One of the mummies brought the pregnant woman to Gary. She was tied into a wheelchair after she attempted to beat in the skull of one of her captors with a brick. Gary wondered how far she expected to get through a city full of the dead when she couldn’t run or do more than waddle quickly. Her swollen belly lay in her lap as if she’d stuffed a bowling ball up her shirt.
The mummy pushed the wheelchair over to where Gary sat on a pile of bricks and waited patiently for Gary’s next command. He took his time issuing it. He’d been in a peaceful mood all morning, just contemplating the sky and the unfinishedbroch behind him and the new structures he had ordered built on the Great Lawn, not really thinking about anything. After the previous night he supposed he deserved a chance to rest.
His body had been rigid with seizures for hours after he snacked on Mael, the dark energy he had liberated from the Druid sloshing back and forth in his belly and his head and his fingers until black lightning shot from his eyes and mouth. At least a hundred dead men outside thebroch’s walls had been consumed as he thrashed about trying to hold on to his spark-Mael’s energy threatened to sunder him, to physically tear him to pieces and he reached out for their fleeting life force to sustain his scorched and bruised frame. He managed not to explode, somehow. After a few hours of shivering in a corner, his arms wrapped around his knees as his brain iterated through endless hallucinations and his eyes blind with the phosphor blare of the dark light he’d seen he was finally able to stand upright and walk around a little bit again.
“You’ve gained weight,” the pregnant woman said. Marisol, her name was Marisol. “I guess that’s what happens when you binge and forget to purge.”
“Hmm?” Gary looked up. He rubbed his temples and tried to snap out of it. These frozen times when he became locked in contemplation of his own navel were too much like death, like real death for comfort. “I beg your pardon. I was miles away,” he told her. He needed to do something, something physically real or he was likely to sink into reverie again. “Let’s take a stroll, shall we?”
The mummy pushed her wheelchair along as Gary ambled alongside the fifteen-foot wall that surrounded his new village. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Gary asked. He’d made sure the prisoners were given plenty to eat. Tinned foods were commonplace in the emptied city but they were useless to the undead, who lacked the manual dexterity to use a can opener.
“Oh yeah,” the woman said, stroking her belly as if it pained her. “I just love cold clam chowder first thing in the morning. We need access to cooking equipment if you want us to eat. You ever heard of botulism?”
Gary smiled. “Not only that, I’ve seen it. I used to be a doctor. You can’t have a fire because I can’t risk you hurting yourselves.”
“You can’t watch us all the time. If we want to kill ourselves badly enough we’ll do it. We’ll just stop eating or… or we’ll climb on top of this wall and jump off.” The woman wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“You’re right. I can’t stop you.” Gary lead her out into a furrowed patch of earth. The mud of Central Park would grow just about anything-after decades of fertilization and aeration and intense loving care by professional gardeners the soil was rich and dark. A Rows of dusty weeds had already sprouted in the denuded earth now that Gary was present to keep the dead from consuming every living thing they saw. “This area will be your garden. Eventually we hope you’ll be able to produce all your own food.Fresh vegetables, Marisol.You can have fresh vegetables again. Imagine that.”
“Are you deaf? I said we would kill ourselves rather than help you!” The woman thrashed against the cords holding her into the chair. The mummy reached forward to restrain her but Gary shook his head. By rocking back and forth and throwing herself against her straps eventually Marisol managed to overturn her chair, spilling her sidewise across the moist dirt that smudged her face and flattened her hair.