No flying cars, no robots or androids, and he hadn’t seen any laser guns yet either. On the plus side, gangs weren’t running the city and the world wasn’t decimated by a nuclear apocalypse, nor had the Soviet Union invaded, so it could be worse. Marty McFly got a flying skateboard and automatic tying shoes in 2015, and what do I get? A shit ton of monsters. Just my luck. He spotted the Pantera on the street, looking just as bizarre as him with its bright red paint and aggressively styled body in this new world of grey and black. Well, at least I got a better car than Marty. He hesitantly walked towards the car, his footing still unsure in his new body. It seemed just as new as the day he peeled out of the parking garage in it, a far cry from the twisted mess it became after tumbling down the cliff. His left hand carefully hooked itself into the door handle and it opened with a click. ”Well, it can’t kill me again…” Werner muttered before entering the car. His filthy suit soiled the black leather seats, and he felt the slick material against his exposed back. Taking a deep breath, Werner depressed the clutch and cranked the ignition, the keys already inside, and listened with pleasure as the basso profundo American V8 ripped from the deceptively Italian car. Werner felt in control of this new life behind the wheel. He felt whole, and knew what his next move needed to be, no matter how painful it might be.
Werner drove through Diehlstadt’s downtown area, a sense of deja vu washing over him. Everything felt so familiar, but just a little off. Aside from the creatures walking about, the town looked duller and sleeker, like the color had been turned off. Certainly, the age of excess was well over, replaced by a more conservative and polite society. Using his broken hand to awkwardly shift, he gradually made it to the residential area of Diehlstadt, which seemed more or less unchanged. If he had a heartbeat, it would have quickened as he approached a two story red brick house with a dormer roof. His childhood home. Cardboard box towers littered the well-kept lawn, and what he determined to be a moving van sat on the curb outside. Someone’s moving out. Or in. The thought came with despair. Werner hastily parked his car, stalling it in the process, and ran into his home. ”Mom? Dad?" he called out as he dashed through the unlocked door. Easy, they’re not as young as they used to be. Don’t give them a heart attack. If not for his frantic state of mind, Werner would have noticed the walls, once filled with family photos, were now white and barren. A man wielding an aluminum baseball bat emerged from the corner and took a wide swing at Werner. He might have been dead, but the zombie wasn’t slow; he leaned back just in time to dodge the blow, which crashed into the wall. ”Jesus! Why are you in my house!?” Werner exclaimed, taking a moment to look over the man. He was middle aged, lean build, and wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He very much reminded Werner of his father, though his dad never swung a bat at him.
”Your house? I’ve been fixing this place up for years you goon! Get out of my home, damn it!” The man replied, winding up for another swing. Werner caught a glimpse of a woman and child in the next room.
”Wait! What about the old owners?” Werner cried, holding his hands up. Maybe his parents moved. There was always hope.
”What? Hell, they died years ago! Now get the hell out!” The man yelled, thrusting the bat into Werner’s stomach, though it yielded no reaction. Dead. Like me. The tears never came, but god he wanted them. All that could have been if Werner hadn’t been so stupid flashed through his mind. Graduating with his smiling parents, building a big house for them to live in, giving them grandchildren. And what had their life been after he died? Losing their only child, and missing his resurrection only by a few years. Raising up their son only to plant him in the ground. Another landing of the bat prompted Werner to leave, acting on autopilot. He got into the car and slumped into the seat. Adrien.
Another familiar house, another hostile family. Perhaps knocking would have earned him a kinder reception, but it didn’t matter. His parents were dead and Adrien was gone. Werner thought of contacting his old friends, but by now they probably left Diehlstadt or forgot about him. No sense in bringing back bad memories. Instead, Werner drove to the storage units at the edge of town where his parents put some of his old things from high school. It wasn’t the most logical move, but Werner wasn’t thinking with a clear head. He drove down the gravel path to the units and saw a large crowd congregating around what he remembered as his unit.
”205itllbe215 205itllbe215!Goingoncegoingtwice sold! To the elf in the Cowboys jersey!” Werner heard a rapid-fire voice shout out. He made his way through the throng of people and confirmed it was his unit, being auctioned off by a skeleton in a suit no less. Without thinking, Werner dashed pass the auctioneer and into the unit, grabbing the nearest plastic tub he could get his hands on. ”Heyjustwha-” the skeleton made out before Werner dropped his shoulder and ran through the auctioneer, sending his bones flying. ”Come backhereyousunnavagun you can’t do that!” But Werner had already tossed the crate into the passenger side of his car and sped off. He took a look at the contents of the box while driving. Clothes, trophies, a couple pictures. It was all he had left of his old life now.
As the moonless night rolled in, Werner found himself in front of Masilalt’s door yet again, his good hand raised to knock, weighing his options. I really hope he wasn’t joking. Werner let his hand fall on the door and waited for the hulking beast to appear.
October 3rd, 2015
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In the past month, Werner spoke to only two people on a regular basis; Masilalt and the local butcher. The former because he lived with him and the latter to stop him from losing his mind. He spent most of his time locked up in Masilalt’s attic trying to piece together what happened in the past 30 years to his loved ones, but he was no detective, and newspaper clippings could only get you so far. Even though he found he didn’t need sleep, and couldn’t even if he even wanted to, Werner made little progress, only finding simple obituaries for his two parents. Oddly enough, nothing on Abioya. He paid Masilalt rent using what little funds were left in his savings account, which would run dry very soon, and helped around the house, along with the occasional voodoo experiment. Werner also learned a lot about his new form as well with the help of Masilalt. He could heal, albeit at a very slowed pace. His broken fingers, roughly taped up, were just now beginning to take a normal shape. On the upside, he didn’t feel pain, or any sensation for that matter. Always thinking about the positive side.
[color=steelblue]”Hey Masilalt, I’m going out!”[/color Werner shouted as he walked out the door. It could hardly be called going out, though, making his usual two-block walk to the grocery shop, and the only reason he made it was to avoid eating the next human he saw. The October breeze struck Werner right as he walked outside, but he didn’t notice. Temperature and wind gusts didn’t mean much to someone unable to feel hot or cold. He still wore weather-appropriate clothing however, to blend in more, and hide his grey and scarred skin as much as possible. He wore a heavy blue cardigan and slim fitting jeans tucked into beat-up nike sneakers, one of the few outfits he scavenged from his storage unit. He’d also taken to wearing dark wayfarer sunglasses to conceal his glowing eyes, which were rather off putting to humans.
Not everything was bad, though. He found a job as a substitute teacher with the local high school, and would start as soon as the math teacher went on maternity leave. Werner wasn’t particularly worried about the job; he attended MIT and graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering, so anything the school had to throw at him would be a piece of cake. Math didn’t change much with time, unlike other subjects. Still, he knew nothing about this new world, spending most of his time locked away. Each day he was falling behind, and he knew it. Fuck it, I have the rest of eternity to figure out what changed in 30 years. Masilalt told him that he couldn’t die unless his curse was broken, which was pretty unlikely, so he had some time.
Werner walked down the main street and noticed banners and decorations being hung up. Fall Fling? Damn, they’re still holding it! He’d never missed a single festival in Diehlstadt since his birth, and Werner would be damned if he’d miss them now he was alive. Guess it’s as good a time as any to return to the world of the living…
