From the Ashes, You Crawl

Chapter Nineteen

The body did not move, unless Gerard touched it, which he did. He would leave every morning, resting the body in a new position. Sometimes, It would be slumped against the door. Sometimes, it would be sitting in bed, wrapped in blankets. Sometimes, it would be sitting against the wall. The smell was absolutely disgusting, but Gerard soon got used to it. It was almost comforting to him, like the familiar smell of home. At some point, the body had began to decompose enough that it simply lost its scent entirely, and Gerard liked that much more. He would talk to the body atfter he got home from collecting, hold conversations, just like old times.

"You don't talk to me anymore," Gerard said one evening weeks after it happened. He was standing over the stove, cooking a pot of rice of the burner, a soft blue flame radiating and warming the room. "Are you mad at me?" He asked, turning his head to where the corpse was sitting on the bed. The skin was mostly decomposed. His face was permenantly stuck in a terrible surprised face, mouth slightly open, teeth rotting away. Gerard puffed out his lip, "I don't want you to be mad. I miss talking to you."

As time progressed, Gerard stopped going out everyday. He ate more of his stash, not bothering to count. He wasted supplies on the corpse, shoving noodles down the open mouth. He still went out occasionally, but not for very long, only a few hours everyday. Even as he was collecting, his thoughts would not keep from going back to the corpse on his bed or by the door or by the wall. Some days, Gerard would go out and not collect a single thing because he was so distracted.

Gerard let himself go, really go. His health, as well as his mind, depleted. Some nights, Gerard would wake in the middle of the night sobbing because he knew what was going to happen. He knew what was going to happen before it happened. He knew he was nearing the end of his life.

On one of the very last days he went out, Gerard went into what was probably a very nice townhouse at one point. The walls were decrepit. It smelled like the end of the world. Gerard went inside, and barely looked through the rooms. His only thought was of the corpse. He thought of where he had set him before he had left, leaning against the counter by the stove. The memory of his sweet face made Gerard almost smile as he walked up the stairs towards the second floor.

His worn and disgusting boots crossed the creaking floor as he moved down the hallway. There were so many doors, so many decisions. Gerard moved towards the nearest one and delicately pushed it open. Inside, there was a bright room, windows cracked and broken, gray light streaming into the bedroom. There was a black canopy bed, satin lace streaming from the top of it. Gerard thought it was beautiful. Gerard rubbed his hands together in an attempt for some sort of warmth as he entered the room. He wished Frank was here.

He stopped walking when he thought of that and remembered the days before, when Frank was alive. The way they would lead each other. How he helped Gerard, healed his leg, cared for him. That seemed so long ago.

Gerard lowered his eyes again as the dread and guilt filled his chest. He would never forget. Ever. Gerard slumped himself onto the old bed, sitting on the dust and soot, staring down at his shoes. He could not live like he had before. At least, how he thought he had lived before. That was such a long time ago.... Had there even been a time before? Or had be appeared here one day, fully adult, with Frank and that was that. The beginning. No history. There was no history. Nothing. The only life Gerard had ever known had been the end of humanity. He could not remember colors, the smell of cookies, the way it felt to laugh, the way light reflects off water, sparkling.

Gerard ran his fingers over his dirty face, streaking the layered soot on his skin. Beneath the dark layers of ash and dust, his pale, damaged skin shown through. Gerard wiped at his nose and looked around the room. A broken closet door hung open lazily and inside, Gerard could see clothing. Curious, Gerard left the bed and stepped towards it, pushing the door further away on the broken rollers. Inside the dusty dresser, there were clothes on rusty hangers, covered in a cake of dust and ash. Gerard took a breath and blew into the closet, letting whisks of ash fly. He swept his hand inside and took one of the hangers, pulling what was on it out of the closet to examine it closer.

It was a suit.

A full, well-preserved suit, despite a few moth eaten holes. A black tie hung from the hanger. Gerard furrowed his brow. It has been so long since he had held something so nice in his hands. He took the jacket from the hanger and shook it in the air, dust taking flight. Yes, it was a very nice suit. Gerard set the hanger with the jacket on the bed, looking at it for a moment before he decided on his next move.

