Rose

By Mike Bryant

What do you do when the undead comes knocking on your door?

Play pop music for her, of course.

Katya, a grieving suburban wife recovering from trauma, is shocked, to say the least, when a shambling, mud-covered girl shows up at her home claiming she took her heart. Once she finds out the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brain Lag
• Release date: Apr 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781928011491

Mike Bryant

Mike Bryant was once ejected from a karaoke bar for performing the Weird Al Yankovic classic "Yoda", instead of Taking Things Seriously. His novella Operation Dickhead was published by Burning Effigy Press and he won the 2014 Shitty Poetry Competition with his poem "A Stark and Wormy Blight". Mike is the only human member of nerd rock band Kraken Not Stirred.

Book preview

Two

Katya stood silently in the unfinished nursery, leaning heavily on the empty crib. Heavy rain turned into oblong lenses that melted down the partially-opened window. Some of the rain blew through the screen, turning into mist on its way into the house. The wind and cold moisture on her skin should have been uncomfortable. Or maybe pleasant. She couldn’t remember. The scent of wet earth outside filled the room. She used to love that smell. She used to love the smell of fresh paint, too. A smell which once dominated the room. But no longer, despite the partially-painted wall and the crusty, bone-dry roller still propped up in the corner.

As she stared into the crib, still sitting askew in the middle of the room, waiting for the return of a painter who wasn’t coming, she reached up to her chest. Through the folds of her housecoat, she ran a finger down her scar. The wound was no longer sore but the bone beneath it still ached.

Katya? the voice of her husband, Vijay, echoed from down the hall. His soft footsteps grew louder. The floorboards creaked. Kat?

She heard him nearly pass by the nursery but then stop. Sweetie?

Hey, she said, barely above a whisper.

Vijay stepped into the room, pressed himself gently against her back and put his arm around her, his hand on her stomach. She placed her hand over his.

You okay? he asked. He knew it was a stupid question. She shook her head.

I really wish you’d let me finish decorating this room, he said.

No, she said. Not until I’m ready again.

Then let me undecorate it, he said.

What, and just give up?

No, not forever. Just for now. I’ll tear it all down and start again when the time is right.

Katya leaned to the side and turned her head in order to frown at him. That seems like a waste of time and money.

Who cares?

Who cares? Katya repeated, incredulously. When did you stop caring about wasting money?

Just now, Vijay said, stepping around to the other side of the crib. He was wearing a casual but not-too-casual outfit and was freshly shaved. The middle-of-the-road look that was most likely to avoid getting him randomly selected for a search at the airport. Come on. Let’s trash it all. Hell, let’s burn this whole place to the ground. Whaddya say? Better Living Through Arson. Just send three payments of twenty-one ninety-nine for my exclusive information guide.

Katya grinned, despite herself.

Is that a smile I see? said Vijay. Does this mean you’re on board with torching the place?

I can see the appeal, she said. But my heart’s just not in it.

Maybe it needs to catch up with the rest of you, said Vijay. I mean, it is a lot newer.

Katya exhaled sharply through her nose in an almost-laugh that failed to land. Vijay considered it to be progress.

Isn’t your flight in like three hours? she asked. You should be out the door by now.

Yeah. Amar just texted. He’ll be here any minute.

She nodded.

I don’t have to go, he said. I’m sure I can convince them to push it back.

No, she said. It’s your job. It’s important. And I’ll be fine.

Are you sure?

It’s just until the day after tomorrow. I can handle it.

I just wish I could be there for you when you go back to work tomorrow.

Really, I’ll be fine.

That almost sounded convincing.

I’m almost convinced.

Vijay nodded, walked around the crib, kissed her on the cheek, and left the room to go downstairs.

Katya sighed and followed him. She settled herself down on the sofa and turned on the TV only to be met with a lot of nothing.

TV’s out again, she called out. When are they going to replace that cable?

I’ll call them again tomorrow, Vijay said on his way through the living room. He slipped his shoes on and walked toward the back door. I’ll reattach it again now. Hopefully it holds until they can get out here.

Thanks, she said and he went out back.

She dragged herself off the couch, walked across the living room and looked out the front window. The neighbourhood was almost entirely obscured by the rain and the darkness. Streetlights were not considered a priority except on main streets.

