The Taste of Canned Cola (1)
Both women had straight hair, though one was dyed—but the roots had grown out quite a bit. Despite the fairly warm weather, they were both bundled up in parkas, with thick jeans and hiking boots on their legs. They even had hefty hiking backpacks beside them. Classic homeless vibe. No idea how long it'd been since they'd last washed up, or when they'd last changed into clean clothes. They looked utterly haggard and ragged, skin and bones skinny too.
The black-haired one was clinging tight to the dyed-hair girl's arm. The dyed-hair girl was thrusting a knife at me. Both of them were scared out of their minds.
But... huh. Black-hair. There's blood on your face? Not some old dried-up stain from forever ago. It's still fresh and red. The girl whose arm she's holding—dyed-hair's parka is glistening with something, and drops are plinking onto the floor one by one. Blood.
"...You hurt?"
The words slipped out before I knew it.
Black-hair let out a shriek.
"H-heek!"
"...Hye-yun-ah. Let go of that."
Dyed-hair tried to soothe her as she stood up. Black-hair wouldn't let go. They rose together. Big height difference. Black-hair looked under 150cm. Dyed-hair, damn near 170cm?
The kitchen knife in dyed-hair's hand was caked with blood and fur, pitch black. She was shoving it at me, but the tip was trembling like crazy.
"...Can you talk? Are you a monster that can have a conversation?"
Some kind of misunderstanding, obviously. Probably 'cause of this dog mask on my head. For the record, it won't come off. I tried once, thinking maybe it'd let me see better without it, but this isn't a living body—it's an avatar I created, so the look is locked in. I'd take it off if I could, fuck.
"I'm not a monster. You're bleeding from your arm. Hurt bad?"
"...If you're really not a monster, prove it. Why the dog mask? To scare us? Why walk around naked? What if a zombie bites you? I can't trust you. Take off the mask first."
"............"
Bitch, telling me to do the one thing I can't.
"Sorry, can't take it off. It doesn't come off."
"...So you are a monster? Tricking us to eat us?"
"Look, I don't know where you're getting talking monsters from."
I showed her the spear, then set it on the floor. For the record, putting down the spear doesn't mean shit either. It rematerializes in my hand when I attack. Whoosh—sand pours in. Meaning, even if I throw it, it just respawns. No clue if this calms them down at all, but hey, showing the gesture that I'm trying to put you at ease can't hurt, right?
"I'm not a monster. Or a zombie."
"Talking monsters exist too."
"...They do?"
"Yeah. Looks different from you, total freakshow, ugly as hell, but it spoke human. Lures people in to eat 'em. I saw it."
"...News to me. Anyway, I'm not that."
"Then what are you? What the hell are you?"
She was still shaking the knife like a leaf as she asked. Obvious reason though. Not 'cause she believed me or wanted to build some rapport. She was buying time to let black-hair escape while talking to me. Kept shoving black-hair aside with glances, but black-hair wouldn't let go of her hand.
Pretending not to notice is getting tough. C'mon, at least fake a run for it out of respect for her effort.
"I'm a god."
Not a lie, right?
Wrinkles screaming "Bullshit" creased around their eyes. They turned into total dead-fish stares.
"...A god? You're just a monster."
"Nah, god for real."
"What god wears a dog mask? Look, you seem strong. If you come at me, fair warning—I'll stab you nonstop while you try to eat me. You won't walk away unscathed."
"Not eating you."
"Liar."
Pointless back-and-forth bullshit carousel. Black-hair sniffled and asked me,
"Are you really a god?"
"Yeah. Real god here. Believe me, fuck."
"...Do gods swear?"
"This one does."
"If... if you're a real god, can I ask anything?"
Should I just bail?
"Sure, what?"
"Why... if you're a god, why... why let zombies happen? Why'd the world go like this? What was God doing while it all fell apart...?"
Why blame me?
"Haa..."
I wasn't about to take responsibility for shit I didn't do. Truth is, calling myself a god was just a spur-of-the-moment thing after racking my brain on how to convince a naked dog-masked dude in a loincloth and junk-cover. No deep thought behind it.
"I used to be human. Became a god recently. And, uh, you mean like a creator god? Not that. Ever seen movies? Greek myths or Norse gods ones?"
They stared blankly, each with their own expression. Yeah, still don't buy it.
"Gods in those mix with humans, live like people, nothing special. Kinda weird powers, but basically human-like? That's me."
"...Used to be human, turned monster. Makes sense. Zombies were human too—"
"Not a monster. Ugh... fuck it, I'm out. Too annoying."
I shrugged and grabbed a bag from behind the counter.
"Anyway, since I'm here. Mind if I take some stuff? Don't stab me just 'cause I showed up."
First people in six months, and zero trust. Can't blame 'em with my dog-masked naked getup, but still stings a bit.
