Chapter 1
Fluorescent ceiling lights reflected off the steel walls and white tiled floor, bathing the room in a clinical glow.
Karl “Snowflake” Wilson stopped in the middle of the room, thinking, This is it. If I don’t get laid tonight, I will die a virgin. And if anybody catches me, I’ll probably get fired. Still a risk worth taking, he convinced himself. After all. Death, he understood. Women and Girls, not so much.
Karl loved his white trainers. He enjoyed their comfort and the silence as he stepped forward and turned on the spot with outstretched arms.
‘And here we have the pièces de résistance of my tour...’, he said, loud and proud, and in a sinister voice, he added, ‘The dead.’
Only the rumble of the air-conditioning units broke the silence, and when his carrot orange hair caught the airstream, it fluttered and danced, making him look like a flaming Pineapple.
On the other side of the room, Mary stood nibbling her right thumbnail in a sexy, sassy way that turned Karl’s knees into jelly. At five-foot-four, wearing knee-high Doc Martins, she was tall as Karl, and many would stare at her, he knew. Not because she wore all black and looked like a Scarecrow on the run with her saggy leather trench coat that her petite body and shoulders failed to fill, but because of her face.
Thinking, Beggars can’t be choosers, Karl stared at her with mixed emotions. He had never considered Goths as anything other than weird, but who was he to judge? On the other hand, she chose to pierce one half of her face with studs, dangling rings and chains. Who lives willingly with their parents at twenty-six and hugs their pillow every night? In the back of his mind, a little voice squeaked, “Me”, and the thought left a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat. Like when he would lie in bed, dreaming of what it would be like to be with a woman. Feeling tender flesh pressed against him. Hearing giggling sweet pillow talk. Tasting her lips and so much more. At least at work, surrounded by colleagues, who like him, struggled with the complexities of the opposite sex, he felt less of a freak. And although listening and participating in the department gossip about the nurses who everybody would like to date and the doctors who were dating them cannot be classified as counselling, it did help with his depression. Had he subconsciously lost all hope of finding love? Maybe, he thought. However, when his friend, who works at the comic book store, told him about the weird, all-black attire, makeup and vampire-like lifestyles of Goths, and the fact that Goths get freakishly turned on by the occult and dead people, he knew he had to try his luck. After all, the online Pickup-Master video said to use all available resources. And now, here he stood, Assistant to the Chicago City Coroner, about to get laid.
Mary moved like a shadow. Graceful and silent. And in their dark eye sockets, her hazel eyes darted, drinking in the room filled with cadavers and human remains. They were laid out neatly on shiny stainless steel gurneys, standing side-by-side in rows up to eight deep. Each was covered by a milky white plastic sheet. Karl counted thirty in all.
While Mary gulped in the air smelling of bleach and formaldehyde and filled with glorious death, Karl enkindled a shy smile and said, ‘So, what do you think?’
While Mary stood mute, Karl could feel some of his confidence fade. Like in the elevator. Before he donned his white lab coat. In an instant, he became “Death’s Whisperer”. An alter ego superhero personality that he had been developing in his head and had become a coping strategy in stressful situations. Unfortunately, having no one else, Karl had confided this to his best friend, Marco, a Psychology Major. To Karl’s horror, Marco now wants to write his Thesis entitled: “Pretending to be Death’s apprentice to cope with stress. Idiotic or not when there are so many more, better ones out there?”
Out of nowhere, Mary bit her lower lip. Her face and eyes lit up like Roman candles as she stepped forward, swung around, and grinned like a peanut on speed, with a wraparound smile, and sparkling eyes filled with excitement and imploring. And when she spoke in an ethereal voice, quiffs of warm air rolled off her lips, and her words formed little flurries as she said, ‘Can I touch one?’
Dreams, hope, and twenty-six years of pent-up testosterone came to a blow in Karl’s head. He would already be in trouble just for bringing Mary down here, he knew, but in pursuit of manhood, he was willing to break a few rules. ‘Hmm, I’m not sure. I would already be in a lot of trouble if anybody found out that I let you in here,’ he replied. His tone was not as macho as it had sounded in his head.
Mary stepped closer and let her body melt against his. Karl could feel her. Smell her. Musky with a hint of strawberry as she stared down at him, eyeball to eyeball, with puppy dog eyes and pursed lips. She whispered, ‘Oh please,’ placing her hand on his chest.
Karl swallowed hard, and his voice went up several octaves as he replied, ‘Umm...’ Mary, in reply, continued to stare, but when she let her hand glide down his undefined chest and across his flat stomach, he uttered, ‘Aaaahhhhh,’ followed by ‘mmmmm’.
And when she wiggled her fingers into his pants, grabbed Jnr firmly and whispered, ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ in a husky voice and began to nibble his earlobe, he almost had an American Pie movie moment in his underwear.
