Life After Death

The first things I feel are my fingers. Completely nothing until my fingers twitch against the ground. It’s like I am waking up from a dream, one muscle at a time. Next come my eyes. They flutter open, looking at the sky, which is mostly obscured by trees. It takes a minute for my vision to focus. I noticed a layer of mist surrounding me. It’s not a normal mist... it’s blue.

Then comes pain. Agonizing and indescribable pain shoots through every fiber of my being. Everything wakes up at the same time, shooting my body upwards as my screams shake the forest. Tears stream down my face as I sob through the pain.

The pain doesn’t stop, everything still hurts. But my mind stops caring. Because the next thing I feel is fear. It shakes my entire body, and only one thing is on my mind: run.

I couldn’t have disobeyed if I had wanted to, my body is practically moving on its own. I try to stand, just to fall forward onto my face. I can’t feel my legs, but I can certainly see them. It seems to be the most inconvenient part of me that hasn’t woken up from whatever deep sleep I had been doing in the forest, but I can’t think too much about that. Using my arms, I use rocks and clumps of dirt as grips as I pull myself forward as fast as I can. I can’t run, but I can crawl.

Everything in me is screaming. My body from pain, my brain from fear. It’s hard to think. The blue mist surrounding me makes it hard to see as well. I nearly slip into a hole to my side, rolling over to avoid falling in. Something doesn’t feel right. Ignoring the warnings my brain is giving me, I peer into the hole. It keeps everything inside me stopping me from screaming.

What the fuck was that? I think as my crawling becomes faster. I curse my useless legs. When I peered into the hole, dozens of what I could only describe as monsters stared back. Sickly yellow eyes sunken into their pale, almost gray, faces, skin rotting from their bones, and they had been clawing the sides of the hole, trying to get out. Trying to get to me.

I hear a twig snap behind me, and as much as I don’t want to turn and look, curiosity gets the better of me. Sure enough, there are more monsters. Even one would be an overwhelming amount, but I count at least fifteen slowly coming after me, hobbling and moaning. I’m positive they aren’t the ones from the hole. That means there are more coming. I thank my luck they are slower than my crawling, but I can’t stop if I don’t want to be ripped apart by the humanoid beasts.

It feels like I’ve been crawling for hours, but I know it hasn’t even been one when I see light peering in from just outside the forest. Dirt and grime fill my fingernails and I’m covered in cuts and bruises, but I had already been in pain. It’s hard to feel worse pain than what I am currently experiencing.

I see a humanoid figure moving toward me. For a moment I flinch, thinking it’s another monster until I see them properly. They are covered in a thick yellow suit with a bit of glass covering their face, but I can definitely see a human’s face behind it. The figure scoops me up into their arms and walks me out of the forest. I figured that considering the hoard of monsters behind me, the person would be walking a little bit faster, but they keep their pace.

The sun hits my face as I’m carried out of the forest. I hold a hand over my eyes and let them adjust to the sudden brightness. The figure brings me into a nearby building and sits me down. I feel another wave of pain shoot through my body as I vomit all over the floor and the figure’s boots.

“Ssssss... sorry,” I say, trying to force the word from my mouth. My voice is quiet, and my throat is feeling sore. I assume it’s from the screaming.

“It’s fine. It’s a hazmat suit, pretty sure a little vomit won’t melt through it!” They say, taking a seat next to me, removing their helmet and revealing a head of platinum blonde hair that isn’t much longer than their ears. “Now I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I need to ask a few of my own first, is that alright?”

I nod, trying to minimize how much I speak until my voice returns.

“Alright. First, can you tell me your name?” Asks the stranger, keeping their voice low and smooth as if trying not to startle me.

I think for a moment. I can’t remember. That isn’t... ideal. I realize I don’t know much of anything. I feel like I have just suddenly appeared in the world like a newborn child. I wrack my brain, only being able to remember my escape from the forest. My breath catches in my throat, a bubble of panic beginning to rise. I shake my head, feeling tears burn my eyes. It’s terrifying not even knowing who I am... or who I was.

