Tommy stormed forward but Carlos blocked the way, holding his hands on his hips like some mythic sentinel to the gates of Hell.
“Uh-uh. Your friend’s gotta go first. Otherwise neither one of ya are getting’ in.”
Tommy spun around and if his eyes had been weapons I would’ve been a rotter by now.
Every inch of his face was twisted by rage and it somehow seemed to draw his features out, to make them longer and sharper.
“Smitty, you son of a bitch,
I looked from Tommy to the thing tied to the bed… Sarah Thompson. The only girl in this entire town who’d ever caught my eye. Gone forever.
“Why, you no good, zombie lovin’ piece of shit!”
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t live out the rest of my days being the object of ridicule, being mercilessly pursued and baited, shunned by the very people I’d once called friends. I just couldn’t.
I felt as if I were moving through a thick sludge as my pants and underwear slid down around my ankles. I stepped out of them as I peeled my shirt off, grateful for that brief second when the cloth blocked the horror of my situation from view. My cheeks and chest felt warm enough to cook a bird’s egg, but I knew this embarrassment was nothing compared to what lay in store if I didn’t go through with this.
“My man! I knew you weren’t no zombie lover! I
It took an eternity to cross that room. I didn’t want to look at the creature on the bed, wanted to close my eyes and wish it all away; but, somehow, I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Not in the same way as before, though. When she’d been living, Sarah was like this beautiful butterfly the flittered by; a butterfly so rare and exotic that no one else was privileged enough to witness its graceful dance through the air. But there was no beauty here… not anymore. Now there was only the viscous snap of teeth as she chewed at the air… unblinking eyes that locked onto mine with pupils so round that the irises seemed to be mere outlines.
I placed my hands on either side of the bed and pulled myself into position.
I had to do this.
I had to be part of The Rotter Nation.
There was no other choice now.
I closed my eyes and tried to will away that shaking in my arms and legs. Just do it. Do it and get it over with.
At that moment, I heard a sound unlike any I’d ever heard before. It was a shrill scream that sounded as if a bobcat had mated with a human. So loud that my eardrums quivered in pain and my eyes watered; it was the sound of rage and anguish and shock and every other emotion that can tear a person down all rolled into a single, undulating screech.
VIII. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
As it turned out, that ornate matchbox I’d focused so much of my attention on had been our undoing. After the Emperor had finished his speech, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had solemnly carried the ceremonial torch to the end of the pipe with all of the reverence it deserved. The crowd had waited in hushed anticipation for the spark that would culminate the day’s festivities. But it was a spark that would never come.
See, the Thompsons were exhausted . They’d spent weeks caring for their sick daughter, waking up at all hours of the night when she’d cry out in fevered delirium, sitting by her side with cool rags and whispered lullabies; so it was understandable how they that might forget the all-important matches back at their tent. It was also understandable that Mrs. Thompson would go running through the streets of Free Town as quickly as her feet would carry her. She had to retrieve them, after all, had to make the ritual complete.
Mrs. Thompson’s screams had echoed through the town like the cry of a banshee before being abruptly cut off. Other residents quickly arrived to find Carlos straddling his aunt’s limp body, her throat squeezed between his hands as if he meant to pop her head open. But they’d responded too fast to those initial screams; when they tackled the leader of The Rotter Nation, Mrs. Thompson gasped for air and coughed as she scrambled into a far corner of the tent.
And, of course, she’d told them what she’d witnessed. Tommy. Me. Naked. Preparing to… to…. She broke down then, collapsed in a huddle of tears; but even the most unimaginative person in Free Town was able to piece together the rest of the story.
The zombie that had once been Sarah… tied to the bed, legs spread wide. The way I couldn’t meet their stares and could only gaze at my own feet as tears silently streamed down my face. Tommy hollering over and over that he didn’t want to do it, that me and Carlos had forced him, that he’d tried to stop us.
The next day the three of us were tethered together like the little flags that still dangled from streamers throughout the town. Carlos led the way, his hands bound, a rope tightly cinched around his waist, and tied at the back, this same rope encircled me as well, and then trailed off to Tommy, who brought up the rear.
We were paraded through the center of town and citizens on either side spat at us as we passed, their warm, thick spittle sliding down my cheeks and soaking into the collar of my shirt. Others hurled stones that bounced off our ribs and foreheads, leaving angry welts and thick blood in their wake.
At one point, I saw my father in the crowd. He was holding my mother close to him, as if his arms were the only things that kept her from collapsing into the dirt; both had aged twenty years overnight, their faces pained and wrinkled and tired, oh so very tired….
I tried to mouth
We were led to the age of town, to the platform where the Burning should have taken place the night before. The Emperor stood atop the platform, flanked on either side by his most trusted guards, and the wind rustled his thin, gray hair as he looked down upon us.
At some point during the night, a machine had been built upon the platform. The thing looked like a giant arm attached to a wooden base and, at the very top of the arm was a little metal disk. A rope ran through the grooves in the pulley and dangled down to street level where it circled slowly in the wind. Attached to the end of the rope was what looked like a harness of some sort. It, too, was formed of rope, of loops and swirls that could easily accommodate the arms and legs of a full grown man.
The Emperor raised his arms and the jeers of the crowd surrounding us trickled into silence. In the distance I heard a bird call out and the leaves in the forest whispered their secret language as the seconds drug on into minutes.
Even though I couldn’t bring myself to look at the Emperor, I could feel his stern gaze burning into my soul. After what was probably the longest moments of my life, I finally heard the old man’s voice boom out over the congregation.
“I have little to say to you boys. Other than this.”
I was crying again and my cheeks glistened in the morning sun. But these tears weren’t for myself or what would become of me. No, I completely deserved what-ever punishment was passed upon us. I knew this as surely as I knew I would never see Sarah speaking with the dead again.
“May God have mercy on your souls… because I most certainly will not.”
The crowd erupted in a great cheer and I felt the rope around my waist tighten as Tommy began struggling against his restraints.
“I didn’t do nothing! I swear, I didn’t….”
A guard rushed by my peripheral vision and there was the sharp crack as the ax handle connected with Tommy’s jaw, a grunt of pain, and a dull thud as Tommy fell to the ground. He was quiet after that, save for a soft weeping that somehow sounded wet and gurgly.