Forced to close his eyes to calm himself, Karl swallowed hard before replying in a girlishly high voice. ‘I guess it’ll be alright.’ And a little more manly sounding, he added. ‘But nothing freaky.’
Mary gave the swollen Karl Jnr a gentle squeeze, pulled her hand out, stood back, cocked her head to the side, smiled seductively, and fluttered her eyelids, adding, ‘Cross my heart,’ while running her index finger across her chest, trailing a long, black fingernail.
Glad to change the subject, Karl asked, ‘OK, which one?’ gesturing with his arm for her to choose.
Mary bit her lower lip, staring like a child before a wall of candy, told they may only choose one, with sparkling, bright eyes. She pointed at a gurney from which an arm had dropped and now dangled beside the gurney. ‘That one,’ she said confidently.
Smiling like a rum-injected Coconut, Karl walked up to the gurney. ‘OK,’ he shouted, grabbed the sheet, and whipped the cover away with a practised flick of the wrists.
***
In her head, Mary’s thoughts rampaged. Holly shit... she thought. And again, Holy shit..., as everything around her shrunk. Becoming insignificant. And finally, Holly shit, what if he comes for me tonight? while the hairs on her Goosebumps stood to attention, and waves of anxiety crashed over her.
Would her fantasies come true tonight? Will he come for her? Engulf her in his flowing throw? Riding two-up into the night on his fiery steed? If only, she thought, swallowing. It felt bittersweet in the back of her throat. How often had she dreamed of this day? Every night?
Her thoughts filled with euphoria. So many bodies. So much glorious death. Surely he must be here, she thought. Believing she could taste him, she gulped down the cool, filtered air. Inside her chest, she could feel her heart palpitating. Having never felt closer to Death, her idol, she shuffled forward on weak and wobbling knees while her eyes blazed with a thousand-yard stare.
Had Death’s lingering torture touched paradise? she wondered. Like when Dad took her to the thirty-two-flavour ice cream store and told her, “Life is full of excitement, but you must learn to wait”, and went on to say she could only choose one flavour on that day without testing the others. Now, gazing at the lifeless, piliferous corpse before her, she was filled with the same muted jubilation, thinking that the body looked average but hairier than her uncle Bob who used to block the shower trap every time he visited. A shy giggle escaped her quivering lips as she raised her right arm, steady to her surprise.
I’m about to touch my first dead body. Her thoughts raced while her eyes darted across the body. Searching for a patch of bare skin. Why’s he so hairy? she asked herself. Ah,the ankle. Perfect. Karl gave her an encouraging nod as she looked up.
Thinking, This is it, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. In her ears, all she could hear was her palpitating heart as she reached out, and when she touched the ankle with her fingertips, muscular spams jolted through her body, making her shudder. His skin felt cold and rubbery. She jerked back, giggling nervously, eyes beaming like a little girl who’s just been given a pony. In the middle of the room, Karl continued to stand like a nun at a swinger’s party. Looking awkward, watching her with an intense smile, hands hidden in the pockets of his white lab jacket.
‘It feels eerie, and yet I have butterflies,’ she said, giggling. Karl smiled while she returned her attention to the body.
Again, she reached out, and this time her long fingers encircled the man’s ankle. His leg hair, long and thick, felt ticklish against her palm as she let it glide up the shin, over the knee, along the thigh, over the hip bone, and stomach before she let it come to rest on his chest, where the cold of his skin seeped into her hand as she closed her eyes, and gave herself over to him; body and soul.
Mary was relishing the tsunami of enraptured feelings that filled her body when a loud metallic clank startled her. In a trance, her eyes glazed and unseeing, her head shot around where Karl stood with wide and bulging ones. He was standing, as if to attention, his face the colour of pasty sour cream, and despite the cold, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. His lips quivered as they emitted short bursts of vaporous steam, and Mary noticed his chest heaving erratically.
Then she saw a slim hand. It was resting casually on Karl’s shoulder as if trying to get his attention. WTF? flashed in her head, and her gaze followed the hand to a wrist, forearm, upper arm, collarbone and finally to a head where her eyes locked with a pair of milky blue ones, staring back at her from the dark, sunken-in eye sockets of a face. A woman’s face with a pale grey complexion.
Mary stumbled back, hands reaching out to the gurney to steady herself as her knees buckled beneath her. The corpse continued to stare, unmoving. With taut skin over high cheekbones, wafer-thin lips, a small nose with an emotionless expression and milky blue, dead-panned eyes.
Holly shit. I knew it, she thought while her emotions rampaged. I knew he’d come for me. She was still holding white-knuckled onto the gurney when her legs steadied, and her heart slipped back into place.
