Dead End Job (Midsummer's Nightmare)

Dead End Job

“

it down,” said Theo.

He watched the scabby hand of his current

zombie assistant stretch out and place the papers
on his grey veneer desk. He couldn’t remember her
name, didn’t know if he’d ever bothered to learn it.
She was getting ripe, so it didn’t matter.

Her skin was falling off in chunks from the

side  of  her  face,  and  he  could  already  see  her
ribcage literally poking out of her skin. He knew if
he  kept  the  temperature  lower  in  the  office  his
workers  would  last  longer,  but  it  got  so  cold,  and
they weren’t going to run out of dead people.

Only certain creative or managerial tasks

required

live

intervention.

Basic

office

administration was deemed too soul-crushing to
give to the living. This also applied to factory work,
the fast food industry, and government.

Since the population had dwindled due to

higher education and the realization that children
were drains on precious resources, much of the
lower-level work force was made up of zombies.

It worked out well. Families could lease out the

bodies of their loved ones for as long as they were
still  able  to  perform  office  tasks.  Some  corpses
lasted  up  to  five  years  in  optimal  conditions.
Others,  well,  they  gave  new  meaning  to  the  term
diminishing work force.

Theo watched his assistant go before he

scanned the contract. All that was left for him to do
was  to  sign.  This  was  all  they  needed  him  for:
someone  of  intelligence  to  read  over  and  sign  and
approve  boilerplate  paperwork.  The  mindless  tasks
of  data  entry,  printing,  stapling,  faxing,  copying,
and compiling—those were all tasks that sentience
got in the way of.

There were no fights over the corner office.

Theo was the only one who had one. The corpses
were left to cubicle farms.

During his daily rounds, which he did out of

sheer  boredom  and  not  because  zombies  required
managing,  he  noticed  some  of  the  zombies  had
printed  out  inspirational  quotes  and  tacked  them
to  the  gray  fabric  wall  with  some  gummy  part  of
their anatomy that had fallen off. It was sad. Just a
plain  particle  board  desk  with  a  black  and  white
printout  that  would  say  something  ironic  like,  “A
mind  is  a  terrible  thing  to  waste.”  He  often
wondered—but  never  asked—if  they  could  read  or
if the previous manager had a sick sense of humor.

For once a sign was up, it never came down, no
matter who worked in the cubicle.

Conversation with zombies was out of the

question. At best they could moan. At worst, their
jaw  would  unhinge  and  drop  to  the  floor.  Once,
Theo  had  attempted  office  gossip.  He  stood  in  a
worker’s  doorway.  He  didn’t  even  know  if  the
rotting carcass was male or female anymore.

“Have you seen the way Jack’s been eyeing

Sara? I mean, not that he has eyes anymore, but
you can tell that they’ve got something going on
the side. I bet you she’s eaten more than his brains,
if you know what I mean.”

He’d gestured and everything, pumping his fist

like it was sex and waggling his eyebrows
suggestively. The zombie faced him while he spoke,
waiting for one of the command words that would
tell it what to do. Not hearing one, it returned to its
filing. The perfect employee.

Theo watched them file in each morning.

Having  nowhere  else  to  be  and  a  bus  that  brought
them  all  in,  they  were  always  on  time.  He  didn’t
know  where  they  went  after  five  or  came  from
before  eight.  W hat  was  interesting  was  watching
them  come  lumbering  in.  Did  they  know  it  was
Friday?  M onday?  It  was  difficult  to  read
expressions  on  faces  like  putty.  It  didn’t  matter.

W atching them and wondering was just something
to do. He didn’t actually care.

That is, until he arrived.

Sometimes he got corpses who were fresh. The

freshest were usually parceled out to executives,
and Theo was thoroughly middle management. But
sometimes there would be a huge batch—maybe a
mass shooting or religious suicide pact.

They seemed almost lifelike other than their

dull stares and the way that their dead blood pooled
in whatever body part they’d been found lying on.

Usually he could tell how they died. He was

becoming such an expert that he was considering a
second job as coroner. Hemorrhaging in their eyes,
bruises  on  their  necks.  Domestic  violence,
drowning,  hanging,  shooting—you  could  see  the
distinctive  patterns  on  their  skin  that  told  the
story, not of how they lived or who they were, but
simply how they died.

