Madness

Madison sat in the living room. The news had cut out yesterday, after a particularly disturbing broadcast about how to destroy the living dead.

She tried the channels anyway. Only thing she could find was some desperate preaching from the evangelicals. She turned it off. Hugging the collar of her green bathrobe, she looked out the front window, past the hole in the sheet she'd tacked up over them.

No one out walking today. The car across the street was still smoking, and the corpse was still sitting there, just outside of the open door. It's arms were still moving, despite the weight of the car's front wheel pinning it's torso in place. 

Madison wasn't sure how to feel about that. She looked away, then at the clock across the room. It was already 4:00. Jordan said he would be back with supplies half an hour ago. Not that he'd ever been great with time management before, but...

Madison looked down at her engagement ring. It was pretty, but not much of a comfort. She still felt empty and hollow and -

She got up and made coffee.

Ten minutes later the back door was unlocked and opened. "Mother fucking, fuck--"

Madness scurried to the back room, hovering in the doorway. "...Jordan?"

"Who the fuck else would it be? Christ." He spat back at her. He was a good looking guy, blonde hair, blue eyed, strong, an engineer... He'd never been very nice though. She'd known that from the beginning. Dated him anyway. Loved him anyway, best as she knew how. But who really knows what love is? Does it HAVE a definition?

"Are you... all right?" Madison looked him over, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her robe. Jordan hadn't let her leave the house. Been afraid she'd get hurt, or bit, and bring it back inside and get him too. He was afraid she would mess something up, make too much noise, hurt herself, etc...

"Take this, do something with it." Jordan snapped, handing Madison a bag of stuff.

She took it and hurried to the kitchen to put away the canned food items, the batteries and the other stuff Jordan managed to find. She noticed, with a tick of her eyebrow, that he'd neglected to find any canned vegetables. Only Chili and Chef Boyardee. He also hadn't found any TP. Damnit, she'd made a list. She would have said something - but he was cussing from the other room, and she didn't want to get into it with him right now.

"FUCK." Jordan kicked something. Madison heard a crash, and she winced. Slowly, she edged back into the door frame. He was holding his arm. His hair was wild, and he'd stripped off most of his rugby gear. Madison came into the room.

"Jordan? Let me see--" Madison reached out for his arm and Jordan slapped it away. The sting of it snaked up her arm and she winced, recoiling.

"If I want your help I'll fucking ask for it. Fuck." Jordan started peeling away his sleeve.

Madison felt the tick in her eye. When had he started acting like this? Had it been when the outbreak started? No... No she remembered it from before too. Little things. Insults. Condescending. Controlling. Had she just... put up with it? How? Why? Something sparked and lit in her belly, chasing away foggy thoughts. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What the hell Jordan, I'm just trying to help." She felt the burbling anger in her chest, coming up from beneath layers of floor boards she'd tried to bury it under. "TOUCH me like that again and I'll--"

Jordan peeled the sleeve away and exposed a nasty looking injury. A bite. A tear in his fine skin by human teeth. It oozed, dripping blood onto the floor as he glared at it.

"You'll what?" Jordan croaked.

Madison looked up at him. "Jordan you -"

He reached out, grabbing Madison by the wrist and pulling her close, hissing into her face.

Oh shit. Oh shit he's lost it. Madison felt panic churning right alongside her anger and she snarled back at him. "Get off Jordan."

Jordan shook her. "Touch you like that again and you'll WHAT, you useless bitch!?"

Madison yanked her hand away and growled into his face. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Jordan laughed in her face, spittle catching her cheek. Madison rubbed it away in disgust, about to say more, when the slap sent her spinning.

Right across the face, a burning hand print. Madison caught herself on the kitchen door frame, stunned. Jordan didn't say anything, but Madison wasn't listening. She held her cheek and padded quietly away.

"...Madison. Madison, I'm sorry." Jordan called after her.

He was always sorry. Always sorry they never had time to go out or do anything. Always sorry he never invited her out with his friends, or did anything for their anniversary, or their birthdays, or holidays. Always sorry when he couldn't pick her up from work. Always sorry that he was short on bills, or left his dishes around, or went out without telling her. Always sorry about his casual insults. Always sorry. Never sorry.

