Death Role

The Puppet Theater

The relationship Emmett had with his puppets and marionettes, the closeness, was unlike anything he’d found with the humans that entered and exited from his life. His friends of wood, fabric and string would never betray him and they always did as they were told. He loved them so much that he rented the apartment above the theater so he could sneak onto the stage and bring them to life every night.

He should have stayed upstairs, safe from the hungry dead, but when he saw the news he could think of only one place to be, with his friends downstairs. And he could hear them calling for him in his mind.

We’re scared, Em, they whispered. Keep us safe, they cried.

So he stumbled down the stairs, his puppets in hand, through the lobby and into the dark, expansive room of the theater. He tried from memory to follow the aisle, but several times his feet found a row of chairs and he fell, dropping the puppets and cursing as he did.

Finally on stage, Emmett sat on a tall wooden stool. A large alligator, appropriately named Al and made of sparkly green fabric, sat on his knee, happily.

“What is a zombie’s favorite meal?” Al asked Emmett in a gravelly voice.

“I don’t know,” Emmett feigned ignorance. “What is a zombie’s favorite meal?”

“A MANwich!” the alligator roared.

“Isn’t that your favorite meal too?” Emmett asked, leaning away from him. This joke was popular with audiences, but no laughs echoed the room as the theater was empty.

He hoped.

Outside, beyond the double doors, he could hear the screams and sirens of the apocalyptic world. He ran through his routines and plays with his collection of created comrades, biding his time and distracting his friends from their fear. But late that night the zombies found his hiding place, his sanctuary.

First there was only one. A single, fresh corpse, blood still leaking slowly from its many wounds. Emmett realized he must have left the front door unlocked. This was the moment that Emmett had been dreading. The moment where he would have to choose between his life or dying with his friends. They would surely be torn to pieces by these blood-covered maniacs even though they were immune, but he couldn’t leave them behind. No, he would die with them. He buried himself under the puppets, their loose clothing covering his terrified form in an attempt to delay his death. The near invisibility was calming for him. But the dead were still making their way down the theater aisles and the puppets began to freak out.

“We’re going to die!” his favorite puppet, Mackey, screamed from above him.

“Mackey, be quiet!” Emmett whispered. “Don’t give away our hiding spot.”

“Don’t eat us!” Selena, the mermaid puppet shrieked, flicking her tail fin about nervously.

“Shhh, Selena. We’ll be alright. The dead can’t sense you,” he reminded her.

But they could hear him. And now they were flooding in the building, toward him like ants to sugar. Maybe this isn’t the best hiding spot, Emmett thought to himself as the zombies crawled up the stairs of the stage and onto the pile of fabric and flesh. The undead clawed through the layers, looking for something warm and beating to put in their mouths.

As they ripped through his skin, Emmett couldn’t find his own voice through the pain and so his friends began again to speak through him.

“The plague! I can feel it coursing through my threads!” Mackey moaned.

“My strings!” a marionette yelled. “They’ve broken my strings. I can’t feel my arms!”

“My fluff is coming out!” Al the Alligator cried.

Their puppet master had no words to soothe them and blood was quickly leaving his body.

“I’m losing strength,” the Paperboy puppet whimpered in his tiny, New York accented voice as Emmett too was weakening.

“Stay calm!” Emmett finally managed to speak before his throat was ripped out. At once, all of their voices fell silent. The comedy routine was now a macabre one as the feasting dead took center stage.