Theo thought that would make picking a real,

live human out from a crowd easy. W hen he came
in, he was radiant with life—pink cheeks and dewy
porcelain skin. His hair was golden even under the
doom of florescent lighting. The straight fringe fell
into his face, but he didn’t make a move to adjust
it. It was a subtle move to appear dead, but Theo
wasn’t fooled. Not even from a distance.

The rise and fall of his chest where all other

chests remained motionless was a dead giveaway.
Also, Theo couldn’t see any telltale signs of what
killed him. Sure, he could have been poisoned, but
even then there would be bloating.

W hat sealed the deal, though, was when he

handed in his reports. They were arranged in
coordinating colors and not the random mishmash
of what he got from the dead, who had no sense of
aesthetic.

As they both held the bound document, Theo

met  the  man’s  gray  eyes.  They  had  almost  no
sparkle  and  could  have  easily  been  mistaken  for
translucent  white  deadness  by  someone  less
observant.  His  expression  was  studiously  blank,
but  his  long,  toned  muscles  tensed  for  just  a
fraction of a second under the tattered wool blend
jacket.

“W ho are you? W hy are you here?” Theo was

breathless with excitement. Even if the man hadn’t
been gorgeous in that Swedish god way with his
lanky frame and square jaw, Theo would’ve been
happy to talk to someone.

The man let go of the report started to lurch

away with greater exaggeration than when he came
in.

Theo leaned forward. “I know you’re alive.”

The man stopped. His shoulders sagged.

Theo stood, his chair thwacking against the

window in his haste. “I’m not going to throw you
out. Just talk to me, please.”

Still the man did not speak. He turned his dead

eyes on Theo from over his shoulder.

The force of the glare made Theo take a step

backward. Now that he got a better look at him,
Theo was having doubts. M aybe that guy was dead.

After the man staggered away, Theo pulled his

rolling chair back and sat down, shaking his head.
“I must be losing my mind.”

ACK

in the day, before he’d taken this job, Theo

had been quite the ass hound. Every night he’d
gone to his favorite gay bar, Club Entropy, and left
with another trick. Those were the salad days post-
college, pre-job where he felt completely free. He
would show up in ratty jeans with his floppy brown
hair looking fresh and young, and everyone wanted
a piece of his lanky ass.

It had been months since he’d been there, but

he decided that if freshly dead zombies were
exciting him, he really needed to get out.

That night he wore a silk plum button-up shirt,

leaving  three  buttons  undone  to  show  off  the
jaunty  leather  tie  around  his  neck.  He  paired  the
silk  with  rich  teal  brocade  pants  so  tight  that
everyone could tell which way his ample bits were
situated—a  move  that  never  failed  to  attract  male
attention.

The club was pounding; the beat pulsed

through his body with a rumble. Guys were on the
dance floor, rubbing up on strangers, holding their
drinks in the air as they moved. There wasn’t much
to  the  place.  Entropy’s  brick  walls  were  painted
black, and there was an attempt at elegance with a
few sad plastic plants collecting dust. One wall was
papered  in  a  red  velvet  damask  pattern,  making  it
look  like  a  gay  brothel.  On  the  far  end  was  the
neon-limned  bar  where  dudes  were  lounging,
scanning the crowd like predators.

Clubs were alive with human interactions

—talking to the bartender, the manager, the
bouncer, the guys cruising him. He took a seat at
the bar and ordered a Scotch.

“Hey,” said a promising young thing. His hair

was buzz cut, head nearly as thick as his neck,
stance almost painfully straight. Theo took him for
military on leave. “M y name is Richie. Can I buy
you a drink?”

The bartender served Theo his Scotch, and he

paid for it before his new friend could. He wasn’t
ready to commit to this guy for the night, but it
was good to know that he still had it.

“I’m Theo.” He peered into the crowd. It

looked like drag queen night, but the event wasn’t
starting for a few hours. The ladies were out in
force.

A queen walked by all in sheer silk white and

lavender, her eyes wide, glazed, fixed on his crotch.
Theo grinned when she finally got to his face.

He was about to say something to Richie, who

he’d left hanging, when a flit of familiar golden hair
caught  his  eye.  But  the  queen  undulated,  dancing
in front of him, working the silks something fierce.
It  made  it  impossible  to  keep  his  focus  on  the
blond  behind  her  who,  through  flashes  of  silk  and
lights,  was  headed  to  the  miasma  of  the  dance
floor.

