One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale (12 page)

“Isis, come here.” His voice is buttery soft. I step close enough that his arms go around me.

“I love you,” the words he never said in reality roll over me, but my heart stays cold.

“I want to tell you something,” I reply, cupping his cheeks and pulling his head down to mine.

“What?” He whispers, but I don’t answer. Instead, I open my mouth so wide my jaw unhinges and drive my now pointy teeth into his skull to get at his brains.

I wake up shaking and covered in sweat. What the frick was
that
all about? I eat pork brains, not human ones. Gross. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep now, even though my eyes feel like sand’s been poured into them. I roll out of bed. The sun is peeking through my blinds and dust motes dance in the filtered light. My stomach rumbles and I realize it’s time for my usual morning routine, even though I’m fairly sure it’s not morning anymore. I plod to the kitchen to grab my usual, eyes blurry and brain only half-functioning.

“Rise and shine, Isisss.”

I shriek, one hand held up to my sort of racing heart. “What. The…” I glare at the hell hound parked in my kitchen. I didn’t even know he’d fit. “Maxx, what are you
doing
here?”

The big dog’s tail starts to thump. It sounds like a bass drum. “Nacelles gave me your address. I walked.”

Okay, Maxx is huge. I mean, he’s smaller than a brahma bull now but not by much, to my untrained eye. I don’t hang around bulls much. Or at all. People must have crossed the street, and themselves, when he walked by.

“I didn’t realize you were going to be here first thing.”

“I was bored, so I came early. Is that all right?”

Now how am I supposed to say ‘No, go home’? He’s obviously happy to be here and I’m not that mean. “You’re unexpected, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to show up in my apartment. And quit wagging your tail! It’s…” I glance at the microwave clock. “It’s 2 in the afternoon? Well, be quiet anyway. Please. You’ll wake my mom up.”

Somehow the massive dog manages to look ashamed. “Your mother is not here, but I am sorry for getting so excited. It has been a long time since I have been able to explore and Georgia is a new experience.” His tail slows down until only the tip is whacking against the low lying pine cabinets.

I’m intrigued in spite of my pique. “Where are you from, then?” What I want to know is if he’s from the Biblical Hell, but I have no idea how to ask that without sounding rude. Then again, he’s a dog. Would rudeness really make a difference? My mom would say ‘yes’, but she’s never faced this kind of situation, either.

Maxx cocks his shovel like head at me. “I am a hell hound.” His voice is half words, half growls.

Forget it. I ask. “Are you from Hell? I mean, the actual, physical Hell?”

He sits. “I did not realize your agreement with Nacelles would include a history lesson.” His diction is perfect. Not a contraction in sight. I wonder where he learned to speak.

I lean against the counter, furthest away from him. Not out of any real fear…one on one in a lighted room he’s not as terrifying as he was last night…but because he’s taking up all the space.

“All your owner told me is that I need to walk you for eight weeks.”

Maxx sighs and a warm, moist breeze wafts over me. “He is my companion, not my owner. I choose to be with Nacelles.” He bares his teeth at me. I hope he’s grinning. “It was more fun than Hell.”

“I’m not sure how to say this, but you’re kind of huge-ish to be walking around in broad daylight. Plus your drool steams.”

“Consider, if you will, where I am from,” Maxx says. “I cannot control the temperature of my saliva.”

“Maxx, do you know what you are?” I begin to giggle. “You’re a hot dog!”

He snorts. “I cannot believe you are the one Nacelles chose to help me see the world.”

I hold up one hand. “I’m sorry, I am.” I snicker again. I’m sure I don’t sound sorry. “But how am I supposed to walk you? I don’t think walking you around my apartment is exactly what Nacelles had in mind. Besides, I have no idea how I’d explain you to my mom. She’d have kittens if she saw you in here.”

The dog’s brow crinkles. “How can your mother have kittens?”

“It’s just an expression, Maxx. She can’t actually give birth to them.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Ah. Well, I have certain abilities so I can walk in the world. I can shift the sense of others’ reality around me, as well as bend time.”

Say what? “I have no idea what you just said.”

“I can disguise myself, and move through the realities of this world and Hell,” he breaks it down for me.

“That’s a pretty neat trick. How’d you learn to do that?”

“I worked for a demon,” Maxx says. “You do know what hell hounds are for, correct?”

I shake my head.

