Dearly, Departed

  She smiled at his explanation, and looked to me again. “What about you?”

  “I think we’re all here for a reason, some of us longer than others,” I told her.

  She nodded, and played with the kitten’s paddy paws. “I’m with you.”

  I had been raised to have faith in the good forces of the universe, although my family wasn’t terribly religious. I was glad of that. It let me admire the way the wine glistened on Nora’s lips, the way her throat moved as she swallowed the bread, the sound of her voice as she echoed back the usual prayers, without feeling too guilty.

  I had plenty to feel guilty about, on my own. I didn’t need any help from God.

  Nora and I parted ways after our impromptu Mass. She smiled and thanked me, and that was all I needed to make the holiday a legendary one.

  That is, until I got my usual clothes back on and went out into the courtyard to see about drills, and heard the roar of the trucks driving up outside the main gate. The others were back.

  I ran through the gate and grabbed the first zombie I saw, a simple but trustworthy man named Amed. “Is he here? Did you find him?”

  He shook his head. “No. Found the plane. But no sign of him. Nothing.”

  My arm fell slowly from his shoulder.

  I told Nora myself. She was in her father’s office, working on the password. The count on the screen said she’d made 141 attempts to guess it. Her face went white when I delivered the news that he hadn’t been found, but she nodded stoically.

  “I’m going to keep hoping,” she said. “Father Isley is right. As long as there’s hope, you keep going. And this is the closest I’ve been to hope in a long time. Even if we never find him, there was the chance that we could, and it … Even though I’m still angry at him, it made me happy. I was happy again, when I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “They’ll muster the other half, most likely tomorrow, and do another sweep,” I told her. That seemed to cheer her up a little. I still left the room feeling like I’d personally let her down, though.

  I ended up distracting myself by spending the day with Renfield again. He was still working on the Black Alice. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I didn’t question him as he ordered me about, or even notice what he was having me do half the time. He was keen on getting parts out of the ship—to clean or restore, I figured. I did all the heavy lifting.

  “How’s the self-defense thing going?” Renfield asked as he used a spot welder to fix a part on the engine.

  “It’s going. I’ve only had time for a few sessions with her. She’s not going to become a martial-arts master in a couple of days. And her hands are still healing.” But she was swiftly learning how to move with the scythe, and that was promising.

  Ren nodded. “Well, it’s a distraction, at least.”

  “For both of us.”

  Ren chuckled and moved down to sit beside me, lifting up the windowed portion of his helmet. “You know, I think you’re handling it very well.”

  “Huh? Handling what well?”

  He snorted. “It’s clear you like her.”

  For some reason, I was embarrassed that he had noticed. “No offense, Ren, but what do you know about girls?”

  He held up three bony fingers. “You forget—three sisters in addition to the two brothers. I know enough. I’m fairly observant.”

  “Sorry.” I slowly turned over the wrench I’d been using, and thought of my own family. “I know Wolfe was worried you’d contact them. I’ve always wondered—did you?”

  “No.” Renfield watched the wrench twirl. “Did you ever contact your family?”

  “No. When my mom saw me and screamed, it was a horrible kind of … acceptance. I know, ’cause I’ve screamed the same exact scream. I know she needs money, I know that she loves me—the old me—but ultimately it’s better that she thinks that I’m dead and gone. Clean break.”

  “Understandable.”

  “But that doesn’t stop me from … well. Do you ever … I don’t even want to say ‘think.’ Fantasize about seeing your family again?”

  “Every day.” His expression was wistful. “I will, one day, before I’m gone. If they’re horrified by my appearance … well, at least I’ll know that they were. They’ll know what I became. There won’t be any questions anymore. That’s what I can’t stand about this whole affair—the not knowing.”

  I understood exactly what he meant.

  I had to tell Nora what was going on.

  I started my search for Nora after dinner. Christmas was a hard day for most of the men, and the failure of the troops to find Dearly had been a blow to morale, so I’d chosen to eat with them as a sign of solidarity. The living, Wolfe excluded, had done the same, and so the mess was filled with twice as many people, their chatter quiet and dispirited.

  She wasn’t in Dearly’s office. I forced myself not to think too heavily about it and continued on. She wasn’t in Sam’s lab or my room. In fact, the halls were largely empty. Where was everyone? I’d been one of the first to leave the mess, but I knew I’d seen people leaving behind me.

  Roughly twenty minutes later, just as I was starting to panic, I heard music. I shut my eyes and listened. It was coming from the mess hall.

  I exited the western barracks and ran across the courtyard. There were still lights on inside the mess, and I could hear whooping cheers and laughter in addition to the tune being played. There was a female zombie waiting outside, her dress trailing on the muddy ground.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I drew to a stop.

  The girl turned around, revealing herself to be Chas. She gave me an exasperated look. She was wearing the red dress she’d shown me earlier, and an assortment of mismatched plastic jewelry. “No, no. This won’t do.”

  “Chas, what’re you doing?”

  She pointed at me. “Go get sexy again and you can come inside and see.”

  I coughed. “Excuse me?”

  “Talk is, you put your dress uniform on before to impress Nora, and it worked really well. And then, like an idiot, you took it off.” She glared at me. “Go put it back on.”