From what he did see, the height and shape

were right, and the hair—it was just like the dead
guy from his office. That guy. The guy he was
trying not to think about was so insidiously in his
head that he was hallucinating. He needed to focus.

It didn’t take long for the queen to realize Theo

was not watching her, and she moved on. Richie
remained where he was but started chatting up the

guy on his other side.

Theo monitored the dance floor, searching

each  face,  every  body,  looking  for  a  match  to  the
hair  and  face  so  he  could  confirm  that  he  was
mistaken and move on. He spent most of the night
watching.  A  couple  of  hours  later,  he  got  off  the
stool to stalk the dance floor. Lots of couples were
frotting,  touching  each  other  suggestively,  and
practically  having  sex  on  the  floor.  Normally  this
would turn Theo on. In his heyday he could mooch
on a good-looking pair and slip in with them, their
hot hands on him, smelling of cigarettes and booze
and  sex.  He  loved  threesomes  because  he  could
drift  into  the  relationship  and  back  out  with  little
to  no  expectations.  If  he  were  smart,  he  would’ve
done just that. Plenty of couples were eye-fucking
him as he prowled to the bathroom, still in search
of the elusive blond man.

Club bathrooms were always tiled white with

concrete  floors  and  smelled  of  cheap  disinfectant
and  piss.  He  tried  to  rationalize  his  obsession,  tell
himself  that  technically,  that  man  was  under  his
management and therefore his responsibility. If he
was not a zombie, then Theo would need to report
that  to  management.  He  looked  intently  at  each
cocksucker,  bitch  boy,  and  dyed  platinum  twink.
He  didn’t  see  those  wide,  silver  eyes,  those
gorgeous full lips, or that lustrous blond hair.

Lustrous? Theo wasn’t sure now what was

fantasy or reality. He wondered if he wasn’t making
this zombie out to be his fantasy because he was
just that lonely.

So Theo decided to do something he had never

done. It wasn’t unheard of. A little strange, perhaps,
but he had to know the truth.

HEO

drove down the highway, down the route

that  he  knew  the  zombie  buses  took  when  they
brought  his  employees  in  to  him.  He  followed  the
signs  that  were  meant  to  be  warnings  so  people
wouldn’t  upset  themselves  by  seeing  what  their
future could be.

He didn’t drive up to the gates. The gates were

manned  by  two  uniformed  men  with  guns.  They
kept  zombies  from  leaving  and  perverts  from
entering. Theo was pretty sure that they would sort
him into the pervert category. So he drove farther
and  pulled  to  the  side  of  the  road  by  the  large
chain-link fence.

The building was every inch the model of

tedious efficiency that Theo imagined. It was little
more than a giant brick box with window slits just
big enough for staff to see outside in case of

emergency.

There was a hole in the fence just a few yards

from where he parked, and Theo slipped through it
and waited, expecting to hear alarms or dogs.
Nothing happened, so he crept close enough to see
in a side window.

Inside there were rows upon rows of beds.

Zombies didn’t need sleep. They were dead. Putting
them to bed comforted the living, and they seemed
to know enough to stay in bed until the nurse left
before they got up and ambled around.

Theo moved from window to window until he

saw  that  pointed  face.  The  zombie’s  skin  was
purple-gray and looked much less alive than it had
to  him  earlier  that  day.  He  sighed  softly,  crossing
his  arms  against  the  cold.  Dead. He  was  definitely
dead. Just another dead worker bee.

The reality hit him hard. Somehow Theo’d

pinned  hope  on  some  level  that  this  man,  strange
as he was, would understand him. He already knew
what  Theo  did  for  a  living.  Then  he  was  at  a  gay
club. It felt like a real chance to make a connection
with  someone.  The  only  problem  was,  that
someone  didn’t  exist.  Or  rather,  wasn’t  alive.  And
probably  would’ve  found  him  creepy  if  he  were.
That was the reasonable response to someone who
thought he might be in love with a dead guy.

But before he knew for sure, he’d experienced

something he hadn’t in a long time. Hope. He’d
cared about something. He’d wanted it.

Now the feeling was gone and Theo didn’t

know what to do.

THE

world had been before, it was once again.