She made it to the hutch in the hallway and wrapped her hand around the nearest object.

"Madison?"

She turned. He was bitten, his look said it all. He stood at the other end of the hall. Madison gripped he screwdriver with white knuckled intensity. "...You don't even really love me, do you."

"...What?" He seemed surprised.

"...You just figure I'm good to have around and pay bills and clean house and stay in my fucking pajamas all day. So you can feel like some big strong man. 'Don't wear your makeup like that, hun, you'll get cat calls.' 'Don't get those boots, you'll never wear them.' 'Turn off that trash music,' 'smile more'--" Madison ran one hand through her hair, the only haircut she'd gotten that she liked and he hated it. Said it made her look... nevermind.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jordan snapped.

"You're bit, Jordan." Madison lowered her hand, and brought up the screwdriver.

Jordan snorted. Sure. Probably thought he was immune. Idiot. Not even his egocentric ass was immune to this shit. He looked over her face as if he didn't recognize her, then his eyes filtered down to her hand. "...What are you doing?"

Madison felt the anger pounding in her ears, the panic screaming in her veins, fire, fire everywhere. She launched herself at him, screwdriver out. Show him how useless she is! Show him he's not right all the time!

Jordan caught her wrist. He was strong. Stronger then she was. He pushed her back to the floor with a growl. "You gonna kill me? Well you're fucking doing it wrong."

Madison hit the floor with a thud. She kicked out at him and he came down too, clawing to get the screwdriver out of her hand, pulling her close to disarm her. But she wasn't going to let him disarm her. Not again. Nope. Nope. Noperoo.

She bit his hand. Not hard. Hard enough. She brought her knee up viciously, catching him in the groin. Jordan rolled, stunned & gasping. She climbed up on top of him, and she was grinning, and she spat right in his face, and she drove the screwdriver down into his beautiful, surprised blue eye, and she felt the resistance until there was nothing else to go through, and she sat there panting for a whole minute before she shambled up to her feet and went to the bathroom.

Madison watched Jordan's corpse from the bathroom doorway. He didn't move. Guess the TV was right.

Gatta get them in the brain. Small enough target in this case. She must have good aim.

A laugh bubbled up from her chest. It felt inappropriate, but she was way past caring. Before long she was laughing and sobbing on the bathroom floor, watching the slowly extending circle of Jordan's blood creep towards her. Somewhere in the manic laughter and hysteria, she'd crawled back over to him and yanked the screwdriver out, wiping it spitefully on his stupid t-shirt. She was shouting and cussing and crying and laughing--

By the time she had calmed down she was sitting on the couch again. She turned the TV on. The evangelist was quiet, marked by a humming 'standby' screen. She turned the TV off again and peered out the window.

....Bout time someone took care of the zombie under that car.

A Civilian's Account

I was at a party.

I mostly know how I got there. (I'd been drinking.) I was new to town and desperate for friends, that much I remember. I'd taken a cab into town and climbed my dolled-up ass into the first bar I saw, and I struck up conversation like a pro. I met these three people hanging around the dart board, dressed really nicely too. They were all incredibly good looking, that's really clear.

There was a woman with two men, all raven haired, all dark eyed and all whimsically attractive.
I saw Whimsically because I can't seem to think of any better word. Remember, I was also drunk at the time.

The hour that followed the initial meeting of these people was a blur - I think I got names, though I can't remember any of them now. (We'll call them David, Percy and Glenda, for the story's sake.) I think we were laughing and having a good time.

This was the part of the night where the initial world-spinning happened, and the universe started to get fuzzy. Sort of like drunk twilight, how it's only partially clear, you know?

Anyway.

Glenda proposed that we all go to this fancy party down the street, at another club. I didn't think I was as fancy as they were, but Percy insisted that I looked great and even offered to cover the door for me. Weird, but generous. I was under the misguided presumption that I was incredibly charming, though, so I didn't question it.

I.e. Drunk.

The club was a spectacle. On the outside, no more then tinted glass doors, faintly back-lit purple, and starlight. Massive bouncers with cliche sunglasses-at-night flanked the door, and when we approached we were welcomed with no hesitation. Inside was all chic darkness, chrome backed bar chairs and neon lights flashing in rhythm.

