Dead!

Dead!

  Troy Dennison

  Cover image T. Dennison

  Copyright 2012 Troy Dennison

  License Notes

  Thank you for your support.

  This one is lovingly dedicated to all you zombie fans out there.

  I remember my death so clearly.

  People say that your whole life flashes before your eyes in that instant before you leave this world. That didn’t happen to me; I didn’t even get the edited highlights. For me it was an explosion of light and then a searing pain that vanished in an instant as the .50 calibre Desert Eagle round ripped through my sternum. Blood, bone, and muscle all merged together in the blink of an eye as my heart was shredded by the hollow point round; and then it was over. My body flew backwards; I heard the sharp crack as my spinal column severed under the strain and then oblivion. Blackness; a complete cessation of sight and sound and feeling.

  I remember my resurrection less clearly.

  There was a grey fog of awareness, fragmented images, broken and half formed. Snatches of sounds danced in and out of my hearing; words, music and screams. I floated in a sea of numbness, a total cessation of feeling; cocooned in a warm haze. Thoughts flew through my head, dreams and memories and nightmares colliding and falling apart in a frantic, never ending cycle. It took a long time before I realised that the screams I heard were my own; under the circumstances I suppose it was inevitable that there would be some pain.

  Some pain? Bones were shifting, re-aligning and knitting. The hole in my chest closed and blood, muscle, hair and flesh re-grew. The oxygen starved synapses in my brain began to fire once again sending electrical energy coursing through my regenerating grey matter. It stood to reason that I would want to cry out in anguish; I was being re-born and birth is always a painful process. Coming back to life hurt just as much as dying, but the pain subsided gradually until all that was left was a deep burning hunger.

  I guess you could say that I died that night because I was a smoker; I lit up my first Marley when I was fourteen and it’s been downhill ever since. I once calculated that if I’d saved all the money I’d ever spent on cigarettes I could have gone on holiday to Miami. For an entire year. It wasn’t the Big C that got me though, and it wasn’t any of the other smoke related diseases that they’ve preached about over the years. I place the blame for my fate squarely on the shoulders of all those anti-smoking Nazi’s that got smoking indoors banned.

  I used to love sitting in a bar after work with a Bud and a cigarette, relaxing and letting the stress of the day wash away wrapped in a wreath of smoke. It was my ritual for years until the new legislation got passed and buggered everything up for me and millions of others. Every day I’d leave the office, loosen my tie and head downtown to Clancey’s for a couple of hours before hopping a cab home.

  Six days a week for more years than I can remember until people started giving a damn about second hand smoke. That screwed it up for me and the last bunch of years has never been quite as satisfying somehow. Sure, I could go and stand outside to spark up, but a cigarette in the pouring rain just doesn’t hit the spot in the same way. And how can you enjoy your beer after you’ve been freezing your ass off in the cold just to get your nicotine fix?

  The day I died was just like any other for me; a whirl of corporate law, meetings, power lunches, phone calls and filing briefs. I worked on the third floor of one of the biggest law firms in the state and I was pretty good at my job. I wore a thousand dollar suit, shirts from Seville, silk ties imported from China and I always looked sharp. I spent the day working my ass off and occasionally flirting with the girls in the secretarial pool over a much needed coffee break. I rolled out of the office at eight on that fateful evening, with the warm fall sky gleaming above the office blocks around me.

  I said goodnight to the security guards, walked out of the revolving door and lit up a much needed cigarette. The taste of the tobacco felt good and I ignored the frowns of a passing couple as I exhaled. The short walk to Clancey’s was nice in the evening air and I enjoyed the stroll as I anticipated downing a cold one. I picked my regular seat at the bar and my beer was in front of me before I’d put down my briefcase. The crisp taste was good and I could feel the stress washing away as I sipped slowly at the Bud.

  I chatted to a couple of the regulars and settled in to watch the TV as I started my second beer. I was waiting for the sports to see how the Eagles were doing when the anchorman started talking about the meteor shower. I half listened as he went on about how glorious the rare event would look in the evening sky. Who cared about meteor showers when your team stood a chance of making it to the play-off that year? It was crawling on towards ten and I was on my third beer when I decided to head outside for what turned out to be my final fatal cigarette.

  A couple of Clancey’s patrons were finishing cigarettes as I stepped into the warm night air. I bummed a light as they headed back inside and found myself alone on the sidewalk. I listened to the hum of the city as I smoked, enjoying the cigarette and anticipating catching a cab a little later. I had some lasagne in the refrigerator that would make a quick meal when I got in and then it would be bed; alone as usual. I was looking at the buildings as I smoked and something drew my eye up towards the cloudy sky.

  There were dozens of faint streams of pale green light shooting across the night. I realised straight away that it was the meteorite shower. It was a beautiful but somehow eerie sight. I couldn’t see properly from where I was standing so I moved down the block a short distance. There was a dark alleyway here that cut between the buildings and I had a clear view of the heavenly splendour. I forgot all about my cigarette as I watched the glowing streaks of light blazing across the darkness. I guess that’s why I didn’t see the mugger creeping up the alley behind me; I heard the sharp click as he chambered a round in his gun though.

  I never got a good look at his face; the alley was dark and I was rather preoccupied by the gun waving in my face. It was a huge silver cannon with a barrel that looked like the mouth of the Jersey Tunnel. The guy was nervous and he waved the gun menacingly in my face as he demanded my wallet and cell phone. I’ve always thought that I’d be brave if something like this ever happened to me. I guess I was deluding myself because instead of wrestling his weapon from the guy’s hand all I felt was terrified. He screamed at me, urging me to hurry; the problem was that my phone and wallet were in my jacket back in the bar.

  I’m not sure if what he did was deliberate or an accident; I guess he thought I was screwing him around. One second he’s screaming abuse in my face and the next there’s a flash of light and a sound like thunder. Something punched me in the chest and I felt myself flying backwards. I don’t think I even felt the sharp crack as my head bounced off the sidewalk. The last thing I remember as my life slipped away was the streaks of light in the sky. They looked so beautiful that I thought I could lie there all night and watch them. But then my vision blurred and they swam out of focus until everything went black

  It took me a long time to realise that my eyes were open because the blackness persisted. I tried to move but everything ached and it felt like I was swimming through treacle. It seemed to take forever for me to raise my arm and when I did it bumped into something hard and unyielding. A lifetime later I had both my hands pressed against the hard surface. There was something soft covering it; cloth of some kind and I pushed gently. I felt something move and I pushed again, harder this time. The coffin lid popped open and harsh, artificial light flooded my vision.

  I was shocked to realise that I was lying in a coffin. How the hell had I got here? Was it some sort of crazy practical joke? Of course I had no idea who would play such a stupid prank on me; Barry from Finance maybe? It was just like him to pull something crazy like this on me. That was when I remembered the
gun and getting shot and that was when the confusion set in, and then the panic. I blinked and looked around as my surroundings came slowly into focus.

  I was looking up at a beige coloured ceiling that slowly swam in and out of focus. I stared at it for what seemed like forever before I tried to look around and that was when I saw the pale silk linings on either side. Turning my head was difficult because my neck felt stiff; I was going to need a good massage to get all the kinks out of it. The office had its own small spa and gym and as I lay there I decided that would be my first call once I figured out where I was. I certainly wasn’t at home, so maybe I was in hospital? That made sense to me, after all that’s what happened when you got shot right? But I didn’t remember getting here and I had no recollection of paramedics of ambulances or an ER.

  I struggled to sit up; every muscle groaning in protest. It was a slow, painful process