Here I was, back at my parents' house. Another trip to Detroit. Boy, I sure was racking up the frequent flyers' miles, I wonder if the airlines realize I might technically be a flight risk. I mean, I miss my daily dose of cerebellum, one time before I hop on a plane and there's a damn good chance, I'm making the next zombie flick in real life. Zombies on a Plane! Heh. I guess it's good I'm only traveling to the Motor City. Anyway, back to the matter at hand, I was in my parents' home. Going into specifics, I was standing in the living room... feeling a bit of irony hit me, what with the whole dead guy in the "living room" scenario. While my parents were stationed on the sofa, directly in front of me.


Yes, both my mom and dad were present and accounted for and sitting on the couch, looking up at me and most likely wondering what I was about to say. But that was the problem, I didn't know what to say. How does one go about vocalizing to their parents' - the people that raised them and taught them the difference between right and wrong, that killing is bad, mkay? How could I find the words to say to them, when I looked down at their deer in headlight expressions and I couldn't even bring myself to speak, much less picture the act taking place. My dad the murderer and my mother the conspirator to cover up his crimes, it's like I crossed over into another fucking reality.


Me, the zombie, an undead abomination with zero vital signs, that relies on brains for sustenance and to thwart a possible apocalypse, I'm the one that feels discombobulated and disorientated about the whole situation. Even that doesn't make sense! I had to tell them something though cause this insanity, murder and mayhem in suburban Detroit, all in the name of making their zombie son a meal, when he decided to drop by for a visit, couldn't be a repeat act. It just couldn't! So I went with the very first thought that popped into my head...


"Where's the body?"


"What?"


My father looked shocked. He kills someone, hides the body and knows full well that his son ate the victim's brains, no problem. Gets questioned about the corpse and has to talk about it, now there's a reason to be stunned and worried. Fuck it. I needed a cigarette. Smoking wasn't allowed in the house but given the circumstances, I feel that rule is momentarily exempt, so I fired one up and took a long drag. My mom's face tightens up and I can tell she wanted to say something but she remained silent. Good call mom, good call.


"Where's the body? The corpse. The cadaver. The dude you killed, dad. Where's his body?"


I exhaled a massive cloud of smoke but respectfully blow it off to the side; away from my parents air space, as I look down upon them with expectation.


"I took care of it."


"What does that mean?"


"It means I took care of it."


"How did you take care of it? What did you do with the remains? Did you bury them? Burn them? Dissolve 'em in acid in a barrel and then dump the sludge down the sewer? Chuck the barrel of sludge in the river or deposit it at the dump? Rent a small plane and fly over a random cornfield in the mid-west and then, toss the carcass out? Visit a hog farm and leave the piggies a present? What exactly did you do?"


Just as swiftly as I allowed my lungs to intake smoke, I was releasing it in anxious frustration.


"You did something, right? You didn't leave the body out in the front lawn to rot and decompose in the sun. So people could drive by and see it laying there. Gee... Dan, what's that? Oh I don't know Cheryl. Kinda looks like a corpse. Hey, the rats seem to have gotten to it and are those maggots? Yep. Those are maggots, alright. Just look at them go... hungrily feasting away on that dead body. Fascinating. The circle of life, up close."


Oh... if I could get headaches, I'd have a migraine by now.


"No, you didn't do that, it's obvious that you didn't do that. You got rid of it, I wanna know how you did that?"


"How do you know so many ways to dispose of a body? Have you done this before?"


"Is that really the question we should be focusing on here?"


"Yes, it is, I want to know if my one and only son is a murderer!"


"Dad's a murderer!"


"Oh that's different."


Really? Really?!?! Sigh. Whatever.


"No, mom. I have never done this before. I've never killed anyone."


Except those medical students that transformed me into a zombie and The Boston Bruiser.


"I watch a lot of television, I work in a morgue and I also happen to be friends with a detective from the New York City Police Department. Fucked up shit happens, both in fictional and real life but one thing always remains the same, killers get caught. Especially, first time offenders, that don't know how to cover their tracks. You have to tell me what happened to the body, what you did with it and how you handled covering your tracks? So I know if I need to take specific steps to fix this."


Another pull from my cigarette, I suddenly felt very tired. Exhausted.


"You? Take specific steps to fix this? How exactly would you do that son? You couldn't even finish college."


Quick cloud of smoke, spurted out in disbelief, was my dad for real right now?


"What does that have to do with anything?!?!"


"You can't follow through with things, you quit before they're finished, how could you possibly take all the proper procedures to ensure that a crime is completely covered up and no one would ever be the wiser?"


"A lot has changed between then and now. I've been dead for three years and successfully maintained surviving in secret."


"Yeah, look how that ended, wrestling fans around the globe cheer on a zombie that goes on camera and admits to the world, that he eats human brains."


"That can be easily brushed away as a gimmick or a shtick. I have a life... an afterlife outside of wrestling, I work, have friends and socialize and I keep the cravings under control, by making sure that I eat on time and regularly. I manage to abide my special dietary needs and no one dies because of it. I do that. Me. Alone. There's no one holding my hand or helping me."


