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"Amelia. What-Why?" How?

Her laugh is distorted by the thunder. "Thought you wouldn't see me again, huh?" She looks at me, then Cal. I don't answer her question, and I'm not sure if she even needs an answer. "Well, guess the gang's all back together now!" I follow her gaze to the gun in her hand. I glance at Cal and his eyes tell me he sees the same carved wood grips and polished barrel. The same .38 caliber revolver I bought him for his birthday, which once rested in the nightstand drawer, is now being turned over in Amelia's hands. Cal hangs his head, but not before an apology flashes in his eyes. I hope I return the same look, but I can't be sure.

Amelia catches the look. "How sweet. You guys know, it's supposed to be 'til death do us part,' right? Oh, wait, you didn't make it to the altar." Her maniacal laughter makes all of this seem like a nightmare, or a scene in a comic book. I can almost imagine a speech bubble protruding from her head. "Speaking of," she continues, "I'm mad at you guys." She pokes out her lip in a faux pout. "Eden, you didn't tell me how much fun being a zombie is. I don't have to eat brains, though. A little disappointed that wasn't true." She shrugs. "But it doesn't stop me from blowing people's out." She levels the gun at Cal's head. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper.

Cal seems to have found his voice, though, even though the words can't be made out through the tape. He struggles against his ties, his eyes pleading with Amelia. His whimpers are heartbreaking. I want to go to him, but I'm rooted to the spot.

"Aw, look at you. Big, strong Callum, can't even get out of a little tape." The raindrops on his face resemble tears, a sight I know isn't lost on Amelia. She walks over to him and bends down until her face is inches from his. "Look at you. Pathetic." She spits the word. "And to think I ever let you fuck me." She rolls her eyes. Cal is her plaything now, and I've been all but forgotten. I force myself to take a step toward them, my legs leaden, but neither notice. I take another, being careful not to let the gravel below crunch under my shoes. Do not even glance at me, I will Cal, wishing telepathy was an undead power. It would be more useful than not breathing.

"Let's play a game, Cal." The words are sickly sweet. You get to pick who gets to die first. Well, die again. You, or Eden." She looks at me when she says my name, and I'm thankful I wasn't mid-step. Amelia doesn't seem to notice-or care-that I've moved. She turns her attention back to Cal, and I move another stride. She leans in closer to Cal. "I can kill her first, if you want. But I want you to fuck me. One more time, for old time's sake. Whaddya say? Do you want Eden to watch us, or do you want it to just be me and you?" She licks his neck, and Cal recoils. He shakes his head hard enough to send droplets of water flying from his hair. "Aw, why not?" Another fake pout. "Have you even had zombie sex? It's great. Hopefully better than when we were alive." She laughs. I'm close enough to them I can smell Cal's cologne, and under that, the smell of something rotten.

Amelia puts the gun in her left hand and rips the tape from Cal's mouth in one quick motion. "Amelia. Why are you doing this?"

Sh avoids the question. "C'mon, Cal. We both know I'm a better fuck than you fiance. Isn't that what you told me?" Cal doesn't respond. "'Mmm, baby, you're so tight'," she imitates Cal. "And just think, you can choke me as hard and long as you want without having to worry about killing me." Cal still doesn't respond. "What's wrong? Don't like reminiscing with me?" She kisses him and rubs her free palm over the zipper of his jeans. "Bless it, can't get hard for me while she's around, I guess. It's okay, I can take care of that problem." She spins around, then takes a step back in shock when we are face to face. I grab the gun from her hand before she can comprehend what just happened.

"Game's over, Amelia." I level the gun at her head. Her smile is smug.

"Oh, Eden. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. Kill me if you want, but I'm not the only one that's been looking for you." Her voice is even, like I'm showing her a new puppy rather than pointing a loaded gun at her head.

"What are you talking about?" I try to match her conversational tone, but I can't quite keep the bitterness out of it.

"You think certain people don't know about you? About me, or Cal? You think they just accept the fact that you died and came back? No. They want answers. They want to know how, and why."

