She was Dead

The truth about zombies is far different than the myths.

They don't feed on brains.

There is no "apocalypse" when they show up.

Their bodies are cold to the touch, but not bone-chillingly cold.

How do I know all this? I am about to tell you.

10 years ago, the first reports began coming in. We had already had a massive die-off of humans a century before, thanks to climate change effects, and the 50 million survivors radically altered human society. Gone were megacorporations, religion, bigotry and authoritarianism: in were using computers to assist with finding a way forward and a collective effort to work together as one race, one species, to better ourselves.

And then reports came in that dead people had been coming back to life.

At first, they were disbelieved. But gradually, more and more reports surfaced, and scientists checked and confirmed them.

We didn't yet know how. But within a year, that mystery was solved as well. The supercomputers that now ran society and their robot assistants had found a way to bring young humans (the process didn't work on ones who died of old age or were killed violently in some way, but young ones - people less than 40 years old - who died, say, of heart failure were good candidates) back to life. Since reproduction was strictly controlled, they had decided they couln't afford to lose people that young - they wanted the human population to be stable, not decrease.

That's not to say that zombies were hugely common. After all, not a lot of people, even in the days before our new computer-controlled society, died of a heart attack at 40 or leukemia at 27 or pneumonia at 18. But maybe one out of every thousand adults was one, so in a reasonably large city there were enough to be noticed and pretty much everyone was acquainted with one. Perhaps a co-worker or the friend of a friend or someone you encountered at a party.

They didn't look outwardly different than non-zombies, either. Their skin wasn't pale white and they didn't shuffle instead of walk. They could talk normally, and laughed at the old media showing zombies shuffling forward groaning out, "BRAIIIIINS."

The only way you could tell for sure was if you touched their skin. Their body temperature was noticeably cooler than non-zombies (although their skin wasn't icy cold.) Also, they were obligate carnivores. Something about the process made their bodies unable to handle vegetables and fruits - not that they would die if they consumed such things, but they would gain zero nutrition from them. To stay healthy they had to have meat. Animal meat was fine and they didn't need any more than a normal human. Most of them seemed particularly partial to a good beefsteak, but then again, a lot of non-zombies also were. A good, well-marbled steak cooked properly is one of life's great pleasures when you eat it.

So where do I come in, you ask?

I was a single man in my 30's looking for a female to share my life with. But this particular afternoon, I was at the local sports bar cheering on my team. The bar had a 120-inch hypervision set. I was wearing my team jacket and had just placed an order for a Kipburger (their specialty: it's a hamburger with barbecue sauce, avocado, bacon, tomatoes, mustard and pickles.)

"Maybe you could buy me one as well."

The woman to my left and behind me was wearing a jacket supporting the same team I was. She was about my height, trim, toned, and had green eyes and red hair that came down to her shoulders.

"Make that two Kipburgers," I told the robot waiter.

The woman took a seat next to me. "Thanks. I'm Theresa, but my friends call me Terri."

"I'm Charles, but my friends call me Chuck."

Terri giggled. "Fair enough. So what are you doing here?"

I gestured to where the team both Terri and I were supporting had just scored. "Watching the game."

"And possibly looking for companionship?"

Very direct.

"Well, I am, but I wasn't thinking about that today."

"I'm unattached. Presumably so are you. Obviously liking the same team isn't alone reason enough to be lifetime companions, but perhaps we could get to know each other a bit and see what, if anything, develops."

That sounded very reasonable. We exchanged contact information, watched the game, and ate our Kipburgers.

Two days later, we met in the park. A band of robots was playing some "old classics". By which was apparently meant songs that had been popular over 100 years ago, before the Great Heatwave. I had never heard them before, and neither had Terri. Apparently someone named "Neil Sedaka" used to sing some of them, as well as perfomers named "Chuck Berry", "Swervedriver", "Metallica", and "Jon Secada." There were other names mentioned as well, but I couldn't remember all of them.

In any event, we ended up, to our surprise, greatly liking most of the songs. We held hands, and Terri's was noticeably cool to the touch.

"Legionnaires' Disease, age 22. I'm 35 now."

I shrugged. "Sorry you had to go through that."

"It's fine. Just don't take me to any vegetarian restaurants."

"Deal."

A few days later, we met at an art gallery. (Humans no longer had "jobs", so art was one of the main things left that wasn't done by robots.) Some of the paintings were very pretty.

"Not as pretty as you," I told Terri.

She lightly punched me in the shoulder. "Chuck, you flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it's the truth."

We enjoyed looking at the artworks, and agreed our next date would be to see a play.

The local robot troupe performed an excellent version of "The Merchant Of Venice". One thing about watching robots was you knew everything would go well. No one would forget a line or stumble out drunk or miss a day due to sickness.

"I've always like that play," Terri told me.

"One of my favorites," I acknowledged.

