Part 31 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 2: ?

Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.

And this is it, this is the final chapter, it only took me 2 years to finish it but I am finally at the end of it all, and so are you. Not sure how people are going to react to the end but there you go.

Many thanks to Cay for being a band that inspired me, Naomi for bullying me into finishing this and Natalia for thinking I could write when I had sort of given up.




Chapter 2: ?

  Dan lay very still.
  He could hear a woman screaming in the distance but he wasn't sure where it was coming from.
  Something dripped onto his left eyelid, for some reason he knew it was blood.

  There was some crashing, these were more muffled than the screaming. He could feel fluid sliding into his ear.

  He attempted to open his eyes. The blood dripping into his left socket stung and so he closed them again.

  There were some more shouts, he felt a throbbing in his throat and head grow as his consciousness expanded. It hurt, it hurt a lot and it drowned out the shouting. This was worse than any hangover he had ever experienced.
  He forced his eyelids open again. The blood had already started to dry and he could feel it crack as the skin over his eyeballs shuttered open. His fingers, only inches from his face, registered carpet texture under his fingertips.

  After a moment, he managed to focus on what lay in front of him. Not too far from his own,  incumbent form lay another body. He didn't recognise it, but felt he should.

  Shouting cut through his pain. Some smashing of objects occured, the shouting stopped abruptly but the sounds of destruction continued.
  Then there was a gunshot, followed by at least three more. He heard something that sounded like laughter, or cackling or maybe screeching it was hard to tell.

  There was nothing after that.
  He tried to move his head and found it easier than it should have been in light of the agony he was in. Shouldn't I be dead? He thought.
  After what felt like a monumental amount of time, he managed to make the hand in front of his face push himself up. He looked at the body and tried to focus on it from his more upright position but the rush of blood to his head made his vision blur. He tried to prop himself against something and found a wall behind him. Things remained quiet.
  Dan managed to look around the room he was in. It was his and Nu's. It was late afternoon and he had no idea how he had got here.
  He looked again at the body that remained unmoving, then he recognised it.

   ‘Oh no.’ It was Phillip, his head was turned towards Dan, his long hair was strewn across his face but Dan could make out his eyes staring straight at him, his mouth agape.

  There were footsteps on the stairwell outside the flat; heavy, clunking boot steps. They resonated throughout the building that made sense as there was next to no one there.
They reached Dan's floor and he could hear the door to his apartment open and then the footsteps move towards the room he was in.

  ‘Shit,' he sighed as he remembered everything, 'it's Henry Kissinger.'
Dan eyed Him as defiantly as he could when He walked in. Given the pathetic sitting position he was in, it must have been a comical sight.
    “So, come to finish off the job?” Dan asked Him.

    “Oh, I already did.” Henry Kissinger replied.

    “What do you mean?”

    “What's your name?”

    “Why should-

    “Because, I want to know.”

    “Dan.”

