Renn woke up as a zombie, and it was the best day of his life.
That was his first thought, anyway. Blinking slowly, he raised his arm and felt his forehead. Yep, that was a fatal wound, and his body was as dead as a dormouse that had taken the cheese and been caught in the snapping trap. He was officially a zombie. Dream come true.
His second thought, belatedly, was that he had to find his wife and make sure she and the kids were safe. This was followed by a jolt of fear that they’d also been killed by the bandits, the reassurance that he’d seen them running to safety, and a quick musing on whether he should actually call his wife his widow. Knowing that they were safe, he wondered how on earth was he going to catch up to them, and the whole mess was hurting his brain—
Fudge, he was hungry.
Brains?
He looked down at the two dead bandits next to him. As an official zombie, he didn’t feel like he wanted to eat their brains. He actually felt pretty disgusted the longer he looked at them, confirming that his one brain currently within his head was sufficient, thank you very much. He decided to look away.
He didn’t look away.
No, he had to correct himself, that wasn’t right. He absolutely had looked away, and was feeling considerably less disgusted as a result. It was just, HE hadn’t turned—he’d told his body to turn and it, as usual, had obeyed. There was a jarring disconnect between his thoughts and his actions, and it made him uncomfortable. He tried to walk away, to get his mind on something else. HE didn’t walk away, but he piloted his shambling self out of the building and onto the road, where he promptly threw up.
Less nauseated? Yes. Still hungry? Unfortunately, also yes. He recalled seeing a gas station not far up the road.
A few hours later, he’d hauled his slowly decomposing self into the minimart and was getting himself sated. Reaching across the shelf, he picked up another bag of chips, adding it to the four already in his bag, the pack of water bottles, and the instant ramen loaded with so many preservatives that it could, and now effectively did, last past the end of the world. And, as a treat, the shelf full of candy.
It was while he was filling his pack with chocolate bars that he spied the shoe. He felt the pack slip out of his hands as the order to hold on took an extra moment to reach his decaying neurons. The bars spilled onto the floor, pushing the tiny shoe onto its side. The tiny, pink shoe that always seemed reluctant to stay on its foot.
Sunlight. Running, not from any horror, but for fun. His son just ahead, his wife and daughter laughing behind them.
Aure kicks off her shoe. Renn turns back to pick it up, watches her little legs twitch, smiles as he puts it on like she’s some precious little Cinderella. It’s the fifth time he’s done it this morning.
Renn recoiled at the realization. They had been here. His family had been through there, and not long ago. They couldn’t be far ahead, slowed down with a baby, and he couldn’t have been out for more than two days, judging by the way he smelled. Three days, tops.
Movement outside. A woman, facing away, partially obscured by one of the gas pumps. She was kneeling.
“Quill!” Renn yelled, too overjoyed to exercise an advisable amount of caution. “Quill, Terrence, Aure!” Running outside, he was ready to reach out and embrace her when she looked back in surprise. Renn’s bag of food spilled yet again as he stepped back. The woman wasn’t Quill. She wasn’t even human, although the folds of her dress did a good job of concealing her extra appendages.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman, “I don’t believe I know who you’re looking for.”
“Sorry,” stammered Renn, taking an unsteady step back.
The monster woman shrugged. “I’ve been startled worse.” She stood up. “Anything I can assist with? I haven’t been here long, but a few other humans passed by this way earlier. Perhaps one of them is the person you are looking for.”
“I, well…” Renn was still getting over his surprise, but he wasn’t about to look a gift monster in the snaggle-toothed mouth. Or not look too closely, at any rate. “I’m looking for my wife, actually. My wife and two little kids.”
“Children,” she said thoughtfully. “Truth be told, I’m not too good with judging your ages, but there were some humans that looked younger here. I hate to gossip, but they were rather disreputable looking. I wouldn’t consider any of them little kids, though.”
Renn had stopped listening to her. He was busy accepting the slow realization that this monster woman’s dress was made of people’s skin. Patches of it had been sewn together into a macabre cloth, and from the look of the unfinished hemming, it seemed like she’d been in the middle of sewing more on when he’d interrupted her. “Oh my god,” he found himself saying.
“What?” she said, confused. Following her eyes, her nose wrinkled. “Heavens, there’s no need to gape like that. I’m not going to kill you. I mean no offense, but your skin is in rather poor quality. I couldn’t in good faith make something out of it. Maybe if—ah!”
Renn had shoved her against the gas pump. “What did you do to them?” he demanded.
“Nothing, I—“ With a deft motion, her many arms rose up and pushed him back. He hit the ground, rolling in pain, his bloated belly threatening to burst. “I told you,” the woman said crossly, “I didn’t see your wife and children. There’s no need to assault me over it.”
Gathering up her ‘fabric’, she stormed off with her head held high, leaving Renn more alone and in pain than ever.
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The day wore on, and Renn was still walking. He’d been walking almost nonstop since the convenience store, with only one interruption of having to hide from one of Havenport’s patrol helicopters. It would’ve been a welcome sight a few days ago, but something told him that the city they had been heading towards, with its renowned anti-monster defenses, would not roll out the red carpet with the way he looked now.