Analog. Dull. Theo knew his workplace had that
effect on the living. He never thought he’d be
sucked into this cycle. He never believed he would
lose hope.

In a mood, he played Sigur Rós in his office,

the mellow tones soothing his nerves. He needed to
be talked down after all he’d felt in the past twenty-
four hours. He reasoned this job would be great for
a necrophiliac. Theo never had much interest in
zombies, not before this. It was embarrassing to
have succumbed.

The workers filed in below, sorting themselves

to their bare cubicles to collate papers. Theo
watched. He wanted to see him. He wanted to know
how far along his decomposition was, hoping that
would make a difference to how his heart felt. For
as humiliating as it was, he still felt something for
him.

The corpse with the blond hair, stringy and

dirty from neglect filed in. Before long, he was
engaged in a tug-of-war with his cube neighbor
over a stapler.

Conflict was unusual, but not unheard of. Theo

decided to use it as an excuse to get closer to the
body. He decided he needed to be close enough to it
to be properly repulsed by death so he could get on
with his life. At least, he hoped he would be
repulsed.

The stench of death on the floor was

overwhelming. On a normal day, he would be doing
his  best  to  tune  out  the  smells  and  moans  of  his
work force. This time he needed to embrace it. He
needed to challenge his strange attachment to this
dead man. God help him, but he was considering it
—considering  what  it  would  be  like  to  touch
another  whose  skin  was  so  dry  and  papery,  whose
insides would be cold, whose mouth would taste of
rot.

Theo stood beside the warring zombies. Each

face  was  a  skeletal  mask,  but  their  arms  moved,
pulling,  fingers  grasping  the  small  stapler  with  the
vigor  of  the  undead.  Zombies  didn’t  have  much
direction in their afterlife, but what little they had
they  were  very  determined  to  maintain.  The  non-
blond  zombie  gave  a  mighty  yank  and  pulled  the
blond  zombie’s  arm  off  from  the  shoulder  joint.  It

came with a sickening tear of meat and the hollow
thud of bone meeting floor.

It was bad enough to be in love with a

completely intact zombie. Now this one was in
pieces, and Theo was so bewildered about what his
heart wanted and his body clearly did not that he
thought he might be sick.

At least there wasn’t the mess of blood.

There was a shriek, a very alive shriek that

could not have come from anything with rotting
vocal cords. Theo wheeled to discover the source.

It was the blond man. Standing right there and

very,  very  much  alive.  He  pushed  past  Theo  and
crumpled  to  his  knees  in  front  of  the  fallen  arm.
His  face  was  pinched  with  misery  as  he  picked  it
up and clutched it to his chest.

“How could you let this happen? How could

you?” They were the first words Theo heard him
utter, and though they were angry, they were
words and music to his ears.

The man’s hair was disheveled, and his perfect,

pointy face was reddening as his silvery eyes
watered. Now that Theo had the corpse and the live
man together, he could see why he’d made the
mistaken identification the night before.

There were rumors about twins, about their

connection  and  closeness,  sharing  a  womb  and  a
face,  down  to  the  shared  DNA.  Few  losses  were
considered  more  tragic  than  the  loss  of  a  twin,  a
shared  other  to  experience  the  world  with  now
gone.

Theo could feel the man’s need as if it were a

physical  force.  The  man  wept  for  his  brother,  for
the  way  that  he  was  decomposing  and  having  a
front  row  seat  to  it.  Limb  by  limb.  Scab  by  scab.
His  brother  was  disintegrating,  and  he  would  lose
him  again.  Theo  didn’t  need  to  be  told  this.
Somehow he could feel it.

He’d never experienced such an intense

connection  with  someone,  never  felt  pain  or  joy
that  wasn’t  his  own.  This  was  different  from  any
other interaction he’d had before. It enlivened him
like  an  electric  charge.  The  pain  was  too  big,  too
deep,  too  intense  for  him  to  even  hope  of
remedying  it,  yet  he  dropped  to  his  knees  beside
the  man  and  gently  took  the  arm  away  and  set  it
aside.

Then Theo held him and let him cry.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He even smelled alive—that less-than-exotic

combination of perspiration and Dial soap. Tears
soaked his jacket, but he didn’t care. All Theo cared
about was this intense force of nature scooping

him up like a tsunami and laying waste to his
reserve. It was intoxicating to be swept away, and
he didn’t even know the man’s name.