Recovered from her initial fright, Mary stood faced with a visceral revelation, thinking, I’m not afraid. Excited, yes, but not scared. Why did not matter, but when she saw young Karl’s fearful and tortured expression, her lips twitched into a sneer while little flurries continued to escape his gasping mouth.
Curiosity took over. She stared at the body with renewed vigour. It had an ashen complexion, covered in small, sore-like liver spots with blemished skin. Mary chuckled, wondering if dead bodies have expiration dates.
***
Karl had nearly soiled himself when he first felt the tip of a cold fingertip on his shoulder, joined by three more and a thumb before the dead weight of the hand came to rest. Jnr, who had shrunk to mini-cocktail sausage size, now lay quivering to the left, too scared to pee. Seeing Mary’s probing, non-frightened glances, Karl enkindled the courage to speak. ‘Um— ah, is— ah, Mary, is there a hand on my shoulder?’
‘Yes, there is,’ came her candid reply.
Karl stuttered, and his voice reverberated as his worst fears were confirmed. ‘Do you think I should turn around?’
‘Judging by your face with only a hand on your shoulder— I would say, no.’
‘In your opinion, if I turned around, would I be frightened?’
‘I’d put money on that fact.’
‘May I ask why you aren’t scared?’ She shrugged.
‘I suppose I’m not the one who has a zombie standing behind me with her hand on my shoulder.’
Karl’s voice shot up several octaves as he asked: ‘It’s a woman Zombie? Are you sure?’
‘Um, judging by the boobs— yes, I’m quite sure.’
‘What does she want?’
‘Why’re you asking me?’
‘Because I don’t want to turn around,’ he stammered while his eyes darted. ‘What do you think we should do?’
‘I suggest YOU close your eyes and walk forward to me.’ Her eyes widened as she added. ‘Then we both run to the door and don’t look back?’
Karl nodded. Although far from perfect, it was a plan. More than his blown mind was able to construct. With no time like the present, Karl took one last breath, closed his eyes, and took a giant stride forward. Mary watched while Karl felt bony fingertips brush down his back.
‘Why’d you stop?’
‘I have no idea. Is she still there?’
‘Yup.’
‘What’s she doing?’
‘Staring— and maybe smiling— not sure though.’
‘Do you think I could turn around now?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Why?’
‘Because another one has just risen. A man.’
***
While Mary’s lips twisted into an insidious smile, Karl turned four shades of pale sour milk. His skin was now almost translucent with a lack of blood, and his Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed hard. Yes, he may die a virgin, and the newspaper headlines may read something like: “Eaten—” no, too calm, “Ravaged to death by the undead”, she thought, chuckling. At least he’ll die famous.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Smiling. Definitely smiling.’
‘Are you saying that these zombies have a sense of humour?’
‘Karl,’ Mary cocked her head to the left and gave Karl an irksome glare. ‘I have no idea, but right now I’m a little freaked out but seriously turned on. I suggest you stop asking stupid questions and get the hell out of here, with me, or I’m leaving without you. Then you can ask them all the questions you want until they get bored and start eating you. Your choice.’
***
Like mist dissolving on a mountain precipice in the warm golden morning sunshine, the confusion in Karl’s head cleared. Having seen that lascivious sparkle in Mary’s eyes, there was only one course of action, he knew, thinking: First, we’re going to escape. And then I’m going to have sex for the first time, he told himself. This time with a real girl. Who cares if nobody believes the zombie story, ’cause they’re definitely not gonna believe I had sex anyway. Filled with newfound determination, Karl decided: No, today is my day, and no friggin’ zombie is gonna stand in my way.
Karl stepped forward, resolute and steadfast, stiff with purpose, and grabbed Mary by the arm. She stumbled as he dragged her with unwavering determination and tunnel vision toward the exit, hasting with long strides. He stopped, grabbed the handle, pulled, swung the door open, and pushed Mary into the corridor when it happened.
Karl turned around.
His gaze met those of two naked corpses. A man from African Heritage in his late nineties, with tufts of curly silver hair, a round Apple face, no teeth, and a woman in her thirties. About five-foot-three tall, with curly blond hair soaked in blood. The Y-incision, post-autopsy stitches on the man’s torso looked like miniature railway tracks. Neat and orderly. Karl recognised them as his own. To his astonishment, the corpses held hands with intertwined fingers and devilish grins plastered on their faces while their free arms waved in unison.
Karl gasped. And as the image scorched itself deep into his memory, he closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. I’m dreaming, he assured himself. This must be a dream. Zombies aren’t real, he thought, feeling more blood drain from his face. Shit. If this is a dream, then Mary is also a dream. That means I’ll never have sex.
He sighed, long and deep. Zombies, he thought, chuckling with a grin on his face. Well, I never. He felt Mary’s warm breath against his neck, and when the door lock snapped into place with a secure click, all he could hear from within was raucous laughter echoing.