The dog sighs again. “We are created to bring escaped souls back to Hell. Most times, that involves moving around during the daylight hours and transferring souls from this reality to that one.” He shakes and the magma tones shift places with the top coat of fur for an instant before reverting back to a shiny black.

What an awesome job. No wonder he chooses to hang out with the lich instead.

“Did you escape Hell? How’d you get away?” I lean forward, my still rumbling stomach forgotten in my fascination.

“I left,” Maxx replies. “Hell is a choice for those of us created there.”

While that’s interesting, I don’t want to get involved in anything resembling a religious debate. “Can you go into a church?”

“Is there a reason I would want to?” He blinks those huge golden eyes at me and I resist the urge to run my hands through his fur. It just looks so soft.

I shrug at first and then realize I do need to tell him. After all, I don’t want to miss my Thursday night meeting. “I go to church on Thursday nights.”

“Oh,” the hell hound replies. “Well, yes, I can enter holy buildings. I am not restricted to unconsecrated ground.” He yawns and a long string of drool hits the floor, steaming. “But church sermons bore me. I may leave instead.”

“Oh,
this
church is interesting. I promise you’ll want to stay.” I like the idea of his company. He’s growing on me.

“I will keep that in mind.” Maxx rises to his feet. “When can we go for a walk?”

“I thought we’d go out after dark,” I say.

“I saw a huge metal animal on my way over here,” he counters. “We could walk around that a few times.” He blinks at me with his huge doggy eyes and yes, I melt. I’m such a sucker.

“Okay, the Big Chicken it is. Transform yourself, or whatever you do, so the cops don’t get called.”

Maxx shakes and his body folds in on itself until he’s the size of a Rottweiler. “Whose idea was it to build a chicken?”

The smarty pants in me wants to say ‘God’s”, but I know that’s not what he’s asking. “The Big Chicken’s attached to a KFC – Kentucky Fried Chicken – restaurant. I have no idea who built it. But it’s pretty neat. The eyes and beak move.” It sounds stupid when I say it aloud, but that chicken is a Georgia landmark. “Ummm…you know what a chicken is, right?”

“I do,” he answers. “I lived for a time on a farm. It was an interesting experience.”

“I don’t have a leash, but I might be able to borrow one. And I need to eat breakfast before anything else.” My stomach rumbles a counterpoint to my words. “Can you please move so I can reach the ‘fridge?”

Without any warning, Maxx isn’t there anymore. I hear my bed groan. My eyes widen. He could have phased himself anywhere in the apartment, and the stupid dog chooses my bed?

“Maxx, did you just break my bed?”

“Would you rather I lay on your mother’s?”

“No, I’d rather you don’t lie on a bed at all!”

“Very well.” Maxx’s voice now comes from my living room. “Since it bothers you, I moved.”

“Thanks.” I open the ‘fridge, grab my normal Tupperware and a spoon. “Will my eating in there disturb you?” I don’t wait for an answer and when I enter the living room, I see him first thing. Sprawled across my couch; taking up every single inch of space.

“Do you mind?” I make flapping motions with my hands. “I’d like to sit.”

He slides off and curls into a ball on the floor. “I apologize. I should have asked.”

Now I feel ugly. “It’s okay.” I squish over to the left. “Is there enough room for you now?”

Maxx nods and retakes his place. “Thank you. You are quite kind.”

I pop the lid off the plastic bowl and dig out a spoonful. I’m so tired of eating raw meat, I could scream, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t help.

The hell hound’s nostrils flare. “Are you eating…brains?”

“Of course I am!” I snap. “I’m a zombie, aren’t I? It’s what I’m supposed to eat, isn’t it?”

Maxx’s upper lips curl and I’m pretty sure he’s not smiling at me. The throaty growl confirms my belief. I swallow as I stare at him and remember his true size. He could do some serious damage and while I’m not thrilled at what I am, neither am I ready to explore the afterlife. “I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated.”

His lips lower. “Then reduce your frustration by getting dressed and taking me for my promised walk. I’d like to see the iron chicken up close.”

“Steel,” I correct. “The Big Chicken’s made of steel.”

The Rott glares at me and I continue eating. Who knew hell hounds could be so bossy.

Twenty-One:

Who Let the Dog Out?

I borrow a leash from one of the little old ladies down the hall. She frowns at me when I ask, but all the ladies in the building have stopped asking questions. I think Mrs. Castemar has been chatting about my weirdness.