Katya and Vijay lived in a quiet neighbourhood in an old single-family home in the extreme northwest corner of Port Langston, the largest town in Langston county. It was an old town of about 30,000 inhabitants, and it had never actually been a port. The town was named after its founder, Eli Langston, who had high hopes of turning it into a center of trade and commerce. But as it turned out, people had little to no ambition to make the trek all the way up the Langston River and around Langston Falls just for the tiny amount of business that trek might bring them when larger, more profitable ports were much closer by. Eli Langston attributed this to a failing of moral character in his fellow men. Port Langston featured a large park, shockingly not called Langston Park, but Rebecca Langston Park, after a suffragette descendant of Eli Langston. Rebecca Langston Park featured a disused bandshell on one side of it and an old, disarmed, Civil War cannon on the other. The cannon was displayed along with a plaque denoting the Battle of Langston Fields which it claimed had taken place right here on this very piece of land. Neither historians nor archaeologists had ever found any evidence that the Battle of Langston Fields had ever taken place. Yet the cannon and its probably apocryphal plaque persisted.

Port Hackett was the second largest town on Port Langston. Named after Charlie Hackett, a well-known gambler and moonshiner, Port Hackett was an actual port when it sprang up during Prohibition. At the time, it was used to smuggle Charlie Hackett’s wares out of Port Langston to the larger cities downriver, past Langston Falls. Eli Langston would not have approved of Charlie Hackett’s activities, despite his get-up-and-go attitude. The circumstances surrounding the town’s founding were facts which many of its citizens were embarrassed by and loath to admit. Port Hackett was on the opposite side of Lake Langston, but situated further south so the owners of lakefront property in either town didn’t have to have their very expensive views ruined by each other. Port Hackett had a considerably larger park than Port Langston, but no bandshell. Nor did they have a cannon in the park. A fact that was cause for great concern by many of the denizens of Port Hackett. The Venn diagram displaying the denizens of Port Hackett who were irked by the town’s degenerate history compared to the ones who were jealous of Port Langston’s cannon was a circle. Both towns were surrounded by, and permeated with, lush, old-growth forest.

Lightning flashed, revealing a figure standing beside the tree on the boulevard. Katya frowned and stepped closer to the window. When the sky lit up again, the figure had moved closer. It stood in the middle of the yard, hands hanging at its sides, mouth agape, face pale and eyes dark.

The TV signal became clear. The room echoed with the sounds of the moaning hordes of undead shambling across the screen.

Katya continued to peer into the darkness, the rain pouring down. From just outside the window, a beam of light shot upward, illuminating the figure. The side of its head was cracked open and brains spilled down over its shoulders. It choked and blood streamed from its mouth, down onto its chest.

Katya took three steps to the left, opened the door and said, Amar, don’t you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?

Hey, Kat, said Amar, turning off the flashlight and coming inside.

You look different, she said, muting the TV. Have you done something with your hair?

No, I had my ankle bracelet removed, he said, lifting his leg and pulling up his pant leg. It feels like freedom. I can actually leave my house.

She heard the back door open and Vijay’s footsteps come in.

And yet you never left the house before you got arrested, she said.

Well, I had an X-Box.

And you don’t now?

No, they took it. It counts as a computer.

So what did we learn about hacking into military computers?

Use better proxies, said Amar.

Vijay stepped into the hallway as Katya shook her head and rolled her eyes, hoping that Amar was joking. He was lucky he was underage when he tried to impress his little hacker friends, or he’d have gotten a lot more than house arrest and probation.

Hey, there you—what the actual hell, bro? Vijay said.

What?

Why are there brains spilling out of your head?

I was working on a new makeup and I wanted to see how well it stood up to the rain.

You couldn’t just use the shower? said Vijay.

Real movie sets don’t use showers, said Amar.

Real movie sets don’t use real rain, either.

It’s technical. You wouldn’t understand.

I would like to present an alternate order of events, said Vijay, collecting his suitcase. One in which you forgot you were supposed to give me a ride to the airport and you left the house in a hurry with no time to remove your makeup.

Amar stared at him for a moment. That depends on whether we’re in the original or the J. J. Abrams timeline.

Uh-huh, said Vijay. So you’re going to wear that to the airport?

Sure. I’m not the one flying. I’m not even getting out of the car.

That’s a good plan, said Vijay. Stick with it.