He rubbed his dry eyes, but his vision still blurred. Soreness registered up and down his legs, but it was easily bearable. He didn’t even feel the pain, he just felt that his body was in pain. Still, as discomforting as that thought was, the only thing that really affected him was the hunger. Whatever food he’d taken from the convenience store, his decomposing guts didn’t seem to be processing it. Still, he forced himself to press on. He had to see his wife and kids again, even if it was only to say goodbye.
As he crested the top of the hill, the sun sinking behind him, a single gunshot sounded ahead. Instinctively, Renn crouched, but the shot hadn’t been aimed in his direction. Indeed, there didn’t seem to be any additional fire coming from either the house over the hill or the three disreputable-looking young men glaring at it, although one of them was waving his pistol with rage. “She tried to shoot me! The crazy bitch tried to shoot me!”
“Oh my gosh, will you quit harping about that?” his companion, a man with blond hair, groaned. “She was holding a baby and the other kid was screaming her ear off. I don’t think she could’ve hit you if you’d had a bloody target stapled to your face.”
The third man, who was wearing broken glasses, looked at the house uneasily. “Still, do you think it might be better to pick an easier target? She does have a gun.”
The blond man threw his hands up. “She has a baby and a kid and is obviously scared as hell now that the sun’s going down. Do you expect gift wrapping?” The man with glasses grumbled and backed off. “At any rate,” the blond continued, “it’s almost night. Once it’s dark, it’ll be like shooting fish in a really small barrel.” There were some mumbles of approval, and then the three men dispersed to surround the house.
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The man with the pistol stopped a stone’s throw away from Renn, facing towards the house. He could only hear some of the bandit’s mumbled curses, but it was enough to make what was left of his blood boil. In his mind, he could see Quill crouched within the house: one arm around Aure, trying to keep her quiet, and the other around Terrence, reassuring him while covering her own terror. He knew she was strong, that she could take care of herself and the kids without him, but anyone’s chances were slim against three armed bandits. He had to do something. Despite the terrible state that he was in, he lunged forward upon the bandit with the pistol.
Instead of punching down the man like he’d hoped, Renn merely fell on top of him. No! he choked, fighting to keep the bandit down. The bandit, younger and stronger and miles more alive, flailed desperately, firing off the shot on his pistol. Help would no doubt be close by. In the meantime, he fought for his life, and he was winning.
As the bandit gained the upper hand and rolled on top, in one last desperate attempt, Renn seized the back of the other man’s hair and shoved it close to his open mouth. Ignoring the man’s screams, Renn closed his eyes and—
—It was noon, the sun high overhead. They’d gone fishing that morning, Terrence and he, and had caught a small monster that looked like a furry trout. Quill was eager to cook it, and Renn had promised Terrence he would take him swimming in the river later. For his last moments alive, he couldn’t have asked for a better day—
—Chocolate this time. When she had been pregnant with Terrence, it had been coffee. Renn crept through the abandoned store, searching for danger, waiting for the signal from his fellow survivor. Their community didn’t need to go on risky raids for food now that they were growing their own, but he had volunteered to find some painkillers as their supply was getting low. And, if he could find it, something sweet to satisfy his wife’s pregnancy cravings. If there was one good thing about 99% of the human race being gone, it was that they weren’t liable to run out of chocolate bars—
—Terrence was six, and wanted a job. He was going to fight monsters, he’d decided, monsters and bad bandits until every last one of them was gone. As inspiration, he cited the comic his father was drawing about a zombie private eye who confronted other monsters with the help of his bumbling werewolf assistant. Renn held him close and laughed—
—Renn had never been a religious man. How he, a devout atheist, had ended up with a dedicated Christian, was one of life’s funny little mysteries. Yet end up together they had, and now Quill was in peril. She insisted that this was what she wanted, she was glad she had gotten a chance to hope, but even so, Renn couldn’t help but hate himself. He hadn’t realized how dangerous having a child could be without hospitals and anesthetics and doctors with experience, and here, Quill had none of those. Helpless to do anything but squeeze her hand as she tossed in pain, he hoped that something up there cared about her life. He may have not believed, but he prayed—
—Quill turned around, haloed in sunset. Their situation was much more stable now: the barricades had been holding up, their food stores were full, and not one person had died that month. For the first time in what felt like a long, long time, they weren’t focused on merely surviving. Quill rested her head against his shoulder, and Renn felt the quiet beat of her heart, knowing she felt safe from monsters that—
—did what he had not done for thirteen glorious years. Closing his clouded eyes, he opened his real senses. Numerous little legs detached themselves from his rotting brain—the brain that was no longer his, that was sputtering out and starving him for nutrients. And he crawled up and out, out of the expiring body and into the cool night air. Blind and deaf to the world outside, instinct guided him into the warm wetness of the bandit’s nose. He didn’t stop gnawing until he had closed his jaws around grey matter, deep within the bandit’s brain, and the man slumped forward.