Maxx is as excited as a normal dog, prancing around and acting all goofy. It’d be cute except for the fact that it’s a pain to get the choker over his head.

“You. Need. Obedience. Classes.” I gasp. “Sit. Still!”

He settles down at once, thrusting his head through the metal chain and cocking his head sideways. “I was only practicing my part.”

I glare at him. “You can do that once we’re outside. In here, it’s just you and me.” I adjust the sweatshirt I’m wearing. “Maxx, can you change my shape, too?”

The dog shakes his head. “My abilities only apply to me. Why?”

I shrug and open the apartment door. “Nothing, it’s just…I’m pale.”

“Not any more than others I have seen,” he reassures me. “If you were that concerned about it, maybe you should not have worn a color that emphasizes it.”

“It’s Emo,” I explain. “A fashion that’s, uhhh, in fashion right now.” It’s also one that I pretty much hate, but that’s an irrelevant fact. Being dressed in black lets me walk around pretty much unnoticed by the masses.

“It does not look like any fashion I am familiar with.” Maxx pokes his head out of the apartment and surveys the hall. “We can exit.”

The elevator bell dings and I hush Maxx with the universal sign of my index finger pressed to my lips. I turn and close the door to my apartment, being sure to lock it. I’m scared that, if someone found my supply of brains, the police would arrest me or something. And my mom would
definitely
be more than miffed about having to bail me out.

“Why, Isis, I didn’t know you owned a dog!”

I turn with a sigh. Of all people, it’s Mrs. Dixon, the nosiest of all my nosy neighbors.

“Hi, Mrs. D.”

Maxx wags his tail.

“What a beautiful boy. Is he friendly?”

“He’s not mine. I’m just watching him for a couple of months.”

She trots up to Maxx, who presses against my legs, but without putting any weight against me. I appreciate the gesture, because otherwise he would knock me over.

“Oh, look at that fur! What a sweet baby you are!” She buries her hand in the ruff at his neck. “What a good boy,” she blathers on. “But, dear, his skin is quite warm. Have you taken him to the vet?”

Maxx rumbles low in his throat. If he was a cat, I’d swear he’s purring. I tug on his leash and begin to walk away. “I’ll take him in first thing tomorrow.”

“Be sure you do, dear!” She calls after me.

I wave in response, eager to get outside, since I’m sort of camouflaged in plain sight. The elevator doors slide shut behind us. “Maxx, is there a reason you won’t let me touch your fur?”

“You could have been badly burned.”

“But Mrs. Dixon touched you, no problem.”

“I am not currently in my natural form.” Maxx explains. He looks up at me. “If it means that much to you, go ahead.”

Now that I have permission, it seems kind of weird. I mean, he’s sentient. Luckily the elevator stops before I have to make a true decision and the doors whoosh open.

“Time to act like a dog,” I whisper to Maxx, daring to reach down and pat him on the head. No flames leap up to eat at my drying flesh, so I’m safe.

“Woof,” he says, then licks my hand.

Cute. I follow him out of the elevator and through the lobby to the great outdoors. It’s just a few blocks from the building to the Big Chicken. Maxx couldn’t have chosen a better day for a walk, either. It’s another gorgeous day in two weeks of gorgeous days. The hell hound is acting like a typical dog, smelling everything and prancing at the end of his leash. It’s going to be a
long
eight weeks. Thankfully, it’s that funky ‘middle time’ of the afternoon between lunch and the time most people get off work. There isn’t a whole lot of traffic on the road and those few people who are walking take one look at Maxx and give us a wide-berth. So far, so good. Everything’s going great. Then a small calico kitten meanders out of the holly bushes lining the sidewalk and struts straight across the hell hound’s line of sight.

“What’s that?” Maxx yelps aloud, beginning to tug at the leash.

I try to pull him backward, without success. “Shhh. It’s just a kitten,” I whisper, worried that someone might over hear him.

“It looks like a cat,” his voice turns into growls which is bad because I’m seeing the fur on his back start to stand on end.

“You’ve never seen a kitten before?” I’m astonished.

“I have seen a cat. This smells different.” His nostrils flare and the leash pulls taut. “It smells of milk.”

“Maxx, don’t do this,” I plead. “If you walk by, it’ll ignore you. I promise.” Please, please, please, I beg to myself, remember you’re sentient. Remember you’re more than just a dog.