The Ex-Zombie
Louis is getting the jitters again. It starts in his knees and troubles itself by shifting to his hands. When it gets to his hands, he takes it as his cue to take the needed medicine. Two pills, taken with a glass of water. This is what keeps him from turning back. If he can keep his cool, stop himself from sweating and get through this, he can go back home. If there's one thing he never wants to go back to, it's to never turn back into a zombie. But just for a few minutes or so, he feels as though this is something he has to do. Or at least, has to remember.
He's due on set in a few minutes, the second guest for the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. He goes in next after Brad Pitt, since he's the one with a new movie set to release a week from now. He's just stuck with the crummy book. He has gotten offers to adapt it for a movie but he's declined those offers for now. He'd rather not think about who gets to play as him and act out the scene of his first victim as a zombie. He certainly doesn't trust a director such as Jon Favreau to handle such a scene. Or anyone to handle that scene, as it's a memory that rings in whatever's left of his mind. The fire alarm rings in his mind as he tries to center himself back into reality.
He's in a dressing room. A makeup and hair stylist are in the back of the room, daring each other to ask Brad Pitt for a selfie. The hum of lightbulbs that dot around the outline of the mirror drowned out the fire alarm he had recalled. He stares at himself in the mirror. His brown and curly hair had been trimmed down a bit so as to not make himself look homeless. He'd gotten himself a nice bowtie to make himself presentable. It was the best way he thought he would make himself presentable anyways. His pale skin with a tinge of green was hidden with some professional makeup. His fingers drift over his cheeks but doesn't touch them directly, as he doesn't want to waste the hard work the makeup artist did. She did a very talented job but he can still spot the stitches across his cheeks. Skin grafts. Something done to help make ex-zombies feel "full".
He's due in a couple of minutes. Should be fine out there as long as he doesn't sweat too much. The more he sweats the less effective the medicine will be over time. He takes another sip of water to parch his throat. His throat has gotten less sore since he first came back. Back when he was a zombie, any kind of pain went through in a hazy manner. So when he had stuffed his mouth with enough flesh and brains to cause his throat to explode, he felt nothing much of anything. He pays for the pain now as it hurts to drink and eat. It's something he needs to get adjusted to, even now. That and to get adjusted to being in the limelight.
A bar of light flashes "LIVE" next to the mirror and he's ushered along backstage. The show has just gotten back from the commercial break. He hears the band play the show back in as he keeps his eyes to the ground. Loafer shoes without any laces, as he didn't want to seem unprofessional. Or at least, he didn't want to reveal that he had forgotten the ability to tie his own shoes. The loss of many simple skills such as that would turn up at some point probably but he'd rather have it be that he's forgotten how to have a good night's rest than something so childish.
Louis unbuttons and buttons his cuffs to keep the mind occupied while his ears stay open for his cue. Jimmy's doing a schtick on something about Starbucks. Louis looks around in his little hallway between the front of the stage and to the back and looks at the lights. There was quite a number of them around the ceilings. He wondered if they would make things hotter for him. If they'd make him sweat. It was too late to ask the assistant behind him as Jimmy returned to his desk and began the introduction.
"Alright alright, our second guest for the evening is a very special guest. He's unexpectedly witty, unexpectedly charming and unexpectedly...alive. His New York best seller "Life after Undeath" is selling like hotcakes and I'm sure you'll have all heard of him so please welcome the all inspiring man himself, Louis Romano!"
He shuffles at first before relaxing into a casual walk. A part of him wanted to be a showman and walk out with his arms pointed forward. He'd rather not scare people. The two celebrities in front of him gave a clap of welcome to him, Brad Pitt decidedly less enthusiastic. Whether or not Brad held some sort of prejudice against him or was worried that World War Z would give the new guest any headaches, Louis was not sure. He waved hello to the studio audience and got himself into the seat next to Jimmy. He shook Jimmy's hand and gently shook Brad's hand afterwards. So far so good, nothing to get worried about.