Before he could ask, the man was kissing him.

His mouth was rich with the flavor of oatmeal and
cinnamon—a boyish breakfast. Comfort food. Theo
stroked the fine hair, finding it every bit as silky as
he imagined.

The man cleared his throat. “How do you know

that?”

“I’m going to take care of you.” The moment

Theo said it, he regretted it. He’d said far too much
to a man whose name he didn’t even know. The
longer he held him, the more conviction Theo felt
that this was meant to be.

“How are you going to take care of me? You

don’t even know my name.”

“M y name is Theo and I’m going to take care

of you.”

The man trembled with indecision and then

spoke soberly. “Don. M y name is Don.” Don was
clinging, fisting Theo’s suit.

“Don, I am going to take you to my office.”

Theo silently led him to his office and closed the
door behind them. He was dazed from the kiss, the
soft, warm tongue in his mouth, the way that Don

bit Theo’s lips. There was a hole inside of Don, a
hole that threatened to consume them both, but
Theo was determined not to lose him to despair.

In the office, Don watched him lean against his

desk.  Then  he  pulled  off  his  aqua  sweater,  pulling
his T-shirt with it, and unbuckled his pants, letting
them  and  his  blue  silk  boxers  drop  to  his  ankles.
His  hairless,  slightly  sunken  chest  expanded  and
contracted rapidly, a thin sheen of sweat glistened
over  his  lithe  muscles.  Now  that  Theo  really  saw
his  body,  he  could  see  how  thin  Don  was.  His
brother’s  death  did  not  agree  with  him,  but  even
his fragility was beautiful.

Theo traced the jut of Don’s ribs. He was warm,

so warm. After anticipating cold flesh all morning,
warmth was reassuring. His skin prickled at Theo’s
touch. Caressing his cheek again, Theo leaned in
for a kiss.

Using both hands, Don removed Theo’s tie,

then ripped open his shirt, buttons clattering to the
floor,  and  yanked  it  off  his  shoulders.  Don  kicked
his  pants  off  his  ankles  before  crouching  to  open
Theo’s  pants  and  bringing  his  cock  out,  with  a
small sigh of admiration when he saw it. W hile he
was  kneeling,  he  nuzzled  it,  rubbing  it  against  his
face. Then he opened his mouth and slipped out his
tongue to draw in the tip.

Theo’s toes curled at the exquisiteness around

his prick. It consumed his body and he was
desperate to keep it going. He grabbed the back of
Don’s head, holding it firmly as he rocked his hips,
careful not to feed him too much. He was excited,
watching his length disappear over those pink lips.

Don looked angelic as he swallowed Theo’s

cock. His satiny fingers toyed with Theo’s balls.
Theo released his head and stroked his hair, trying
not to get so lost in the feeling that he would come
too soon. He wanted to enjoy this moment for as
long as he could.

Still sucking, Don reached for his pants and

rifled through his pocket for his wallet, finally
plucking out a condom. Theo inhaled sharply when
Don dropped his cock from between his lips and
unrolled the lubricated condom over Theo’s length.
Theo struggled with the idea that this was actually
happening. This beautiful man wanted him to fuck
him. In his office, no less.

Before Theo could speak, Don stood and bent

over the desk. He knocked everything off to make
room for his long torso and spread his pale legs.
Then he looked over his shoulder at Theo and
smiled.

That was enough invitation. He stepped

forward and adjusted himself, rubbing his condom-

covered prick over Don’s hole, wondering if that
would be enough lubrication, enough foreplay. As if
in answer, the man reached back to Theo’s hip and
pulled him forward.

Theo thrust. The heat and the tightness were

almost unbearable. It was amazing. W ith just with
the head in, he was already breaking into a sweat.
He  inched  forward  slowly,  taking  advantage  of
every  bit  that  Don’s  body  gave.  He  wanted  to  fit
inside  of  him,  to  fill  the  void  in  him,  to  be  joined
with him.

Theo leaned over Don’s body, wrapping his

arms around his torso. “You’re so beautiful,” he
whispered.

Don stiffened for a moment and then relaxed,

turning his head to the side for a kiss. They moved
together slowly, not in a rush. To Theo’s hopeful
mind, Don seemed to relish the contact as much as
he did.

