Free Stay Dead 2: The Dead and The Dying by Steve Wands Page A

for him, and not
a place for the people he had come to travel with. They were good
people—he was a good person—Naraka was not for them.
    He opened his eyes and watched the
world go by as they drove down the road. Every now and again he
would catch a glimpse of one the lumbering dead that stumbled about
in search of flesh. What sins did they make, he wondered. What did
they do that deserved their unnatural return from
oblivion?
    Chuck stared straight ahead, but he
wasn’t looking at anything. He was deep in thought about nothing.
He was thinking of the beach. The sand between his toes, the sea
breeze rustling his hair, and the women. Good golly Miss Molly was
he thinking about those Florida women. The Beach Boys always seemed
to favor the California women, and Chuck couldn’t fault them, they
were just fine as well, but for Chuck, the women back home were the
only women for him. Sanibel, Bonita Springs, and Marco Island were
some of his favorite places to visit and even further north at
Cedar Key would be great this time of year. Most of the college
kids and hipsters would be heading out to Key West, or—God
forbid—Miami, but there were plenty of places in Florida that
suited Chuck just fine. Full of the slow-paced, relaxing qualities
that kept him down south for so long.
    Marco Island was full of great times
just a few months ago. He fell in lust with a freckle-faced woman
name Maggie. She had an old lady’s name, but a college girl’s face
and a tennis player’s body. Her hair was auburn and seemed to
radiate in the sun. They spent a lot of time together and ended it
amicably, though Chuck would often think of her. He wondered why
they quit each other so quick and tried not to think of it. It was
fun while it lasted, and he hoped she was safe. He thought of being
there now, sitting outside on her deck looking out on the water. He
could taste the fresh Cubano sandwiches she loved to make and the
Mango Mamma wine they loved to wash it down with.
    Luckily for Chuck, before the thoughts
had time to depress him, Joseph hollered from behind him, “We there
yet?”
    “ It’s getting really
fucking old, man.”
    There were a few chuckles, and then
the sounds of introspection.

 
     
     
     
    12 IMPULSES
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    Jim had packed the few belongings he
cared about enough to lug around and the clothes he knew he’d get
the most wear out of as well as all of his socks and underwear. He
wished he was going on vacation, but knew that it would be anything
but. Regardless he needed to get the hell out of his home. He was
developing a nasty case of cabin fever and if he didn’t take this
chance to get out now he knew he would end up running out of the
house screaming nonsense in the buff. He might drive himself insane
enough to run into the loving embrace of one of the
dead.
    He crept over to Sarah after putting
his bags next to the door downstairs. She looked so peaceful. The
little bit of sleep she was getting had already managed to soften
the hard lines that only moments ago were etched into her face. She
was attractive, and the longer he looked at her sleeping form, the
more he realized this. He lingered, and his mind ran through some
deviant ideas. His heart raced. She moaned in her sleep, and
shifted. Jim decided to turn away and walk out as briskly as he
could. He returned to his room and stared out the
window.
    Sarah continued sleeping, and Jim knew
he should’ve woken her but the little nasty fantasies brewing in
his mind had the very good possibility of becoming
reality.
    He looked out the window and the few
dead things that roamed seemingly aimlessly about the streets soon
staggered out of view, and for a moment things looked normal, but
then a staggering ghoul moved into view once again.
    He stretched out across the bed,
eyeing the doorway, picturing Sarah walking in and taking her
clothes off. Straddling him. His hand found its way down his pants
and he urgently wanted to run into the other room