Zombie Counseling

"Ever have one of those days when you just can't seem to get some creeper's arm off of your waist?" Amanda jokes from across the street, prying the rigid digits of the last zombie she killed from their death-clench on her jacket.

I laugh, but then am nearly trampled by a hoard of angry zombies galloping in my direction.
"Yeah, I, uh...it can be a real killer!" I counter while smashing someone's face. Grimace. That really wasn't terribly good, but it can't be helped. I've been feeling a little...off lately. Like, maybe I'm getting sick or something. Super heroes can't get sick, can they? I mean, you'd think with all the extra powers you'd at least get a good immune system, like a free upgrade with the package. Right? I mean, how can you fight crime with a congested brain?

I suddenly realize that throughout the passage of this train of thought, Amanda has been standing there motionless, mouth agape. Staring at me.

"Hey!" Laila says, running up to Amanda. "What's with the face?" and, following her gaze, Laila comes to look at me too-- and freezes.

"Um... Hannah? Are you feeling okay?" she asks tentatively.

"Yeah, I feel fine, other than a little sniffle in the brain. Why?"

"You kind of look you've turned into a zombie."

"What?!?" I run out of the street. There are a number of shops along the sides, but unfortunately due to the recent zombie uprising, most of the windows are broken. I keep running frantically, until finally I find an old vintage clothing store with the glint of an intact mirror coming from the one standing dressing room. I step inside and stare at myself. "Huh...my face appears to be half-missing. I wonder when that happened."

Amanda and Laila rush in behind me, hands posed for fighting, peering over cautiously.

"Hannah?" Laila calls. "Are you all right?"

"I thought I was." I reply. "How long have I had my skin torn off like this? I can't feel a thing, but it's kinda freaking me out." Amanda edges closer, and touches my face.

"Freaky. I have no idea, I could swear it wasn't there a second ago, but I thought these things took longer. Maybe I just didn't notice."

"We've been fighting these guys on the same street right across from each other since this morning! How could you possibly not have noticed?!" I am flustered now, peering at my face, my hands, my clothes, looking for any other signs of zombification. Everything else appears to be fine...my circulation's great, and there's no smell of decay or blood coming from the face wound, the flesh is just missing...

"Now, Hannah," Laila says softly, coming over to placate me in my distress.

"You know we've all been quite busy lately, it's understandable if Amanda hasn't noticed. It looks like that wound is the only problem, and I'm sure there's some reasonable explanation, but for the meantime, let's get you to the safehouse and to bed. I'm sure you must not be feeling terribly well." She lays her arm on my shoulder, but I shrug it off and back away, out of the dressing room.

"Stay away!" I cry. "I don't want you to get infected! And anyways, shouldn't I be getting a taste for brains and violence any minute now? I don't want to start chomping unexpectedly on your cerebellum!"

"Now, Hannah, I KNOW you wouldn't do that. Something is obviously keeping you from changing all the way, so I think we can assume you are safe for the time being. What you need is care."

"Pah!" I reply bitterly. "You should lock me up, if you're not going to kill me. We've all seen the damage these things have done over a few short hours. I signed up to prevent horror in the world, not become it!"

"It could just mean you're getting tired," Amanda offers hopefully. "Maybe you need to wake up and take a rest from all this crime-fighting. You're always getting bruises on your legs and arms from hitting the sides of the bed when you sleep, remember. Perhaps you just need to take a break..."

"Never!" I cry defiantly, pushing them both away, soaring upward to the ceiling and clutching the hanging lamp for comfort. "This isn't just my night job, it's my life! You two don't understand what it's like, having this to come back to every night when Reality is so boring! Here I can actually accomplish things! Colors are more vivid! People are more valiant! I can friggin' FLY!! Why would I want to go back and endure all that ordinary dayness when I could be finishing a successful night of dreaming? NO. I'll just...get over this stupid zombie thing."

I fly out the door before I can hear their responses, because I am hurt and angry and afraid that everything will be taken away from me...that, somehow, they will remember this conversation when we next meet, and will keep me from going to sleep on the basis that it has become too overwhelming of a factor in my life. I know sometimes I can be a bit domineering to Laila about my eight-hour minimum, but...I can't experience all of this Realm, this Universe, fully if I don't...

Perhaps I am being a bit melodramatic. After all, it is only a fabrication of my mind. What little girl am I really saving, here? Whose rotten torso am I kicking? It's just a few neural impulses running around an empty brain late at night...

I decide to go to sleep a little later the next night, and not complain about Laila's leaving the light on to study. I may be addicted to R.E.M., but that's no excuse for neglecting my real relationships.