"For three years I have existed as an animated corpse, navigating around the city, undetected. I have human brains in several plastic lime green containers in my fridge and nobody knows. Some of those containers are in the freezer cause I've started planning ahead. It's a priority that I keep this hunger in check, it is imperative that I take these measures. Not solely for the fact that I require sustenance but because I don't want to hurt anyone and I definitely do not want to be responsible for the end of the world."


"God dammit! I never asked for this... not any of it and I wasn't stupid, I didn't accidentally wander up to a zombie and get bit or go on a boat cruise and take some tainted drug that wound up turning me into a zombie. I was abducted and sure, it was after a rave and yes, I was high but that doesn't mean that I deserved this. Like it was some kind of punishment."


"And yet, I made it work and I survived, even after death was forced on me and I turned into a monster. The thing of nightmares. I learned to exist and thrive on my own and I did it, without hurting anyone."


Except almost every single one of my opponents in the XWF.


"Cause even after everything, I still give a shit about what happens to other people. No one is dead because of me."


Fuck. I know. Med students and Boston Bruiser. Get off my back. No one besides them died. Geez.


"So I think I might know how to handle myself better than you realize. I think I am able to follow through and deal with way more difficult shit than you can. Stuff that you will never fundamentally understand or truly ever be able to comprehend. Keeping that in mind, I ask you for the final time, what did you do with the body?"


My parents looked stunned. Shell shocked. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and took a drag from my cigarette, allowing the smoke to slowly siphon between my lips.


"I put the body in the old fridge, the one from down in the basement and threw it in the Detroit River. I watched the fridge sink too, the only place that thing is going is Lake Eerie. No one, will ever trace this back to us, Zane. I'm positive."


Pause.


"How do you get your brains if you don't kill anyone?"


"I work in a morgue dad, I take them from the recently deceased."


"Huh? That seems, smart."


Instantly struck with the desire to laugh, I opened my eyes and did just that.


"Thanks. That concept was actually introduced to me by an alien, I just held onto the job and stayed true to the plan."


"An alien?!?!"


Before my father could speak any further and no doubt showcase his astonishment in the fact that I knew an alien, the doorbell rang. Rising to my feet, I walked to the front door and opened it. Only to be greeted by two armed police officers.


"Hello. I'm Officer Dokes and this is Officer Rand and we're with the Detroit Police Department. We were wondering if we might be able to come in and ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Mr. O'Leary. It seems that he's been reported missing."


Oh this is just fucking perfect.




"Saturday Night Spooks! Coming at you live from the Ballroom of Timberline Lodge, Mount Hood Oregon! Naturally, I had to offer up my services for this event, it just wouldn't be the same without the XWF's resident zombie. Fitting, that the fight that I am set to take part in is thoughtfully titled - Día de los Muertos Partido. Which translates to, Day of the Dead Party... or Match, depending on who you get to do the translation. Either way, it's pretty obvious, this fight was designed for me. Atticus Black, I must say, you certainly know how to make an undead abomination feel appreciated. And who might my opponent be for these festivities?"


"Hanari Carnes."


"Now it could be said that this match was created in both of our honors but seriously, lets be real here. Which one of us is actually, a card carrying member of the living dead? Who has the pulse and who doesn't? It's a Day of the Dead Party! I'm dead! He's just a dude that occasionally throws Spanish into his statements and speaks with an over-exaggerated accent. Which he has proven in the past that he can turn on and off... at will, in a promo that he shot for his match against Donovan Blackwater. His very first Television Title defense and a fight that he lost. So yeah, this is my match, not his."


"At least I'm legit. He's just a dude that speaks Spanglish and exists as a walking stereotype, if anything folks with a Hispanic heritage and upbringing, should be insulted by him. I say drop him in the heart of Mexico and see how long he survives. I bet he doesn't last an hour there before he's crying and begging to come home. You'll find him shoeless and sniveling, shaking next to a payphone. All his cash gone, disheveled and covered in filth. Not because anyone violently accosted him and took his money but because he's dumb and can't actually speak the language, well enough to avoid a scam."


"Which would set him off on an emotional spiral, when he realized that no one is coming back with the pinata that he spent literally, all of his cash on. Then that would lead to aimless walking and tripping, falling in the dirt whilst crying, till he eventually found a payphone and called the company... collect. Meanwhile, I could stroll into Mexico, flat broke and be fine, and I'm a Russian-Jew from Detroit. But I'd be walking into a setting where culture is key and I'm a zombie, I'd be treated like a celebrity, even if I wasn't a famous wrestler."


"Enough on that though, I think I've clarified my point well enough, it's time to talk about the actual match."


"Hanari Carnes verses Zane Norrison."


"A fucking joke and an absolute eyesore in the ring in the terms of wrestling verses an undead abomination, that is the very embodiment of your worst fears in combat. I am the adversary that will keep on coming. Unyielding and relentless. Put me down and I get right back up. Over and over again. Never tiring or getting weak. Never needing to catch my breath or pause to gather my bearings. Nothing will stop me, except a bullet to the head and something tells me, Hanari won't be packing heat. I've had my head taken clean off my body and yet, here I stand. Ready to fight."


"So pray tell, what exactly does Hanari Carnes hope to do to me, how will he pull the win off? What's his ace in the hole? What does he plan to do to ensure victory? Oh I hope Hanari, hears these questions and answers them, I need a good laugh."

1x X-Treme Champ
1x Hart Champion
1x SOTM November 2018