Necrocide

Chapter 61

"I'm what?" Aaron asked, still pressed up against the wall.

"You're incomplete," the creature replied. Blood dripped down his mouth like saliva. Aaron couldn't tell if it belonged to the Deadman or the last thing he ate.

"What do you mean he's incomplete?" Jade retorted. "He's not the one with most of his face missing."

Harry and Kyle snickered. Aaron, however, remained in his reserved position against the wall. The fragile Deadman smoothed his bony fingers against Aaron's cheek. They were cold and uncomfortable. It felt like a knife was being brushed across his face.

"You're not one of us," the creature said. "A part of you is still detached. It is still...living."

"I love all this irony going on," Kyle chimed in. "You say he's detached, yet your jawbone is practically holding on by a thread."

"Uh, Kyle," Harry said. "I think this is the part where we shut the hell up."

"What happened to you?" Aaron said, ignoring the others.

"We...need...flesh," the Deadman replied. He held up his decomposing hand and slowly flexed his fingers. His bones cracked with every movement. "Without it, we will fall apart."

"What is your name, sir?"

The creature remained quiet for a moment. "Call me Orwell."

"Orwell?" Aaron repeated. "Like the author of Animal Farm?"

"Lad, I've been trapped here for over eight years starving to death. Do you think I'd know or care about literature after everything we've been through?"

"Well, whatever you call yourself, what do you want with us?"

"I've been expecting company," Orwell replied. "In fact, we've all been expecting visitors. We're aware of how curious humans can be, even if their discoveries might kill them. Plus, I know that one." He pointed at Harry.

Aaron and the others turned to look at Harry. He had an amusing shocked look on his face, something Aaron would never expect a Deadman to do. He even formed a hilariously awkward grin, rotten teeth and everything. "Of course!" he said. "How could I forget about you, Orville?"

"Orwell," the Deadman corrected.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Stay here as long as you like," Orwell continued. "But be careful. Some of the others can't distinguish between living and dead. Hope that explains the bite marks everywhere."

Then he walked away, passing by several other Deadmen in similarly decrepit states. Meanwhile, Aaron and his arguably healthier-looking undead friends stood at the entrance to the room with the fusebox, watching in bewilderment as Orwell disappeared down the hall, small bits of his own flesh drifting off like snow

"You knew that guy, Harry?" Jade asked.

"I have absolutely no idea who that guy is," Harry replied. "And if I do, it was probably when he looked prettier."

"How do you guys not know him?" Aaron asked Jade and Kyle.

"I was the only one who woke up in this place, mate," Harry said. He placed one arm on Kyle's shoulder and used the other to take Jade's hand. "I didn't meet these guys until I fled to the Dead Center with Bloodletter. And that was the beginning of the ultimate post-mortem friendship."

"The day fate brought three weirdos together," Jade added with a smile.

Aaron slouched his head down. "I used to have that."