eyes, while the—”
Then the world shatters into digital screams.
I shiver away from the window, startled, but Megan only regards it with a careless roll of her eyes. “Yes, yes,” she says, unfazed, “and then there’s that. Brace yourself.”
“Brace myself for what?” I ask.
But barely half the question is uttered before suddenly the Cyclops window is inundated in water. It was the sirens. Another storm as bad as the first shreds the air in an angry torrent that sounds more like the raging growls and snapping jowls of great, toothy beasts. Through it all, the digital screams sound like actual screams. I worry the rain’s caught some Undead on the road and perhaps it is their screams I’m hearing. I bring myself to the window, but see no one. I remember nearly falling to pieces on the steps of the Trenton Town Hall if it weren’t for the kindness of Gunner who dragged me out of the rain.
“Gunner,” I whisper. I turn to face Megan, find that she’s returned to the business of filing things into one of her countless drawers. “You said he—”
“Jumped off the cliff, yes,” she answers bluntly. “Your cliff, naturally. I guess he figured the spot at the bottom was available, since your mother vacated it. No, he hasn’t come back, like I said. No one does anymore. When we die, we die for good. Your kind aren’t made anymore, you understand what I’m saying? You’re not even immortal, it turns out … The Undead are all dying off too.”
“Wait … What do you mean?”
“You haven’t noticed the world? Kept your eyes shut since John’s Raising? Notice anything thriving , lately?”
“The planet’s finally embracing our kind,” I insist. “I mean, the grass no longer recoils in our presence. Nature is starting to—”
“Nature is washing your kind away, Winter.” Her eyes meet mine, cold and hard as a certain death. “The Dead are disappearing from the planet.” She makes a deliberate move to the window, taps against the glass. “You seeing the same storm I’m seeing?”
I peer out at the courtyard again, though I can hardly see it through the impossibly thick rain. I’m just staring into the nothingness, staring at nothing, seeing nothing. The sirens, I can’t even hear them anymore; only the relentless pounding of water against glass, against metal roof, against concrete.
“The Dead are crumbling to dust before our eyes,” she says. “Even this eye of mine. This Warlock eye, it’s useless.” It seems to flash blue, as if in response to her words, as if it has a mind of its own. “Didn’t Helena mention how the Dead are spontaneously crumbling to dust? Didn’t Ann? … or were they too afraid to hurt your sensitive feelings?”
“Dust …?” The rain outside grows louder, louder.
“Yeah.” Her Human eye turns dark and beady. Her blue one burns like hot ice. “Imagine it. You’re talking to your best Undead friend, carrying on like there’s a million more tomorrows, then suddenly … POOF! Dust.” Megan shakes her head. “I’m guessing Doctor Collin failed to mention that his own brother, the owner of the gym, went that very same way. One evening he was training a group of children … then fell apart before their eyes. After they screamed and ran away, Collin found his brother in the form of a pile of ash and crumbled bone.”
“Stop,” I beg her, grabbing my head with a hand at each temple and holding back a scream of mania. “Please, Megan, I’ve heard enough.”
I’m shaking, thrown into a panic, overwhelmed, and the rain keeps thrashing against the window, thrashing, thrashing, thrashing. I clench shut my eyes and collapse to the floor. A true drama queen, from my First Life to this one. Someone toss flowers on me and applaud, please.
“Facts, Winter. This is the world we live in. The Dead have ruled long enough. It’s our turn now. This is my Necropolis now and there will be no nightmares here.”
“This is the nightmare,” I breathe,
Then the world shatters into digital screams.
I shiver away from the window, startled, but Megan only regards it with a careless roll of her eyes. “Yes, yes,” she says, unfazed, “and then there’s that. Brace yourself.”
“Brace myself for what?” I ask.
But barely half the question is uttered before suddenly the Cyclops window is inundated in water. It was the sirens. Another storm as bad as the first shreds the air in an angry torrent that sounds more like the raging growls and snapping jowls of great, toothy beasts. Through it all, the digital screams sound like actual screams. I worry the rain’s caught some Undead on the road and perhaps it is their screams I’m hearing. I bring myself to the window, but see no one. I remember nearly falling to pieces on the steps of the Trenton Town Hall if it weren’t for the kindness of Gunner who dragged me out of the rain.
“Gunner,” I whisper. I turn to face Megan, find that she’s returned to the business of filing things into one of her countless drawers. “You said he—”
“Jumped off the cliff, yes,” she answers bluntly. “Your cliff, naturally. I guess he figured the spot at the bottom was available, since your mother vacated it. No, he hasn’t come back, like I said. No one does anymore. When we die, we die for good. Your kind aren’t made anymore, you understand what I’m saying? You’re not even immortal, it turns out … The Undead are all dying off too.”
“Wait … What do you mean?”
“You haven’t noticed the world? Kept your eyes shut since John’s Raising? Notice anything thriving , lately?”
“The planet’s finally embracing our kind,” I insist. “I mean, the grass no longer recoils in our presence. Nature is starting to—”
“Nature is washing your kind away, Winter.” Her eyes meet mine, cold and hard as a certain death. “The Dead are disappearing from the planet.” She makes a deliberate move to the window, taps against the glass. “You seeing the same storm I’m seeing?”
I peer out at the courtyard again, though I can hardly see it through the impossibly thick rain. I’m just staring into the nothingness, staring at nothing, seeing nothing. The sirens, I can’t even hear them anymore; only the relentless pounding of water against glass, against metal roof, against concrete.
“The Dead are crumbling to dust before our eyes,” she says. “Even this eye of mine. This Warlock eye, it’s useless.” It seems to flash blue, as if in response to her words, as if it has a mind of its own. “Didn’t Helena mention how the Dead are spontaneously crumbling to dust? Didn’t Ann? … or were they too afraid to hurt your sensitive feelings?”
“Dust …?” The rain outside grows louder, louder.
“Yeah.” Her Human eye turns dark and beady. Her blue one burns like hot ice. “Imagine it. You’re talking to your best Undead friend, carrying on like there’s a million more tomorrows, then suddenly … POOF! Dust.” Megan shakes her head. “I’m guessing Doctor Collin failed to mention that his own brother, the owner of the gym, went that very same way. One evening he was training a group of children … then fell apart before their eyes. After they screamed and ran away, Collin found his brother in the form of a pile of ash and crumbled bone.”
“Stop,” I beg her, grabbing my head with a hand at each temple and holding back a scream of mania. “Please, Megan, I’ve heard enough.”
I’m shaking, thrown into a panic, overwhelmed, and the rain keeps thrashing against the window, thrashing, thrashing, thrashing. I clench shut my eyes and collapse to the floor. A true drama queen, from my First Life to this one. Someone toss flowers on me and applaud, please.
“Facts, Winter. This is the world we live in. The Dead have ruled long enough. It’s our turn now. This is my Necropolis now and there will be no nightmares here.”
“This is the nightmare,” I breathe,
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