We were all laughing. Glenda held my arm as if we'd been friends for ages. It was comforting, but cold, like a popular-girl control gesture rather then friendship. The trio waved politely at people I didn't know, and they brought me right up to the bar: shining black marble, so clean I could see the flawless reflection of the overhead lighting in it's surface.

"Go ahead, order yourself a drink." Glenda winked at me, and of course, I obliged.

Just before I got the drink in hand though, I remember the guy at the bar. Distinctly.

He had on this old fedora, sorta dusty. He was wearing flat gray and black, with suspenders. I remember the suspenders. I remember thinking, 'who the hell wears suspenders anymore?'

He glanced over at me, with a tilted sort of smile, white teeth flashing in a pale face. He had some sort of tattoo around his eye, gave me the creeps. I mean, he looked cute enough, but the face tattoos creeped me out.

I nodded at him with a brief smile. He raised a glass of something or other at me with a wink. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and drank my drink without bothering to ask what it was. I remember that it was delicious.

(Big mistake of the evening, I tell you that.)

There was dancing afterwards. Percy and David were relentless, awesome dancers, they moved like liquid fire, and I was drunk. Cranked. The world was tilting, and their movements were comforting and damn hot, I tell you.

Well. Anyway.

For whatever reason, I managed to dance myself away from the group I came in with. I was bouncing around, happily moving to the music, when I bumped into that guy again. He was super smooth about it. He took my hand and spun me around real close, and my nose was tucked into his neck, breathing him in, when he spoke into my ear.

I should have been afraid, I think. But I wasn't. Maybe it was the booze? Maybe it was how assuredly he moved? Pfft.

"I think you're in the wrong club, kiddo." He had a rough edged voice. Like he'd recently been screaming for hours.

"Who're you?" I asked, slightly slurred. Slightly.

"I'm Jack."

He smelled like cedar. Is that weird? He smelled like cedar and I think sandalwood. And ash. Smokey ash. It was actually really nice, and as I said, I was drunk, you know how it is.

"I'm Drunk." I'm a master of charm. I think I may have snorted when I giggled, though I sincerely hope I didn't. "Do you have a better club, then?"

Jack had one hand on the small of my back, and the other one clasped my hand in the air, as if we were going to break into a tango. I heard him take a breath and chuckle. I felt his laugh on my ear, it was cool. Literally, cool, like a brush with autumn air.

"I might suggest one where your friends don't plan to eat you, for one thing."

I laughed. Who says that sorta thing? Was that a dirty joke or something? When I pulled away from Jack he didn't stop me, but he kept hold on my hand. This close I would be able to get a good look at his face. I was morbidly curious about his tattoos.

Another blurry part of my memory here. I seem to remember feeling badly that I winced. See, Jack's face didn't have tattoos. His face was all cut up. As if his skin had cracked and broken open, in a perfect broken-glass sorta pattern around their eyes.

Their red eyes.

Why this didn't alarm me more, I dunno. Maybe because my 'friends' were all gothed out and I assumed they were contacts or something? Who the hell knows. I. Was. Drunk.

I was about to say something apologetic  when one of the guys I was with, Percy, grabbed Jack's shoulder. Like magic, we were suddenly in an open dance floor, the sea of patrons pulling away from us like the tide.

"Hands off, corpse." My 'friend' said.

Jack was holding my hand still. As if we were casually walking down the street. I remember how cold his hands were, and thinking it was funny that it wasn't MY hands that were cold for once. I scowled at my 'friend' for his rude comment.

"Hey don't be a dick -" Me, trying to be ballsy.

This is where more weird shit started happening.

First, I got slapped. Hard. In the face. I dropped Jack's hand and spun around with the force of it. Suddenly, Glenda and David were holding me up. They didn't seem friendly about it though, and when I tried to assure them I was fine, they did not release their grip on me.

"Oh, that wasn't the smartest thing you coulda done." Jack said. His eyebrows, vividly expressive, dipped in disappointment.

