Archive of Our Own

I’m on my way out of Blackbyrd Records and past the shops on Eighth Street when I see the crying girl.

It's been a pretty good haul today: I got a couple of vintage Bowie singles that someone had left on consignment and the owner put aside for me. I love buying vinyl. Benny, my campus roommate, loves to rant about how much random junk I bring home and how the only people under forty who listen to records are hipsters.

What's so wrong with being a hipster?

Anyway, the girl stands in front of the candy store next door, out of the way of the crowd. She's trying hard not to make noise but her eyes are red and there's tears running down her cheeks. She's probably 11 or 12, from what I can guess, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. I look around but don’t see any parents.

I probably shouldn't get involved. I should head home and deal with my own issues but something in me makes me stop.

I kneel down next to her. "Are you okay?" I ask.

The girl jumps and spins to face me. She pulls back a little bit, like she's not sure whether or not I’m dangerous. I wonder if I’m coming across as a creeper. I hope not. I’m just terrible at trying to connect to people.

"Are you okay?" I say again. "You're crying."

The girl hesitates. She gives me a long hard look over before deciding that I'm probably not dangerous. "I lost my Mom," she says. "We were shopping for clothes and I snuck out to get some candy and when I came back she was gone."

Lost kid. I figured as much. Poor thing. "I'm sure she's looking for you right now. Stay close to where you last saw her and I'm sure she'll find you."

"But what if the zombies get me?" she blurts out and starts crying again.

There's been a bunch of stuff on the news over the last couple of days about people in Siberia claiming that zombies are attacking remote villages. The TV newscasters have been reporting it with a mix of concern and humor -- because seriously, zombies -- but it’s still more interesting than all the other garbage going on in the world with politics and wars.

"I promise the zombies won't get you," I say. "I'll protect you from them, keep you safe." I hold up the plastic bag from Blackbyrd Records. "It's a well-known fact that zombies hate music."

She gives me a hard look like she clearly doesn't believe me but it seems to calm her down a little. I offer her my bag and she takes it. She flips through the records inside and pulls one out to look at the cover.

"What's a Starman?" she asks.

I’m not sure whether the girl's parents would be okay with her hearing all about Ziggy Stardust and his adventures with sex, drugs, and getting ripped to pieces by a mob of adoring fans. Probably better not to tell her the whole truth.

"He's an alien that wants people to be happy and have a good time. It's a famous song."

"About an alien? Huh," the girl says. She looks up at me. Her eyes are all red but the crying's stopped. "Couldn't you just get this on iTunes?"

Man, even kids are judgy about musical tastes. I try to think of a good way of explaining audio fidelity to an 11-year-old when she speaks again.

"Your eyes are so blue," she says, staring at my face.

I chuckle. "Yeah, I get that a lot." I offer her my hand. "I’m Rob," I say.

She looks at my hand carefully and then slowly reaches out to take it. "I’m Julie. Nice to meet you R—"

"Julie!"

I turn to see a woman running towards us. She looks like the girl. She has the same eyes and the same kind of blonde hair pulled back into a braid. She looks panicked.

"Mom!" the girl yells. She drops the bag of records and runs to her mother. I grab the bag the before it hits the ground and watch as the woman drops to her knees and sweeps the girl up in her arms.

"Where did you go? I turned around and you were gone! Oh honey, I was so scared."

"I'm sorry," the girl -- Julie -- says, starting to cry again. "I'm so sorry."

The woman gently rubs the girl's back. "It's okay, it's okay. Just don't do that again, okay?"

The girl nods. The mother wraps her hand around her daughter's and leads her off.

Good. Nice that she's back where she belongs.

As she leaves the girl looks back over her shoulder and gives me a little wave. I wave back. Cute kid. I watch the pair until they disappear into the crowd.

My phone buzzes. I check it to see another email from my parents about flying home for Christmas next month. I groan. They're almost as bad about this as Benny trying to set me up with that Rosaline girl from his Econ 337 class.