This connection filled Theo’s heart, and he

never wanted to let Don go. He wanted to always be
inside  of  him  like  this,  keeping  him  close  so  that
he  could  see  him,  touch  him,  smell  him.  He
reached  for  Don’s  cock,  and  the  man  groaned,
collapsing on the desk with his face pressed against
it. Don rolled up on his toes, pushing back, fucking
himself  on  Theo’s  cock  and  thrusting  into  his

hand.

Theo wanted to touch him everywhere at once.

He slid his hands over his chest, his shoulders. He
bit  the  back  of  Don’s  neck  and  then  peppered
kisses  around  the  bite  and  over  his  shoulders.  He
could  feel  the  twinge  of  his  deep  need  to  come.  It
started  in  the  periphery,  where  all  good  orgasms
begin. It started deep and mounted in long, rippling
waves. He moaned loudly, his warning to Don that
he was going to come.

He lost his gentleness as need took over, and

their  bodies  slapped  together,  moist,  glistening
with  sweat  that  cooled  in  the  office  air.  Like  this,
he  could  forget  he  was  in  an  office.  Like  this,  he
could forget himself.

The orgasm built in his groin. He felt his balls

tightening  and  tried  to  slow  it  by  holding  his
breath, but it came anyway, overtaking him in the
dizzy sensation of need and pleasure, ebbing out of
his cock as he filled the condom. He felt get wetter
inside  the  condom  and  felt  Don’s  shuddering  and
stuttering  movements  as  he  came  moments  later
into Theo’s hand.

They crumpled against the desk, giddy and

catching their breath. Theo rocked his hips a little
as he pressed his cheek against Don’s bare back,
worrying now that the fucking was over that Don

would leave.

But he didn’t leave, at least not right then.

Instead he wriggled out from under Theo and sank
to the floor, arms outstretched. Theo joined him,
lying on the cold tile but warm in Don’s arms.

HEO

awoke alone in front of his desk with his

clothes piled on him. It had been a good orgasm; he
was  still  spacey  in  afterglow.  It  had  been  a  long
time since he’d had that release. But Don was gone.
He  tried  to  remember  what  he  might  have  said  or
done that would’ve driven him away. He hoped Don
had  just  stepped  out  for  a  piss.  M aybe  he  would
come back. Theo waited for almost an hour.

Giving up, Theo pulled his pants back on and

fixed his linen suit. It was a mess of wrinkles now,
but no one alive was going to see him, so it didn’t
matter.  Once  he  was  upright  and  managed  to  put
on  his  game  face,  he  stepped  out  of  his  office,
deciding  to  go  down  to  the  brother’s  cubicle.  He
didn’t know what difference it could make, but he
wanted to at least see a familiar—but rotting—face.

Not-so-secretly, he hoped that Don would be

tending to his brother, but he wasn’t. The zombie
sat at his desk, staring mournfully at his empty

shoulder

socket.

After

few

minutes

concentrated gazing, the zombie acknowledged
Theo.

“I think I’m in love with him.” It was dumb

confessing his love to the undead, but Theo felt
better getting it out. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s so
fast. It’s too soon. I’m crazy. This is… I’m not even
sure he’s real or if I’ve finally gone crazy and
actually fucked a dead person. I didn’t fuck you and
hallucinate a living brother, did I?”

The zombie stared. He opened his mouth then

and said, “Ooooooooo,” and shook his head slowly.
Theo wasn’t sure if that was an attempt at
communication or just the usual zombie moaning.
“Ooooowwwwww.”

“How?” Theo decided it didn’t matter. He

needed someone to talk to, and the zombie seemed
to  be  asking  the  right  questions.  Or  at  least  using
the right vowels. “How is a big question. I just saw
him  in  amongst  all  of  you—postmortem—workers,
if  that’s  what’s  polite  to  call  you  these  days.
Anyway,  you  were  all  there,  and  the  job  was
normal,  and  the  day  was  normal  and  then…  there
he was. He was so soft and perfect and glowed with
life.  But  he  couldn’t  be  glowing  with  life  if  he
worked here. I’m alive, and I don’t glow.”

The zombie did him the favor of appearing

alert with his eyes wide open, but that was because
his eyelids had fallen off.

“And then—he is so, so beautiful. I thought I

saw him at the gay bar, and maybe I’m just—maybe
I’m just lonely. But maybe he’s lonely, too, and we
both need someone right now, and I thought I’d
found someone who could help fix the hole that I
feel in myself while I fix the hole in him.”