    “Dan, there is some good news and some bad news. Before I tell you either I'm going to need your full attention.” Henry snapped his fingers at Dan.  “Hey, wake up.”
    “Why did you do this?” Dan asked. “I don't understand.”
    “Well,” Henry grinned at him, “if you'd give me two seconds I can explain.”
  Dan looked around for a weapon but saw none in reach. Not that it would have made a difference as just looking around had made him feel exhausted.
    “The good news is that you can, potentially, live forever!” Dan switched his gaze back to Kissinger as he threw his hands up in the air to punctuate his exclamation; throwing his blue dreadlocks around.
    “What?” Dan managed, unbelieving.
  Henry paused to look at him intently then with no explanation he shrugged and smiled:
    “I imagine you are feeling a little rotten right now; a bit sluggish, maybe a little drained?” He put emphasis on the last word, which amused only him.
    “Yes.” Dan admitted, looking back at Phillip. Dan willed him to get up and attack Henry. Instead the boy lay there, eyes staring right back at him, his mouth open. Dan looked back at Kissinger. “What did you do to me?”
    “I am glad you asked.” Henry took on a solemn look. “I mean I was going to tell you but you seem keen to jump to the end of my story. Dan, are you an impatient man? I mean do you not get there is a pacing to story telling?”
  Kissinger started laughing again.
    “Oh man, you don't understand how great it is to be able to talk to someone who isn't suffering from dementia. Those guys pretty much just shit themselves and then,” Kissinger became somber again, “they just died. It was sad really.”
  Dan just gawped at him. He could feel his strength coming back slowly and was hoping to get enough together to make a run for it.
    “Sorry, that was like a really sad side story that didn't need to be told.” Kissinger scrunched up his mouth and started humming before breaking into his next sentence. “Hmm, seeee, the reason you feel like shit is because I fed on you. Your body is adjusting and soon you will be just like me.”
    “I'm a zombie?” Henry asked.
This caused more mirth.
    “You're hilarious. If you were a zombie you'd be running around like an angry Chav, who am I kidding that is just a tautology. I mean, have you ever met a Chav that wasn't angry? I suppose a dead Chav might be marginally less angry but only a little.”
  Dan tried to get himself standing using the wall behind him as support. Kissinger observed him and then jumped to a standing position.
    “Seriously, if you were a zombie you'd be going 'raah, brains and shit' like a fucking Thom Matthews of the present but with less talking.” Henry started hoping from one foot to the other and gesturing at Dan as he continued to try to get into a proper standing position. “Dan, you really should just sit down a little while longer.”
  Kissinger tried to touch him, reaching out gently with one hand.
    “Don't touch me.” Dan said panickedly, he got a frown in return.
    “Alright, man, relax. I was only trying to help.” Kissinger said repproachfully then without hesitation. “What was I talking about? You being a zombie. Fuck.”
  He paused in mid thought, then slapped his palms together.
    “That reminds me.” He pointed at Dan. “Zombies! That means that I need to deal with this fighting-back fucker right now before they come back on me and wander off.”
  Kissinger then crouched over Phillip and, from what Dan could see, bit into his neck.
    “Oh god.” Dan murmured, he forced himself along the wall to the exit to his room.
  With each step energy started to come back to him. His body wasn't fully co-operative but he was able to make his feet follow each other out into the hall. He got through the front door and then made his way down the stairs.
  Once he was down on the next landing he tried both doors. They were locked so he banged against them. There was no reply.
  He carried on down further into the guts of the building until he got to Jocelyn and Jo's apartment. Their door was also locked, out of frustration he banged against the panels of the door. To his surprise he got a response.
    “Who is it?” He could just make out Jo's voice on the other side.
      “Jo, it is me.”
    “Dan, what is going on?”
    “I,” Dan looked for the right words, “Jo, I am so sorry.”
    “Dan now is not the fucking time; can you find something to break the door down?”
  He looked around, told her he would be back then headed back towards the recreation room, which was the only flat that he knew would be open because it had no door. He found a length of pipe, it felt weigthy. Stumbiling down to the apartment's front, he took a swing at the door with all the effort he could muster. The impact of the blow reverberated through his arm causing him to drop it. The door was only slightly dented.
  Swearing, he picked up the bar and repeated the attempt with the same result.
  He returned to the door and asked:
    “Can you get out the windows?”
    “We already tried, the fire escape leads nowhere and we cannot get to the scaffolding.” Jo replied.
    “What about the next building?”
    “Don't you think we would have tried?”
    “Jo, I am so sorry. I fucked up.” Dan said. “I really fucked up.”
    “There's no time for that. Help us.”
  Dan looked up the stairs and saw Henry Kissinger standing there. In the poor light he could vaguely make out a grin on his face.
    “Not bad, you are already starting to get your strength back.” He said, as he hopped down the steps.
    “Let them out.” Dan tried.
    “I could do that but it would not make sense.” Kissinger responded. “Plus, you would regret it in the long run.”
    “I don't understand.”
  Kissinger let out an exasperated sound.
    “Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan!” He shouted. “Of course you don't, because you won't let me explain!”
  He was now standing on the same level as Dan.
    “Dan, Dan, they are meat. You and I need them.” Henry slung one arm around Dan's shoulder, in turn he flinched. “Now, lets go up to the roof and I will fill you in.”
  Dan looked at him.
    “I am trying to ask you as politely as possible.”