Renn sat up. Blinking dizzily, he looked down to see his old self dead on the ground. It wasn’t him anymore, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of sadness and revulsion at the man who had been his host for thirteen years. Both that man and the current bandit he was inhabiting had been disreputable, awful folks who wouldn’t be missed, but still, the feeling of their brains as they faded wasn’t something he relished.
“Hey, hey are you okay?” The man with glasses had reached him first. He looked around nervously, trying to find the source of the danger. “What the heck happened to you?”
Renn got up unsteadily. “I’m fine now, really,” he said. Throwing in a little smile for reassurance, he took a small step forward, regaining his balance. Once he was sure of himself, he raised the pistol and fired at his companion.
The other bandit was halfway to the pair of them when the man with glasses fell. In the moment of surprise, Renn fired another shot. And with that, it was all over and done.
His wife and kids were still in there.
“Quill!” he screamed. “Quill, it’s okay!” Running up to the house, he flung open the broken door. Room after room, he searched desperately in the darkness, but nobody was there. “Quill! Terrence! Aure!” he screamed, running to the back door.
And over the next hill, he saw their shadowed figures running from the fight at the house. Even as he reached out for them, his new eyes could see the Havenport helicopter dip down next to them and let them in. And faster than he could run, he watched it fly off toward the city. Toward safety.
His hand fell limp at his side. He could still follow them. He would make it to the city, find her, and…have no other choice but to reveal the truth. He hadn’t wanted to keep secrets from Quill, at least not after the beginning, but couldn’t think of a good way to say, “Hey, honey, I know we’ve been married for a while now but the real me is actually a brain parasite.” Every time he’d wanted to tell her, it would’ve made a good moment bad or a bad moment worse, and after a while, he’d admitted to himself that it was more convenient to not say anything. The worst part was, he didn’t even feel that guilty about it. He felt guilty over not feeling guilty, sure, but it was the same level of disconnect he’d felt over the pain in his old body. He could pass very well for a human, could feel pleasure and pain and morality if he so chose, but he would always be pretending. It would never be real.
With his now-functioning eyes, he gazed at the darkening sky and wept.
“Hello, sir,” someone called. Renn looked up quickly, but the pair who approached him seemed more curious than inclined towards violence. They stopped a safe few yards away, and the man waved. “Are you alright?”
Renn studied the two strangers, a middle-aged human man and a monstrous male ophidian from his own world. They would have made a strange pair, if he hadn’t been able to sense the pheromones revealing them to be mere puppets controlled by parasites like himself.
Seeing the man’s concern and realizing he hadn’t yet given an answer, Renn quickly replied, “Sorry, everything’s fine.” Then he stood up. “Are you looking for something?”
The man gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Host hunting, mainly because Embryne can’t stand having scales.” He gestured to the ophidian, who gave an exasperated hiss. “But, ah, you seem to have gotten them all.”
Renn glanced back at the two bodies, and then down at his shoes. “Sorry about that.”
The ophidian sighed. “It’s not a priority,” he consented. “Besides, I was hoping for a female. More time to choose, I suppose.”
“Still, sorry about that.” His stomach rolled, and he wished he could chalk it up solely to getting used to his new host. “Best of luck with that. I won’t be in your way then.”
“Wait,” said Embryne, “you don’t have to go.”
“It’s past sunset,” the man added. “If you’ve a long way to travel, you had might as well fall in with us. Safety in numbers, or so the saying goes.”
Renn bit his lip, feeling the pain receptors tingle. “I…” He closed his eyes, knowing he could still make it to Havenport. He could find Quill, let her know the truth, ask for her forgiveness. In a moment of clairvoyance, the scene played out in his mind.
—Quill standing at the doorway, horrified by his confession. Terrence poised to flee like he’d been trained to at the first sign of danger, but unable to move because the danger was someone he should’ve been able to trust. Aurelien, too young to understand, bawling to get away from this stranger. They weren’t even technically his children, just the kids of a body he’d been in control of. And now that they were in the city, someone might heed their cries for help—
He shook his head, dropping the thought. In his old body, at least there would’ve been some semblance of familiarity. As long as they hadn’t yet made it to the city, he could’ve seen them without revealing the truth, even if he would surely have died afterwards in his decaying state. Now, however, a confession was inevitable, and it would do nothing but hurt them all. Monsters had destroyed their world, and as much as he tried to pretend otherwise, he would always be a monster.
“I’ll come. Thank you for the offer,” Renn found himself agreeing. His family was safe now and had processed that he was dead, like they’d processed the deaths of so many of their other companions throughout the years. It was better to let it stay that way. “If you haven’t eaten yet, I’ve got some convenience store food.”
“Excellent,” said the ophidian, turning to his companion. “I’ve found that anything raw and fuzzy satiates this form, but Caliax, are you still hungry?”
“Positively starved for something cheap and over salted,” the man said, breaking into a savage smile. “Thanks.”
“Then you’re in luck,” grinned Renn. As his new companion accepted a bag of chips, Renn could imagine another family eating together, the mother sitting quietly with her son and infant daughter. And though it was only in his mind, it had to be enough.