My Unlife: Rebirth by Typhoid Marty
Hearing yelling below, Emma took another sly look and saw the two associates of Steve jogging to the end of the alley, where another man was calling them. Following him they quickly walked out of view.
Seeing an opportunity that might not be repeated, Emma lowered herself back onto the fire escape and scampered quietly down the stairs. Dropping the last ten feet she smiled to herself as she struck the ground with very little noise – just in time for her monster to round a corner to the left.
Jesus my luck sucks! she thought to herself, preparing for another run. Where would I go though? I doubt he will let me push past again and I know his two lackeys couldn’t have gone far the other way.
Emma stopped scanning the ways out and let her gaze fall fully back on Steve, the predator she had helped step up to a whole new level.
It had been just a few days since Emma had half butchered this man in the park but his expression had changed dramatically. Before, he had seemed brutish - a man easily led. A follower. Now though a deeper understanding sat behind his eyes, staring at her, searching for weakness. She had turned this thug into a thing of monstrous needs and his attitude had easily switched to match. His gaze held malevolence, a word Emma had never had cause to use in real life before but here it just fit.
Whatever atrocities he had committed as a human had already been far outweighed by the ones he had made as a thing that eats humans to survive. He had made the devil’s bargain and embraced it.
Their expressions still locked, Emma took the time to think about that for a second, not as a Human but instead as a predator – which she now was by her very build.
If I am a monster, maybe I should be the best monster I can be she thought. Like him. I can smell the book deal already – if I call it ‘Positive thinking for the undead’ I can probably even get into the self-help section.
“So you look … well,” Emma said, wondering if she could talk her way out of this.
“You won’t after this,” said Emma’s monster, lashing out with a right hook. The blow was impossibly fast and caught Emma full on her cheek neatly snapping the Zygomatic bone underneath her eye, causing her to partially turn and drop to one knee. The pain was intense.
Emma was getting used to discomfort though. She had never been weak from a physical perspective and the last week had toughened her to a point beyond bullet-hard. On a scale of one to having someone rip a fucking hole in the back of her head, this one rated low.
Turned as she was, her attacker didn’t see the short wind up for a quick rabbit punch forwards into his nuts – dropping him in short order, gasping, to his knees also. The drop was so quick it was as if his tendons had been cut.
That’s when one of the missing henchman showed up, with a lump of metal to the back of her head. Emma’s vision swam but she blindly reached out and grabbed some part of the man’s jacket. Pivoting she fell onto her back but succeeded in throwing the man into a wall headfirst. He got an arm up to protect himself but his head bouncing off his forearm still disoriented him.
The extra weight Emma had packed on (in? she wondered in the back of her brain. Are my bones growing denser?) was coming in handy; she was about the same mass as an average-ish man, even if her body was smaller in size.
Emma got up quickly and staggered his direction. As the follower turned, Emma planted a hand on his chin and rammed his head back into the wall – once, twice, three times for a satisfying snap as the back of his head split open.
Any satisfaction she felt at her latest atrocity was instantly gone at the realization she was in peril. Previously, she had believed she had another 12 hours until she had to eat – had planned on hitting up her new connections for some autopsy work and a syringe of spinal fluid from the recently dead. All the healing had blown her Serotonin much sooner than anticipated though, her elbow alone (which was doing great now, thanks for asking) was enough to need another Serotonin infusion.
She decided this absently as the smell coming from the broken skull tore through her control like tissue paper.
The Emma Zombie dropped the man and began prying the shattered skull as he lay twitching. It took her frantically scrabbling fingers seconds to rip a portion of skull off and then she was nose first into the grey-pink brains beneath.
The slimy meat sliding all over her cheeks and forehead as her mouth bit in again and again – she didn’t chew, just swallowed like she was some junkyard dog.
Look out for the Zombie she yelled to herself from inside her head, completely oblivious to the irony. Her limbs however were dedicated only to one purpose – feeding her craving.
“Let go of him!” came a yell behind her and a scuffling noise of someone running while limping. The Emma Zombie was having none of it though, by now shoveling big wet greasy chunks of brain into her mouth as her teeth could no longer easily find meat within reach.
Shoved into the same wall as her victim, Emma smashed her broken eye arch into a smear of her victim’s blood. Her legs came up and kicked off the wall hard, throwing her and Steve backwards, landing hard with him beneath her. A “Whoof” of air on her neck proved she had winded him but Emma couldn’t enjoy her victory, her own demon was still in control and it was still interested in the open skull in front of her.
She crawled hands and knees to the minion and began again to ladle grey matter into her mouth but was interrupted a few seconds later by a kick to the ribs, which responded with an audible cracking noise.
Zombie Emma, infuriated by pain was up on her feet in a moment and she ran directly at the man. He sucker punched her and she went down again.
Emma rolled a couple of times but was lifted back to all fours with a kick to her right boob. Another kick to the stomach was strong enough to lift her to her feet. Emma’s Zombie started lurching at the thug again but he easily caught and pinned her outstretched hands with one hand and grabbed her throat with the other.