Theo waved his hand as if it could clear the air.

“All that prattling. I’m so pathetic. You’re lucky
you’re dead already, or that would’ve killed you.”

Then he heard some sniffling, though he

couldn’t figure out from where. Theo looked at the
zombie  as  if  he  might  have  a  clue.  The  zombie
rolled  backward  in  the  chair,  pushing  away  from
his  desk.  Under  it  was  Don,  hiding  out  with  his
knees pulled up to his chest.

Theo wasn’t sure what to do. He wondered if

he’d depressed him by being so pitiful. Or maybe he
was  scared  that  some  necromaniac  was  going  to
chop  him  up  and  eat  him  after  postmortem
sodomy.  Taking  a  chance,  he  crawled  under  the
desk to where Don was and wrapped an arm around
him.

Don cried into his shoulder. Cried and cried

and cried more. He had a lot to get out. Theo
thought he understood. A lot of things were

happening at once. “You don’t have to like me or
anything. I was just going on about things. Zombies
are really good listeners. Rarely rat you out.”

“They were lovely things you said.” Don pulled

away from him to see his face. “Beautiful things. I
think they’re things you may be right about.
M aybe I do… I do need you. Because those twenty
minutes in your office were the happiest I’ve had
since Darren passed away. I didn’t think I’d ever be
happy again and then—and then you happened.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone happy

before. I’m not sure I can reproduce the effects.”

Don caressed Theo’s face and gazed into his

eyes. “I think you’ve got good instincts.”

They leaned in for a kiss but hesitated at the

raw sound of meat hitting the floor.

It was Darren’s leg from the knee down. Darren

leaned over his chair to stare at it and then look
back at his knee. “Errrrrrrr.”

Don sighed. “I guess it was too much to expect

he’d last forever.”

“I don’t have to keep him. I’d be willing to let

him go. For you.”

“You’d do that for me?” It was unthinkable for

corporate to let go of an asset that still had some
use, but this corpse was falling apart. They would

use,  but  this  corpse  was  falling  apart.  They  would
probably  recommend  he  send  Darren  into  central
processing  for  staples  to  reattach  his  limbs,  but
Theo had accumulated a few favors he could call in.

He smiled at Don and kissed his forehead. “I

thought I might have to learn to fuck dead people
to be with you. Putting a dead man into his natural
resting place is much easier. Though there is a lot
more paperwork.”

Don looked skeptical. “I didn’t realize you had

that kind of power here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m at least mid-level

management.” Don’s expression didn’t change.
“People owe me some favors. I can do it. W ould it
make you happy?”

Darren had picked up his leg and was happily

gnawing on it. Dead flesh fell purple and red from
his mouth. Don winced. “I don’t know if happy is
the word I’d use.”

“W ould it bring you some peace?”

“I don’t want to cost you your job.” Don

dropped his chin to his chest, a move that Theo
found incredibly endearing.

“You’re worth it.” He kissed the top of Don’s

head.

Don immediately responded by clinging to

him, exhaling in a sigh that felt heavy with relief.
“I don’t know why you think that. You just met
me. You don’t know how stubborn I can be.”

Ted almost laughed. “I have a pretty good idea.

Not just anyone has the determination follow their
twin beyond death.”

W istfully, Don said, “I worried that he wasn’t

happy  or  that  he  missed  me  as  much  as  I  missed
him.  It  did  take  time  for  me  to  track  him  down
here.  Everyone  tried  to  stop  me,  to  tell  me  that  it
wouldn’t  help  anyone,  but  I  couldn’t  leave  him.
He’s my brother. W e shared everything. It killed me
when he got sick and I didn’t.”

There was just something sweet and so sad

about him. It was obvious that when Don loved, he
loved  big.  M ost  family  members  just  took  the
money  the  corporation  offered  and  moved  on,  not
giving  it  a  second  thought.  It  was  normal,
acceptable.  But  not  Don.  Don  wouldn’t  let  go,  not
even  when  it  meant  watching  over  his  zombie
brother amongst the muck and smell of the dead.

