what I could only describe as horror. What was his problem? I was the one that should be horrified after the fool had tried to electrocute me! He screamed a curse and actually threw the taser at me. Then he turned and bolted for the big double doors that lead to the street. His keys were out and the guards had opened the door in seconds. Thenhe was running down the sidewalk screaming as if all the hounds in Hell were hot on his heels. Some people eh? I pushed my way through the doors that the guard had just opened and carefully navigated down the short flight of steps onto the sidewalk. It was dark outside; the soft, grey endless twilight of pre-dawn. Off to my right the guard was still running down the street and I figured that the guy must have been a running back in college. I looked back at the building I had just left and although I couldn’t make out the sign above the door I recognised the place. It was a funeral parlour a couple of blocks over from my law firm. There was a nice Italian coffee shop somewhere around here that I had meetings in from time to time. Barry the prankster had really pulled out all the stops on this one. I wondered who he’d bribed to get me smuggled into that casket? The thought of coffee led me onto food and reminded me of the soft growl in my stomach. I could smell bagels cooking somewhere on the early morning air. Normally the idea of a warm bagel from a deli would have been an ideal breakfast but I fancied something else. I wanted bacon or possibly burgers. The idea of all that warm juicy meat had me licking my lips in anticipation. I was pretty sure that right about now I’d murder a nice steak, rare and sweet and so damn tasty. That got me thinking about my Mom’s cooking as I weaved along the sidewalk. My parents lived in a small apartment in Queens; maybe I should pay them a visit later? Today was a short day at work, so I’d have the afternoon free and I’m sure they’d love a visit from me. I reached for my cell to call them and then remembered that my damn pockets were empty. That screwed things up royally and I wondered where my cell and wallet were. Damn I hated this! Barry was going to pay for this one big-time, and not just for the inconvenience but for the sheer stupidity of it all. I couldn’t even hail a cab to get me to the office; then again I hadn’t seen any cabs since I’d left the funeral parlour. That was weird because New York never slept and the famous yellow cabs were always on the streets. Somewhere in the distance I could hear sirens so I guess someone was having a worse night than me. I didn’t find that particularly reassuring as I shuffled and staggered along. The sky brightened above me while I was walking and became the dull orange of dawn. The clouds were shot with red and faint green like something out of a trippy psychedelic cartoon. The slow burning pangs of hunger were getting stronger and I found myself thinking more and more about food. I really wanted to eat. Something, anything as long as it was a warm and juicy chunk of meat. My plan of action formulated in my head; Barry first, coffee and a cigarette second, followed by food. Lots of food. Actually forget the coffee and nicotine fix, I just wanted to sort out Barry and eat something. The city was coming to life around me but there was something off about it that it took me a while to figure out. Everything seemed so subdued, so quiet. There weren’t as many cars as I would have expected and the few people I saw gave me a wide berth. Maybe they thought I was some drunk staggering home after a night on the tiles? Whatever; I didn’t really care about what was going on in people’s heads. What was going on in their heads? I kept coming back to that thought as it circled my mind like a vulture seeking a carcass. I did care about what was in their heads, I really did. Thoughts, memories, hopes, dreams, joys and sorrows; it was fascinating, almost intoxicating. Oh yes indeed. I wanted to explore what was in those heads in the worst possible way. Examine each one in turn and drink in the memories, savouring every last moment of their lives. That would feel so good. To be able to drown myself on what was in those heads, to gorge myself until I was contented, that would be heaven. I shook myself at the idea; how weird could I get when I had a hangover? My poor brain was definitely fried from the booze and I’m sure that tingle from the taser couldn’t have helped me too much. I rounded a corner and staggered on towards my goal; only two more blocks and then Barry was going to get a nasty surprise off me. It took me an eternity to reach the law offices where I had spent so many hours of my life over the years. The sidewalks had become busier as I walked and a few people had bumped and jostled me as I stagger on my quest. A few shot me worried looks and scurried away as if I were some evil looking beast who had escaped from the local penitentiary. I flashed a smile at one lady, a friendly gesture that left her hurrying in the opposite direction after she turned tail and bolted. People in New York could be so damn strange at times, but I guess it takes all sorts to make up the world. I breathed a happy sigh of relief as I made my way into the law firm’s lobby and nodded a greeting to the security guard. He looked surprised to see me as I walked past and waved a friendly greeting to Jenny the receptionist. The pretty blonde looked like she’d been hit over the head with a baseball bat. She watched me with a dumbstruck expression plastered on her face as I headed for the elevators. I clumsily thumbed the call button, missing it on my first attempt and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. I rode the elevator up to Finance with four other people. The journey seemed to take forever and the atmosphere in the elevator felt odd. There was a tension in the air that emanated from my fellow passenger; I could almost smell what they were feeling. I wondered what was worrying them? Perhaps it had been my “Good morning” as they got on? That had come out of my unresponsive mouth as an embarrassing moan and I had lapsed into silence for the ride. What were they thinking? What was going on in those deliciously sweet heads? I would have loved the time to explore their minds but I had other, pressing matters to attend to. I lumbered out of the elevator when it reached Finance to the obvious relief of me fellow passengers. I gave them a stink-eye as the doors closed behind me. Finance was a huge open area divided into cubicles and I found Barry the prankster easily His balding head was easy to spot amongst the litter of cubicles and I made my slow way towards him. Barry was surprised to see me when he turned around. He sat there with his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping on land. “Oh my god!” he said. I glared long and hard at the chubby, self confessed fool. Barry staggered to his feet as I struggled to tell him what was on my mind. The hunger was a roaring distraction now, my words refused to form properly. I felt like a baby trying to speak for the first time. “It’s impossible. You’re dead! Your funeral’s next week.” Barry said. What was the idiot babbling about? Funeral? How could I be dead if I was walking around? Barry was taking the prank just a bit too far for my liking. What was he thinking? What was going through that fat, juicy head of his? I reached for the fool and my hand clamped around his throat. He gasped and I could feel the steady thump of his rapid pulse under my fingers. The blood was coursing through his chubby, well fed body. I leaned towards him and licked my lips in anticipation. This was going to be good, the perfect payback for his nasty little prank. I pulled him closer and breathed in the sweet, sweet scent of blood and flesh. The words finally came as I lunged for his face and told Barry the prankster just exactly what I needed to fill the burning hunger in my stomach. “Brains!” About the author I am a writer, make-up artist, artist, actor, anime fiend, X-Box junkie and government endorsed secret agent ninja assassin - one of these may be false... I have three children and live in Staffordshire with my crazy dog Theo. About the story Dead! Started life as a loose idea; you get stories told from a vampire or werewolf’s point of view so why not from a zombies? I’m sure zombies have feelings too, buried somewhere under that overwhelming craving for fresh brains. This is my first story to feature a “modern” zombie; I wrote about traditional ones in Gandalf. For the record my own personal favourite zombie story is Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead. It’s an awesome comic and if you love zombies then you really should read it.