“That’s alright! It’s completely okay and normal. Most people don’t remember their names for a full 24 hours. I can assure you, by tomorrow you’ll have that name in your head and in a few weeks, you’ll have remembered everything! Can you tell me everything you do know?” They say, and I began feeling a little better knowing my mind is just in a temporary fuzz.

“I... I remember waking up in a forest. Everything hurt, and my mind was panicking.” I start, another wave of pain shooting through me. I try not to flinch, gritting my teeth as I continue. “My legs didn’t want to work, so I tried to crawl out of there. While I was trying to get out though... I saw monsters.” I stop, realizing that what I’m saying probably sounds insane. To my surprise, the hazmat person nods along instead.

“Alright, fairly standard. Don’t worry about the ‘monsters.’ Best I explain to you what’s happening, hm? The simplest way to say this is that what you saw were zombies. And before today, you were one of them.”

I know what a zombie is. I can’t remember much, but I know I’ve seen zombies before. The word brings back memories of the humanoid beasts ripping people apart, or biting them and adding more to their ranks. I can’t deny the memory of one of the rotting corpses biting me. I don’t know how one would come back from that. And yet here I am. It’s hard to believe... but I can’t deny my own memories.

“I think I remember that,” I say, my voice still hoarse. “But how am I back? How long was I like that? Just... just tell me everything, please.”

“Well, someone created a cure for the zombie virus in the form of a gas. That’s the blue mist you may have seen around you. I don’t know the exact science behind it, but it regenerates cells and brings your mind back to sanity. That’s why you don’t have rotting flesh. If you had lost a limb before or after being turned, of course, that’d still be gone, but you seem to be in good health!”

I look at myself, and sure enough, my skin isn’t grayed and is put together quite nicely, aside from all the cuts, bruises, and dirt covering me. Although that could all be fixed with a bit of time. I can’t see what I really look like without a mirror, but I definitely notice my clothes are pretty ripped, revealing more of my physique than I would like. I’m thankful the building we’re in is empty, but I can’t help but wrap my arms around my chest instinctively.

“Ah, yes, sorry. Here’s something to cover you up for now. Most people who have been cured have torn clothes, if any at all. Zombies aren’t known for taking care of how they look. Sorry, I’d have brought real clothes, but our next stop is the hospital, and they will likely be putting you in a gown. But for what it’s worth, you’re a handsome man.” They joke.

“Woman.” I correct as if I’ve done so thousands of times before. It dawns on me that I probably have.

“My immediate apologies. Beautiful woman.” They say, correcting themselves without a second thought. “Now, I can’t say for sure how long you were out because I don’t know when you were turned. But the apocalypse started 35 years ago and ‘ended’ just five years ago.”

“That’s... a long time,” I say, clutching the provided blanket around me a little tighter.

“Yes. We’re just glad it’s over now. Well, mostly over. Obviously, some zombies have been found. We’re still working on bringing every zombie back, but thanks to this cure it’s actually something possible. In five more years, who knows? Maybe life will truly feel normal. Most people don’t even know what that word means.”

“So those zombies in the forest will be cured soon too?” I ask, remembering how many I thought that was. I wonder what it was like before the cure. I’m sure I have some memories about the amounts, but I’m struggling to remember much of anything.

“Yes! Although if you could tell me how many there were and where you saw them, it’d be great.”

“I nearly fell into a hole trying to get out of the forest, and I saw a few in it. I didn’t count how many, but it had to be more than a dozen. I was being chased by about fifteen, too, though I don’t think they came from the hole. It was too deep and I think they were having trouble climbing.”

“The hole makes sense. The cure must be thrown underground to get any mist down there. I’ll make sure to let people know to find the hole and send a cure into it. And I didn’t see any chasing you when I came to grab you, so I’m sure the cure just got to them late. We’ll keep an eye out for them.”

Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m sure at least one zombie would have been seen trailing me. I had been pretty sure I had heard them trailing me until the hazmat person... came... Were the zombies smart enough to hide when seeing someone potentially dangerous? Zombies were supposed to be dumb, from what I could recall. Maybe it had changed while I had been zombified. But if they could recognize threats, couldn’t they recognize the mist would affect them? Unless they already did.