Ted stroked his cheek, gazing into Don’s

livening eyes. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful
man  I’ve  ever  known—inside  and  out.  I  want  to
know you better. I don’t expect anything from you.
I  don’t  even  expect  you  to  like  me  much.  I’m  just
me.  But  I’d  like  the  chance  to  bring  you  some

peace, and it appears that it’s in my power to do.
So I will do it. For you.”

manager of the crematorium looked surprised

to  have  visitors.  Usually  when  zombie  workers
were  retired,  they  were  burned  to  ash  without
ceremony.  The  family  never  showed  up.  Not  when
their loved ones had been used so thoroughly that
they were unrecognizable.

Theo stood with his fingers entwined with

Don’s.  It  had  taken  a  couple  of  weeks  to  clear  the
paperwork, during which time Don and Darren had
spent  time  in  Theo’s  office.  He’d  gotten  to  know
his  new  lover  much  better  as  they  chatted  over
issues of the day or nothing at all.

The time had flown, and now that they were

settling  Darren  into  his  grave,  Theo  worried  that
Don  would  have  no  reason  to  come  to  work  with
him.  But  then,  now  that  Don  had  moved  into  his
apartment  with  him,  and  even  when  Don  found  a
day  job,  Theo’d  see  him  at  night.  It  would  be  nice
having someone to come home to.

Don watched his brother’s wrapped body be

shoved into the oven. His eyes glistened but didn’t
spill. This was giving him closure, and now he had

someone to focus his attentions on.

“Um. I need to, um.” The manager fidgeted at

the controls. Theo wondered how long it had been
since he’d seen live people.

“I love you, Darren. You were the best brother.

I’ll always love you, and I hope to see you. But not
too soon.” Don’s voice was shaky. His hand
tightened as the sound of the flames took over. The
heat was intense but brief. It flashed white just
before it went out. The corpse machine cranked the
next body to the oven.

“Oh. Um, sorry. It does that automatically. I

don’t know how to stop it. Sorry.”

Don blinked away the wetness. His voice was

still wobbly. “It’s all right. I know life has to move
on.”

Theo wrapped his arm around him as they

walked out. Don leaned on him. He looked a touch
sad, but there was a peace to his countenance that
Theo hadn’t seen, even after sex.

“You all right?”

Don pulled him in for a quick kiss. “M ostly. I

mean, I’m still sad, but you’ve given me a reason to
move on.”

Theo took his hand again and walked them out

of the crematorium into the bright, sunny spring

About the Author

LANCY

ACHT

squeezes writing in amongst her

web development day job, her husband, and her
three feral rescue cats. Living in Austin, she
indulges her love of indie music, photography, and
cute college boys.

She credits her time writing fandom stories as
popular

author

charlottesometimes/charlotteschaos  for  her  drive
to  write  M /M   stories.  Embracing  the  freedom  of
creating  her  own  characters  and  fresh  situations,
she  loves  to  entertain  as  well  as  bring  her  own
brand  of  nonsense  to  the  world  of  professional
writing.

She watches House for the House/W ilson moments
but secretly thinks House should get with Chase,
considers sarcasm a fine art, truly believes the
zombie apocalypse is coming, and watches a lot of
porn.

And she will never, ever grow up.

Copyright

Dead End Job ©Copyright  Clancy Nacht , 2010

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Prest on Road
Suit e 244-149
Frisco, T X 75034
ht t p://w w w .dreamspinnerpress.com/

T his is a w ork of fict ion. Names, charact ers, places and incident s eit her are
t he product  of t he
aut hors’ imaginat ion or are used fict it iously, and any resemblance t o act ual
persons, living or dead,
business est ablishment s, event s or locales is ent irely coincident al.

Cover Art  by Paul Richmond   ht t p://w w w .paulrichmondst udio.com
Cover Design by Mara McKennen

T his book is licensed t o t he original purchaser only. Duplicat ion or dist ribut ion
via any means is
illegal and a violat ion of Int ernat ional Copyright  Law , subject  t o criminal
prosecut ion and upon
convict ion, fines and/or imprisonment . T his eBook cannot  be legally loaned or
given t o ot hers. No
part  of t his eBook can be shared or reproduced w it hout  t he express
permission of t he publisher. To
request  permission and all ot her inquiries, cont act  Dreamspinner Press at :
4760 Prest on Road, Suit e
244-149, Frisco, T X 75034 ht t p://w w w .dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in t he Unit ed St at es of America
June 2010

eBook Edit ion
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-485-5