I grab my records and head home. If I have to plan flights out back home tonight at least I'll have something decent to listen to.

We hunt.

Why are we hunting again? Oh right, we’re hungry. We want food. You’d think the dead wouldn’t be hungry, what with not having working digestive systems anymore, but there's this hunger that always sits in the pit of your stomach and drives you to feed it. You can't though. Nothing can fill it.

I’ve been on a few hunts, but I’m still new. I have no idea how long I’ve been at this; Corpses don’t really have a good sense of time. I remember waking up in a departure lounge, wedged behind a couch in a pool of dried blood. It took me a couple days to creakily get out of there and find more like me. M took me under his wing and taught me the ways of the dead. He's a good friend.

M leads us towards an old shopping district. It's an artsy street full of small shops, most of which have broken windows. The group shuffles around abandoned cars and leftovers from past hunts as we search out food.

Something catches my eye and I stop. The rest of the group carries on without me.

It's a store with a picture of a bird out front. The window glass is cracked and the front door is open. There's some kind of static noise coming from inside. There's something about it that seems... familiar, maybe? I push the door open and lurch my way inside.

The store has lots of wooden shelves. Most of them are still intact; whatever this was looks like the Living survivors didn't hit this place up.

I shuffle forward and my foot hits something. I look down to see a cardboard square with a picture of a man with different colored eyes and a lightning bolt painted across his face. Some part of my mind groggily recognizes it as vinyl record.

The thought not his best album pops into my head. The heck? Not whose best? How would I know that?

There's a noise. I stop and sniff the air. I can smell Living flesh somewhere. Somewhere close.

There's a counter on the far side of the store with a record player sitting on top. Through some miracle it's still working. A dust-covered disc spins on and on and static plays through what I guess is a small built-in speaker.

Has this things been spinning for years? Man, those are some impressive batteries.

The smell of food is stronger over here. I shamble up to the counter and look behind it.

There's two Living girls huddled together on the floor. A girl with a braid clutches a girl with blonde hair to her chest. Neither of them have guns. Both of them look terrified.

I can smell them, smell the living flesh hanging off their bones. My lip curls. All I can think about is eating.

I lunge at them. I swing wide and hit the record player, knocking the needle onto the disc.

Music erupts from the player, something fast and loud about new love and good times.

I'm suddenly shot into a memory and the world explodes into color. For a moment I can see this shop full of life. The same song plays from speakers set into the ceiling. Bright sunshine comes in through the front windows. A clerk stacks flyers on the front counter. A group of friends laugh with each other. A little girl with golden hair stands in front of the store, crying.

For one short minute I feel less dead.

Then it ends and everything fades back into the grayness of reality but the music plays on. If my heart could beat it would be pounding right now.

I’m frozen in place by how much realer that felt than anything I’ve seen from eating brains.

The Living take advantage of my frozenness. The girl with the braid grabs the blonde girl's hand. "Julie, run!" she yells. I watch them bolt forward and disappear out the back of the shop.

I know I should probably chase after them. I mean, I'm fast, I'm strong, and I'm so hungry. But instead I stand there in the record shop swaying back and forth in time to the music until M eventually shows up.

M sniffs the air. "Food?" he asks.

I should say yes. I know where the prey went. If we hurry we can still catch the Living and rip the warm bloody flesh straight off their bones.

But chasing them would mean leaving the music and the music is the first thing in my undead life to ever make me feel something.

"No," I say distractedly.

M grunts in disappointment. He paws at my arm. "Come," he says.

I don't want to move. "Come," he says again. He grabs me this time.

I nod. I turn to follow him but inside I'm thinking of something else.

I want the record player. I want the feelings it gives me. I gotta figure out how to sneak that thing back to the airport.

This is a terrible idea. Like, in the entire history of my short unlife as one of the living dead this is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.