                                                                *    *    *    *    *    *

    “The thing is, when I attacked you I was starving; I went too far, I know that, and now you are like me.”
  They were sitting on the edge of the roof, facing out into the square as Kissinger told him the tale.
  Dan exhaled.
    “So now, I am a vampire?”
    “Right, I can hear the sarcasm there.” Henry replied. He gestured to the mob below and ahead of them. “Zombies you believe in, but vampires are too much?”
  Dan did not reply.
    “I would blow your fucking mind if I told you about werewolves.” Henry tittered. Then harshly: “Doesn't matter, you're body is already telling you that I am right.”
    “In what way?”
    “'In what way?' Awesome.” Kissinger sniggered. “ You haven't seen Dazed and Confused have you?”
  Dan looked away from and didn't respond. Henry sighed in disappointment.
    “Well, for starters, your sense of smell is going to go through the roof. In a weird way, you won't be able to track people or anything but you will be able to smell pheromones coming off of someone's sweat and it will certainly colour your sense of taste.”
  The insane DJ took a deep sniff and recoiled slightly.
    “Oh yeah, and the smell of these undead shits is going to be way worse. I cleaned the front of my house every day. Good luck with the stink when it gets really bad.”
  Dan could already notice the smell, something that hadn't bothered him while in the house for months.
    “Eventually, you will get faster, and stronger.”
  Dan shot him a glance, Kissinger noticed.
    “That is going to take you at least a couple of years and a few hundred feeds before you can take me.”
  Those words impacted Dan like a slap to the face. The term 'feeds' scared him, the idea that an innocent word like that meant preying on his friends. As if reading his mind Henry started talking again:
    “It is fine, we aren't going to have to kill any more of you friends. That guy was an accident, he saw me carrying you and I guess he must have assumed the worst. I locked everyone else up until I had a chance to talk to you.” Kissinger said quietly, almost reassuringly.
    “But we have to eat.”
    “Yeah, we do transfusions and, in exchange we go out and collect food; the zombies don't care about us so we can move freely and pick up what we want, what they need.”
  Dan thought about it for second and then looked straight at him.
    “What about the shots Henry?”
    “What shots?” He frowned. “Dude, you are delusional.”
    “I heard shots.”
  Henry looked at him with an overly serious expression for a few seconds before he cracked into a smile again.
     “Shit, it is hard to keep a straight face. One of your friends shot me like twice, and I shot them back.” Kissinger replied. “After I broke her arm.”
  Kissinger got up off the wall and started to walk back into the house.
    “She was really upset and was not willing to be reasoned with. Normally I would be able to coerce her to be amenable, like I did to you at my house. Unfortunately, if people are pissed and you have just shot them and broken their arm – possibly killed their boyfriend or something, I don't know.” Henry said dismissively.
     “Another thing, stop calling me Henry. That guy makes us night wasters look like innocent babes. Call me Angel, not like that bullshit TV show though.” Henry/Angel said. “Fucking hold that name for almost 80 years and then some fucking guy comes along and steals the concept. It is true what they say: there is nothing new under the sun. I mean, look at it, even the end of the world wasn't original.”
  Dan looked back down at the square, his brain was pulsing.
    “You should probably talk to her.” Angel continued. “You should definitely get out of the sun, it will make you more tired, and it will definitely make you hungrier.”
  Dan hopped off the wall and onto the scaffolding that surrounded the house. He took one step towards the edge and looked at the outstretched hands and craning faces.
    “What are you doing?”
  Dan turned to look at Angel, who seemed non-plussed about the events occurring.
    “Something I should have done a long time ago.”
  Angel frowned briefly before comprehension flitted across his face.
    “Hm.” Angel grunted, his lips stretched over his dentures that glistened in the late afternoon sun. “This all feels a little pointless, if you ask me.”
  Dan jumped.