The Alphabet of Demise

I straightened the bow tie secured around my neck, lifting and angling my chin slightly so I could see it better. The tall mirror hanging on my bedroom wall was still fragmented and splattered with blood from my latest kill, making it insufferably difficult to find a shard of silvered glass large enough to reflect even part of my face. Nevertheless, I thought it added a nice touch and really completed the room, and thus far I was planning to leave it where it hung. Besides, if I threw it away, there would be a void of ghastly white plaster amidst the brilliant trails of arterial blood spatter, and it would look just horrid.

I licked a finger and smeared my eyebrows into place, then checked my smile one last time to see that my teeth matched my suit perfectly with a gleaming, pure white that made the wall look dingy. Once I was certain of this, I tossed a top hat on my head and left the room to go downstairs and greet the first batch of arriving guests. I couldn’t be a rude host by showing up late to my own dinner party. As the Master of Ceremonies, I needed to make sure everything was in order and went according to plan. I crept down the sweeping staircase, stepping lightly as the rotted wood creaked beneath me. I patted my coat pocket to be certain that my note cards were still there, though I doubted I would need them. My memory retained information exceedingly well; they were only there as a precautionary measure, but I had learned from experience that it never hurt to be careful. They hadn’t moved a single centimeter, and I allowed myself a second sinister smile before stepping off the stairs and moving silently into the light of the front foyer.

“Welcome, everyone,” I called over their collective noise. From the short snippets of conversation I had gathered, it seemed most of my guests were confused as to why I hadn’t decorated. I refrained from rolling my eyes; I only ever added a formal touch to the dining room at the yearly event, and most of them should have figured that out after so long. Nevertheless, I directed them to the correct room. To my pleasant surprise, the band had already arrived and was set up precisely where they belonged, playing a little quiet background music. However, once I caught sight of the conductor, I remembered that I shouldn’t have been surprised at all.

“Good to see you again, Gerard,” I said, meeting his eyes. He gave an indifferent shrug and returned to keeping time for the band. I presumed he would be more willing to talk after the evening’s activities were finished and left him alone for the time being.

I waited until the last few guests trickled in. They were of a different sort than would be considered the norm for an extravagant party. A good two-thirds of them weren’t even alive, and the rest weren’t human. Several were missing limbs, and most had skin tinted with unnatural hues of blue and green and covered with open, blotchy red sores. Though their morbid appearance would shock anyone else, Gerard’s reaction to them had always been one of stoic indifference, if not mild amusement. Every year I expected to see that he had become one of them himself, but so far he had remained untouched by death. He seemed more subdued this year, but again I reminded myself of my chance to speak with him once all was said and done.

I tapped my wine glass with a spoon, sending several high-pitched pings through the air. “Alright, everybody sit down, quiet down,” I instructed. They began to take their seats, mumbling as they finished off their conversations. “Listen up. I brought you all here to recite the annual obituaries. Like every year, we’ll start with A, and we’ll end with Z.” Gerard took his usual cue and motioned for the band to raise their instruments, glancing back at me to wait for my next instructions.

“Alright. Is the band ready?” I asked with the lightest trace of sarcasm. He nodded once with the same emotionless expression he had displayed since his arrival, and the song began.

“A is for Amber who drowned in a pool,
B is for Billy who was eaten by ghouls,
C is for Curt with disease of the brain,
D is for Daniel derailed on a train…”

I couldn’t keep a smirk off my face as I recited the condensed version of each tragic tale. I tried to catch Gerard’s eye to share a little of the excitement now coursing through me, but he remained intently focused on the band, perhaps more than he needed to be. I knew they had performed countless times before with only a single cue from him, as any good jazz band should be able to do. He was sidestepping my gaze, acting almost as if he was in a daze, caught up in some other situation. Every other year, he had gladly joined in on my antics, adding his own brand of flair to the performance. But right now, he was holding back, as if he didn’t even want to be there.

Determined not to let his sour attitude utterly ruin my evening, I raised my arms to let my guests know the chorus was about to begin. Most of them seemed to catch on, and I knew the rest would figure it out once the performance was further along.

“One by one, we bite the dust,
Kick the bucket, begin to rust.
Give up the ghost when your number’s up,
We all fall down.”

The monsters and zombies began banging on the table to the beat of the song. In the back of my mind, I was grateful that no food had yet been served, or it all would have ended up on the floor within seconds. I stole a glance at Gerard. He was still fervently conducting the band and forcing himself to pretend I wasn’t there. I nearly laughed. It was amusing how strongly he believed he could ignore me forever.

I continued through the song, listing the names in alphabetical order as always. I mentally recounted the rest of them as I went along. I knew I wasn’t going to need my note cards, internally chiding myself for writing anything down in the first place. If there was only one thing I had learned in my experiences, it was to never do anything halfway, to never second-guess myself. Everything I did required complete commitment. Not only had I never once been caught, I had never doubted any piece of my plans. Doubt would undoubtedly unravel everything.