Headed to the drink fridge. Power's been out forever, obviously not cold. Still grabbing some. Man, these are heavy. Double-bagged it. Rustling as I loaded drinks, then a voice from behind.
"...What're you doing?"
Dyed-hair's voice, spot on.
"Can't you see? Grabbing cola and sprite. Haven't had fizzy in forever. Oh, energy drinks. Gotta snag these too."
"...You came for drinks?"
"Yup. Oh, and that sand on the convenience store floor? Me killing zombies. Turn to sand when I kill 'em. Kinda supervillain vibe, huh? That movie with the Sandman. You know it?"
Babbling nonsense while bagging, but it got quiet. Turned around—both girls staring, confused as hell.
"...Not really a monster?"
"Yeah, yeah. Total monster. Sure. Uh, pine needle juice... nah, pass."
Finished bagging; bags were stiff as hell. Can't feel the weight myself, but looks like one more'll rip 'em. Even doubled, sketchy. Casually grabbed my spear from the floor, turned to the girls.
"............"
"............"
Enjoyed the silence a sec.
"...Hasta la vista, baby."
Dropped a classic line, threw up a two-finger salute, turned to go.
Won't see 'em again anyway. Nice meeting people after so long. Nice, but I don't want this distrustful bullshit.
Strangers, first meeting—no reason to coddle or convince.
"W-wait!"
Door open, about to leave—ugh...
Why call me?
"...What."
Turned back warily. Dyed-hair shoved black-hair at me.
"Take her. Take this girl."
"Yeonsu! No!"
"Dog-mask, you—you're not really a monster, right? Won't eat people?"
"...Haven't tried yet."
"...Gonna in the future?"
"No plans."
"Nooo!"
Three-way yelling ain't productive.
"Hye-yun-ah. Go with him. I'll be fine. Just go."
"No!"
"Hey, dog-mask! Take her."
Why me? Didn't hide it.
"...Why should I?"
"Hey! You're a god, right? Gods help people!"
"Know what a god is? Only help worshippers."
"Fuck."
Dyed-hair squeezed her eyes shut, face a mix of confusion and rage. This got interesting.
"Fine, I worship you. Okay? God-nim. Please take her."
"Yeonsu, no! We're staying together!"
"Hye-yun-ah. I don't have much time left. Body's already heating up."
Dyed-hair's face dead serious. Sweat pouring, pale as a ghost, killer dark circles.
"I'll turn zombie soon. If you're next to me, I'll bite you. Don't want that, but zombie me won't care. Can't stay with me."
"Doesn't matter! I'll die with you!"
...Huh. Bleeding arm—bitten, got it. Yeonsu! Hye-yun! Yelling back and forth was getting... something. Melodramatic? Made my skin crawl.
"...Hey."
"Yeonsu!"
"Hye-yun-ah!"
Not hearing me, huh. No say in this?
Even if I took one—which I wasn't planning—they'd just bawl at home later. Damn.
"Ma'at's Rest."
Ma'at's Rest
My hand glowed. Set down spear and bags, approached the girls.
"Yeonsu!"
"Hye-yun-ah!"
Blah blah, girls. Names and noise, but it wasn't registering. Follow him, no way—same shit. Why listen?
Got close. They flinched back.
Yeah, I'm the monster, bitches.
"Lemme see the wound."
My words hit different. Dyed-hair tried to pull away, but black-hair yanked off her parka quick. Whoa, clothes soaked in sweat—real? But under the tank top, her arm... chunk of flesh gone. Surrounding skin blackish-purple, veins bulging black. Won't last long.
Will it work?
"Never tried this, no clue if it'll work. Might heal the injury a bit. Saying again, no guarantees. If you wanna bet on 'might,' grab my hand."
Held out my hand. They alternated stares between dog mask and hand, frozen.
How long I gotta wait? Just bail for real, ah...
"...It can heal?"
Dyed-hair asked, half-doubting. I shrugged.
"Dunno. Might. Don't get hopes up."
"Yeonsu, quick, quick."
Black-hair was all in already. Eyes teary seconds ago—wild.
Dyed-hair pondered deep, but not long. Bit her lip, scared, tense. Supported right arm with left, groaning in pain, reached out.
I grabbed her hand.
Ma'at's Rest light flowed from my hand to her arm. Wound started closing slow. Blackish skin lightening. That spot only—like fresh out the shower, clean and dry. Black veins faded away. Color returned to her pale face.
"...Whoa!"
Black-hair's face lit up too.
...Cures zombification too. Holy shit.
Mental power has reached its limit.
"Ah, fuck. I'm collapsing!"
"Huh?"
Girls stared.
"Hey, I'll grab those tomorrow, don't touch—"
Dissipating.
Looking into their eyes, I crumbled into sand.