I have to say, I’m actually impressed that you turned your house arrest into an opportunity to learn something potentially useful, said Katya, gesturing to the brains.

Thank you, Kat, Amar said. This is why you’re my favourite sister-in-law.

Only sister-in-law, said Vijay.

With one this good, why would I need another?

Aww. I’d hug you, but, Katya gestured to her chest.

No worries, said Amar.

Also, your guts are hanging out and it’s gross.

I’ll meet you at the car, said Vijay, standing up.

Okay. You take care of yourself, Kat, Amar said.

And you stay out of trouble, she said, as he stepped back out into the rain.

I promise nothing, Amar shouted back on his way to the car.

Vijay took Katya’s hand and once again asked her if she was sure she’d be okay.

I’m fine, said Katya, in a not-entirely-convincing tone. Vijay gave her his best stern look, one eyebrow raised. I’m fine, she repeated, with more feeling. Really. It’s two days. I’ll live.

Okay, said Vijay. If you’re sure.

I’m sure.

All right, Vijay said. He kissed her and was off to the car.

Katya lowered herself into the well-worn groove on her side of the sofa and watched zombies silently terrorizing the nice people of Anytown. She hovered her thumb over the mute button, but thought better of it. She closed her eyes, relaxed, and enjoyed the sounds of the rain. She may have drifted off to sleep, but she couldn’t be sure. She had been doing that a lot lately, mostly due to the medication. But whether she was sleeping or just blissed out, enjoying the rain, her relaxing moment was ended by a loud and slow knock at the door.

Katya started, looked around, and took a moment to get her bearings. The knock sounded again.

What fresh hell is this? she said, dragging herself off of the sofa. Pulling her robe tight around her, she shuffled to the door and stood on tiptoe to look through the little window. She saw a shock of frizzy red hair, much like her own but with considerably more grey mixed in with it.

Mom? she said as she opened the door.

Aileen Carter, mother of Katya, kept her crisp, black suit dry with a crisp, black umbrella. Her Fluevogs matched her bright, green eyes. They peered at Katya from above a tight, severe expression.

He actually went? she said, her Scottish brogue still not entirely dulled from her years of living in the colonies.

Yeah, of course.

I can’t believe he’d leave you after all you’ve been through, she said, stepping inside and shaking her umbrella, sending rainwater flying.

Mom, it’s two days. I’ll be fine.

That’s what your father did, you know. He went away on a business trip and never came back. He met some floozy cocktail waitress and he never came home.

Katya’s father, Adrik Gagarin, and Aileen had been happily unmarried for thirty-three years. Aileen was the cocktail waitress he’d run off with. Not away from anybody else, though. He was currently at home watching crime dramas, not daring to impede on mother/daughter night.

Come on in, Mom, said Katya to her mother, who had already kicked off her shoes and made a beeline to the liquor cabinet, where she was pouring herself a single malt.

That hits the spot, she said. Say what you want about that Vijay character, he knows his booze.

He does.

Questionable taste in women, though, she said, settling into Vijay’s favourite recliner.

Leapin’ lizards, Miss Hannigan, Katya said, settling herself back into her sofa groove.

Hey, there’s that sense of humour I remember, said Aileen.

Don’t get used to it.

It’ll come back, said Aileen. In time.

Katya nodded, not sure she believed it.

When was the last time you left the house?

Uh… last Friday was garbage day, said Katya. So Thursday night.

I’m not sure that counts.

It counts a little. Also, the cable keeps going out so I have to go out back to reattach it.

You definitely need to get out more, said Aileen. Maybe get you on Tinder or something.

Vijay would love that.

I’m sure he’d appreciate having your sullen face out of the house occasionally, said Aileen. It’s quite simple. You just poke at pictures of gentlemen and you get a selection of free, bespoke, penile art and maybe a free meal or two. I’m told it’s all the rage. I can see why.

Or I could just go back to work tomorrow.

I suppose you could do that, Aileen said, nodding. If you want to be a corporate sellout, man.

Mom, you’re an accountant.

A badass accountant.

Of that, I have no doubt.

There was a pause. Aileen filled it by investigating the legs on her Bruichladdich.

Are you going to be okay? she asked. Going back to work?

No.

Well, that is unfortunate, said Aileen. I guess you’ve got about ten hours to nut up, then.

I’m sure the doctor would give me more time off if I asked.

"What about the hit to your