His voice was carrying - or maybe the music had shut off? It didn't matter. I could look around the room and watch as every single person there turned to regard the situation. Some were smiling. Some looked mildly offended, and I couldn't figure out why. All of them were beautiful.

All of them also had some very sharp teeth.

"Get out of our house." Glenda hissed at Jack.

"You all right, kiddo?" Jack addressed me, ignoring everyone else.

I reached up to feel my cheek. The sting was delayed but oh, I felt it. Or rather, I would in the morning. I smiled and nodded at him, currently thankful for the drunk numbness.

"If you don't leave right now, we'll tear you apart, Ghoul!" David said, jerking on my arm as to use me for emphasis. I winced. The guy had a real good grip, and long bony fingers.

Then something cool happened. (I THOUGHT it was cool in the moment, don't judge me.) Jack raised his hand. He raised it as if he was holding a glass of wine, his fingers making a bowl. Maybe it was the booze talking, or the lighting in the club, but then this funky, purple, bubbling fog came up out of his palm, and started to stream out between his fingertips. He locked eyes with the guy holding onto me, David, and tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

Too Dashing. (I'm weird.)

 "What did you call me, leech?" Jack's grin got wider. His fingertips twitched, ever so slightly, and a splash of purple light flickered out like a tiny solar flare.

Suddenly I was released. David let out a strangled noise, and as I staggered to my knees, unbalanced by the sudden shift, I could see him clawing at his throat in desperation. Glenda ditched me and went to him as if she could help.

"How DARE -" Percy shook Jack's shoulder while he spoke started talking - and then stopped. Jack used his other hand to gently brush the guy's fingers off of his gray shirt like lint. His outstretched fingers were still roiling with purple clouds, lined with black, illuminated from somewhere in his palm.

Neat trick.

"I think you all have to have some words with mamma about bringing dinner home. You have a herd for a reason, don't you?" Jack raised his hand up above his head, and the purple smoke coiled down his arm and across his chest. He casually stuck his free hand into his pants pocket.

I was watching him now, as I heard the room churn itself into a panic. Someone behind me was hissing. But this guy, this Jack, turned in a slow circle to address the room like he was giving some satanic toast to the group.

"What are you?"
"WHO let YOU in!?"
"What is he doing!?"

Words shouted from the back of the room criss-crossed the space, and I put my hands up over my ears. I was getting dizzy and unwell, and I was freaking out a little bit from the whole dramatic scene. Eventually, I just shut my eyes.

When I smelled cedar and ash I slowly opened them again. I was moving, but I wasn't walking. I lifted my head up and there I was, in Jack's arms like some damsel in distress. He didn't seem all that strong, but evidently I was no effort at all.

He grinned over at me. "Ah. Sleepin' beauty wakes up. Don't worry, you're almost home."

I blinked around. I felt so tired now, and I clearly didn't care how this guy had found my address. I just kept hanging on to him, dozing in and out, until I was on my own bed.

"You're hurt?" I asked, as he pulled my arms away from his neck and started to tuck me in. I caught the brim of his hat in the process, and placed it on my own head with a grin.

Yes, I'm an idiot when I drink.

It made him laugh though, and he sat down. "Naw, I'm fine."

"But.... your face."

Jack shrugged, gently reclaiming his hat and affixing it where it properly belonged. He gave it  a knavish tilt. "Yeah. It happens."

"When does that happen!?" I remember how clearly astonished and also horrified I was. Obviously I thought it could happen to me at any moment.

Jack's grin returned, a broad, black line. He pulled the blankets up under my chin and kissed me on the forehead. "Don't worry about it. You just have to damn yourself to an eternity of Undeath. Now go to sleep."

"Like.... like a Vampire?"

Jack frowned. "Naw, those idiots in the club were vampires. I'm much worse." He winked.

I remember turning all sorts of red and covering my face with the blanket. Why did I think he was cute? He was a goth sorta punker twenties scarface guy, and his eyes were red, and he was bone cold and pale and said that there were vampires, and that he was undead or something...

But Cedar. Sandalwood and Ash. When I woke up he was gone of course. But that scent lingered for a day or two.

I didn't mind.

I also NEVER went to that bar again.