No Body

The sound of the rushing river muffles as the gate to the compound lowers behind me. Marie is the first member of our commune to greet me, worry filling her big brown eyes. She reminds me of a deer in headlights. "Anything?" She asks.

"A few undead, but no Michael." I answer, not really looking at her. Everyone here looks at me with such pity, and they have since last week, when Michael went missing. It pisses me off. They all look at me like he's dead. I know he's not.

That same sickening look I've unfortunately grown accustomed to crosses Marie's face. I walk past but want to punch the grieving by proxy off her stupid little face. She looks too dainty to have survived the apocalypse this long. She should be the one missing from the commune. Not Michael.

"I'm sorry. You know-"

"That you'll keep looking until you find a zombie or a body, I know." I've always hated that saying, since the first time I heard it. Besides, there was no body to find.

"I'm sorry, Jonah."

Despite the sullen look on Marie's face, I can't bring myself to feel bad. Every single person in this commune chooses to have some variant of this interaction when they see me. Apologizing for a loss that hasn't happened, a grief I'm not feeling. It's nauseating.

I keep pushing past her so I can give Kristen my report. As the head of security, she expects to be paid a visit whenever someone comes back into the commune. It's to check for odd behavior, possible bites obtained on the field, and a decent enough way to keep up with undead movements.

Kristen is in the middle of eating when I knock on her door. She motions for me to come in through the glass pane that serves as a window looking into what used to be a classroom. Her privacy but ability to keep an eye on her hall is a perk of the compound being an abandoned high school.

I enter the room but don't come closer. Pity from Kristen is the most nauseating. She's the head of security, she should have made sure nothing happened to Michael.

"Jonah."

"Yes ma'am."

"Your report?"

"The undead have remained in the same area as yesterday. I'm starting to think there may be an animal carcass they're feeding off of."

Kristen raises an eyebrow. "That's quite the theory."

"This horde seems more content than the other ones I've found, ma'am. Docile, even."

"You got close."

I stiffen. It's answer enough for her.

"Just because Michael is your boyfriend-"

"Husband." There was no way to have an official ceremony, but that hadn't stopped us from making a wedding happen.

"Don't interrupt me. That doesn't mean you get to jeopardize yourself and this commune."

"I-" I have to fight the urge to step forward when she cuts me off again.

"There are no excuses for what you've been doing, Jonah. Have you been putting all of us at this much risk since Michael's been missing? Going right up to hordes just so you can see if one of the putrid faces is his?"

I don't answer. She's again decided for me already.

Kristen huffs, and puts her head in her hand, cupping her eye and forehead with her palm. "You need to let the scouts look, like I told you at the beginning of this mess. I was trying to be nice, Jonah, but you've taken advantage of my kindness and sympathy." She looks back up at me. Her eyes are glistening when she says, "If someone catches you leaving the compound without permission or a scout, you won't be let back in. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kristen."

"Good. I hope to see you at the dining hall but I understand if I don't. You'll be the first to know if there's any news on Michael." She leans back in her chair, looks me up and down. Her eyes are still glistening. Her 'sympathy' makes me want to strangle her until her eyes pop out of her head.

"Thank you, Kristen." I dig my fingernails into my palms and if they were any longer I'm sure blood would be drawn.

"You're dismissed."

I nod my head curtly and leave without another word. Walking away from her office, I struggle to hold in a sigh of relief. They'll never suspect a thing, now that I've been reprimanded for so frantically looking for Michael.

It's hard not to break into a sprint on the way back to my room. Finally, we can be alone. I open the door only enough for myself to slip in and barely any of the smell to escape. The door closes with a satisfying click once I'm fully inside my room again.

Our room.

Michael is still chained to the bedpost, thrashing on the floor. His movement has brought the blanket down from the bed. He gnashes his teeth toward me when he registers that I'm approaching.

A week, he's been like this. He came to me scared and bitten and bleeding. He asked me to not let him die, despite the danger it would put me and everyone else in. But he asked me, so I haven't killed him like I should've. I don't know if I would have been able to fulfill his last request if it had been for him to die, anyway.

"I'm home," I call out quietly. The sickly-sweet scent of my husband's rot permeates our room. I've learned to deal with the stench. I'll admit his decay has happened at a surprising rate but I assume it's because of the infection. If this is only after a week I can't imagine how much worse he's going to get.

Thoughts of his decomposition are halted when I notice the hand in the cuff isn't attached to his wrist. I don't move when he lunges for me. I've wanted this since he was turned, since he came crawling to me that night. I need to be by his side, however he may want me.

The pain in my shoulder when he bites down is the worst thing I've ever felt. As the blood bursts from my veins onto his rotting flesh, I feel his infection travelling down my body, corrupting every cell. I hate that this is what he felt when he died, when he was attacked, but I'm glad he's holding me while I do the same.

He doesn't continue to eat me, which is strange. But then I feel that his hand is splayed on my back, holding me to him, and it makes such relieving sense I could cry. I knew those flickers of recognition hadn't been in my head. I knew not even death could do us part.

We'll infect everyone in the commune, when they finally send someone to look for us. The bridge over the river will have been drawn up by now. There's no escaping the havoc Michael and I will wreak.

I told them they wouldn't find a body.