I encouraged the various monsters to join in the next repetition of the chorus, and they enthusiastically accepted the invitation. Gerard fulfilled his role as purposefully and passionately as ever, pretending the music was the only thing that would ever matter in his life. Perhaps it was.

I began the final stanza of the dark poem I had created. Every measure of music drew the end of the song closer, also bringing forth the moment when I would be able to confront Gerard about what was bothering him so much as to distract him from the performance.

“U is for Urich who was trampled by hooves,
V is for Vanessa who fell off a roof,
W is for Will who was hit by a car,
X is for Xavier who sunk in the tar,
Y is for Yessy who fell from a plane,
Z is for Zack who simply went…”

I paused, waiting for Gerard to cue the synth player for the short musical phrase signaling the end of the song. At first I thought he might ask for silence simply to make me look like a fool, but true to his character, he conducted through the phrase and let the familiar line of notes dance through my ears.

“Insane!”

The audience joined in my maniacal laughter as they applauded and slammed their fists into the table. I removed my hat with a flick of my wrist and gave them a low, sweeping bow in thanks, then stood and waved a hand at Gerard and the band. He simply closed his eyes and nodded in the general direction of the crowd. My perfectly flattened eyebrows sloped downward in a deep scowl. It was one thing to ignore me, but to insult my audience by haughtily shunning their praise?

I wouldn’t have it.

I willed myself to remain calm for the time being as I placed the hat back on my head and motioned for my staff to begin serving the food. It wasn’t what one might expect; this crowd didn’t handle steak and red wine very well. Meat had a tendency to turn them ravenous, and coupled with something that looked like blood, well…I’ll just say it can get very messy. They were completely content with a variety of colorful carnival food, as I was famous for providing it, and as long as the wine was nothing stronger than a blush, everything was fine.

Dinner passed with the usual amount of casual conversation and the occasional sound of half-chewed food plopping onto the floor due to someone missing half of a face. I wasn’t worried; I never had to clean up anything. It wasn’t as if the substances would disintegrate the floor in a few short minutes, anyway. As usual, Gerard didn’t touch a thing on the table. Unlike most everything else he had done over the course of the evening, this didn’t surprise me. I could partially sympathize with him; being the only other living human in the room certainly held disadvantages for him. On top of that, he didn’t drink. He would turn down even the lightest wine. I didn’t take it as an insult. I knew he had had problems with it in the past, but sometimes I thought he was being just a little overcautious.

When everyone was finished, the band began playing a familiar dance tune, and the guests gradually gravitated away from the table and into the further reaches of the room to continue the party. Weaving through masses of blue and green and nearly getting wine spilled on me at least once, I made my way over to Gerard and tapped him on the shoulder. He finally made eye contact with me and nodded once, then followed me away from the party and up into the darkest corner of the house: my study.

“Something is troubling you, Gerard,” I said as I pulled a dark bottle from a desk drawer, shaking it a little to thoroughly mix the contents. I placed two glasses on the desk and half-filled each of them, offering him one. He took it gratefully, as I was sure he hadn’t eaten all evening, and drank more deeply than even I would have expected before answering.

“A lot of things have changed since last year,” he answered. He swirled the salty crimson liquid a few times before finishing off the rest of it, and I swiftly refilled his glass. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

I sighed. “I thought we agreed not to hold any grudges about that. You know exactly what would’ve happened if I hadn’t done anything.”

“He would be alive is what would have happened!” he shouted suddenly. I stared at him with the barest hint of sympathy, softening my gaze just a little until he calmed down and spoke again to break the sudden silence. “You killed my brother, Curtis. Stop acting like I’m supposed to forgive you for it.”

“You know he was already infected with the disease,” I reminded him quietly, downing my own bitter drink and refilling it. “And you certainly weren’t going to do anything about it.”

“They were working on a cure! If we had just waited a few more days, maybe a week, they could have given it to him!” He slammed a fist into the desk and shut his eyes. I could see a few tears sparkling at the corners, but he brushed them away with one arm and sighed.

“It was too late for him, Gerard.” I walked around to the other side of the desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I had to take care of it before the disease turned him into one of the undead. He wouldn’t have been like the others, the ones downstairs. He would have been a brainless monster. You know that.” He finally lifted his gaze long enough to glare at me before stepping away to sit in one of the chairs. I passed his glass over to him, and he again drained it of its contents. “But that’s not the only thing wrong, is it?”

He shook his head, and from the miserable look overtaking his face, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before he would start crying. “Lindsey’s gone,” he whispered with a shuddering breath. “She left me. I don’t know why, but…it’s been days…”

I slowly walked back around to the other side of the desk and sat down, folding my hands and resting my elbows on the wooden surface. I was silent for a long moment, looking over at him as he sobbed quietly.