The hunting group shuffles slowly back to the airport. Everyone is in that drowsy mood that comes after a good feed. The memories you get from eating brains take a while to fade away. Everything else in life is so gray that we Corpses cherish that temporary high of experiencing life. I still have bits of Perry Kelvin’s last thoughts sloshing around in my head.

And it's an awfully good thing that everyone's distracted by a good kill or else the Living girl walking with us would probably have been ripped apart by now.

Julie Grigio says nothing. I keep stealing glances at her and the expression on her face is some kind of mix of absolute terror and barely contained rage. Perry's blood is still smeared all over her and that's enough to cover her scent for now but it won't last forever. I hope I can get her somewhere safe before it wears off.

I feel ... something when I look at Julie. Something new. I have no idea how to put it into words.

It's crazy. I’ve seen a lot of Living girls before. I’ve eaten several of them. Why is Julie so special that I want to save her? Why does Julie--

Julie sits in front of him in class. The sunlight coming through the barred windows of the safe zone school makes her blonde hair shine. She turns around when the teacher isn't looking and tosses Perry a note. He unfolds it. It's an invitation to drop by her house later that night while the Colonel is away at a meeting. Perry smiles at thought of seeing her there, of running his hands through that golden hair, of unbuttoning her shirt--

I shake my head. Perry's memories are distracting. Nice in a way I don't really get, but distracting.

M shuffles forward a little faster to match pace with me. He keeps looking at Julie. M's smarter than the average corpse. That's part of the reason I like him, usually, but if he catches on now Julie's toast.

"New?" M says.

Corpses don't lie. Most of them lack the brain power, frankly. But there's also no reason to lie. Corpses only have a few basic desires - hunt, kill, feed, pace - and there's nothing to gain by lying to each other. I’m something of a freak for stealing stuff on hunts and keeping it hidden.

For once I’m glad I can't show any emotions. "Yes," I say. It's hard to get the word out.

Julie stares forward. I can see her swallow but she stays silent. She's blinking too much. Corpses don't blink. Has M noticed all the blinking?

If he has we're in trouble because Julie--

Julie has a tube of strawberry chapstick saved for special occasions. When Perry kisses her she tastes like sweet berries. Perry hasn't had fruit since that last trip out to his aunt's orchard the summer before the world fell apart but the taste of her lips pressed against his is all the sweetness he needs.

M sniffs the air. "Sure?" he asks.

"Sure," I lie again. It's easier this time. "Fed," I add.

M grunts but doesn't push any further. He clumsily points at me. "Teach."

I nod. "Mmm."

I can work with this. If I’m expected to train Julie as a new Corpse then no one else will bother with her for a bit.

I'll stash her in the plane with my collection for now. No one else goes there. I feel like I need to protect Julie. And Julie--

"I promise the zombies won't get you," the college student says to the crying girl. "I'll protect you from them, keep you safe."

Is that one of Perry’s memories too? It seems fuzzier somehow.

But, yeah. I'll keep her safe.

Julie sits down in the airplane seat across the aisle from me and stares me straight in the eyes.

"I need some food," she says.

I look confused. "But..." I say and point to the big can of fruit cocktail.

Julie looks over to where I’m pointing. "Yeah that was great, but I finished it yesterday. I need more."

I stare blankly at her.

"Y'know, three square meals a day and all that?" She raises an eyebrow at me. "You don't know that? How often do Corpses need to eat, anyway? I don't think you've had anything in all the time I've been stuck here."

Three times a day? That seems excessive. How do the Living do other stuff when they have to eat so often?

The last time I ate was four days ago when I killed Perry Kelvin and smashed his head open for the brains inside. I feel funny about it now. Watching myself kill him from Perry's own memories gives me a feeling I'm not used to. Guilt? Indigestion? Something like that.

I shrug. "Couple... weeks."

"Huh," Julie says. "Guess that's why you guys aren't attacking like all the time." She leans forward. "Still, there's gotta be something to eat around here, right?"

