Discovery of Death (12 page)

Authors: A P Fuchs

Last night, he had found a street walker by an old warehouse on Higgins, tugged her into the shadows and breathed in her perfume before parting her red hair and feasting on her blood. After, sitting on the ground beside her body, rocking from the pleasure, Wil standing guard, he saw the woman as a little girl. Saw her father beat her. Saw stacks of homework as the woman tried to make something of herself. He learned she had been a medical student, but had to drop out early because she didn’t have enough money to finish her schooling. Worse, she was only a year away. After some odd jobs, she fell into habitual drug use, and soon worked the street as a means to survive and support her habit.

It was the images of school that rocked Zach’s world and reminded him of his own wandering the halls, heading to class, opening and closing his locker. During one of the flashbacks, his locker door closed and a beautiful girl stood on the other side. She had long brown hair that sat in ringlets on her shoulders, her bright hazel eyes sparkling despite the poor hallway lighting. Her lips were pink and plush, the kind that made him ache to touch them with his fingertips.

It was the same girl in the flashback where he saw himself around a dinner table.

The connection was there, taunting him from within. Obviously, he knew her, but whether she was someone he kind of knew, was related to or something else, that he wasn’t sure. Yet there was something else about her, something that told him she had meant a great deal to him.

As he sat outside the mausoleum, he wondered if the tugging on his heart was real, or if it was a phantom sensation from his old life.

Rain had told him that as memories were slowly restored, some days would be easier than others. Some days were to be filled with questions, while others would be filled with answers and moments of reflection.

“
Just wish I knew who she was,” Zach said. He rubbed his hands on the damp grass that was still wet from the rain from the night before. The cool water helped sooth the heat upon his skin.

He stood and floated a few inches above the ground, the sense of leaving gravity behind helping lift the weariness inside. He needed to get back inside the crypt soon, not only to sleep but to get out from under the clouds and heal.

It wasn’t long before he noticed he had floated far from where he should be. He was under strict orders not to wander far from his family’s crypt. He still had so much to learn, his mother told him, and she didn’t want to risk anything going wrong while he was without supervision.

Behind the next row of tombstones, there was a gathering of people. Zach touched down and walked silently on the grass, keeping himself in line with the trees so he wouldn’t be seen.

This was the first time he saw such a crowd in the cemetery since waking here. When he did see someone, it was usually just one or two people at a time to visit the grave of a loved one.

Zach went behind a tree around thirty feet from the gathering and looked on. Some of the people were crying. Others merely stood there with blank expressions. A few were huddled together in an embrace. Were they all here to visit someone now deceased? There were about thirty people in all, ranging in age from around ten to over seventy.

Zach listened intently, and the man in the black shirt and pants beyond saying, “. . . Father, Son and Holy Ghost. May Your servant, O God, rest in peace. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen.”

The man in black moved out of the way, revealing two figures at the fore of everyone else.

They were the same people from the flashback after his first feeding. The man, tired and worn—and the girl, beautiful and mystifying.

♦ ♦ ♦

Rose’s father closed the door to the
columbarium
, and locked it. It would be sealed up later with a plaque put in place with her mother’s name, date of birth and date of death, and a note of sentiment.

Marcus put a hand around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

The tears fell anew and Rose put her face in her hands. Her dad brought her in to a full hug and rubbed her back.

“
It’s okay,” he said, “let it all out.”

Rose’s eyes glanced over the
columbarium
. She could envision her mother’s ashes in there, the same ashes that once composed her actual body. Her mom. Already she missed her mother’s smile, her laugh, the occasional nights she tucked Rose in despite her being a teenager.

A sharp pain running through her heart in waves, she told her dad she wanted to say good-bye to her mother one last time, alone.

“
Sure, go ahead,” he said softly.

Rose went up to the
columbarium
and laid her fingers on it. “Mom . . .” she said, but was cut short when she saw the face of a young man looking at them from behind a tree not too far away.

A thunderclap slammed through her heart and her mouth went dry.
No . . .
“It can’t be . . .”

The young man pulled away in behind the tree.

“
Zach?” she whispered.

Her father came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Rose?”

“
Dad, I saw—” She glanced back toward the tree and she thought she saw someone running past the tombstones beyond, the person’s motion so fluid it looked like they were gliding across the grass instead of running on it.

“
Honey?” her dad said.

“
I have to—” And before she realized it, her legs were already moving under her.
I can’t believe this. Is it him? Can’t be. What would he be doing here?
She ran around a row of tombstones, past a few trees, her father calling her name somewhere behind her.

She tripped over a stray tree branch and fell, her hands blocking her fall before her face hit the grass. She lay there a moment, catching her breath, elation and hurt pulling her feelings to either side.

Broken and tired, she slowly got to her feet. Palms stinging, she checked them over for scratches. They were only grass-stained; she gently brushed them together and dusted off the blades that stuck to her skin.

The cemetery around her was empty aside from her party, just a sea of tombstones and trees.

“
I’m losing it,” she said. “I thought I saw—” Someone was behind her. Rose spun around and a wave of dizziness passed through her when Zach stood before her.

Her legs gave out; he swiftly caught her before she hit the ground.

“
Zach?” she said, scrambling to get her own two legs under her.
No, it’s impossible!
“You’re . . . you’re . . .”

“
How do you know my name?” he asked.

“
How do I—Zach, it’s me, Rose. Remember? We’re dat—”

Mr. Jordan called out to her a few rows away.

“
I can’t stay,” Zach said.

“
What? Why? Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Oh, Zach.” She ran up to hold him and fell into his arms.

“
Who are you?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, but instead shut her eyes and squeezed him tight.

“
Rose!” It was her father.

Right before she opened her eyes, her arms passed through the air and she was clasping herself.

Her father grabbed her and shook her. “Rose! Are you okay? Did it—did he—”

“
Dad,” she said. “It was Zach. He’s alive.”

♦ ♦ ♦

From beyond the tombstones, Mira looked on.
Come home, Zach dear. Do not worry about them now.

Contact had been made.

Everything was going to plan.

About the Author

A.P. Fuchs
is the author of many novels and short stories, most of which have been published. His most recent books are
Possession of the Dead,
Magic Man Plus 15 Tales of Terror
and
Zombie Fight Night: Battles of the Dead
, in which zombies fight such classic monsters as werewolves, vampires, Bigfoot, and even go up against awesome foes like pirates, ninjas, and . . . Bruce Lee.

A.P. Fuchs is also known for his superhero series,
The Axiom-man Saga
, and the author of the shoot ’em up zombie trilogy,
Undead World
. He also edited the zombie anthologies
Dead Science
and
Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes: Zany Zombie Poetry for the Undead Head
.