Our next date was at a poetry reading. Back before the Great Heatwave, when technology was still primitive, it may well have been true that "A robot with lofty inflection / read Stein in the poetry section / but read it `Arose / is arose is arose' / and thought it concerned resurrection." But nowadays, the robots knew what they were doing. So did the humans.

"I liked PR-9502's poem best," Terri infored me afterwards. "And what an evocative voice."

"It was good," I confirmed. "But I thought Jennifer's was just a whisker better."

After a few more dates, Terri and I determined that we were in fact quite compatible. "Only one thing left to check," she informed me.

"What would that be, hon?"

"How good we are in bed together."

Pregnancy was no longer a thing (until the age of 14, boys and girls were raised separately: on their 14th birthday, the boys were taken to a private room and their semen collected and frozen for potential future use, then they were given am irreversible vasectomy, while on the girls' 14th birthday, they were taken to a private room and all their eggs collected and stored.) So sex was now strictly for pleasure. People didn't even know who their parents were: the computers in charge used stored eggs and sperm and once the egg was fertilized, the embryo was put in an incubator until the baby was ready to be born. Then it was taken care of by robots until age 14, from age 6 on being allowed to interact with humans of their own gender in the dormitories. From ages 14 to 18, the adolescent went to a training school where they interacted more with other humans, including ones of the opposite gender for the first time. Then at 18 they were released into society and given all the things they needed to live a comfortable life.

"Your dwelling?"

"Yes."

Terri didn't bother to give me a tour. All human dwellings were identical except for any artwork or bookshelves they desired to add as a personal touch. Terri had a nice mixture of books. I was impressed. We didn't bother turning on the hypervision set in the living room or bedroom. Sure, we could have put on hypervideos of other people having sex, but we didn't feel we needed the extra stimulation.

We both removed our clothes in a businesslike fashion and climbed onto the bed. Terri's naked body was quite attractive. I openly admired her toned legs, perfect thighs, firm breasts and pretty face. She blushed.

"You sure do know how to make a woman feel appreciated. You're not exactly bad-looking yourself."

I nestled against her, and the two of us moved our heads forward. Our lips touched, and we shared a soft kiss.

"That was nice."

"Yes, it was. How about another?"

We kissed again, this time open-mouthed and twining tongues. It was different to have a cool instead of a warm sensation when my tongue touched hers, but it wasn't unpleasant.

We broke for air, and then I kissed her neck. She shivered with pleasure. I woudl have to get used to her skin not being warm, but as long as I made her happy, things would be fine.

I caressed her lovely legs as I kissed down to the top of her chest. Terri's lithe body quivered with excitement as I traced my tongue through her cleavage. I estimated her breasts as between a B and a C cup.

When I kissed my way uo along her breast to her nipple, Terri moaned softly. Then I suckled, and she whispered, "keep doing that."

"Yes, dear." I alternated between her nipples for a few minutes, gently caressing her breasts and rolling whichever nipple wasn't in my mouth between my fingers.

After a bit, Terri disengaged my face from her chest and nudged me onto my back. "My turn."

She kissed my neck while caressing my flanks. The feeling of her cool hands and tongue on my skin sent little pulses of pleasure shooting through me.

She worked her way down to my nipples and caressed my thighs. My legs spread on their own, and my cock stiffened.

"I think you're ready to advance things."

"Yes, I am."

Terri repositioned herself, lowering her box to my tongue. As I began licking her, she took the tip of my cock into her mouth. I drove deeper into her, lapping up her nectar as I swirled my tongue between her folds, and she slid her head downwards, taking in more of my shaft. She licked up and down along it, making me shiver.

Her first orgasm hit right about then, and she tightened her legs around my head while she climaxed. Her grip loosened a bit until I drove my tongue deeper within her and she climaxed a second time. Her tongue sped its motion and she teased my tightening balls with her fingertips.

I kept going, and on her fourth orgasm, she was able to make me cum as well. She swallowed every drop and climbed off of me, licking her lips.

"Time to rest for now, Chuck. When we wake up I'll make love to you."

It turned out she misspoke. She had meant "When I wake up." Because by the time I did, my erect cock was encased in her pussy as she slid up and down on me.

"Hey, sleepyhead. I've already cum twice."

"Keep going," I grunted. Being screwed awake by Terri wasn't anything I would ever complain about.

"You know it," she smirked. She titled her torso forward and I began suckling on her nipple as she rode me. Her box felt cool around me, but the way she squeezed my cock with her internal muscles was plenty hot.

"I'm guessing you want me to cum in you."

"Correct." She sped her motions up, and I let out a muffled moan. Her arms locked my head against her chest. I moved my hips in time with hers, and she gasped. Her legs locked around me, fully trapping me within her. After she climaxed twice more, I filled her with jets of my sperm.

She slid her body off of mine, and for a long moment, the two of us lay still, spent from the sex. When we regained our energy, Terri pressed against me and purred, "I think we're sexually a fit."

I gave her a smile. "I agree."

We shared another kiss...