Dead Boy Walking

It was too damn cold to be out here, and yet he still was. It wasn’t as if there was anywhere else to go, though. George just wished there was, despite the fact that it was too late now. He could feel the cold seep through his bones even with the fire roaring. Not even his coat could block it out. Surprising, with as new and thick as it was, stolen from an abandoned store just days before. The wind was howling its breaths echoing through the forest, like the whistle of a huntsman. The only respite he had from the weather was that it hadn’t snowed. However, that fact did little to ease George’s already frayed nerves. It also didn’t mean that the cold, damp, earth beneath him, didn’t soak into his worn jeans, or was any less uncomfortable. The smell, and the heat, did calm him, though. At least enough for him not to be overwhelmingly frustrated. The heat and ashy, scent of the fire, along with the warmth of the mug of hot chocolate in his bare hands helped to keep his mind off the cold at his back.

A minute passed of him just staring into the fire when he heard a muffled scream from the woods just beyond it. Too human to be anything else. Then, a loud thud and an even louder groan. The sound of rustling leaves reached his ears seconds later; as if a large creature was stalking through. The thud and drag of footsteps followed the rustling, getting closer and closer with each second. George continued to stare at the fire, passing glances at what was just beyond it. He stayed right where he was. The sounds got louder and louder, as the creature came closer, enough to differentiate two separate sounds: The footsteps and what was being dragged behind. George heard a groan again, raspier this time. Then with a vocal click, the sounds stopped. The rustling of the leaves, the groans, the footsteps, and the dragging ceased as if never there to begin with. There weren’t any birds, crickets, or any animals in the area, but now it felt too quiet. As the silence settled, George’s eyes strayed from the fire into the dark woods that lay ahead. He stood up. After just seconds, goosebumps rose along his arms as the sounds returned, closer than ever. His heart sped up and his mouth dried. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving the darkness.

A figure emerged from the trees, their form shrouded. They had something clutched in their right hand that was dragging behind them. What was most likely a corpse.

“Aaron.” George whispered. A shiver went down his back as the figure came closer. Close enough to the fire to see their features in sharp shadows. The man’s lower jaw and mouth were slicked in blood. His dark eyes too glassy to be alive but slightly too cognizant not to be. The man shuffled forward, making his way around the campfire. George didn’t move an inch, his breath stuck in his lungs, waiting. His eyes were glued to the man, though they flickered to the corpse that he dragged behind him. The man stopped inches from George, just close enough to touch. Not a breath passed between them before George brought the man into a bruising kiss, his hand pressing on the back of the man’s neck, until the kiss turned messy. They finally separated, George’s face now covered in blood that looked starker on his own pale flesh.

“Took you long enough.” He licked the blood off his lips, still just a breath away from the other man before he remembered.

“You want some?” George pressed the mug against Aaron’s chest. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the mug and took a swig, pressing the mug back into George’s hands. He leaned forward to kiss George, who drank down all the hot chocolate in his mouth. Aaron then pressed a kiss to George’s cheek, licking away the blood, and moved away; dragging the corpse to rest beside the fire.

“Hnnguhh.” Aaron groaned. He clears his throat with a growl, and tries again, still slightly indistinct, a slur to his words. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, totally. I uh…” George stuttered and looked down at the mug in his hands — more than halfway empty — and grinned.“I keep forgetting that you can’t drink any.” He sat down passing a glance at Aaron to see him standing over the corpse, “Bon appetite,” and he gulped down the rest of the hot chocolate.

When he heard a loud crack he looked back at Aaron just to see him hunched over the corpse, his back to George. He knew what Aaron was doing and he didn’t look away. Even though he knew he shouldn’t have been as fascinated as he was in imagining Aaron devouring someone, he couldn’t look away.

George had never really been considered ‘normal’, so he wasn’t going to lose any sleep on it. Especially when Aaron turned his head to him, likely feeling George’s eyes boring into him. His face had so much blood on it that it just dripped to the ground, causing a flush to overcome George. The front of his hoodie, which had already been caked in filth, was soaked through with the new blood. Until it looked like it had originally been more red than gray. When Aaron turned back with a grunt, George wondered where he got such fresh prey.

They were far enough away from any cities or towns that encountering another person, or zombie meant they were alone, lost, or with a huge group that was passing by. The last option particularly worried George. He didn’t want to be with other people, considering what they would likely do to Aaron. He also didn’t want any zombies around, because George was still breathing and he would like to keep it that way, for now. He didn’t notice he was biting his lip until he felt a sharp pain, his wince drawing Aaron’s attention. He snapped his head up from the corpse, scenting the air before turning to face George. He smelled George’s blood underneath the scent of everything else, and it smelled delicious.

He wasn’t afraid of Aaron and has never been. Disregarding the first night he turned, he had no reason to be. Out of the two of them, Aaron’s always been the sweeter one. It was just something about having Aaron’s full attention on him, before being turned, that caused a shiver to run up George’s spine. Now with Aaron’s new eyes, the feeling was doubled. They became almost as clear as when he was alive when his attention was solely on George. Their eyes were locked on each other as Aaron stood up and slowly ambled his way to him. Anticipation welled up as George waited to see what Aaron would do.

