After Life by Daniel Kelley Read Free Book Online Page A

Andy had found a row of seats almost in the dead center of the auditorium. The room was built to house a few hundred but was not even half full, even with the number of parents still around.
    “Zombie movies,” Barry Lowensen was saying, “were terrible.” As he spoke, he paced the room, ignoring the podium at the front except for an occasional stop-and-lean. He kept one hand in his pocket; the other waved in front of him, driving his various points home. Though his topic was grave, and the parents listening squirmed uncomfortably, everything he said was with a smile, almost a wink.
    “Their zombies were so different from what they turned out to be. Part of why we weren’t ready. Some made them out like they were hyper-fast, super-agile, mega-strong. Others made them like turtles with arms. But neither way makes any sense, does it?
    “Think about it — all Z’s are are infected people. Dead, sure. But infected, and people nonetheless. So wouldn’t they move like people? The only plodding or stumbling was due to people whose infections were based on leg injuries or other balance issues. No, the differences between their appearance and ours was more subtle. But once you saw it, you could never miss it again. The eyes.
    “A Z’s eyes are white — the pupil, cornea, everything. Shades of white. Some think this means Z’s see only in black and white. I don’t know. Don’t see how it matters. All I know is that a Z looking back at you is one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen.
    “Speaking of which,” he said, stopping and pointing with his free hand toward Celia. She stared back, confused, until she realized he was actually pointing to the kid next to her — a scraggly haired, dirty kid with dark sunglasses that were the same shade as his almost-black hair. “Those. Off. No sunglasses at school. Far as I’m concerned, no sunglasses anywhere. I can’t see your eyes, I might be in trouble. And I don’t want to be in trouble. So do me a favor, no sunglasses, and eyes forward as much as possible.”
    The kid shrugged and removed the shades, though he kept his eyes for the most part down at his desk. Barry watched him and scowled briefly, but went on. Celia watched the kid for slightly longer. On the small tray table he had unfolded before him, he was drawing a picture. There was a person standing upright in the center, though it pretty clearly had a chunk taken out of its neck. It wore a T-shirt that read “Z’s rule.” All around it were smaller bodies, ones that looked clean, untouched.
    Celia rolled her eyes. She knew there were some people who had grown to love the idea of zombies, just as there had been Nazi lovers as recently as 2010. But she couldn’t understand why.
    “Their arms were out in front of them, because they reached,” the teacher went on. “Always reaching. And they didn’t clean up. If blood dripped or mud splattered, that was where it stayed. And really, from any kind of distance, that was the significant indicator.
    “Even subconsciously, you and I, we brush away debris on our bodies. But not them. I remember one —” he went on, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the increased squirming by some of the uncomfortable parents. “I remember one that had this huge clump of dirt or mud or something right on his forehead. Sucker must’ve been a full inch thick. I was on this roof for a while, and all I could focus on was this Z and his face clump. It’s amazing the things you dwell on, but I just could not stand it. First time I got the chance, that’s the first one I took a bullet to.”
    Celia glanced around and saw a few parents nod their agreement with Barry’s assessment. “Also,” he said. “They’ll eat anything with flesh. Except each other, for reasons we never could quite work out. It doesn’t matter if you’re alive or dead — so long as you aren’t reanimated, all you are is a tasty snack. But, and this is the big thing, they always prefer live