Worker Zom-Bee

The other commuters huddled at the bus stop, condensation pluming from their lips.

Holden Read grunted. He hadn’t needed to breathe at all since he died. That meant no cloud of water vapour smoked out from his mouth. Would anyone notice? He didn’t want to creep anybody out. But ever since that strange man had bitten him on the way home from work on Friday, all he’d done was creep people out. Well, no, scratch that. He’d crept people out since he died and woke up again. It was understandable but not unavoidable. All he had to do was be smart and use those brains – mmm, brains – of his that had started to rot. Holden staggered forward and tucked his face into his misbuttoned jacket.

A tired-looking man in a grey winter coat nodded at Holden as he approached. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled, bleary-eyed.

Holden stumbled, caught himself, and flopped into the side of the bus shelter. Right, conversation. That would be tricky. Instead, Holden nodded and moaned.

The man chuckled. ‘Mondays, amiright?’

‘Guuurrr.’

The big red bus with the number ‘67’ on the front stopped before them, and the commuters flocked on.

That was a close one. Holden had almost missed his bus for the first time. That wouldn’t make him late for work – he always left early – but it would put him in a tight spot. Ever since he’d landed his role at the company, he’d arrived thirty minutes before needed every day. Neither cold nor flu had stopped him from coming in, nor would a nasty case of being dead, either. He only had a slight spot of resurrection. It was going around, or so the news proclaimed. Holden staggered aboard the bus and groped inside his pocket. He pulled out a clumsy fistful of change and dropped it into the driver’s coin collector. ‘Nnnnnh.’

The driver counted it out. ‘Exact change! Thanks, buddy. You’d be surprised at the number of zombies coming on here and giving me whole notes and such. Nice to have such a considerate passenger as you.’

Holden nodded and stumbled down the aisle. Luckily, he collapsed into a seat before the driver pulled off. Otherwise, he would have likely gone flying down the seats.

A pretty young woman with curled hair and bright eyes came and sat beside him. ‘There you are! I thought I’d missed you! How’ve you been? Not caught that nasty thing that’s going around?’

Holden froze for a second. He knew this woman. Ish. They’d had an on-and-off-morning-commute-flirtation thing going on. It was pretty lighthearted and fun, but it might lead to a date. Holden hadn’t wanted to push it too soon until he was sure she had reciprocated his interest. He’d forgotten her name, but she sure had nice skin. Holden would love to nibble on her ear, crack her open like a coconut, and feast on what lay within. But that would have to wait until after work. Right now, he had to get to the office. He groaned and tilted his head.

She laughed. ‘Yeah, me too. Mondays, amiright?’

Holden wheezed.

The woman then launched into a barrage of words. She mentioned her sister and her sister’s husband. She spoke of her coworker, Edith. She talked about her cat, Ruth. She chatted about wanting a car but hating the expenses. ‘But, then again, if I didn’t catch the bus I wouldn’t have met you, now, would I?’

Holden nodded. ‘Aaaaaah.’

‘You know, you’re not like other men. Most of the guys I know are real creeps. Not you, though. And you’re a good listener, too. That’s what I like about you.’

Holden groaned.

She twirled her hair between her fingers. ‘And… what do you like about me?’

Uh oh. Holden felt a lump in his throat. Speech was difficult after death. He focused and squinted and put all his thoughts into making a sound. A sound that wasn’t a groan or a moan, a sigh or a wheeze. The word exploded out of him before he knew what was happening. ‘BRAINS!’

She blushed and tinkled laughter. ‘Oh, you’re such a charmer! Listen, I’d love to keep chatting, but my stop’s up next.’

Holden sighed.

She pushed a square of paper into his jacket pocket, grinning. ‘My number. Call me. Oh, and by the way, my name’s Lena. What’s yours?’

‘Huuuuuh.’

She giggled and got to her feet. ‘A man of mystery! So exciting. I love it. Call me!’

Yes, he’d very much like to bite her neck open. It was a date. But one he would organise once he’d clocked out for the day. He was a good worker bee. He watched her go as the bus drove past and raised his hand in a wooden wave. He growled.

Passengers embarked and disembarked here and there. The bus drove on until it reached Holden’s office building. But for Holden’s stop, nobody got up. And nobody pressed the button.

If his heart would have still been in use, it would have sped up. He’d been counting on somebody stopping this bus for him – a passenger or someone waiting at the stop. He reached for the button, but there wasn’t one by his seat. The nearest one was across the aisle. ‘Arrrrrr.’

The bus crept further and further away from his stop. Holden’s office building disappeared in the rearview mirror.

He had to get off the bus; otherwise, he would be late for work. In a previous life, he’d joked that he’d only miss work if he were dead. Now that he’d passed, he could say – or groan – that not even that was true. He was the late Holden Read, but he would not be late. He got to his feet and reached for the button.

A car cut them off. The bus driver slammed on the brakes and blasted his horn. He swore as he slowed the massive vehicle in time to avoid rear-ending the other driver.

Holden lost his footing. He slipped and slid and bounced down the aisle. He crashed into seats and feet, whacking his head and thumping his body. Something in his chest cracked and poked into his cold, dead heart. He came to a rest by the driver.

‘Whoa, buddy, are you okay? You didn’t brain yourself, did you?’

Holden moaned and got to his feet like a scarecrow still attached to the board. It took him a minute. And once he was upright, he noticed his left foot facing the wrong way.

The driver nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s it, buddy. Shake it off. Least you’re awake now, huh? Better than a fresh cup of coffee!’

Once up, he pointed back in the direction of his stop. ‘Bruh— ’ he stuttered. ‘Br-Br— ’ Holden paused, concentrated, and tried again. ‘BRAINS!’

The bus driver laughed and tapped the side of his head. ‘I know, buddy, me too! Mondays, amiright? You have a good one! But put some frozen peas on that noggin of yours, huh? You’d hate to damage your brain!’

It was okay. Holden was still early. This trouble was why he always left way before he needed to – to allow for emergencies. Holden could still shuffle to the office on foot and be there on time. He tottered off the bus at the next stop as the driver waved and grinned. He staggered toward his work, arms raised before him, dragging his twisted foot.

By the time he got there, he had three minutes to spare. The digital clock in the foyer flashed its red lights. It was a fancy, top-of-the-line employee entrance, all electronic. His office had a fingerprint scanner by the side of the door.

Holden reached out with one clumsy hand and slapped at it.

It beeped and flashed red.

He moaned. With all his effort, Holden stuck out his thumb and pressed it to the pad.

It beeped and flashed red. The digits of the clock crept onward.

Holden wailed. He pressed down harder.

It beeped and flashed red. Something cracked and went red.

Holden grunted. In some far-off pain receptors, a brief impulse fired off. He’d snapped his thumb backwards. He held it up to his eyes – which were beginning to cloud over, post-mortem – and inspected it. Holden sighed, and his shoulders drooped. ‘Uhhhh.’

The last digit ticked over.

For the first time in his life – and life after death – Holden was late for work.

He began to bang against the door.

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Friday, January 19, 2024

Written for the January 2024 #BlogBattle: ‘Creep’