Xombi

The rain pounds down on the soft, recently moved, loam soil. A well-worn shovel remains stabbed into this disturbed ground. A man sits casually, smoking a cigarette, sat on a worn down, stumped tree. The type that’s been smoothed over by so many people sharing happy memories, with the same for the path leading to this place.

But all of those times are years distant. “The perfect place to bury a former friend,” the man thought out loud, before taking another long drag of the cigarette.

“I suppose I could blindly hope that someone- no something like you, wouldn’t be found and given some of that Necroma shit. But it’s still you in the ground. I made a deal for it.” Their voice becomes shaky “Even with me removing your head with the fucking chainsaw, I’m not sure you won’t find a way out of the ground,” They weep “You’ve just turned out to be such a monster, that I can’t even dismiss something so ridiculous, BITCH!” The man had the gall to scream at the shallow grave.

The sound of a car on dirt roads can be heard coming close, the smell of rain in the air. The feeling of raindrops on the smoking man’s head, as he flags down for a jeep of a few men to stop. “Is this the one you made our deal on?” “Yes. This wretched fucking thing-” “Settle down man, they’re dead already. Now, the deal is not to prevent their body from being exposed. You know that right?” “Yeah, you’re gonna test if he’s biologically feasible. Good fucking luck with a beheaded corpse.” The smoking man huffs, puffing along with their cigarette hastily, a dying attempt to steady their nerves.

The other scientist, remaining silent, digs through the dirt to the woman’s corpse with just a hand, looking up at the smoking man with some sort of disgust. He scowls “WHAT?! He’s a piece of shit that deserves FAR worse and I just need the fucking money! Gimme my finder’s fee already so I can just leave.” The talkative scientist pulls out a wad of 20 and 50 dollar bills, while wearing rubber gloves, withdrawing bills totalling $1000. “Here. Unless you want to wait to see if they’re above 50% for the $200 bonus?” The scientist offers, the smoking man stops in his tracks.

The silent one puts a long syringe into the woman’s body, a whirring noise beginning to be heard in some slight competition to the sound of the heavy downpour.

It’s evident on his tense face, as he’s weighing his options. “You’re lucky I need money.” “We’re lucky? God you’re full of yourself. You’re lucky we can clean up this crime scene. Just be quiet and wait 30 seconds then leave.” The talkative scientist growls at the man. The silent scientist then gives a thumbs up, signalling the 51%+ requirement being fulfilled. “Typical that, that fucking man would be a good fit for fucking Necroma-” “Just shut up and piss off already.” Says the talkative scientist, practically shoving the $200 into the smoking man’s hand. Who tuts, scowling, while sluggishly stomping away.

“What do you think he was going on about?” The talkative man ponders, “Well, he definitely killed her for some stupid reason or other, but that’s not important. He called us because we need bodies, so we arrived.” Quietly he continues “She’s reading more than 80%, maybe even in the 90% plus.” Now the roles are equalled, as the talkative scientist becomes quiet for a moment. The rain’s pounding the partially opened, very, shallow grave and the heads of the scientist’s hoods, dripping down to their masks.

“Still” The former silent scientist continues, disgust flinging from his throat “This grave is much too shallow- 22 inches deep. Not hastily, either, but purposefully dug so shallow. Note it down please, we need to have it on some recording that this woman was slain and buried with extra malice. Also that weirdly referring to her as ‘he,’ when background and license shows female.” The former talkative one makes a gesture to the way the smoking man walked off. “He’s lingering, watching. Whatever his fixation is, he doesn’t want her to come back.”

The two men nod to each other.

“Do you think this will effect the quality of zombie we’ll get out of her?” “Not really, but we could still use her body for organs, or maybe spare blood if we put up a pump to take all the blood out.” They almost shout out loud. Meanwhile the smoking man, fooling nobody with his attempt to hide, sulks away with satisfaction.

The duo wait, for just a moment in silence. Hearing the distant squelching footsteps of the mud as the rain’s become much lighter. Barely more than a misty spray.