The sun warmed his back as he stepped down the earth of around the last tomato plant. Since the zombie-ing he didn’t really feel the cold, but something human in him still liked the warmth. He supposed it was human. Maybe just the living part of him, lizards are fond of a warm spot too, as are cockroaches.
Frank spiked the shovel into an empty part of the bed and sat down in the warm earth, back pressed up against the heat of the house. He liked working in the garden, it was uncomplicated. And nothing moved quickly – unlike that cat trotting across the yard to it’s deck next door. The zombie in him wanted to lurch after it, its brain may be walnut sized, but mmm… tasty…
Truly though he didn’t want to lurch after it, something human in him wanted to just sit in the sun… and think. The thinking was hard though, like his brain was threaded throughout with cotton batting. Everything got through, but slower, and somehow muted. He knew he must have had some sort of life before he woke up in Gloria’s lab, but he can’t seem to recall. Sometimes, at night, curled up with his face buried in her hair he’d dream, or it seemed like dreaming, hard to say, right now felt kinda like dreaming too. But at night, with the smell of her in his face, he seemed to drift… go somewhere different… remember…
Read the next instalment.
Valerie Roney 