“What if the zombies I saw were immune?” I ask, letting out a small gasp.

“Hm? I don’t know if that’d work, but if you saw fifteen zombies after you without seeing them stop, well, it may be a possibility. I’ll let my team know so we can figure that out. It’s a good idea, thanks for voicing it!” They say with a smile.

I can’t help but feel a knot forming in my stomach. Something tells me they won’t find anything. Though perhaps that’s just pessimism talking. I hope I wouldn’t have to do my own research. I look at my legs, still not feeling any movement from them. It will be difficult to do much of anything without movement, and crawling isn’t a very good option.

“I’m still a little confused about... well, everything... but right now all I want to do is lie down. Can we head to that hospital you mentioned?”

“Of course. By the way, I’m Thea. I just realized I never gave my name, so figured I’d say it now! Just ask anyone wearing a hazmat suit like mine for me and they’ll call me over. So if you ever need help, let me know. But for now, the people at the hospital should take good care of you and answer any other questions you may have.” Thea says.

I nod, feeling exhaustion in my eyes. I wonder if I still have yellow eyes like the zombies. Thea didn’t, but I’m not sure if they have ever been a zombie or not. I didn’t hear them mention it, but perhaps my mind was elsewhere. We go our separate ways after Thea carries me to the hospital and helps admit me, so I never get to properly ask.

I struggle to pull on the hospital gown without being able to stand, but the feeling is... somewhat familiar. I can’t quite place it. There is a mirror where I am changing and I properly get a good look at myself. I’ve seen myself before but I don’t exactly remember the details.

I have curly brown hair, and it’s quite short, cut above my ears. I guess hair doesn’t grow as a zombie, considering it had to have been at least five years since I turned. I ruffle the hair to try and get it to stop sticking up, although it doesn’t help. I figure it needs a good wash, much like the rest of me. There aren’t any showers I can use, unfortunately.

My eyes aren’t yellow like that of the zombies, but rather a nice blue, matching the color of the mist the cure produced. I can’t remember much of anything, but I feel as if something is off in my appearance that hadn’t been present before I had turned. It’s frustrating not knowing my own memories or even my own appearance. Rubbing a cut on my arm, I hear a knock come from the door.

“All done in there?”

“Yes, come in!” I call, my voice feeling better already. The nurse walks in and helps me into a wheelchair, taking me into a private examination room. A doctor waits in the room, watching something on a screen hooked up to the wall. I stare at the moving pictures with awe. I haven’t seen anything like it, or perhaps I’ve forgotten. The sound is quiet, but I direct all my attention to listening as I’m helped from the wheelchair to the bed.

“...Our next project is already underway.” Says the man’s voice right before the doctor clicks a button, turning the screen to black. Turning back to me, he must’ve been able to tell that I seem a bit confused.

“Television. It’s an old thing, but new for us considering the last few decades were spent without it.” He explains, grabbing a seat and placing himself near her.

“Who was that talking?” I ask, not having gotten a good look at his face.

“That is the man responsible for you being here in this hospital and not zombified in a forest. He created the cure practically alone. Vlad Fiscella. He was making a speech about his next course of action, though what’s more important right now is you! You can learn all about his speech later.” Explains the doctor, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

I feel as if I’ve heard that name somewhere. Well, I probably have if he is such a famous man. It seems well-deserved. Then it hits me.

“Erina,” I say, my voice a whisper, though not because it’s hoarse. I repeat the word a little louder. “Erina. That was my name. That is my name.”

The doctor nods along with a smile, writing the name down on his papers. It likely seems to him that I had said the name out of nowhere. But I know why the other name had seemed familiar to me now.

“Any last name coming to you?” The doctor asks.

I shake my head. It’s a lie. I’m sure it’d cause a little more attention towards me than I’d like if I admit that I share a surname with the most famous man on the planet; Fiscella. That’s why the name is familiar. I don’t know how I know the man, but something tells me that telling the truth would be a bad idea, and not just because of the attention it would bring me.