  “Why? Seriously, Chas, what are you—”

  She interrupted me by stomping her foot. “Because this is stupid! Everyone’s all depressed, and it’s Christmas, and it’s … stupid! So, I waited for you to leave so I could fix it and make it unstupid. Now, go!” She shoved me in the shoulder, forcing me to take a few steps back.

  I only stared at her for a few seconds before going and doing as she asked. I returned to my room and put the whole uniform back on, all the while questioning the very fact that I was doing so. When I was done, I hurried back to the mess. This time there was no one outside, and I pushed the doors open.

  I groaned at the sight that greeted me. Chas had not.

  The digital Victrola was turned up very loud and was playing desert rag—a venerable form of Punk music, descended from something called “Gangstagrass,” that combines folksy fiddles and banjos with ancient rap beats.

  “It’s goin’ down

  Like the Titanic in its last hours,

  A dirty game for money and power.

  It’s goin’ down

  Like a hooker on a slow hustle …”

  Soldiers were pushing the tables against the walls. Chas waited for the group nearest her to finish, before climbing atop one of them. “Okay, in fifteen minutes I’m calling a reel, so you’d better find yourself a partner! We’ll make two lines. And guys can dance with guys, that’s totally fine, we’re not going to gossip about you. Much.” Nora was standing beside her on the floor, expression amused.

  I made my way over. “Chas, what are you doing?”

  She regarded me with a grin. “Hosting a dance.”

  “And where did you get permission to host a dance?” I asked, using the same tone of voice I’d have used if one of my little sisters tried the same stunt. Nora, back in the pink gown, gathered her laughter in her gloved hands.

 
“From the voices in my head,” Chas replied, chipper. “They’re always so nice to me.”

  “You do realize that the meds are going to have your head on a pike for contributing to the soldiers’ wear and tear.”

  She stooped down and whapped me lightly on the nose, like I was a bad dog. “You’re only undead once. And if we’re gonna wear out, it might as well be doing something fun. Nora doesn’t mind.”

  Nora shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She looked at me and smiled softly. “I told you, hope and joy, good things by me. It’s Christmas. And everyone’s worked so hard.”

  Her smile only reminded me of the reason I’d gone in search of her in the first place. God, I didn’t want to hurt her.

  Not right now.

  So, we danced. We did reels and walks and English country dances, in two lines with graceful and prescribed movements—well, Nora was the only graceful one. She was the brightest light in the room, a dazzling laughing living girl, hooking arms and hands and twirling with the dead, completely unafraid. We waltzed, somewhat poorly. A few of the guys threw down in a dance battle, popping and shimmying in ways living men couldn’t, seeing as dislocating their joints would be painful, and not just another trick in their dance arsenals. I’d had no idea they ever tried doing such things, much less put in the practice some of them obviously had.

  About an hour into the party, Samedi and Charles pushed a wooden keg through the doors. They got a hero’s welcome.

  “About time!” Chas called, spinning away from her current partner and running to meet them.

  “Okay, no. No, right here,” I shouted, following her.

  “No no,” Chas said. “Negative on no. Yes.” She caught the edge of the keg and laughed, slipping behind Sam as if to hide from me.

  “It’s not as if you guys can even get all that buzzed, you know,” Charles reminded me. He was grinning. He opened the suitcase he was carrying, revealing the syringes he’d use to pump the beer into any dead man who wanted it. “Just a taste. Who’s it going to harm?”

  I was being outvoted on something stupid. I didn’t like being outvoted on something stupid.

  Nora caught up to me and laughed when she saw the keg. “Sam! So, what, you’re Company Z’s dealer now?”

  Samedi pulled a length of tubing out of the pocket of his lab coat and said, “Darling girl—the real question is, when have I not been a dealer?”

  “Okay, that statement requires explanation.”

  Samedi ignored her. Charles snapped on his latex gloves.

  I decided to talk. It was the only way to get back at him for this. “Doc Sam is a wanted man. At least where I’m from. He’s got an official pardon from the Victorian side … condition of his working here.”

  Sam glowered at me. Nora tugged on my sleeve. “Spill!”

  “You forget, my young buck,” Sam said warningly, as he busied himself with tapping the keg. “Whenever a young lady hears my story, she falls passionately in love with me.”

  “What, like Doc Chase? That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “Yeah, where’d you meet her?” Nora asked, stepping out of the way of the line that was forming as news of the open bar spread.

  Samedi thunked the keg and sighed, stepping back. “I long ago made a promise to Dr. Chase never to tell her side of the story for her.” He looked sourly at me. “You two should go dance.”

  I suddenly felt bad. “Look, I’m sorry, Sam.” But he was already walking away.

  “Why’s he upset?” Nora asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s usually pretty cool, but sometimes he gets a little emotional.”

  Nora looked to the dancing crowd. “You know, I keep forgetting about that. Some of you guys are Punks and some are Victorian, and you’re joined together, and … do you guys ever fight or anything?”

  “Not really,” I said. “In death, stuff like that really doesn’t matter anymore. I mean, sometimes it comes up, some petty thing, but … when you know you only have so much time? Where your roommate was born ceases to matter. We only have a few years left. Why would we want to fill them with hatred and pain?”

