| Episode 030 | |
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“The light in the window is a crack in the
sky, Ozzy Osbourne, No More Tears
All cities have a pulse. It’s a life that it gives off no matter how quiet or asleep the city may be. It’s like an organism. The more life there is within a city, the more lift the city has. Cities have souls and lives all their own. And they are a reflection of their denizens, as well as their denizens are a reflection of themselves. But cities, being their own things, are not always proud of their denizens. Cities are like parents and often the best of parents can turn out the worst of children. Cities do not always look kindly upon those within their walls, and do not approve of the lives that their people lead. Cities have their own morality, all their own. You feel it whenever you travel to a new town and feel like something that would normally be unconscionable is acceptable, or where something you would normally do without a second thought is not to even be considered. Cities are living things. They have souls. They have moralities. They are alive. If a city can live and a city can die, can it be undead?
Sam’s eyes open up from his daze when he hears footsteps coming around the corner. He sits up just as he sees the shambling mass come around the corner. He reaches out for his machete, but finds it missing. And standing over him in the light from the distant street is the zombie. It doesn’t have a familiar face or a familiar build. It’s completely anonymous, just a zombie. But just the same, it shambles towards him. He tries to get away from it, but it doesn’t hurry. It doesn’t speed up. It has no reason to. Sam throws himself against the far back wall, captured by the impossibly tall buildings. He tries to scramble up against the wall, but it does no good. And the zombie shambles closer. Sam turns to it as it comes within a few steps of him. He tries to fight it, but it’s too strong. He winces in pain as it grabs his arms, its vice-like grip crushing the skin and bones and flesh within its chilling grasp. He tries to resist being pulled forward. He drives his heels into the ground, but he’s just pulled off balance. He feels the hot breath of the monster as it reaches for his skin. He feels its teeth, like a row of dull knives digging onto the sweaty flesh just next to his neck. He feels the teeth grind their way through his muscle and skin, chomping together inside his body. He feels the disease and filth between the teeth break off as the monster tears the chunk of Sam away from his body, being pulled down the monster’s slimy throat.
I wake up with a start. I clutch my machete to my body as I shiver in the heat of the city. I look around the alleyway, trying to remember where I am. In the distance, the ever-present thriving city lives on beyond me. I look around. I see Slate’s bag, but I don’t see her. And then I remember. “Food.” I say. As if on cue, I hear steps at the entrance of the alleyway. “Sam.” Comes Slate’s voice. I see her shadow from the lights at the entrance of the alley. I stand up as Slate turns the corner, the smell of greasy fast food in her hands as she hands one of the bags to me. I attack it voraciously, my hunger tackling me to the ground. Slate sits down as well, the smell of a few pre-dinner hamburgers on her breath explaining her lack of violence as she eats. After a few hamburgers are gone, I look up at the woman across from me, swallowing hard with a dry throat. “So what do we do from here?” I ask. “I don’t know.” She says somberly, eating as well. “How’d you pay for this?” I ask, my mouth half-full of fries. “I still have my debit card.” She says, looking up at the entrance of the alleyway. “I’m almost broke, though.” I sit back on the ground, getting more comfortable. The greasy food in my stomach makes me ache, but I don’t stop eating. “So, how’d you end up here?” I ask with a full mouth. “I mean, in this town, city I mean?” Slate unwraps another hamburger, but doesn’t bite into it. She pulls out her water bottle and takes a healthy swig, which reminds me of my bottle. I dig it out and help myself to it. “I was born in New York City.” She starts, her head leaning back against the brick wall behind her. “I lived there with my mom and dad until I was about fifteen or so. And then I got into a fight at school. Not my first fight, but this one involved a knife. And so my mom and dad decided they had had enough and we packed up and moved to Sparkling New York.” She says with a surprising hatred of the very name. “Where’s that?” I ask. “It’s upstate.” She says. “The Ever-After Project, or what would become the Ever-After Project, was setting up these little communities around the US. They were like little, self-contained towns. My dad had wanted to move out there since he first heard of it and they offered just a butt load of benefits, so I became the excuse they needed.” “And they recruited you from there?” I ask. The food’s slurring my words. I’m getting tired. “I was working at a gym when they contacted me.” She went on, playing with her hands. She keeps watching the entrance of the alleyway. “They said they needed health and fitness professionals for this new project. At first I said no. I mean I hated Sparkling but still. But they offered me this great job and to pay for the move and all these benefits. I mean, they just buy you up, lock stock and barrel.” “Wow.” I nod. I check the alleyway as well, then look across as Slate. “So what’s the deal with vampires?” Slate looks down. She doesn’t answer for a moment. “Did you know my real name’s Nancy?” she says slowly. “Do you want to be called that, or Slate?” I ask, sympathizing. I want her to answer the question. She smiles. “Slate. I never really liked Nancy.” “Well, Slate.” I say, trying to sound friendly. “I’d really like to know about these vampires you mentioned.” “Sam, imagine the zombies,” She says, looking at me. “But they can still think like humans. Imagine that they can still talk and reason and move normally and for the most part look normal. But they still eat flesh and they still get cravings.” “Great.” I say. I’m not sure if I believe her. I’m not sure why I wouldn’t though. “They first appeared about six months or so ago.” She explains, balling up against the wall. “I saw one at a club and they started a fight and just beat the hell out of everyone. Within a few weeks, I noticed a few more of them. And the police suddenly started not doing anything about them, saying they were either normal people or urban legends.” “So I guess that’s why we haven’t gone to anyone yet.” I say. “Pretty much,” She says in a maternal tone that all woman use to annoy the guys they’re around. “They don’t want out. And what they want goes. If they don’t want out, we don’t get out.” “But you got out.” I say. “If you got out, then we should be able to get to another bio-dome.” “Not without a map or something like that.” She says. “In order to go exploring down there, we’d need some serious supplies, especially now that the zombies are down there.” “Zombies to the left of me, vampires to the right, stuck in the middle with you.” I quote, making her half-smile. “Slate, we’ve got to do something.” “There’s a couple of people here that may help us. May.” She emphasizes. “But for right now, I just want to crash.” “Crash?” I exclaimed, looking around the alley. “Here?” “I can’t use my ATM to get us a hotel room.” She says. “I don’t have an apartment any more. There’s nowhere for us to go. Not that wouldn’t involve a cross-city trek.” I want to argue with her, but I know I don’t stand a chance. Besides, I’m feeling a bit tired myself. “We’ll get a few hours sleep, then in the morning, we’ll figure out what to do next.” She says, pulling her arms in close, laying her head against the brick wall. “Maybe we will try to get to another bio-dome. Maybe.” She drifts off pretty easily. I watch her fall asleep, then I lay back. With my back against the brick wall, I can see out into the alleyway. I find myself thinking about what time it is. I think about the cell phone in my backpack, but I don’t worry about it. No matter what time it is, I’m going to sleep now anyway. I lay back, propping my head against the dumpster I’m sitting next to. I watch the small entrance to our narrow band of concrete and brick peace, but before I know it, my eyes droop heavily and I’m gone. |
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