"Wonderful to have you on the show Louis, big fan of the book! Huge fan of it and I understand that not a single word of it is fabricated, ain't that right?"
A simple question, a question he'd steamroll through no problem.
"That's right Jimmy, everything I have said in that memoir is nothing but the truth."
His lips parted again to continue the sentence but he stopped himself to let Jimmy speak.
"That's crazy, absolutely crazy. Like, not even a single word of it. I mean, not even the way they brought you back man?"
The surgery. There was no need for him to go into graphic detail. Maybe.
"Yep, especially that part. Thankfully, I wasn't breaking any kind of NDA contract when go into the specifics of that but yeah, nothing in that was false. From the skin grafts and limb attachments to even the extra brain matter that was added to make it "complete", you'd have to be a pretty sick guy to come up with this stuff."
He opted to not go into detail about slowly coming back to life with the needle still inside his brain. Nor the detail of his body rejecting the new throat he received as it nearly fell out from the amount of infected pus that seeped out of the stitches.
"I mean those scientists did come up with that stuff but that ain't here or there."
Brad Pitt had snuck in a zinger to get the crowd laughing. It seemed that Louis would be playing the straight man here. Unless he threw in a couple jokes himself. The question was, what would be a good joke?
"Ah y'know it's how the saying goes, the truth is stranger than zombie fiction."
Nothing. It was like time had sidestepped his joke and he was the only one who knew about it. Jimmy threw in a quick laugh and a clap to string momentum back in but it was a rapidly sinking ship that needed to be rescued with the next question.
"Alright alright so like, I'm just kinda curious on like what you wanna do after the book like, do you have any plans on doing anything else?"
Okay, the future. Shouldn't be too hard to think on. Except in a way it was. Louis had no idea what to do with himself after this show, let alone in terms of the long term. Being thrusted into the limelight because of the very nature of what he was threw whatever he could with his life out of the loop. With each passing second that he couldn't think of an answer, the more he felt the studio lighting cast down on him. He had to come up with an answer, and fast.
"Well...if there's any interest by anyone, I certainly wouldn't mind having...the book be adapted into a movie."
Why did he say that? Just 10 minutes ago he was worrying about the book adapting the worst things he's ever done, why did he endorse it? What extra part of his brain made that decision? What part of the brain was casting judgment on that decision? The crowd whooping and clapping to Jimmy asking the audience if they'd want to see a movie of Life after Undeath brings Louis back into reality.
"Y'know if it's not any bother, have you considered a leading man for the role yet? I mean give me a second."
Before he knew it, Brad Pitt leaned in close and held his face close to his by the side. He held onto Louis' head and aimed it towards the camera while beckoning it to get a zoom in. Oh my God Brad Pitt was holding his head. His eyes betrayed a blank face to show a look of utter shock, like a deer staring straight forward at a truck hurtling towards it. He was starting to sweat a bit from the sudden contact.
"See what I mean? I reckon we could make a damn fine team making this flick, or at least a good magic act."
He's starting to sweat. He's not meant to do this. Sweating makes the medicine drip out of him, slashes the time he has until he has to take more pills. Pills that are stuck in the dressing room. He needs to find a way to speed through the interview somehow.
"W-well after the show let's try and exchange contact info and get to talking."
The crowd oohs and ahhs at the deal going in progress while Jimmy mindfully claps along.
"You've heard it here first folks! NBC News, eat your heart out!"
His hands clasp around each other and twist and turn to distract himself. Keep himself centered.
"Alright alright enough movie details, we got some more questions. Now here's one that's been aching me ever since like, I've read your great book. You talk a lot about your time as a zombie and as a time after being a zombie-"
"His D.Z and A.Z."
"His-"
Jimmy realized the joke and threw out another laugh and a clap as a response.
"Yeah yeah his D.Z and A.Z. But yeah, you talk a lot about those times but you barely like mention anything for when you weren't a zombie. Was that because it was like, getting too big for the book at that point or like, what?"
