Page 48 of Perfectly Perplexing Zombie

“He is.” My head felt heavy. I wasn’t sure if I nodded, but I might have. “He’s in the corner. Not sure if he knows I’m here or not.” A shot of fear ran through me—one that was new and due to more current memories. “I don’t want him to see me.” I shrank back toward the door I’d walked through, the one I knew led to the hall and away from Stover’s office.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you. It’s just a memory, Wendall. That’s all it is. Let’s leave Professor Stover where he is for now. We’ll take advantage of his distracted interest.”

“How?” My gaze swiveled around the room, but I didn’t move a foot closer.

“It’s your memory, sugar. You can go where you want and leave the professor where he is. No reason to interact yet. Just think of him like a statue. He only comes to life when you want him to.” Muriel’s voice blanketed my insecurities. I trusted that voice and cautiously did as she said.

Professor Stover wasn’t exactly statue-still. I could see his arms moving, or maybe his hand. With Stover turned away from me, I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I got the impression he was reading something. His head was bent, and his left hand was stuffed in his pants pocket. I knew he was moving his hand because the fabric rustled and turned.

I walked deeper into the room, staring at the clutter. Small statues sat haphazardly next to ancient-looking stone discs and frayed books. Two filing cabinet doors were halfway open with manilla envelopes hanging out as if the drawers were stuffed too full to completely close.

Plaques littered the wall, most of them slightly askew. Professor Stover’s achievements were everywhere, and yet it appeared like he could have cared less about their appearance. I got the feeling they wouldn’t even be on the walls if someone hadn’t framed and mounted them for the professor.

An old, beat-up metal framed desk sat off to the side with barely enough room for a person to squeeze behind it and make it to a rolling chair with cracked faux leather. A laptop computer lay on top of a pile of papers with little yellow and orange Post-its scattered around. A stray pen and a couple of highlighters could be seen here and there. The cup that looked like it was supposed to hold those pens was stuffed with a dying plant instead. Only one or two leaves were still barely holding on to life.

“Wendall?” Muriel called my name. “Describe what you see.”

“Where do I start?” It all just seemed so overwhelming.

“Pick a corner and go around like a clock.”

I twisted, starting in the corner to my left, and began rattling off what I saw. I had no idea if any of it was what we were looking for. I knew what some things were, but most I just described. There was so much, and yet time slipped by unnoticed. Just as Muriel promised, Professor Stover stayed in his corner. The man didn’t even look at me. I was in charge.

After I’d made my way around the room, I stared at his desk. Some things I couldn’t see well and decided to squeeze in behind it. Again, Stover didn’t so much as twitch.

“That’s all I see,” I finally said. “Nothing stands out.” Was it possible to feel disappointment while under hypnosis? I didn’t know, but that’s how I felt. I also got the impression I let everyone down. I was still in that room, and I’d almost forgotten about Stover standing in the corner.

“That’s good, sugar. I think it’s time to speak with the professor. Can you do that for me?”

I jerked and shook my head. “I don’t…I don’t want to do that.” Everything had been fine. As long as Stover stayed in his little corner, I was good. Why did we need to rock that calm boat? I’d already listed everything that was in the room. What more could they want?

“It’s okay. Feel that? On your right hand?” Muriel asked, her voice as soft and reassuring as ever.

I hadn’t felt anything until Muriel planted the idea. Now that she had, I did feel something. Twisting my hand, I reached for that pressure and found warm flesh.

“Ray’s here. He’s got you, and he’ll keep you safe. We both will. Remember, it’s your world. Stover can’t hurt you there. You control everything. Nothing bad happened in that office, and nothing bad is going to happen there this time.”

I stared at Stover’s back. His actions seemed repetitive, as if on a time loop that kept endlessly repeating. Maybe that’s exactly what this was. While I’d been looking around, Stover had kept doing the same activity again and again, patiently waiting.

You can do this.I gave myself an internal pep talk.It’s my world—my mind.

“Just act normal, Wendall. Greet the professor like you always did.”

Knowing what I did now, that was easier said than done.My world. I repeated.My memory.

Squaring my shoulders, I gripped the papers that suddenly appeared in my hands, just like the last day I’d been in Stover’s office.

“Professor Stover,” I said, taking a step forward. “I’ve finished grading the freshman tests, and I put their scores in the computer like you asked.”

The response was immediate. Stover whipped his head around, eyes wide and brows raised. There was a torn and nearly shredded book in his right hand that he snapped closed. The sound echoed through the room and made me jump. My responding nervous laugh was automatic and mimicked that day months ago.

“Wendall,” Stover said, his voice a little breathless. His left hand jerked out of his pocket as he turned, Stover’s keys dangling from a chain tightly gripped within his hand. “What are you doing here?” Had that hard glint been there before? Or had my imagination added it? The grim line of Stover’s lips made him look unapproachable. Gaze worriedly flicking between me and his office door, Stover licked his lips while taking a hasty step back.

“I’ve got the papers graded,” I repeated, seemingly unaffected as I walked farther into the room and laid my stack on top of another on his desk. “You better get these sorted, Professor.” I laughed again, completely oblivious to the car that would jump the curb and end my life in just a few short days following this memory.

“Oh.” Stover hurriedly stuffed his keys back into his pocket, but the object on the chain caught on the fabric. I caught what looked like wood or maybe pottery of some kind. I twisted my head, trying to get a better look.

“Is that an amphora? It’s a cool reproduction. I didn’t know they made keychains like that. Did you get it on one of your digs?”

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