Emotionally charged situations compromise one’s ability to reason.
Under such circumstances, one might throw all caution to the wind and go with whatever feels right in the heat of the moment, only to lose everything after this fatal error in judgment.
This is just another retelling of a tale as old as time.
“Pull the trigger! Now!”
The screaming man carried a pistol of his own, but as was evident from the locked back slide, the magazine had already been fully emptied. Had there been any spare ammunition, he would’ve put it to good use by now.
“That thing’s no longer human!”
He snaked his arm between two metal bars and pointed down the hall at a shadowy figure slowly creeping toward them.
Step by step, it inched closer and closer. Its movements were jerky and unnatural, as though it only reflexively stepped forward to keep itself from collapsing to the ground.
The unsettling aura radiating from the figure as it limped down the hallway couldn’t be explained away by some sort of leg injury. No, there was something much more sinister at play.
“You’re right... You’re right, but I can’t do it! I just can’t!” sobbed a woman on the other side of the bars, shaking her head violently as she gripped her own pistol in both hands.
“Listen to me! It’s not him! That thing isn’t your boyfriend!” the man shouted while furiously rocking the iron bars.
Had it not been for this physical barrier between them, he could have been by her side. He could’ve ripped the gun right out of her hands and pumped the creature full of lead... but alas.
“He’s dead! He’s not with us anymore!”
“Yes he is! He’s right here, and he’s—”
“That is a monster! It’s not the person you once knew!”
Death reduces a person to a lifeless corpse; it does not relegate them to the rank of the living dead. Qualia is an integral part of human consciousness, and the lumbering patchwork of flesh in front of them possessed no such quality. Though it had once been human, it was now a hollow, walking cadaver.
There was no question about this creature’s condition—the left side of its chest, where a heart once beat to the rhythm of life, bore a massive, gaping hole encrusted with blood. A blow like that would’ve been enough to down the mightiest of men, and yet there it was, stumbling along one foot after the other in a poor imitation of its former self. The creature’s very existence spat in the face of reason.
“Jodie, take the shot! For the love of God, just take the shot already!”
“I can’t! I can’t do this to him!” she cried, tossing away her pistol.
“Called it.”
A girl by the name of Otoha Judou nodded listlessly to herself. It was half past six in the evening, and her face was illuminated by the TV screen in an otherwise pitch-black living room.
On the screen, a girl was getting her head literally chewed off by her once-beloved boyfriend.
✦ ✦ ✦
The gruesome display did not faze Otoha in the slightest; in fact, the bespectacled beauty seemed to relish every passing moment, not daring to blink.
Her zeal for the grotesque scene was almost unsettling, and this effect was only compounded by her unmoving posture, emotionless expression, and unblinking eyes. In this moment, she was practically a zombie herself.
Which is not to say Otoha wasn’t cute. On the contrary, put her in a well-lit room, get her to smile, and you’d be amazed. Then again, it was easier said than done. Otoha cared little for her appearance. Her makeup game was virtually nonexistent, and she wore her hair in a simple bob as it was easy to maintain... and difficult to snatch. You get the idea.
Her evening was going splendidly. That is, until disaster found its way to her. Otoha squinted as light flooded the room.
“Shouldn’t you be out?” she asked the offender.
“The lights stay on. I thought we went over this.” Her older sister, Mizuki, crossed her arms and lightly tapped her foot. “You’re doing this to spite me, aren’t you?”
Being sisters, they greatly resembled one another but gave off very different impressions. Mizuki had well-kempt, silky-smooth locks and a masterfully applied face of makeup which highlighted her infinite range of expressions. In this regard, the two could not have been more different.
Additionally, Mizuki was a sophomore in college and a huge partygoer, so she would rarely return home before dinner—hence her little inquisition. If the inflections of her voice were anything to go by, Mizuki’s plans for the evening had likely fizzled out at the very last moment.
“My bad,” Otoha said, eyes glued to the screen.
In a miraculous turn of events, Jodie’s gun landed right next to the bars. The man stuck his arm out, scrambling to pick it up as Jodie’s reanimated boyfriend chewed away at her flesh. Jodie was done for, but it was a captivating scene nonetheless.
“Don’t you ‘my bad’ me. I’m not looking for an apology; I’m looking for answers.”
While it might have seemed strange for Mizuki to brush aside her little sister’s rudeness, she had learned over the years that some aspects of Otoha’s personality simply weren’t going to change.
“I’m watching a movie.”
“Yeah, and...?”
“That’d ruin the experience.”
“The experience?” Mizuki looked at the TV, then back at Otoha. “You mean this low-rate garbage?”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Otoha said in a flat monotone. “Please, no more. My sides will split and all my organs will spill out.”
Criticizing B movies for something that was, by definition, out of their control—such as low production values—wasn’t exactly the hottest take. Good-quality CGI, animatronics, special effects and makeup... all of these could certainly contribute to the realistic feel of a movie, but they were also very expensive and not within the limitations of a B movie budget. If anything, the fact that this team had chosen to create a zombie flick, which was incredibly cheap to make, showed that they were making the best of what they had. In Otoha’s opinion, that was something to celebrate, not condemn.
“A freak and a comedian. You’re a gift that just keeps on giving. A real riot.” She walked over to Otoha, yoinked the remote control, and changed the channel to a live news broadcast.
“Give it.”
“Make me.” She dangled the remote right in front of Otoha’s deadpan face.
To Otoha, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was actually perfectly in line with Mizuki’s usual antics.
Having spent a good chunk of their lives in each other’s company, the sisters could read one another with near-perfect accuracy. Their parents still couldn’t get over how the two girls had ended up as polar opposites despite their shared upbringing. Neither of them ever said or did anything to stop it, however, as the girls’ bickering was a constant that provided a sort of stability for their household.
Why even bother...? Otoha thought. She knew all too well that her pleas would fall on deaf ears, so she threw in the towel. Besides, she could stream the movie whenever she wanted. No harm, no foul.
In their extensive track record of petty disagreements, there was never a single instance where the older sister hadn’t gotten her way. Otoha had enough self-awareness to know that this wasn’t due to their age difference or anything like that; it was her eccentric nature that was the core of the problem.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was definitely something wrong with her. Or maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with society at large. She hadn’t yet reached a definitive conclusion on that one.
Either way, the fact of the matter was that she couldn’t conform to societal norms as well as the average Joe. Others who experienced this same struggle tended to either lash out at society or quietly yearn for normalcy. Otoha, however, didn’t fall into either category. She faintly felt that she didn’t quite fit in, but it didn’t go much deeper than that.
That was how it had always been. Unless some strange, inexplicable, life-changing event came crashing down on her, nothing was going to change. Otoha would never escape the purgatory of her eccentricity.
Or so she thought, but fate had different plans in store for her.
“Speaking of riots...”
The news was airing live footage of a riot happening overseas. A swarm of people was crowding outside a wide, blocky building. In front of the building was a blue sign bearing three white letters.
“That’s the CDC’s headquarters,” mumbled Otoha.
“The what now?”
“The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. A real zombie flick staple.” Her gaze stayed fixed on the screen.
Otoha had seen many shots of the CDC’s HQ in zombie movies, but in real life? That was a whole other story. Her inner zombie junkie wouldn’t be caught dead missing out on this momentous occasion.
“A shame they couldn’t save my sweet little sis from her own affliction. Poor thing didn’t deserve to become a freak show.”
“Pass me the remote. I’m recording this.”
“Knock yourself out.” With that, Mizuki carelessly tossed the remote her way.