Anna's Gift

The world ended with a whisper, in a series of seemingly trivial disruptions to daily life. Shortages of simple things, hiccups in communication, and a general increase in random conspiracy theories had become the norm. Hints of restiveness beneath the surface should have raised more red flags than they did. Civilization was crumbling under our feet and we didn't even notice.

By the time we realized the dead were no longer staying dead, we didn't have a foundation left to stand on. It was misconstrued as a miracle. Lost loved ones returned home with their faculties intact, but happy reunions were short lived. Tearful conversations devolved into nonsensical babble and adoring embraces deteriorated into predatory snares. The dead quickly outnumbered the living, who scrambled to hole up in whatever safe havens they could find.

My sister, Anna, died a few days before the end of normal. To say her passing was unexpected would be a gross understatement. One minute she was sharing the bizarre details of her most recent foray into conspiratorial rabbit holes, including but not limited to a tooth she'd pulled from her own mouth. The next she was on the kitchen floor, already gone. By all accounts, she was perfectly healthy. I could hardly breathe between the unanswered questions that sat like a boulder on my chest and the white-hot ball of rage burning a hole in my gut.

There was no returning from cremation, so I was spared any sort of agonizing homecoming once the dead became too stubborn to stay down. I barricaded myself in the tiny apartment we shared, avoiding the kitchen and my memory of our last twisted conversation. My nightstand drawers were packed with snacks and the floor of my closet was crowded with water bottles. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend she was still alive. This room was where I'd make my final stand.

Anna left behind a small, hammered silver locket in the shape of a heart. I found it on my nightstand atop a note scrawled on a napkin.

"Don't open it unless you really want to know."

Classic Anna. She loved her riddles. The knowledge she referred to could pertain to just about anything. Curiosity clawed through my waking thoughts like a hungry rat. But with it came a vague disquiet, a leaden certainty that I didn't really want to know. I avoided the locket like I did the rest of the apartment, focusing on commotion in the streets below or in the hallway beyond the front door. The dead weren't particularly strong or cunning, but they were persistent and time was absolutely on their side.

I didn't bother to keep track of the days. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when the water sputtered. The bathroom faucet slowed to a viscus, foul smelling trickle and stopped working about the same time the power went out. Our bedroom window told a story of an entire world in darkness; no street lights or illumination from surrounding buildings. The sudden lack of light amplified the sounds from outside; slow, shambling, unavoidable death.

The curiosity was a palatable alternative to the panic that flared inside my gut. My phone was half buried in the blankets on my bed. I dug it free and turned on the flashlight, crouching to examine Anna's parting gift. The locket's tiny clasp was stuck. I nearly snapped it in half as I floundered to get it open. Inside, I found a tiny slip of paper containing a cryptic message and what I could only guess was the better part of her tooth.

"They put it in the toothpaste."

Who were THEY and what was IT? I focused the light on the tooth. The root was black and glistening, with hair-thin tendrils that shuddered in the light, groping for the flesh on the palm of my hand. I recoiled and it clattered across the floor. My tongue skimmed across the surface of my teeth. I could still taste the minty whitening gel. The flavor made me queasy. Uneasiness crept through my gut, wringing a moan from my constricted throat. Danger wasn't just prowling the streets and hallways. It was inside of me already. The question wasn't if but when I would join them.