“What are you going to do - Infect me again?” he sneered.
He looked into her soulless eyes – because Emma truly thought of her soul as being unattached to the body right now.
“You tore us apart in that park. You were like some kind of avenging God. Now I look at you and you just look sloppy.”
“You are like chaos randomly running from one place to the next fucking things up,” he added, shaking his head.
“What about all the people you have killed,” Emma answered, as surprised as Steve. Control must slowly be re-exerting itself.
“Ah well you see, I am like order,” he answered “Every kill I make has purpose.”
“You? Law? Don’t make me laugh, I have a cracked lip.”
Emma barked her derision in short laughs but ended in a gulp as Steve started to crush her throat.
“It is a bit different now isn’t it,” he spat the words “On an even playing field.”
Letting go of her arms to swing a powerful punch – Steve was incredibly surprised when Emma, in turn, caught it.
“I might be a bit more even than you,” she answered with a sneer.
This talking is great she thought to herself. Her vision was back to normal and the pain in her ribs and eye was slowly diminishing.
Experimenting, she pushed against his grip and felt him slowly give. He leaned down into her and the progress stopped. Her muscles had been altering for twice as long as his, but he still had two inches height on her - the result was pretty much stalemate.
That’s when they heard the yelling, the other man who left the alley was calling out to find where his boss had gone to. A look of triumph crossed Steve’s face but was replaced with confusion then pain as Emma relaxed her grip suddenly and Steve stumbled forwards into a headbutt.
It was poorly executed, slamming the bridge of Emma’s nose against the tip of her Monster’s and splattered both of them. Leaving both of them instantly blinking through pain and involuntary tears.
By the time Steve could see through
* * * * *
Seeing the alley was proving difficult, Emma’s re-broken nose was making her eyes stream. Nonetheless, she didn’t dare to break her pace – she was jogging along as well as she could though each step jostled her healing ribs a little more than she would like.
Hearing a noise, Emma turned wildly blinking again and again to try and clear the water long enough to get a clear picture. Seeing nothing, she turned back and picked up her pace a little more. She had to get clear of this little corner of hell long enough to properly heal before Steve threw any more members of his gang at her.
Hearing another noise from the side, Emma spun wildly – and ran straight into a big green dumpster.
Sliding down it, she could barely make out a slowly moving patch of black from among the shadows and through her slowly drying eyes.
The patch of black began slowly clapping which proved too much for Emma, she had a hard day and the last thing she needed right now was to be mocked by a color.
Levering herself up using the dented dumpster Emma managed to get back on her feet. Though she wasn’t really ready for anything more strenuous than a slow limp to a bath, she managed to manhandle her body into something approximating a position of readiness for whatever new attacker she faced.
The anonymous applauder chose to move forward just far enough to leave the shadows and Emma gasped despite herself.
It was the man who did this to her, the man who had bitten her outside the pawn shop, infecting her.
Finding strength she didn’t know she had, Emma ran at him looking to grab his head and ram it into the wall. Nothing mattered, not the infection or Steve and his merry band of hoodlums. All she wanted to do was grab this man’s head and ram it into the wall.
One side step though and Emma found herself flailing again, her already battered shoulder taking the charge once again as the brick of the alleyway proved once again just how intractable it could be.
“Gah!” Emma yelled, frustrated and impotent she slapped her palms down on the grimy cement, a petulant gesture of a child as she was once again left helpless. She started the long climb back to her feet, a mountain that felt it would take some time to fully scale.
“Really, don’t bother,” the man said casually “You will probably just fall over once more anyway.”
“I will keep getting up,” replied Emma, pushing on a knee to ascend to her full, modest height once more.
“Why, so you can take your frustration out on me?” he asked, studying her.
“You caused all of this!” she accused, stepping towards him, more carefully this time.
“I no more caused this than Adolf Hitler’s parents caused World War II,” was the quick response.
Emma paused “You made me into this abomination” she tried, more careful about her allegation this time.
“You were in the wrong place, blundering around the corner.” The man shrugged his shoulders, dismissing her in an instant.
“It … wasn’t purposeful?” she asked, a little more vulnerable than she would have liked. She had stopped moving towards her attacker, internal conflict sapping all forward motion.
The man scoffed. “Of course not, I was there for that idiot ‘Big Willie’. Who the fuck calls themselves that anyway? He deserved to die for tackiness alone.”
“So what now? How did you find me anyway?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Found you at the park – I saw you on the news there so I hung around for a bit and saw you hiding in the bushes the next day. You were swearing at squirrels.” he offered with a raised eyebrow.
“They had it coming,” Emma murmured, internally cursing the fuzzy rodents again. “Wait, so you have been following me ever since?” she asked.
“You had a-“ he started, but Emma shushed him, looking around and crouching as she heard the noise of a can skittering along a pavement as if it had just been kicked.
“Shhh!” Emma whispered desperately.
“Why?” questioned the man, tilting his head slightly to the side as he started walking along a curb like a tightrope walker.