"I don't have those answers, either."

"Oh, but you do." She steps closer to me, smiling, and even though I have the gun in my hand, I step back. "You might not know in your head, but your body holds all the answers."

The gun shakes ever so slightly in my hand as I fully comprehend what she means. "But you see," Amelia continues, "they only need one of us alive to figure it out. And guess I was the lucky pick." She shurgs.

I aim the gun at her chest. She already has a hole there from when she died, but another one might serve her just fine. Amelia isn't fazed. She doesn't know she could die again! I think toward Cal without a glance toward him. I don't take my eyes off the woman in front of me. To be fair, I don't know if she can die again. If any of us here can. But if a bullet can slow her down when shit hits the fan, I'm taking my chances. "If they have you," I say, "why are we here?" I nod toward Cal, who might actually be in a clinical state of shock.

Amelia laughs again. "If you're asking if they sent me. They didn't. I'm here on my own."

Cal clears his throat, and both Amelia and I look over. He no longer hangs his head, but his eyes are full of an anger I've never seen as he stares at Amelia. "So you just decide to fuck us both over?"

Amelia turns her face to the starless sky. Cal uses the opportunity to lock eyes with me and nod toward her. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes tell me to take her down. There's not enough time. Amelia diverts her attention from the heavens back to us. "I wouldn't consider it 'fucking you over'. More like helping me out. Even after all of the tests they've ran on me, they still can't figure out how I'm walking around." She laughs again. "But if I'm going to be undead for the rest of eternity, I'm not spending it with you guys." She lunges at me.

I'm quicker than she is. I don't aim the gun when I pull the trigger. The blast echoes off the storage buildings, louder than the thunder. Amelia sinks to the ground. "You bitch. You shot me!" she wails. I did, and from the looks of things, I've blown off her kneecap. I've never shot anyone, but with the lack of blood, Amelia may as well have been a paper target at the range. She puts her hand over the entry wound and tries to stand, but fails. "Motherfucker, it hurts. Why does it hurt?" A dry sob escapes from her throat, and for a second, I feel sorry. For her, and for what I've done. The moment passes, though, and I rush over to Cal.

I keep the gun in my right hand and use my free hand to unwind the layers of duct tape than hold him to the chair. It makes for slow going, but I want to hold the revolver in case it's needed again. I finally free his left hand, and he uses it to start on his right while I kneel down and work on the tape binding his legs. Amelia doesn't make a move to stop us. A look at her over my shoulder shows her on the ground, holding her knee, and alternating between cursing us and whimpering. When the last layer of tape is unraveled, Cal jumps out of the chair. He helps me to my feet. "Thank you," he whispers. I can't look at him. I can't move or speak. The only thing I can do is stare at my former best friend. I feel his hand close over mine, the hand that hold the gun, and he peels my frozen fingers off the grips one by one. He takes the gun from me. I will my body to move, but it doesn't. It's like there's a disconnect between my brain and my nerve endings.

Cal moves into my line of sight and points the gun at Amelia. "Who are 'they'?" he asks her. Amelia doesn't respond. He steps closer and nudges her good leg with the toe of his shoe. "I'm asking you a goddamn question."

Amelia looks at him. "Just kill me," she says. "My lips are sealed. I'm not giving you any answers."

"Tell me." Her screams ring in the night as he toes her injured knee. I want to move, to help, but all I can do is watch in horror. She shakes her head, sobbing. Cal twists his foot into her blown kneecap, and her wails of pain pierce my eardrums. Cal aims the gun again, and her screams turn into laughter.

"If I tell you, they'll kill me anyway. Might as well just do it now."

Cal pulls the hammer back with a click. I close my eyes just in time. The sound of the gunshot reverberates in my mind, and I flinch. I open my eyes. Cal is holding the smoking gun, literally and figuratively, but Amelia isn't dead. Instead, she's looking at her other leg, her mouth hanging open. It now matches the one I shot. "Want to tell me now?"

"Go to hell," she spits at him.

"I'll see you there."