  Nora turned her face up to me. Her mouth remained neutral, but for some reason I liked the way she was looking at me. Like she was inspired by me. Like I’d said something that had resonated with her.

  I offered her my hand. “Let’s dance.”

  She smiled.

  For a few hours longer we touched one another, swept close to one another, with no fear or regrets. At the end Nora swayed in my arms to something slow and very old, after being convinced that, yes, this is how we slow-dance behind Punk lines, and no, I’m not telling you that just so I can hold you.

  Something was off, though. I found myself sniffing at her for the second time that day, leaning in close to her ear. She stiffened a bit. “What is it?”

  “You smell like … chocolate,” I realized.

  She dipped her head. “Dr. Chase lent me some perfume.”

  I started to laugh. I knew she was going to hate me for it, but I did. “Chocolate-coated living flesh.”

  She flushed. “Shut up!”

  “I’m not making fun of you!” I protested—a little unconvincingly, seeing as I was still guffawing. “I think it’s sweet! Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it that way …”

  She glowered at me, then hid her face against my chest. “Stop it.”

  I obeyed, instantly.

  It was the best moment of my life.

  Wolfe chose that moment to crash the party.

  “Everyone. Out,” he said. His voice thundered over the crowd. Revelers stopped abruptly where they were, and Coalhouse shut off the Victrola with a zipping sound. A few zombies scrambled to hide the keg amidst their bodies. “Everyone to barracks, now. Except for Griswold.”

  Nora slowly pulled herself from my arms. I looked into her worried eyes. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she whispered.

  “You didn’t. Go.” Her eyes lingered on mine a moment longer, but she did as I asked, her shoes making little clipping sounds on the hard floor as she left the mess. My friends gave me apologetic looks, but raced to catch up with her.

  Wolfe and I stood, buoys on the water, as the others flowed around us and out the doors. When the last zombie had shuffled out, he asked me, voice ringing off every hard surface, “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  I wasn’t about to rat Chas out. “My apologies, Captain. It seemed like a little Christmas party was in order. Miss Dearly had no objections.”

  “Oh, obviously.” He was looking at me as if he’d just found me on the bottom of his shoe. “No objection to dancing with you, either, I saw.”

  I didn’t dignify this with a response.

  “D’you get some kind of thrill out of pretending to be human, Griswold?”

  The phantom sensation of Nora’s head against my chest answered for me. “I am human.”

  “Reality begs to differ.” He laughed mirthlessly. “You’re a disease vector, Griswold. You’re a very big rat. A very big flea.”

  “No.” Suddenly, it didn’t matter. He could call me every name in the book, slice me to ribbons, send me wherever he wanted on whatever sick quest he could come up with. He could march me to my final death, and I would go, whistling a tune. “We’re all human. We’re dead, but we’re human. We feel, and we see, and we have just as small a chance as anybody drawing breath of living a good life, of being loved. We’re human.” I smiled. “I’m pretty successful at it, too, you know. I look great, and I had a girl in my arms, and I haven’t degraded another person or stolen their fun away.”

  “Shut up, Griswold.”

  I didn’t listen to him. “Yeah, tonight I’m not your equal—I’m your superior. So get the hell back to your office.” He took a step closer to me, and I held up my hand. “If you don’t, I will bite you.”

  He stopped and worked his fists. His hair had bristled up, like an animal trying to magnify its size. Hey, he was humongous and strong and l
iving, but one taste and I could take him down. And he knew it.

  “Tomorrow, you’re going south,” he said, voice throaty. “All of you. You’re being reassigned. The Punks got miles on us today. They’re scared, and they’re driving northward.”

  I stiffened. “No way in hell am I fighting my own living people.”

  “You’ll do it,” he said, his anger barely held in check. “Or I’ll shoot you myself. I’ve been patient. I’ve been nice. I even let you stay here with Dearly’s girl because she wasn’t afraid of you—she’s just as sick in the head as he is. But you are my toy, Griswold. You do what I say.”

  “Well then, little Jimmy, let me tell you what you should be doing with your toys. You should be sending us to the Elysian Fields.”

  He turned his back on me. “Our men have lost the EF.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t answer me.

  “You said you were taking care of it!” I yelled. He didn’t respond, and pushed his way angrily out of the doors. I watched him go, my body suddenly tight with terror and powerlessness. They’d lost it? Nora’s home was gone?

  All she loved, gone.

  I had to tell her. Now. No more secrets.

  I ran out of the mess and pulled up short. Nora was standing there in the moonlit courtyard. She turned to look at me, full of expectation—so full of life.

  How could I tell her?

  “Are you in trouble?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he responded. He took my hand and started to pull me in the direction of the big gate. “And I’m about to get into even more.”

  I yanked my hand back. “What’s the hurry? Are you okay?”

  He stopped and looked at me. There was something in his face I couldn’t place, some urgency. I was reminded of being shunted away from my dead father’s bedside—all of his associates knew what was coming, while I had not. “Yeah … yeah, I’m okay. But I have something to tell you. It can’t wait.”