One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie story

Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Future so Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades!

"Where are you going now?" My mom crosses her arms and glares at me. "You've been bouncing from the church to that club and back to the church. Don't think I haven't noticed!"

"I'm not going anywhere yet, Mom. I can't go back to the club until after dark or Andrew..." Crap. I haven't told my mom about finding Andrew. She's so going to flip.

Her eyes narrow to slits. "What does Andrew have to do with anything? Isis, what's going on?"

"It's a long story, Mom. Can I get some breakfast first, please?"

"No, but you can get some lunch; you've slept the day away. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"Last night was rough," I admit.

"Apparently, since you found Andrew." She sits on the couch. "Maxx, you might as well make yourself at home. Isis and I need to have a serious conversation."

The Great Dane shaped hell hound obediently lays down, head resting on his paws. "Very well."

"What's up, Mom?" I take my bowl o' brains out of the 'fridge and carry it back to the couch, where I plop down next to her.

"Isis, you know I love you and I totally respect what you've been dealing with these past few weeks, but I'm getting kind of concerned."

"I'm fine, Mom. I mean, apart from being undead, everything's peachy."

"For now," she says. "But what about later? Have you thought about that, even a little?"

I eat a spoonful of brains before answering. "I've been a little busy, Mom."

"And now you have time."

Great. I really don't want to have this conversation; primarily because I have no idea what the future holds. I sigh.

"Do you know how long you're going to live, Isis? How does this undeath work, anyway?"

"Ink implied I could live for centuries," I admit.

"Then we definitely need to have this conversation, because I won't live that long."

"Mom, I don't want to hear this."

My mom narrows her eyes. "That's tough, baby."

"It is important for you to consider all the possibilities." Maxx raises his head off his paws to stare at me. "Your mother is very wise."

"I see how it is. Two against one; thanks a lot, Maxx. Fine." I fold my arms. "To answer your question, I have no idea what comes next. I'm half-dead. I don't think college is an option anymore."

"You could always take night classes," my mom replies. "Or go to school online."

"Or I could take the summer to get used to all this, and figure everything else out later. It's what I was planning on doing anyway, so not much has changed. Not really."

"There are other considerations you must think about, as well." Maxx states. "What will you do as you grow older?"

I shrug, not following his line of thought. "Grow older."

The hell hound shakes his head. "You are undead. Do you not understand what that entails? Isis, you are done aging."

"Huh? But Ink told me I'd live..."

"Yes, for centuries," the dog continues. "And you will. Very likely. But your body will not age. You are, for all intents and purposes, done at – how old did you say you were?—seventeen?"

"I can't be seventeen forever," I protest.

"Centuries is not forever," Maxx says calmly.

"Even one hundred and ninety-nine years is close enough," I snap. "How am I supposed to live with that?"

"Much like the vampires do, I would imagine," Maxx sneezes.

My mom nods her head slowly. "You'd have to move every ten years or so to maintain your identity."

"Or live at the church," I think aloud. "Noelle and I could be roomies." Wouldn't that be fun?

"I do not believe you and the half-fae would be able to live together long term without damaging each other." Maxx states. "However, your existence there would be interesting to any group dynamics that might form."

"I'm not going to live at the church for the next umpteen hundred years, Maxx. I'd go completely mad."

My mom snaps her fingers. "I've got it, Isis! I've got the perfect avenue for you to take."

Remembering my mom wanted to be a professional soap maker when I was younger, I'm a bit scared to hear her idea now. "Ohhh-kay, shoot."

"A translator," she says triumphantly.

It's actually a perfect idea. It'd give me the freedom to move around; heck, that'd pretty much be a requirement of the job. And if I'm going to live practically forever, I can learn just about any language out there, which will make me super marketable. "That's an awesome idea, Mom."

"Isis, we should leave." Maxx scrambles to his feet. "It is after dark and we have a prior commitment."

I glance at the clock. Crap. Andrew's most likely waiting on us. "Sorry, Mom, but he's right. We have to go."

"Wait, Isis, what about Andrew?"

"I've kind of made my peace with him," I tell her. "We're – good."

She looks unconvinced. "What reason did he give for biting you?"

"Believe it or not...he wanted company, Mom. My company."

"You sound almost enamored."

"No way." I'm dismissive, but I know the idea's already taken root somewhere. If I wasn't at least a little bit still interested, I wouldn't be helping him. I hate it when my mom's right. "Maxx and I really do need to leave."

She sighs and nods. "Maxx, I'm holding you responsible for her. Isis, if you're not home tomorrow, you'll be in big trouble."

"On my soul, I'll keep her safe," the hell hound swears, rising to his feet and shaking himself.

On that lovely note, we shiver out and reappear in a...tomb? What has Maxx gotten me into?