“Because they will hear you! That might be Steve!” Emma replied.
“But I have nothing to fear.” He replied easily. Emma suspected he probably didn’t at that. He might as well be made of Teflon, she thought enviously. Everything seemed to be sliding off of him.
On cue, the noises seemed to get further away as if the creator of the sound had taken a different turn and was sliding down another path.
Emma looked back to the man – her creator - he was still engrossed with walking the straight curb line, an impossible distance above the imaginary crowds below. Surely if he fell, his life would be forfeit. Emma was somehow inexplicably disappointed.
“So to what end? Why follow me?” Emma asked.
“Maybe the same reason you did, to see if I had fucked up by accidentally letting you live.”
“And?” she answered, pensive.
“Jury’s still out,” he answered with a smile.
“I have had enough of these tests” Emma replied and turned haughtily to walk away down the alley. To her credit she hardly limped.
* * * * *
Emma was in better shape by the time she got home an hour later – in fact she was almost ready to head back to find the real patient zero. She wanted answers – was there any way to reverse this? How could she undo the damage she had done by accidentally infecting Steve?
She entered the hotel and slammed the door, ready to take a shower then head out. Instantly, all the fight left her. Carved on the inside of the door in very neat letters was the following:
“We are all tested, sometimes the tests are of our own creation. If you need to talk call me (John) at (617) 353-3036.”
How the hell did he get here before me? Thought Emma.
And how did he get in? Emma contemplated this for a moment.
How much will they charge me for the scratches on the door? she concluded, sadly.
Chapter 11
Emma woke up with a groan – not a good sign. This whole double life thing is exhausting she concluded, pulling her legs off the side of the bed.
The first thing that caught her eyes was the message scratched into the door and she found herself pursing her lips.
Twenty minutes, an inadequate shower and a rushed coffee flavored with powdered milk later she was ready to call the mystery that had scraped his number into her door. Being who she was, Emma had already contacted the front desk with a theoretical question about the door getting scratched and yes – it would cost her.
Emma picked up her phone. Again. Looking at the number grooved into her door she punched in the first two numbers before pausing, staring at the phone for a few seconds and hanging up. Again.
Do I really want to get more involved with this John ‘person’ she asked herself. The man is obviously Schizotypal. He put me in this predicament in the first place, stripped me of my humanity. I used to be good old plain, reliable Emma. Now – now I eat people. Poorly at that, or I would not be saddled with a nemesis who is getting ever better at trying to kill me.
That led Emma back to the point of calling John. Not only could he potentially have a way to stop the inexorable march of her need for Human brains, he might eventually be persuaded to help rid the world of her monster. Not that he seemed inclined to be of help.
John’s apathy aside, Emma knew she could not pass up this opportunity. The stakes were too high to not know everything possible about her condition. Resolve bolstered, Emma picked up the phone and dialed John’s full number.
Nodding to herself, she waited – brazenly daring him to answer the phone.
“Nyyyelllo?” came John’s sleepy voice over the phone. Emma panicked and hung up.
Not my finest hour she thought to herself, burying her face in her left hand from shame.
Her phone started buzzing in her hand
“Hello?” she asked politely.
“Yeah I thought that was you, Park Lady,” the bleary voice confirmed its suspicions. “What is your name anyhow?” he queried blearily.
“It’s Emma. How – how did you get this number?” she inquired, planning on suing someone for the obvious breach in security.
“*69” John answered, still sounding sleepy. Why did I not block my outgoing number? Thought Emma, annoyed at herself. I am really not any good at this.
“Am I interrupting your sleep? I can call back later..” she offered, honestly hoping he would take her up in it.
“Nah it’s okay,” he replied “I am just trying out a new schedule of sleeping. Polyphasic something or other.”
The last sentence was accompanied by lip smacking noises. Emma, who had always been funny about food and eating, found it to be unbearable.
“Are you eating?” she asked. “I thought you just woke up?”
“I did,” he answered. “I was eating this bowl of cereal before I went to sleep.” Emma would later find out this was classic John.
Realizing she had been silent for too long, with John just patiently eating his soggy cereal, Emma finally broke the quiet.
“So what now?” she asked.
Pause. “I never infected anyone before and let them live but you are here now so I decided I shouldn’t just kill you.”
Wait, was that really an option that just got taken off the table?
“But I obviously need to talk to you about stuff, give you some ground rules and tell you what I know about why this happened,” John continued, not seeming to sense Emma’s belated panic. “Can I come over?”
“Better not” replied Emma earnestly “Given the quality of my current surroundings, they might think it is a professional arrangement.”
“Oh? Ohhhhhhhh” answered John, getting it. “Well how about my place then?”
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread thought Emma to herself, but didn’t see a lot of choice. He probably could have killed me a half dozen times just in the week he has been following me.
Looking over at the simple digital alarm provided by the motel, Emma quickly removed the phone from her ear to double check it. “Crap, I am late for work!” she exclaimed.