Apocalypse, Still

The bags grew heavier after another night of restless sleep. Examining my neck in the mirror, I noticed that the bite marks had completely healed. I pressed against my jaw, under my chin, and around my trachea searching for any inflammation or softness. When I found none, I breathed a sigh of relief.

My closet was filled with turtlenecks of every color, fabric, and sleeve. I knew it’d be hot today but the office is always cold so I opted for a sleeveless turtleneck. Checking the mirror one last time before I grabbed my keys, I pulled the turtleneck higher up on my neck and headed out the door.

In the car, I searched for Apocalypse Still—the podcast that told the truth the government kept from us. The latest episode was uploaded four hours ago. The host, Ryan, started with his usual spiel about the government and the Infectious Disease Center. Apparently, the IDC said that they can no longer hope to contain the Zombies. As a result, Zombieism will be widespread. 

Ryan added, “There’s this new phenomenon called Latent Zombieism. It happens when someone is bitten by a zombie, their bite heals, but six, eight months, hell even a year later, they turn into a Zombie. As always, the IDC is covering it up and saying that it’s from a bite they haven’t discovered, but we know the truth, folks. They’re not telling us everything they know about Zombieism.”

It’s been almost seven months since I was bit. I slipped up once—thinking that I could enjoy an outdoor festival without a turtleneck. I was wrong.

“As always folks,” Ryan continued, “keep wearing your turtlenecks to keep those bastards from biting you. And if you want more protection, check out my full body suits with anti-bite technology. Listeners get a 15% discount with code fuckzombies. This is Ryan, keeping you informed and protected when the government doesn’t want to. Signing off.” 

I pulled into my parking spot at the office and ran through the door. It’d only been a month since we were forced to come back into the office. Since almost everyone had been bitten by a Zombie, the CEO didn’t think we needed to be isolated anymore. I sat down at my cubicle and sanitized my desk before logging into my computer and checking my emails. As I was scrolling, a guy three cubicles down sneezed. I jumped and then sprayed Lysol in the air. Teresa walked past mindlessly scratching her neck. She was headed to the kitchen. I watched as she poured a cup of coffee, added creamer, sipped, and then went back to scratching her neck.

DJ and Shannon walked into the break room, so I grabbed my coffee cup from my drawer and joined them.

“Hey Jenise. What’s up?” DJ said. “Shannon was showing us her new dog.”

Shannon turned her phone for me to see. It was a golden doodle puppy. Tiny. It looked like it was barely weaned from its mother.

“Yeah, this sucker cost me three grand, but she’s just so stinking cute that it was worth it,” Shannon said.

I smiled, nodded, and went to fill my coffee cup. They talked some more about Shannon’s dog, and DJ complained about his boyfriend not doing his own laundry while I sipped my coffee. Teresa walked past the door again, still scratching her neck.

“Did y’all see that?” I whispered to DJ and Shannon. They huddled in a circle with me.

“No, what?” DJ asked.

“Teresa. She keeps scratching her neck. You don’t think?” I stopped and looked over my shoulder. I didn’t want to say the word aloud.

“Noooo,” Shannon’s eyes widened. “How can you think that?”

“It could be anything,” DJ added. “She could have a rash or rosacea. It’s rude to assume things.”

“No, no.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to seem like a bigot by calling her a Zombie.

“She doesn’t even have a bite mark,” DJ whispered aggressively.

“It’s just that I heard about this thing called Latent Zombieism where you don’t turn into a Zombie until after the bite heals,” I explained.

Shannon threw her hands up in the air. “You with your conspiracy theories. Come on Jenise. You’re smarter than that.”

“You know, people can’t help that they’ve been bitten by Zombies,” DJ said. “We’ve all been bitten by Zombies and we’re fine. Almost my whole family’s been bitten by Zombies, and they’re not Zombies.”

“Yeah, not everything is this huge conspiracy, Jenise,” Shannon added. “Latent Zombieism? What even is that? If the IDC says being bit is no big deal, it’s no big deal. Let it go.”

They walked past me, shaking their heads. As I walked back to my cubicle, I saw Shannon talking with Teresa—even going so far as to place her hand on Teresa’s arm when she laughed. Teresa looked distant, unfazed by all that Shannon was saying, like her mind was somewhere else.

“Howdy neighbor.” Craig had snuck up beside me. I jumped. “Oh didn’t mean to scare you. I was wondering if you could have that quarter two report to me before you leave.”

“Yeah, the report.” I shuffled through the stack of papers on my desk before I saw the spreadsheet I needed for that report and grabbed it. “Started on it. Almost finished,” I informed him.

“Perfect!” He leaned against my desk so he could face me, and lowered his tone. “You know, Jenise, company policy states that you don’t have to keep wearing turtlenecks. It’s making a few people in the office uncomfortable.” He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying you need to stop wearing them, but consider wearing them less.”

“But it’s for my health.”

“Is it?” He squinted his eyes. “People don’t really get bit by Zombies anymore so there’s no need to keep wearing them.” His mouth widened into an empty smile. “Great having this talk with you!” He walked back over to his cubicle.

I tugged at my turtleneck. Through glimpses of examining Teresa, I managed to finish Craig’s report before I went home for the day. At an extended red light, I turned and saw a couple walking down the sidewalk, holding hands. They moved out of the way of something and kept walking. I lifted from my seat to see over the car next to me and saw a Zombie tearing at the neck of a young boy. His carotid artery was in the Zombie’s mouth, and blood spewed everywhere. I looked around at all the other drivers in the cars next to and behind me. Their eyes stayed forward, avoiding the gaze of the Zombie. My heart thudded in my chest as I watched it chew deeper and deeper into the boy’s neck until its last bite severed the head from the body. I had only heard of Zombies biting, maybe once or twice, not enough to decapitate someone.

A horn honked behind me knocking me out of my trance. The light was green. My hands trembled so I struggled to grip the wheel as I sped home. I locked my door and sat in my bed until night fell. Once night came, my eyelids grew heavy, but I tossed and turned on my pillow trying to find a comfortable spot. As soon as I thought sleep was near, my chest and throat would tighten, lifting me out of the bed. My chest was so tense that I couldn’t breathe when I laid down. I stacked the pillows behind me to sit up, and nodded off for maybe a few hours here and there.

My alarm rang. I dragged myself to the bathroom mirror for my daily neck examination. I pressed against my jaw and cheek, checking for softness or inflammation. There was none. I pressed into my neck and my finger went through my skin. Pulling it back out, my neck ripped open, exposing my thyroid and trachea. I leaned into the mirror to examine my carotid artery. Upon closer inspection, there was no heartbeat.

Author’s Biography

Leah Nicole Whitcomb is a proud Mississippian who writes about Black folks, love, and magic. Her writing has been featured or is forthcoming in Sistories, MadameNoire, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. Leah co-hosts the Hoodoo Plant Mamas podcast. Find more of her work at leahnicolewhitcomb.com