‘Caught Dead’ by Shawn L Bird

Dr Isabella MacRae had been dead seventeen days when she found herself compelled to break out of the hand-carved pine box and claw her way through the dirt. Now, here she was, standing beside a dozen dirt-smeared folks who’d obviously shared the compulsion. 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and glanced down at the grave from which she’d just emerged. A shiny headstone declared her name and dates. Right. She remembered dying. It had not been a pleasant experience.

She looked around at the other folks standing beside her in various states of decay, and the light went on. “I’m a zombie.” 

She looked down at her hands. Her manicure had been destroyed by the crawl out from the ground, and her skin was shrivelled. It was not too terrible, though, compared to the folks around her. 

“Hey,” she said to a teenaged boy standing at the next grave. She tapped him on the shoulder. “This is cool, eh? We’re in our own zombie flick!”

He stared vacantly ahead. 

That was when she noticed he was missing the back of his head. “Perhaps I should talk to someone with a brain.” 

A few rows over she could see a middle-aged woman who seemed to have a complete body. She looked like a PTA mom, someone used to helping out in the church basement.

Isabella started to walk in that direction, but instead of the smooth, confident stride she was used to, her legs assumed a dragging shuffle. She felt the skin on her forehead settle into furrows. “No!” she growled, and spread the wrinkles back out, holding the skin taut until she felt it settle back into position, smooth as the fondant she’d once spread over her baby brother Will’s birthday cakes. She’d made a career of fighting wrinkles. She wasn’t going to tolerate them now, even if she was dead. Or undead. Whatever.