Racine watched the blood trickle down Rick's forehead and laughed. It had been too easy. She was already wishing she could do it all over again. She would make it last a little longer next time. It was too sudden. Where was the joy in that? When you’re having fun, you want it to last. She didn't have long to wait, though, for another opportunity. Only a few moments later another park visitor arrived.
Dave Connor had come back to his grave. He didn't even see her at first. He had been walking blindly, not knowing or caring where he was going. He stopped short at the sight of Rick's body in the hole, at first not recognizing his former classmate and associate.
"You must be Dave", said Racine, tucking the gun back into her belt. He looked up. Her face didn't register either.
"Do you know me too?", he asked. It was beginning to seem like everybody knew him, and he did not know anyone.
"Only by reputation", she chuckled. They were standing near each other, Dave at the foot of the pit, Racine beside it.
"Who are you?"
"Call me Racine, she told him, and added, “It seems you and I have a few things in common", she said.
"Like what?", he asked. "Are you dead too?"
"Oh, no", she laughed, and she pulled off her fake bloody-boob suit to reveal another t-shirt she was wearing beneath. She ripped off the eye patch as well.
"Though people sometimes think so", she continued. "What's it like to be really dead, I wonder. Tell me about it, won't you Dave?"
"It's like being alive", he replied. "Only different."
“What do you do for kicks?”, she asked.
“No kicks”, he replied, shaking her head.
“What about sex?” she sneered.
He just shook his head in response.
“There’s got to be something”, she said. “Else what do you do with yourself? What makes you even want to go on?”
“Nothing, I guess”, he shrugged.
"Yeah, well, that's what I thought", she said. "Do you like being dead, Dave? Does it agree with you?"
"No", he replied. "I don't like it."
"That’s good", she said, and added, “well, sometimes a cat just gets hit by a car, do you know what I mean?” and with the quickness of a tiger she snatched a machete from her side, and in one swift blow, lopped off his head. Dave, and his head, hit the ground simultaneously. She kicked the head into the grave next to Rick's shoulder, then called out into the woods,
"Hey, come on. Give me a hand here, will you?"
"Be right there", came a low deep voice from behind a tree. Dennis emerged, carrying a shovel and pulling on a pair of work gloves. He went right to work, dragging Dave's body into the hole and beginning to scoop the extra dirt on top of the bodies.
"Good job", he said.
"Of course", she replied, looking on. She lingered to watch him complete the job. There was something about the smell of freshly dug graves that appealed to her deeply. Dennis grabbed some nearby duff to spread around and make the site look as natural as possible. When he was finally satisfied, he reached into his jacket pocket, but his hand came out empty. He sighed, and shook his head.
"Rats", he declared. "I forgot the darn orange peel”, and his whole wide body shook with silent laughter.
Thanks so much for reading Zombie Nights. I'd love to hear what you thought of it - this story has generated such a wide variety of comments and ratings over the past few years, it's always interesting to find out what readers have to say.
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Being a zombie, not so easy. That could have been Dave Connor's six word memoir. "At first he couldn't remember how he'd ended up in that shallow grave; he just knew it was hell to claw his way out, and that the taste of its dirt would remain in his...