I have no idea what the Living eat. Not human flesh, obviously because they're so put out when we do that, but what else could it be?

I guess there's one place I could check.

I stand and reach for Julie's hand. "Come," I say. She carefully wraps her fingers around mine and lets me lead her outside. Her hand is so warm against mine. It's nice.

It's pitch black outside at the airport at night. The power generators that ran the lights broke down years ago. Most of the lights you can see come from the safe zone the Living have built for themselves in the middle of the city. I slowly lead Julie across the tarmac to the grassy field by the runways, keeping a close eye out for any Corpses milling around. None of them seem to be around this part of the airport tonight. Probably having loads of fun pacing and groaning elsewhere, I guess.

One of the jets still sits on the runway. The doors to the cargo hold were broken open ages ago by Corpses trying to get at the last couple Living survivors and boxes spill all over the concrete below. I poke through the wreckage until I find what I’m looking for.

There's a box of canned goods that's split open, dumping cans all over the runway. Living like cans, right? She liked the other fine; maybe these are good too? I pick up a couple and take them over to Julie.

Julie grabs one from me and looks it over. "Beans it is," she says, pulling a knife out of her jacket pocket and carefully cutting the can open.

I didn't know she still had knives on her. I guess I should probably be grateful she hasn't stabbed me again.

"Want some?" Julie says, offering me the can with a little shake. I scoop out a bit with my finger and taste it. It tastes like mush to me. Pretty much everything that isn't ripped right off the Living does. I turn away and spit it out.

Julie sits down on the grass next to the plane and polishes the can off. She lets out a sigh of satisfaction when she's done. "Aaah, that hits the spot."

She sets the can down and flops back on the grass, staring up at the sky. "Wow," she says. "There's so many stars out here."

I lie down next to her. I’ve never much paid attention to the stars. There's no point. Why care about something you can't eat?

But I look up and there's a sea of light spread out across the night sky. It's kind of beautiful.

There's a Starman waiting in the sky, I think and then frown. Where'd that come from?

"Y'know," Julie says from next to me, "when I was a kid my Mom took me to a science museum," She scoffs. "How lame is that, right? A little kid getting all excited over seeing pictures of amoebas or learning how magnets work like it's a trip to Disneyland or something."

I have no idea what Disneyland is. Another city, maybe?

Come to think of it, I don't know what this city's called. Should I? I've never thought about that before.

"They had a planetarium there with a star projector," Julie continues. "They turned it on and there were so many stars. Way more than we could see in our backyard."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "You can't see any stars in the safe zone. They keep the floodlights on the outer walls on all night to make it easier to spot Corpses and there's so many people stacked on top of each other that the city’s basically all high-rises. I miss this." Her smile dims. "I miss my Mom," she adds quietly.

She takes a deep breath and goes silent. The two of us lie there together for a bit, saying nothing. I kind of like it.

Julie turns her head to look at me.

"R? Is it safe for me to go home yet?" she asks. "I really need to get back. I need to know that Nora made it out. My Dad probably thinks I'm dead."

Yes. It's probably been safe for a day or two. Concentrating is hard for a Corpse. Unless you're poking through someone else's delicious memories or on a hunt for food you spend a lot of time mindlessly zoning out and pacing. You wouldn't really be caring where the newbie was.

It's easier to think about things when Julie's around.

"No," I answer. "Soon. Not... yet. Not--"

"Not safe, yeah yeah, I know." She sighs. "I can't stay here forever though."

Deep inside, I wish she could.

I lie back on a bed and stares up at the sterile white ceiling of the safe zone's medical center. I breathe in and out and feel my chest rise and fall. Who knew that breathing could feel like such an accomplishment?

Everything hurts. I never really thought about how many times I got shot or stabbed during hunting raids because Corpses don't feel anything. But now that I'm coming back to life and there's feeling in my nerves again it's all hitting me like a wall of pain.

