When the survival mechanism kicks in, people reach for relief; water, food, breath - but his patients forgot to exchange carbon dioxide for oxygen. In the last two years of Claudia's life, she was air starved. The rotted part was so certain of itself that it overrode the clang of hunger. It ignored her need for nutrients and breath. As this Dr. Verne creature, he was legally required to enforce fluids though she refused food. The law was backwards, demanding the worst death of an already dead woman. When it was finally over, Aton cracked her open and took her brain. It was his, by all rights. She'd meant for him to have it.
He'd sliced it up like a holiday ham. Death began in her parietal lobe but slowly strangled the hippocampus. Despite hippocampal damage, she retained some vestige of emotional resonance. He'd laid beside her at the end, relieved by Claudia's deep REM dreams. She was living on the seashore. Her hair was always salty, even when she was too fat and too lazy to wade into the sea. She loved her husband again. Her son wasn't a bodysnatcher anymore but her actual for-real son with hair that curled at his ears. There's a living spark that can't be extinguished.
In Pink Zombie Rose, the zombies only believe they are dead or undead - but believing is enough. 💀 #horror #existentialhorror #scifi #psifi #poliscifi
