Lifeblood

I thrust myself under the dining table and pulled the cloth down over me, wondering how long it would take for them to find me as they tore through the hotel. Trying to survive a zombie invasion wasn't my idea of a romantic anniversary, but then, my husband was never the romantic sort. Which was obvious now, as he'd run away at the first sight of them, leaving me to fend for myself.

"Good luck, Bonnie!" he'd jeered, waving goodbye as he leaped into the car without me.

While hiding, I manifested him becoming zombie food, trying to find some comfort in the thought of it as the splattering of rainbow bruises on my arms fuelled my angst.

Glass shattered inches away from me as something burst in through a window. I scrunched down as small as possible. How did zombies sense the proximity of brains? I fervently hoped it was mainly by sight and touch.

The creature now in the dining room stank of decaying flesh; I buried my nose in my sleeve, trying not to gag. It stumbled in circles, knocking things over. I saw its feet, shod in ragged, filthy sneakers, working around the edges of the table.

After circumnavigating agonizingly slowly, it stopped and yanked the cloth away, revealing my hiding place. It appeared to have been a male while alive, with shaggy black strings of hair and nothing but a shredded pair of shorts tied with a rope.

"Brains!" He dove under the table before I could roll out the other side, and dragged me out with incredible strength.

I was no match for him, even though he was shriveled and shrunken. I reached for something on the dining table and grasped a steak knife. As I wielded it high in the air, he grabbed my wrist to hold me away. Our eyes locked.

Time suddenly froze solid as he stared at me, his red, bulbous eyeballs popping. His jaw dropped, whether because it was barely hanging on or what, I wasn't sure. But the hands clutching me let go. His arms sank to his sides, and he let out a choked cry as he collapsed in a heap of rags on the floor.

"Nooo! Not you!" He moaned. "Can't eat brains!"

I stared blankly at the creature, who was now heaving and sobbing quite pathetically.

"What? Why not?"

"Me—love—you…" he managed to croak out in a raspy, painful voice.

Still holding the knife, I approached and bent down to take a closer look at his face, gulping back a lump of bile as a putrid stench like rotten gym socks in a flooded basement enveloped me.

It seemed impossible to be able to decode a human appearance from the matted hair, yellowed bloodshot eyes, caved-in cheeks, and jaundiced, peeling skin. I tried to remember if I knew any men who loved me enough to refuse my brains if they got zombied. It didn't take long to determine I didn't.

Maybe he was mistaken? Maybe I looked like someone he knew? After all, how cognizant could a zombie be?

"Help—please." He reached up, tugging on my sleeve. "Me so hungry!"

"Who are you? What's your name?" I couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor starving creature as I gazed into those desperately trusting eyes.

"Don't know… me hungry!"

I took a shuddering breath and turned to look at the dining table. A few covered dishes were scattered about from whatever dignified meal had been interrupted. I lifted one and found a bowl of thick, sloppy, repulsively green split-pea soup with lumps of meat floating in it. Yuck… but maybe?

"Here, eat this."

I stuffed the bowl in his eager hands without further ado. I didn't want his hunger to override whatever misplaced devotion he seemed to have for me. He stuck his whole face in the bowl, slurping and slobbering like a dog.

I considered running away while he was distracted. But the mystery of who he was demanded an answer.

When his arm turned at a different angle, I saw it. The tattoo was still legible despite being discolored, torn and sagging out of shape: a skull, backed by a knife and gun, with the words "do or die" scrabbled underneath.

That tattoo brought visceral memories flooding back like a tsunami, so much so I almost fell over and had to grab a chair for balance.

"Jim!"

How could I forget? He and I were dating ten years ago. He was a sweetie in every way, with sleek Elvis hair and mischievous green eyes. I dropped him because of his gang affiliations, choosing instead my respectable banker husband who turned out to be a ravening alcoholic.

I knelt beside him and clutched his shoulders.

"Jim! You remember me. I'm Bonnie. You were a gangster. I couldn't marry you because of that! I didn't realize how much you loved me!" I held back my own sobs now.

He dropped the now-empty bowl of soup and opened his arms for a hug. I never thought I'd hug a zombie. He was all crumbling skin and brittle bones. My tears stifled his smell.

"What now?" I sniffled, holding him at arm's length to take it all in.

"Me still hungry," he whispered. "Need brains! But—not Bonnie," he added with a moan.

A sneaky, satisfying little thought popped into my head. I reached for my phone and texted my husband.

Zombies gone. You coming back?

After a few minutes, he responded,

Be right over.

Surprised at his willingness to return, I sat down by Jim again and showed him the texts.

"The man I married is a scumbag. I think you'd enjoy eating his brains. At any rate, I'd enjoy watching you eat him. After that, though, I don't know what to do. I mean, we can't exactly get married in your condition."

"No…" he coughed and wiped away sludgy tears.

