Free Death is Only a Theoretical Concept by S. K. Een

That smile isn’t what Abe
expected to see, but he’s not sure that amusement is much better a
response. What did Steve tell his family, anyway? Nothing?
Everything? Enough that if Abe gives his name, they’ll know he’s
not a random stranger off the street? Enough that if he does, Abe
will be legging it for the hatchback?
    “ Uh,
hi,” he says, unable to help the feeling that he’s spent far too
long just staring at the woman in the doorway. “Um. My name’s
A—Abraham—Abe—Browning. I ... um...” He holds out the blazer. “I
wanted to, well, just return—I didn’t mean to take it, it was an
accident, but—”
    She furrows her
brow, her eyes drifting from Abe’s pinstriped shirt to his polished
shoes. “ You’re the vampire Steve picked up?”
    Abe doesn’t know
what else to do but nod.
    “ You
look so normal,” she says. “Oi, Akihiko! Doesn’t he look
normal?”
    A second figure
joins the woman on the other side of the screen door: a man short
enough to duck underneath his wife’s outstretched arm, wearing
jeans, ugg boots and an open dressing gown. Steve clearly got his
looks from him—the man looks like an older-but-still-rather-boyish
version of Steve, albeit with much shorter, less interesting hair.
He says something Abe doesn’t understand—he never figured that
there’d come a day when he’d regret learning high school Italian
over Japanese—and stares with what looks to be shock before finally
speaking in slightly-accented English: “He does look normal.
Normal!”
    Abe stares in
shock as he pushes the screen door open and holds one hand
outstretched; Abe takes it and Akihiko pumps it up and down with an
enthusiasm that surely can’t be warranted.
    “ Please, come in. I’m Akihiko Nakamura, and this is my wife,
Debra.”
    “ Sergeant Nakamura,” she says with another broad smile.
“Please, come in. We don’t have any blood on hand, but if you would
like water, or anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. Steve’s in his
bedroom. He says he can’t sleep during the day, but I bet you
anything he’s out of it right now. Do you have long? I don’t think
he’ll mind if we disturb him.”
    Before Abe quite
knows what he’s doing, he’s stepping into the hallway; Akihiko
closes and locks the doors behind him. Abe stops and stares,
dumbstruck for the second time in as many minutes: the hallway is
decorated with a row of dusty, crooked photo frames and a shining,
spotless weapons rack bearing several short swords, staffs with
long blades, hooks and axeheads attached to the shaft, ammunition
belts and five different assault rifles.
    The little
handgun holstered at Steve’s back quite suddenly seems like nothing
worth the noticing.
    Debra darts in
and wraps her arms, her warm, living arms, around Abe’s still
chest; Abe, positively stunned by the affection of strange
breathers, just stands there.
    “ Thank you so much, Abe. Greg says someone ringing for help so
quickly made all the difference, and Steve said something about you
talking to him, and, well, you know it’s going to happen someday,
living here, but there’s no guarantee a zombie will make it through
sapient...”
    Zombie? Steve?
Abe swallows and stares at her. Does she not realise it happened
because of Abe? “It’s nothing,” he says, feeling rather more like
he wants to throw himself off the edge of a cliff. “I just wanted
to make sure that he’s okay. And, um. Blazer?”
    “ This way. Aki, how about you get our guest a glass of water?”
She tugs at Abe’s wrist and leads him down the hallway, not giving
Abe the chance to demur or refuse. “We’ll see if he’s awake, will
we?”
    He now knows,
Abe realises, just why it is Steve can not only talk the hind leg
off a donkey but also be so demonstrative with his kisses. He’s not
flirting at all, in fact; he’s just used to being around people who
touch each other and strangers without thinking about it, so much
so that a hand on the thigh probably