“It took forever to snap to the fact the war ruined me for this world. All these years and I never realized I’d been killed in action. Stupid me, call me dense; at worst I thought that I was only M.I.A. All this time, no one knew, not even me.”

“You mean ‘I’.”

“You? Oh, I get it. Don’t tell me you grade on grammar. Cute. Anyway, I soldiered on, ignorant of the fact of my death. Or maybe I should just say: was in denial. One jungle’s about the same as another when you get right down to it. I guess I didn’t recognize my state of death because I never left the state of war that killed me. Is that esoteric? I didn’t know I had it in me. I just switched wars, if you want to know the truth, immersed myself in one bloody universe after another. Out of the Army, back to The World, straight into a big city police academy to become a cop. Never missed a beat. What was I thinking?”

“Samsura.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing. Don’t mind me. A cop? Christ, I’ve never been with a cop before. Here, have some more wine. And, if you don’t know what you were thinking, how the hell could I?”

“You’re somewhat weird, you know that?”

“I’m weird? Okay, forget it. Tell me more about the war.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them. All of them, whatever.”

“Never mind.”

“Fine, then. I hope this isn’t going to turn into some sort of psychotherapy session tonight. Just a friendly hint. I mean, like, I don’t want to establish a pattern on our first date that I’m one of those people who enjoys being a foil for a lot of woe-is-me confessional stuff. Not to be insensitive or anything.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, please, let’s not go there. Let’s just say that I’m a woman who said sure, I’ll go out with you, not realizing you were dead, you know? You had me fooled, that’s all. Let’s talk about something else. You know, get to know each other a little better, but not too much better, okay?”

Wine is poured. He stares at her and suddenly wonders whether she might also be dead. She doesn’t look all that dead, but he knows better than anyone that looks can deceive, especially in that gray area between life and death. He sighs; his instincts seldom wrong. He’s got a feel for these things.

“Please,” she says, white wine to what he notices now are the palest lips he’s ever seen, “spare me the sighs, would ya’?”

“I think you might be one of the walking dead, Marla.” He didn’t intend to blurt out his thought, but once thoughts are launched on the wings of words, that’s that.

“Oh, great. You’re turning out to be a first rate charmer. I’d really like to take a look at whatever manual you read on making a good first impression on a date. And, for the record, it’s Marlene.”

“Right. Mar-lene.”

“So, what now? I mean, are you the sole entertainment for the evening?”

“Sorry, what a dope I am. I don’t know where all of that came from. I was just messing around. Nervous, I guess. Let me back up. Start over again. Okay, I’ve never been to war, and everything I know about policing I’ve learned from watching ‘Cops’.”

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m somewhat unemployed at the moment, actually.”

“How can you be ‘somewhat’ unemployed?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, I guess.”

She studies him, sipping her wine. He looks normal, she thinks, but still. “I hope you’re not thinking I was planning to crawl into bed with you tonight.”

“Not now.”

“What time is it, Gary?”

“Jerry.”

“Jerry. I knew that. Look, I’m blushing. Zombies can’t blush, can they?”

“More wine?”

“Not tonight, Sport. Another time, maybe. It’s a school night, as they say. I’ve got to catch a red-eye to New York in a few hours. Girl needs her beauty sleep. You know how that goes.”

“I guess I messed up, blabbing on the way I did. About me, I mean. I never do that. It’s just that there was something about you. Something that made me want to talk. Something about you that I trusted, I guess. Gut feeling, kindred spirits, all that.”

“We just met, Gary, what’s with all this trust stuff? Don’t tell me, ha ha, that you’re already in L.O.V.E. I’m trying to keep a straight face here, because you’re older and all.”

“You’re not really alive, are you, Marlene? Really, you can tell me the truth.”

“I’m fairly certain that I’m at least as alive as you are, Jer.”

Jerry walked Marlene to her car. They accidentally brushed skin with their air-kiss. The feel of decayed flesh surprised and annoyed them both. She drove away, her last words about being just as alive as he resonating. It was just as he’d suspected. Dating is awkward enough for the living, but for the dead it’s another level down in hell. He wondered whatever had possessed him to try that game.

Jerry, in the darkness, scanned the damp, fetid night with keen eyes, taking in his world, the faint smell of Marlene lingering in the air. Lowering his head, he quietly slipped back into the jungle.

After wandering the galaxy, Ben Cunningham settled down to live and write in Austin, the true heart of Texas.

His fiction has appeared sporadically, often spontaneously, in print publications throughout the years. Once, in a distant part of this very solar system, he worked in the movie biz. His first novel, long out of print, was published by Ballantine. He has recently completed his latest novel, "The Avatar's Song," which has yet to fly the nest.

This piece was first published in INK POT #3 - 2004, a literary journal.

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