Decay

I think the worst part of being undead was killing my own mother.

My father tells me I’m lucky, lucky to not have been there during the Change. When those like…me unwillingly killed their mothers. Their fathers. Everyone.

At least my mother had a choice. She chose to carry to term her undead child, who slowly ate her body until there was nothing left but bloody bones with a crying babe. I understand the sacrifice she made for me to be here right now and I know I should not feel guilty, but sometimes I wonder if the humans are right about us.

I brush my fingertips over the faded, torn photo. It is of a human mother pushing a young girl on a swing. I’m able to make out their smiles, a joyous moment untouched by death. The sky is clear and sunlight falls on them with no effort and something stirs in me. Such feelings are prohibited among the Undead and my father does not fail to remind me of this every day.

“Liliana, such senseless ideas will only lead you to ruin,” he would say, “You are the daughter of a general and one day you will have the privilege of attaining the title. But you must banish such thoughts from you head! ” His words echo in my head like a warning and I drop the photo into the pool of water, watching it sink into oblivion. My face reflects on the dark surface and I turn my head in distain at the sight. To the Reanimated, my looks surpass average, having only a few permanent gashes on my smooth, gray skin. My dark hair is thick to where the bald patches are easily covered and only my fingers need to be sewn back on every once in a while.

But it is the beauty of humans that I crave for. Their unblemished skin that breathes in life in a way I never will know. How wonderful it would be to feel my lungs expand and my heart beat against my chest…

I quickly banished the thought, knowing full well such views were foolish.

Humans are only a source of sustainment and a reminder of our past sins.

The differences between humans and the Reanimated are few but significant. The most obvious one is that we are dead, our bodies just ever-decomposing flesh. Many would believe that this would cause us to be slow and mindless when in fact we are rather intelligent and our speed is far superior to humans. We can feel emotions just like them but we rely on primal instincts. It is what drives us to kill and eat humans, to consume their bodies to keep ours from falling apart. Our lifespan is noticeably longer since we grow at a much slower rate and are unaffected by problems such as disease and pain. But we do take injury and very easily too. A mere fall that would skid a human’s knee would break an undead’s leg.

That is where the injections come in.

Taken weekly, it regenerates bone to reattach limbs and restores damage done to the inner body. Unfortunately, the injection does not recover skin and so any disease or injury upon the skin is permanent. Made with human brain and spinal cord fluid, it is the most valuable source of longevity to us.

My focus returns to the present and I become aware that someone is watching me. I hear a noise and my head instantly snaps around, my neck cracking as it swings almost full circle. My eyes search the ruins, carefully examining the shadows, and I sniff the air. The scent catches me off-guard. Instantly it seizes my hunger with an irresistible ferocity. It had been years since I have caught the scent of a human woman and the thought I had finally found one made my stomach eagerly growl.

Humans are the only thing the Undead eat. Secretly, I have tried eating other things, such as dog, but my stomach simply rejected it. It was only after the injections were created that we discovered the reason behind our craving. That living tissue suspends the decaying process and allows us to keep existing.

With a primal response, I rise to my feet and let out a wail through my unhinged mouth. A figure shifts in the shadows before taking off down a corridor. Instantly I am after her, chasing the human through the rubbles of the building. Light pierces through from above and I catch glimpses of blonde hair streaked with sweat and fear. I can hear her terrified heart pounding through her veins, spurring me onward. She leaps over the broken walls and caved-in ceilings, stumbling as she slips on the water-drenched floors. The hunger is unbearable now and another scream rips from my throat. With outstretched arms I swing at her, my fingers tearing at flesh and clothes as she struggles to put distance between us. She turns her head to reveal a tear-streaked, horrified look and I grin, knowing she finally made the mistake all humans make.

Never, ever look back.

The woman trips over a fallen column and tumbles. I’m on her immediately, pinning her to the ground with nails dug into her wrists. She pleads for me to let her go and I am almost taken-aback by what I see.

This human was no more than thirteen years of age.

My hunger ceases as curiosity overtakes my thinking. I run a finger across her soft, supple skin and my emotions are awakened. The undead can feel touch, the best gift I believe given to us, but it’s a cold and numb feeling. It surprises me that she feels warm and I yearn to be her. To have sunlight in my hair and a real heartbeat.

