Dead End Job

“

P

UT

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.”

B

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.

T

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.

A

S

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.

T

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

a

few

minutes

of

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.”

T

HE

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

of the crematorium into the bright, sunny spring
day. “And you’ve given me life.”

Get more stories from

Midsummer’s Nightmare

The Dreamspinner Press 2010 Daily

Dose package of thirty stories is

available at

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

About the Author

C

LANCY

N

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.

Visit her web site at http://www.clancynacht.com.

Copyright

Dead End Job ©Copyright Clancy Nacht , 2010

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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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