I patted Jim's back like a baby, trying to comfort him. I couldn't bear to tell him to go away and be a "normal" zombie. He'd end up being felled by a chainsaw… a pitiful fate for my would-be lover. But how could I be with him?

A car pulled up outside. I pulled away a curtain to watch as my husband climbed out of the jeep, hauling a chainsaw over his shoulder. He was quickly surrounded and attacked by three or four zombies. My stomach heaved as he whacked mercilessly through them and stormed into the hotel.

I wasn't expecting he would be armed. This changed the situation significantly.

"Bonnie!" He yelled. "Where are you?"

"Jim! You have to hide!"

I grabbed the tablecloth and tore it right off the table, wrapping Jim up like a mummy and rolling him behind the curtains just as my husband barrelled into the dining room.

"There you are." He scowled. "You tricked me, you little vixen."

"I—I…"

It was too much. I wailed, tears running down my face as I wobbled in front of the curtains where I'd stashed away my poor zombie. My husband laughed with a crazed tone.

"Actually, I had to come back anyway to make sure you were dead. This was all a plot." He adjusted the chainsaw on his shoulder with a self-satisfied smirk. "I discovered you have a fat inheritance waiting from your grandfather. If you knew about it you'd be long gone. There was a zombie alert for this area, and conveniently it was our anniversary. How tragic to die by zombies while I, your survivor, collected your money."

"You… you stinking SOB!" I screamed.

"Seeing as you're not dead yet, I'll have to complete the job. This chainsaw should do. An unfortunate accident…"

He revved it up. I slipped sideways, almost falling over trying to get away from him. A moaning shriek burst forth as the curtains tore back to reveal my mummy-wrapped zombie Jim.

"No! Don't touch Bonnie!" He groaned, stumbling forward.

My husband let out a yell and started battling with Jim, who managed to lead him on a chase around and around the room.

"Run, Bonnie!" Jim wheezed as he passed me.

I couldn't move. My limbs were paralyzed as I watched the fight playing out between them.

As my husband passed me on one of their circuits, he stopped to take a swipe at me with the chainsaw. I screamed, and Jim spun around. He threw himself in front of me, falling right into the growling blade.

I don't know how, but I tore the chainsaw out of Jim's body, out of my husband's hands.

"You killed him!" I screeched wildly. "Now die, monster!"

One swipe sent his head flying into a corner. I threw down the chainsaw and dragged Jim's disintegrated body away from the mess, sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Jim! I'm terrible. My stupid scheme backfired. You spared me…"

I felt as if I'd tricked him into getting killed. Did he understand what I'd done? My poor, sweet Jim! All he knew was to save me from a grisly end, and all I could do was dream up a bungling, dead-end plan to try to feed him. I shook with suffocating tears, sinking helplessly to the floor.

I was dimly aware of a cut on my hand where the chainsaw had clawed me. My blood spilled baptismally over Jim's mangled body. I had no interest in staunching the flow; my senses were numbed down to one single awareness of heartbreak.

His eyes opened in slow motion. They were green—not zombie green, not bloodshot or yellow, but clear and pure, though cloudy with confusion. My own jaw fell open as his face filled out, regaining a normal fleshly hue.

Healing worked its way downwards. I stared, awestruck, as his chest swelled out to buff proportions and his arms reached out to wrap me in a powerful bear hug as he sat up.

"Bonnie!" He cried, his restored voice aglow with joy. "You're alive!"

"No, you're alive!" I laughed, trembling in shock. "What happened?"

"You're bleeding," he observed with concern, reaching out to tear up the tablecloth. "Here, let me bandage that."

"The blood…" I whispered. "There must be restorative power in the blood of someone who loves you."

"Indeed. That's good to know, isn't it?" He chuckled warmly as he wrapped up my hand.

I saw again the tattoo, now restored to its former glory on his muscular arm.

"Jim… are you still with them?"

"I escaped," he said, grimness slipping into his expression. "I wanted to show you I could be an honest man. But you had already married someone else, and I figured you deserved better than me. Many times over the years, they wanted me to rejoin the gang. I stayed away, because I wanted to be good enough for you if you ever were single again."

"If I'd only known you were waiting!" I buried my face in his shoulder.

"If I'd known he was abusive, I would have helped you get out." He held me close. "We can't fret over lost time, Bonnie. We have each other now, and that's all that matters."

We sat together on the dining room floor, wrapped in a tangled, bloodstained mess of curtains and tablecloths. I knew I would never let go of my Jim again.


notes ▼

Words: 1892.
Written for four different prompts
1. "The Lodestar Contest"  Romance - This relationship should either go from existing to not existing, or vice versa.

2. "Hearts Afire. February 2025."  A person finds themselves alone again. Out of nowhere, an old flame reappears. What happens? (It can be anyone from their past, but they must have dated at least once. The reason they did not pursue the relationship before is up to you if it is germane.)

3. "The Writing Dead"  Zombie love story!

4. "The Dark & Twisted Romance Contest"