In the silence and desolation, Gerard removed his rank and disgusting clothing and shoes that he had been wearing for years. They were heavy with the weight of fluids and stink, mud and oil. Gerard slipped from his old jeans and shirt, coat and over coat. He stood naked in the cold room, shivering for a moment, unsure, before he slipped on the suit pants and black shirt, black tie and black suit jacket. He closed his eyes, tightening the tie to his neck just a tad too tight. He flattened the collar on the shirt, hand shaking and stood still for a minute before he slipped on his old boots. They looked so filthy compared to the nice suit.

Gerard moved back to the dresser, moving racks and racks until he found what he wanted. It was another suit, black like the one he was wearing, but with a red tie. This made Gerard smile a rotten, toothless smile. He brought the suit and hanger to his chest, hugging it for a moment before he started towards the door, abandoning his empty army tote and pistol. He would never return for them.

A while later, Gerard arrived back at his hideout, pushing the door open with his shoulder and entering the weapons room. There it was. The corpse lay on a pile of ammo, one arm stretched above the other, mouth open. "I brought you a present," Gerard said happily in his hoarse, scratchy voice as he stepped inside, closing the door with his boot. "Don't give me that look. You'll like it," He said with a very cheery tone as he walked towards the corpse. With a wide smile, he set the corpse up. "My bag?" Gerard looked to his side as if noticing the missing tote for the first time, "Oh... I must have left it behind. I won't need it anymore anyway." He laughed coarsely at that and moved his hands to the buttons of the disgusting, crusty fatigues, "Come on. Don't be a stubborn billy. Help me with this."

He slipped the corpse from the army green shirt and pants, plucking off his shoes along the way. Gerard couldn't contain his grin as he put the suit on the corpse, ending with tightening the tie much tighter than it needed to be. He wanted to make sure it fit properly. Tears gathered in Gerard's eyes as he stepped back, examining his work. "My... You look so beautiful," He whispered like a proud mother of a bride. He let out a soft sob and rubbed at his eyes, "No, no. I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's just... Hard to see you so dashing."

With a soft smile, Gerard reached forward, sweeping the corpse into his arms. He held it like that, then spun slowly, like an old dance. The man filled the room with his humming as he spun, and the corpse's head swung forward, resting on his shoulder. Gerard giggled. "Oh, stop it, you," He said, giggling as he spun, "Always playing your little seduction tricks on me. I know how you are." He backed his head up only the slightest and laid his lips on the corpse's long dead cheeks before he pulled away and continued dancing and humming so slowly, so beautifully. In years before, Gerard would have never danced the way he did now.

"It's so wonderful to have you back," Gerard whispered, clutching onto the corpse, "Brother from the Great War."

In the broken world around them, the sun began to set, and Gerard could feel the terror of the night. He stopped dancing and raised his head slightly, watching the gray light from beyond his home fade away. Tears ran down his face. He couldn't live like this anymore. He couldn't do it. Gerard reflected as he moved towards the door on his life. He thought of his family, of his mother, of Mikey, of the man he had always loved in school, of the butchery, his home, the bomb, life after the bomb. There had been history.

More tears. He didn't want to remember, to reflect and recall all of which had happened. The pain. The loneliness. Perhaps, the last man on Earth had always been alone... Until he met Frank. The medic. The dead medic in his arms. Gerard was sobbing as his hand gripped the knob and turned it a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Tonight, it would end, and as Gerard stepped into the evening light, surrounded by the screams of the creatures that had stalked him for years, he felt no fear.

He smiled, clinging to the corpse, and let the screams come closer, tears streaming down his dirty face. It was the end.

There comes and end to all things. The dead caught Gerard. Evil finally destroyed his body and soul, and yet, he was unalarmed. It seemed almost like it was destined to happen because, admittedly, Gerard knew this was how it was going to end for him when it started, from the very first night in the end of the world. He knew. After all, he reflected months ago before Frank died, everybody has to die at some point or another.

Life's like that.