“We’ve killed a great number of people in our time, haven’t we?” I finally asked. “Funny, really. Most were already literally dead before we got to them. And I can’t remember most of them. But there are some things…” He raised an eyebrow at my statement. I sighed. “Some things you never forget.”

“What’s your point?” he muttered, not meeting my eyes.

“I remember only the most important deaths in my lifetime,” I began. “Your brother, of course. And my dear friend Erik.”

“Buried alive, wasn’t he?” Gerard asked, momentarily stalling his tears.

I nodded. “A cruel death for anyone. But not the worst I’ve ever seen.” I took a small sip of the drink, letting its natural warmth course through me for a moment before continuing. It had a calming effect, and I assumed that was part of the reason he was beginning to relax a little as well. “Someone came to me recently, begging me to stop destroying the zombies, claiming it was my fault your brother was dead and demanding that I give up this life. I tried to explain what really happened, but some people simply refuse to listen…”

I allowed my voice to trail off to see if he was catching on yet, but so far he showed no sign of realization.

“Who was it?”

“Then she threatened to turn me over to the police, and, well…” I closed my eyes and smirked. “We all know the price for breaking the cardinal rule.”

Gerard and I had known each other for a long time. I was familiar with his eccentric personality, and he knew of my volatile temper. Some days it took no more than a few moments for me to become enraged, while on others I could have all the patience in the world. It seemed he already knew which mood I was in on that particularly dreadful day, but so far he was disinclined to interrupt me.

“I’ll tell you this, she had some of the darkest hair I’ve ever seen,” I remarked, drumming my fingers on the air in quick succession and drawing them into a loose fist. “Really curly and thick, too. It made things so much easier.”

“What did you do, Curtis?” he asked, now regarding me with a dark glare fixated on his face.

“She insulted me. She went so far as to question my character.” I took another, slower sip of my drink. “I wrapped my fingers in her hair and slammed her pretty little face into the mirror first. It shattered the glass, but most of it stayed in place quite nicely.” I laughed a little. “Certainly got her to stop talking about me.”

“Then what?” Gerard questioned. I could see a hint of distaste in his eyes, but he listened with the same kind of intrigue for the morbid and macabre that had drawn us to become friends in the first place.

“I picked up one of the shards of glass and dragged it across her throat, Sweeney Todd-style.” I sighed quietly. “You should have seen it. The blood spraying from her neck, painting the wall red…it was like a fountain…”

I poured the rest of the drink down my throat, closing my eyes for a moment in relaxation. “I’ll never forget it.”

I capped the bottle of blood and returned it to the drawer, then stood and walked around to the other side of the desk. Gerard was no longer looking at me; his gaze was blank and unfocused as he pulled himself out of the chair and followed me back to the party. It seemed that he hadn’t yet begun to understand what I told him, and I decided that perhaps it was just as well. He would figure it out eventually. He would realize that it was necessary.

I was about halfway across the room full of chattering guests when I heard the telltale click of a revolver directly behind me.

The room went silent as everyone’s attention gathered in the center of the room. I turned around slowly, deliberately, already knowing what I would see. Gerard was standing slightly sideways and aiming with a practiced hand at the space between my eyes, his everlasting trademark. I almost regretted sharing my version of a Bloody Mary with him earlier, but I allowed a smile to appear on my face, showing a few teeth.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times, Gerard,” I told him. “Not because I thought you would betray me, though. Hardly. In reality, I’ve trusted you with my life since the first day we began killing together.”

“You told me,” he noted in agreement, as if it were a casual conversation. “Said that if you ever caught the disease, I should shoot you right away.” He pulled back the hammer to set the gun’s cylinder. “You’ve definitely got disease of the brain, Curt. And I think you’ve had it for a long time.”

“What are you going to do? Kill me?” I asked with a laugh as the look on my face darkened. “It’s not as if it’s going to bring her back. And besides…”

I glanced around, silently inviting the crowd to aid me. Three of them grabbed at him from behind, while the rest closed in from all sides. “I don’t think my friends would like that very much.”

He struggled in their grasp as they began to gnaw at his arms with rotted teeth. He finally managed to wrench one arm free and aimed the gun at me once again. “Go to hell.”

“See you there.”

Even surrounded by attacking ghouls bent on tearing his flesh apart, Gerard kept his aim true. The bullet struck dead center between my eyes before I could even recognize that he had pulled the trigger. An enraged cry from the crowd set their fury into motion, and they viciously attacked him, clawing at his flailing limbs and wrestling him to the ground to finish what they had started. I smiled as I fell, closing my eyes as life slipped away from me.

What a wonderfully gory demise.

C is for Curtis who was shot in the brain,
L is for Lyn who was brutally slain,
M is for Mikey who was stabbed through the heart,
G is for Gerard whom the dead ripped apart.

One by one, we bite the dust,
Kick the bucket, begin to rust.
Give up the ghost when your number’s up,
We all fall down.