On the other hand though, everything hurts and after being numb for so long that's kind of a miracle.

Dr. Meyers, the doctor on call here, has me hooked up to a heart monitor. It beeps on steadily, proving that there actually a heart beating somewhere inside my chest. The doctor had me strip off my hoodie and t-shirt for the first time in eight years – seriously, eight years? -- so she could stop the bleeding and deal with my wounds.

Turns out when you get shot and stabbed a bunch of times you need some serious medical attention.

Julie and her Dad are standing nearby. Mr. Grigio keeps a steely gaze on me but at least he hasn't tried to attack me again. Julie changed into dry clothes while Dr. Meyers was stitching me up.

"So," Mr. Grigio says. "What's the verdict?"

"It's the strangest thing," Dr. Meyers says, flipping through her notes. "As far as I can tell he seems to be a perfectly normal, unusually healthy young man. He has a pair of bullet wounds in the shoulders, knife wounds to the sternum and back, and lacerations near the left ankle that's probably the site of initial infection but they're all healing at an unusually accelerated rate. I was able to remove the more recent bullet--" She nods at Mr. Grigio. "--before sewing up the wound but the other one was in too deep."

So Perry's bullet will be stuck inside me for the rest of my life. Heh.

Mr. Grigio keeps watching me. "Is there any chance he might still be infectious?"

"None that I can see. It would be good to keep him quarantined for a bit to make sure but I don't think we have much to worry about." She crosses her arms. "All those years they spent looking for a cure to the infection and one appears out of nowhere." She looks at Julie. "What did you use to cure him?"

"Love," Julie says.

Dr. Meyers stares blankly. "Love," she repeats. "Huh."

Mr. Grigio's radio beeps. "Excuse me," he says as he leaves the room to deal with whatever it is. The doctor heads back to her desk to make notes.

Julie leans over the bed to look at me up close. She's pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail but a few blonde wisps have come loose. They brush against my bare skin. They feel nice.

She runs a finger across the stitched-up knife wound in my chest. "Sorry 'bout that," she says.

"It's okay," I say. "You were trying to defend yourself against a monster." I chuckle a little. "You have a very good throwing arm but your aim's a little off."

Julie flicks my chest and I try not to wince. "Aren't you lucky."

Her fingers trace up, past my collarbone, along my neck, and come to rest on my cheek. She stares into my face, her eyes tracing over every detail.

"Your eyes are so blue," she says.

I feel confused. "They are?" I ask. All the dead have gray eyes. Just last night when I looked at my makeup-covered face in Julie's mirror my own gray eyes stared back at me.

"When we were in the pool I saw them change color." She runs a hand down the side of my face. "You should see yourself now."

Huh. Who knew I had blue eyes?

If I have a new eye color now I wonder if I'll ever get back the memories of whoever I was before I died. Would I even want those memories, though?

Meeting Julie has changed everything. It changed me and it's spreading to change everything. Not bad from such a terrible start between the two of us.

"I feel like we should start over again," I say.

Julie looks confused but I smile. “Hi," I say. "I'm R. It's very nice to meet you." I raise my hand off the bed and offer it to her.

I watch as she clues in. She shakes my hand with a fake seriousness. "Hello, R. I'm Julie. It's a pleasure to meet you now for the very first time."

"You're very pretty," I say, copying her seriousness. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Julie lets out a pretend gasp of shock. "That's so forward for a stranger to ask. Who knows if you're a weirdo or dead or something." Her expression softens. "Lucky for you you're pretty cute."

She leans over to kiss me. It's tender and warm and fills me with happiness.

She tastes like strawberries.

I break the kiss and pull back a little. "I love you," I whisper against Julie's lips.

"I love you too," she whispers back.

I'm alive and in love and kissing the most beautiful girl in the world. Truthfully, everything I've gone through is worth it just to be here now.