Then, the static of a walkie’ cuts through the silence, and a muffled voice speaks. The sound is coming from the corpse

Anxiety lodges in his throat as George shoots up. He rushes to the dead body, but before he makes it any further Aaron catches him around the waist, bringing him closer. He growls into his ear.

“There’s a walkie on that corpse, Aaron. Which means they probably have people with ‘em. We have to find out what they’re doing.” Another rumble from Aaron.

“I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

The worry was still visible in Aaron’s eyes. He just groans louder, saying just one word.

“You.”

George deflates, nodding, and smirks at him, before grabbing Aaron’s arm and gently moving it off him. Aaron grunts but doesn’t say anything else as George moves to rummage through the corpse’s pockets. Just as he pulls the walkie out, the static comes again, a clearer voice following. A voice George knows.

“Casey? Casey, come in.” George could feel his eyes prick with tears. It’s been over a year since he heard that voice.

“Jack? It’s me, it’s George. Jesus Christ, you’re alive… Over.” Almost immediately Jack responds.

“George? Oh god, George! You’re alive. It’s been so — god, it’s been so long… Over.” George held his hand over his mouth. Breathing deeply he looked behind him at Aaron, who was right at his back, a look of almost searching on his face.

“Wait, how’d you get this radio, what happened to Casey? Over.”

George’s mind races. Shit.

“A zombie got to ‘em, the person who had the radio. I was just walking when I found it. Good thing too, ‘cause I heard the walkie’ just as I passed by.” The lie flowed out of him surprisingly easily. It’s not like he lied, just stretched the truth a bit. He couldn’t risk anything.

He felt Aaron crouch behind him before he felt his arms encircle him. Pressing George against his chest, Aaron put his face right on the back of the coat. George sucked his teeth, before sighing. There goes another coat. There’s no way the stain’s coming out now. At least it’s not like the coat was any good.

Jack was talking again, and his voice both soothed and worried George after not hearing it for so long, and he hung on to every word. Jack had a history of going on and on, about things that weren’t really important, but George didn’t want to miss a single word. Even if the logistics did bore him. He felt Aaron behind him and pressed his hand against the arms around him.

“…but how are you, are you okay? What about Aaron?Over.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. A-Aaron’s fine too, just a little sick. Winter sickness, y’know? Do you know how Monty is? Is everyone safe… Over.”

“That’s good. Monty’s okay, he’s out hunting with a group right now, but he told me they’re coming back any second. Where are you right now? Over.”

“In the woods, somewhere. What about you?”

“We’re at an empty warehouse. It’s too cold to be outside. Do you see any landmarks that might tell you where you are? Over.”

Aaron lets go of George and ambles back over to the corpse, seemingly taking bits of it and stuffing it in his pockets. George stands up, looking through the darkness of the woods surrounding them, and tries to remember anything they might have seen on their trek. On one hand, he would like to be close to where Monty and Jack were, on the other hand, he didn’t. He didn’t know what they would do if they ever found out about Aaron.

“You’re starting to sound like Monty with that worrying. But I saw a highway a while back, and there’s the dirt road not too far from here. Over.”

“Okay, and did you get a look at the road name? Over.”

“Yeah, there wasn’t one, but the road is the one that we used to passed by now and then. Y’know the one with the big faded billboard that the trees blocked out. Over”

“Holy Shit! The end of that road is where the warehouse is, which isn’t that far from the billboard. How far are you from it? Over”

His heart drops to his stomach. George has no idea whether to feel elated or literally every other emotion he can name. All this time and his brothers were right there.

All this time and they could’ve seen Aaron and what he’s become. But he’s different than all the other walking corpses, George knows it. He sees it every day that Aaron looks at him with the same love in his eyes that he had when he was alive. And trying to convince Jack and Monty of this — especially after the death of one of their own—is going to be nearly impossible.

“George? Are you still there? George?”

But he has to try.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He thinks about how far they traveled. “We’re about a mile or two from the main road. Over.” George still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go over to where Jack was but the hope in his brother’s voice was killing him.

“Oh god, you’re so close. You can come over in the morning, or even right now, and we’ll protect you and Aaron.”

“Do you promise to protect Aaron?”

“Of course I do, I won’t let anything happen to either of you. Please get here soon. And don’t lose this radio. Over and out.”

The walkie crackled for a second before it was silent again. George collapsed onto his knees, the cold wet floor drenching his jeans, and sighed. Hopefully, Jack kept his word, but George couldn’t stand being away from him and Monty anymore. He missed them like he missed a limb. He loved Aaron and wouldn’t let anyone hurt him so he just hoped he made the right call. He looked up to see Aaron with his hood up, standing over him.

“Well, we better get the tent packed up, and the fire doused,” George whispered not looking away from Aaron’s shrouded figure until he saw something flutter out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and was met with little snowflakes floating to the ground. I don’t want to regret this.

“Shit!”