So You Think You’re Dead
Noticed some changes lately and not sure what it means? You might be a zombie. Here’s how to tell…
I read through the list, and it’s like someone has been watching me and noting down everything—even the things I didn’t realize until I read them. Having trouble sleeping—check. Skin turned gray—yes. Feeling numb and sluggish for no reason. That’s me.
You might have lost your appetite or noticed strange cravings you can’t explain. Don’t worry. This is all a normal part of zombification. The best thing to do is lean into it. So you can’t sleep. You have all that extra time. Think of all the study or exercise you could do! Listen to your body and the way it’s changing. If you’re craving something, that’s your body telling you what you need. Remember to source your brains ethically, but don’t be ashamed. These cravings are perfectly natural, and any local butcher should be able to help you.
And finally, you’re not alone. Your local chapter of Friends Of The Dead is here to help. Reach out to us any time day or night and one of our helpful volunteers is here to talk to you. Remember, dead is just a state of mind!
Brains? I brush that aside and read over the last part again. Maybe I’m not alone. Maybe there are other people going through this too.
I dial the number, and while I’m waiting on hold, I go back to Jen’s cart and hit buy it now. She’ll be mad when she finds out, but I know she won’t buy it for herself. She was always too much of a tight ass to spend money on frivolous things, even though she could afford to.
FOUR
Jen
My mouth is dry and my head aches when I blink my eyes open. I groan, regretting the fifth round of cocktails Molly and I ordered last night, but I sit up, looking around for my glass of water. No time to waste. Today is day one of operation lose-my-zombie-ex-boyfriend.
I put my feet on the floor and try to stand and the room spins, and I nearly lose whatever I had for dinner last night.
Actually, I don’t remember there being dinner. Oy, no wonder I feel like garbage a fox dragged out of the dustbin.
Just then the bedroom door opens and Adam enters without even knocking. I glance down, and I’m still wearing last night’s jeans and T, which could be worse, but I’m still annoyed.
“Why are you in my room?”
He holds up a steaming mug. “I thought you might want this.”
I eye the mug suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee that you made?” I make a face.
He looks a little hurt, but he comes over and hands me the mug. I sniff it, and it doesn’t smell terrible.
Tentatively I take a sip.
OK, so he successfully made me a coffee. Excuse me if I wait to have the medal inscribed until he’s managed to be useful for a whole hour consistently. “Thanks.”
I take another sip.
He’s still standing there watching me, so I sigh and set the coffee aside. “What?”
“Well, I was just wondering if you had any ideas. You know, about the whole zombie thing?”
“Look, I don’t know what you expect me to do. I think you’re really dead.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
“So what now?” Maybe this is the part where he says he’s going home. I can only hope.
He sits beside me on the bed and puts his head in his hands, and I’m fighting with the instinct to feel sorry for him.
“Yeah. I found this website last night. Friends of the Dead. Apparently I’m not the only one. In fact, it sounds like there has been a lot of people being zombified recently.”
Huh. He actually did research. “Well maybe the Friends of the Dead is a good place to start. Surely they have some resources. Maybe a support group.”