“Please…please don’t hurt me…I know you can understand me…” she whimpers, breaking my concentration. I growl and it stifles her cries immediately.

“Where did you come from? Why are you alone?” My voice is hoarse and low, the sound causing her to tremble more violently.

“I...my name…my name is Thela and…my parents were…I just wanted to be alone…” her words turn into sobs and she turns her head from my reeking breath, repeating herself over and over. I observe her for a moment, finding it almost comical that this girl is so afraid of death. Of the only existence I know to be.

“You should know better than to venture out here. They will do things to you, terrible things. They will make you tell where the others are hiding and kill them all. Do you understand this?” I try to soften my tone and she sniffles with a slight nod.

Something glimmers on her neck, drawing my attention to a heart-shaped locket. Carefully, I reach over and press it open to reveal the faces of what looks to be her parents. She tries to wriggle my hand away and I hiss at her to stop.

“Y-You don’t seem like a monster,” Thela softly says. I freeze, allowing the meaning of what she said to register.

It was strange to think of myself as a monster. Do I haunt the dreams of human children and lurk in their every shadow? The thought amused me.

I am dead, and yes I need humans to survive, but I’m no monster. There are those who gorge themselves on human flesh, slaughtering dozens in one meal, and they have been banished from our society.

My fingers loosen their grip, ignoring my father’s warnings of communicating with humans, and Thela’s blue eyes widen with surprise. I force my reasoning to understand that she is simply a child and her body is not capable of producing enough for the injections. It would be a waste to bring her in and therefore I must let her-

“Well, well, look what our Liliana has found for us!”

I turn to see Pether, my father’s right hand, enter with his three comrades. They move stealthily around the room, scouting for any other humans that might be hiding. Hunters are given higher doses of the injection as we are the ones who protect and nourish society. As a result, we can sense humans from miles around, making us the perfect huntsmen. The four are around her now, sniffing her skin with howls and snapping jaws. I pull her up and snarl at them.

“She is my catch!” I snap, pushing her behind me. Pether frowns, taking a moment to ponder my action before letting out a chuckle.

“Our Lily here has a soft spot for children!” He burst out in laughter, the others joining in.

My anger flares and I clench my fists, trying to keep my expression still. Pether once would never speak to me with such unkindness. He was in love with me, asking me ever since I reached my teens to be his companion. I always declined, given that he was my father’s age and was missing more skin than he had, due to his many human encounters. Finally realizing he would never attain me, his sweet persona turned venomous.

My father believes it to be harmless, after all Pether is his closest and most trusted hunter. But I know he would do anything to keep me from happiness, including destroying my rapidly-growing reputation. Females are rarely trained as hunters and even then none have come close to having my skills. Having a general as a father could have meant I lived a prosperous life of being attended to by human slaves. But I chose to make my own name, winning the respect of many hunters, including my father’s. A reputation is all a hunter has, so being caught communicating with the living could have disastrous consequences.

As if reading my thoughts he snickers, “What would your father think, hmm?” He moves in, pressing his lips against my ear. “You should know better than to play with our food.”

With that, Pether grabs the girl by her neck, slamming her to the ground. He wraps her hair around his wrist and began dragging her away. I start to move but stop, knowing there was nothing I could do to save her and any objections from me would make it only worse for her. She screams and thrashes futilely, only to be silenced when Pether smashes her face into the wall. Blood drips from her nose and mouth, leaving a trail as they disappeared out the door.

They leave me in the silence, my emotions simmering with fervor. I look at my cold, grey hands and try to will them to life. Pether is only doing this to spite me, to cause me to suffer like he has. My thoughts sink at knowing Thela’s golden skin would soon be like mine. Her organs will be drained and she will be alive when it is done…

I cannot let that happen to a child.

An idea springs in my head and I quickly gather myself before walking towards the hall. My father can stop this. He will listen to me. I just need to get-

I stop, my foot stepping on something small and hard. It is difficult to tell what it is until I pick it up, my dead heart lurching at the sight of the heart-shaped locket.