I am Bexley chap 24 “thumbs up”

My father was a stern man who taught me to hate zombies with a venom I never quite understood. Yes, I understood distrusting them and having resentful feelings as humans were treated like second class citizens. It felt as if we were all living in an undead world, a kafkaesque nightmare that only seemed to be going on for its own twisted sake. The bureaucracy of its madness only tightnened its hold on my father. Strict rules set for humans, like only being allowed to get food, materials and other supplies every three days and only at dusk, weathered down my family’s tolerance for zombie rule. There were so many laws and rules that made living with the undead worse than actual death. It was insane to me that humans got it so hard and zombies had it so easy.

I had my friends, Stan, and of course, the love of my life, Asher, but good things in my life were few and far in between.

My mother having ALS was always hard. Hard for her, not being able to talk sometimes or move. For my father, he never wavered even during the toughest times. My father and I were complete opposites but he tried so hard to mold me into what he pictured his perfect son could be. Crying, off the table. Whining, never. He called it, “bitching,” and that men never complained. Men provided no matter what and did what they needed to even if no one noticed.

That last bit was the only thing I carried onto my adulthood as I became as father to my adopted zombie daughter, Shadow. Providing for your family no matter what.

Shadow made me realize, along with Bexley, that zombies were like us in a lot of ways. They were not all bad, just like humans. My boyfriend at the time but now husband, Asher, is also a Bloodletter too. He got bitten in one of the battles from last year with the Bloodletter raids. His condition worsened so bad that he is now in coma. I’m hoping he will wake up soon. Zombies and Bloodletters were not defined by how they were made or born, but how their actions and character.

These revelations also put me in a strange circumstance. Because of my father Greg’s intense hatred of zombies, he forbid anyone in his family to use sign language. Further than that, any sort of hand signals or signs were forbidden, too.

I recall when Asher and I first learned zombie sign language about six months ago:

“Shadow, sweetheart, be careful!” I call to her. Shadow nods and gives me the thumbs up.

“Aha, that’s my girl!” Asher says to Shadow, making her almost smile.

My heart is in my throat as I see the thumbs up. It hurts me to think about it. I haven’t even told Asher. It’s hard. But, I slowly look at Ash and he shrugs.

“What? You think that’s me?” Asher says in a fraudulently innocent tone.

“I know that’s you!” I say louder than I wanted to, “You taught our daughter that.”

Asher shakes his head at me, but then nods. Bexley giggles.

“At least it’s not another hand sign!” Stan says over at us, laughing. I frown, not wanting to argue.

“Oh, you mean sticking up the middle fing—” Asher starts to say. I give him a look that says stop, but then I feel bad. How can anyone understand how I feel?

Now, it’s harder. Asher’s uncle Jack is dead. It hit me so hard. I was shocked by how bad I felt. How sad I was. I cared about him as Asher’s uncle, sure, but Uncle Jack was a complicated man with amoral yet compassionate ideas.

He turned himself deliberately into a Bloodletter. I can’t process that yet. It’s too much for my brain to handle. Right now, it’s that last thing he did right before he died. It made me remember my dad. He saved us from those zombie hunters that were trying to arrest us all. Arrest us for what, I wonder. I guess because humans aren’t allowed to carry weapons, and Jesus, did we have an assortment of arms and sharp, pointy stuff.

I was holding onto Jack as something sharp and heavy was rammed into his neck near his head. This whole time, he seemed out of it. Unaware of us. Not remembering us. He was gurgling and trying to lift up his hands.

“Jack, what the heck did you do to yourself?” I cried into his rotting arms. I was not trying to admonish him. I was feeling like he felt there was nothing left to lose after Warren died. He still had family, for God’s sakes. But, I get it. If I lost Asher, oh God. I don’t know how I could get past that next minute, hour, day, without him.

He signed something but his arms and hands swung around wildly and without reason. Gooey bile and greenish ooze was trickling out of him.

Then he signed Asher’s name to me. I nodded, “He’s in a coma. We’re going to wake him up.”

He looked morose. More morose than him being almost decapitated by the sword. He brightened, lighting up one hand. He faced me directly and gave me a thumbs up.

Suddenly, I heard a wheezing, choking, rattling noise from him. He died instantly. No more undeath. Nothing.

It was then, I broke down in sobs. That thumbs up. It was more than what it meant to anyone else.

Almost two years before the day Jack died in my arms, my father died too. He never used any hand signs. Not once.

My mother had told that my father had always been proud of me after he passed. I never really believed it. But now I see it’s true. He put on a tough hide, an exterior of crisp, cool, manly fierceness because he had a tender, soft spot for me and my mother.

I know now what a thumbs up means.

Because my father gave me a thumbs up before he died, too. I tried to forget it. Now, because of Jack, I remember my father better than ever. He loved us. So much. He did what he needed to do to keep us alive. Even if it meant his own life. The thumbs up meant hope. It meant moving on. It meant thriving, even when everything is bad.

I give my friends and family a thumbs up too, because it is the day after Jack has passed and everyone is arguing about what we need to do. Go see the zombie elite council to discuss integration with all species in the remaining zombie neighborhoods… or… go back to Jack’s medical lab to see Asher, Shadow and everyone else. Asher or Society. Which is more important to change now? To fix?

I think society can wait. My husband needs healing now.

But, I understand that the world doesn’t revolve around me or my husband or daughter. I am so torn.

I argue to everyone that an ageless, undead society won’t change overnight, especially since right now, the kafkaesque situation we are living in isn’t meant to be understood or to be made sense of.

All we can do is take care of our own now. We can figure it out later.

I give them a thumbs up. India nods but seems annoyed. Bexley gives me a thumbs up back as everyone seems to collectively sigh, even undead people sigh I think. It’s a mood more than anything.

For once, my heart doesn’t sting from seeing a thumbs up back. It feels like safety in a whirlwind of sacrifice, pain and endless red tape.