The worst question he could've been asked. Not even just for what's happening to him but in a general sort of sense of how awful it was. It wasn't that it couldn't be included, it was a deliberate choice to not include it. He didn't even want to think about it. Because every time he did think of it, it became muddled. A side effect of having brain matter slapped onto his own brain meant that he had things he didn't know if they belonged to him. They're splintered and are more snapshots than memories but they linger in his mind. A love at first sight. Heartbreak. Rage. Murder. And freedom. Whether or not they belonged to someone else or him alone, he didn't want to know a definitive answer. He'd have rather been a nobody before he was a zombie. That was when life had to have begun for him. That's the life he has now, as a survivor. The life he has to attend to without worrying anyone.
"Pretty much what you said yeah. Just...didn't have the time for it, y'know?"
"We've been there brother."
No he hasn't. Maybe in a movie he acted in but never in reality. He tries to keep himself centered but then he notices the jitters. His knee is shaking again and it's spreading to his hands. Sweat's starting to come down more now, letting the makeup flow away bit by bit to show the skin grafts. The fire alarm is coming back.
"Yeah yeah, I'm sure of it."
"Alright alright that's lovely, so Louis you've been..."
It's deafening now. It detangles him from where he was to when he was mindless. He remembers going through it as if he was walking through murky waters. He wasn't sure when it happened but it stayed in his mind. Unlike the times before he was a zombie, he remembers this as more than a snapshot. He's in a school that has smoke pouring in from every direction. He sees a teacher crawling through on the ground, coughing. There's a student next to her. He stumbles onto the floor next to them and crawls silently. The teacher was the first one to see him. She didn't scream. She looked heartbroken. And then she didn't. Then she didn't have any eyes to look at him anymore. Someone is screaming. It mixes in with the other sounds so he can't tell who it was from. Her brains mushed together in his mouth to make a strange texture. It was like mince meat soaked in water. The distinct and overpowering taste of iron comes in as well.
Delicious.
"Louis? Everything alright?"
He's still on live TV. He's fighting through the feeling now. Still sweating. Still jittering. Getting hungry.
"I'm goood. Sorry, I had no idea what you asked there."
"He's thinking about all of the cash he's gonna get from the movie, ain't you Louis?"
"Yesh, that's just it. What wash the question you assked?"
He silently thanks Brad for the bail out.
"Ah it's nothing much, it was just like, you've been all over the country giving like press interviews and like promoting the book. So like, does that get tiring at all for ya, y'know?"
"Tiring? Noo, it's neverr like that at allluhhhhh..."
That murmur came from his lungs. A breathless groan he had no option of controlling. It was starting to get bad now. His heart is pounding. It feels like his stitches are sweating out of him. His throat is in agony.
"Woah, hang on there Louis. May want to do that in the dressing room, we haven't hit the watershed."
"Woould that be allluright? I'll cughh-me back later wheenn I get resst..."
"Knock yourself out man, we'll catch you later. Give Louis a big round of applause guys!"
The crowd applauds him as he teeters away from the stage. As soon as he reaches backstage, he starts running. His teeth are clenching together. His throat is begging to be relieved. Has to scratch the stiches. Has to scratch them out. He can itch and scratch when- no. He can take his medicine when he gets back. He just about remembers where he needs to go. Almost there. He sees the dressing room door. Just needs to let himself in and he's back to normal. His hand is shaking as he holds onto the doorknob. Twist and push. Twist and
"So...Louis. About that contact info."
Brad Pitt was here. Why was he here, why did he take stupid thing he said seriously?
"Whee can talkk once I've sssat downn..."
"No no it's fine, I can just write you my phone number and you'll call me back later. Then you can get your rest."
He's takes out a pen and pad. He flips to a page and starts to write it out. Itchy, throat itchy. Hungry too. Water and medicine not enough. Need to eat. Still drooling. Neeed to stop it. Eating helps. Need to eat. Eat. What does he eat. Whatt will he eat...Brains. Needs brains. Brains. Brains.