The current popularity of 'zombie survivor' fiction also has parallels with the 'draugr' of Norse legend. In fact, it might be more accurate to refer to zombies as draugar – they have more in common with the unquiet dead of old Scandinavia than the Caribbean version that they have their origins in. A common theme is that zombies can only be stopped by total destruction of the body or massive damage to the head. Someone killed by zombies will rise as one soon after. Both concepts are found in the Norse legends, although there it is a malevolent spirit that animates the dead rather than some kind of infection.
Warning: mentions of blood; strong language; angst; gore??
Bones and muscles aching, Jesse McCree sat back in his wooden chair. Due to the age, it creaked in protest under his weight. Pouring himself another glass of whiskey, he tried to ride through another wave of pain.
This had to be the worst one yet.
After another long sigh, Jesse picked up his last cigar of the night and lit it from a candle’s fire. He put it to his chapped lips and took a long drag of smoke before blowing it out his nose.
He hated these transformations; even after all these years he still did. Why did it have to be him, God damn? Why the hell did it have to be him?
The glass in his hand shattered, his hand bled a bit from the glass shards.
“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered and wiped his bloody hand on his pants. He sighed, knowing he’d have to clean it up before the transformation. “God damn glasses… always breaking!”
He remembered when his foster father first got the glasses; they were spotless and clean. But now half we’re dirty or chipped. Sometimes both. He had told Gabriel not to buy them, but the fool of an old man didn’t listen and got scammed into buying the cheap china.
Using an old rag, Jesse used it to sweep up the shards and soak up the whiskey. He dropped the hazardous rag into the rusted sink and grabbed another empty, foggy glass.
Letting out a grunt as he poured a drink and brought it to his lips. He paused, seeing the candles on the table flicker as if they were disrupted by the wind. But Jesse knew better, as there was no wind because he closed the windows and the door.
The door.
He looked at it urgently, rushing into the den as quickly as his sore limbs would carry him. He pulled his gun, Peacekeeper, from its holster on his waist. The door was open.
“Show yourself- You cowardice bastard!”
A black, grim smoke was preluded by a rotten odor of decaying flesh and dead corpses. Jesse took a step back as the smoke manipulated in front of him, his gun aimed at the dark mist. His stomach seemed to fold inward on itself. It took a silhouette of a man, before fully taking shape. The smoke lightened into a gray skin; black wrapped the characters in a fog cloak- wisps of black smog tickled and danced on the cold, concrete floor. A dead, gray skin consumed the figure, and pale white hair with clumps missing from the skull, with muscle and bone revealed at the cheeks and jaws. Eyes were sunken into the sockets, but little red dots flowed through the blackness in the skull.
What caught Jesse’s attention wasn't the appearance of the figure, nor was it the small necklace of a bird’s skull trapped in Ember that hung from the stranger’s neck. No. It was their face.
Peacekeeper thudded to the floor. Jesse stood there shocked, with his mouth agape in horror.
“D-dad?” Jesse’s voice shook so much he could barely form the next sentence that escaped his lips. “You’re alive?”
Gabriel Reyes smiled as best he could, and the glow in his eyes softened ever so slightly.
“It’s a, uh, long story, Jesse, his voice soft but rough and hoarse, although he couldn’t help it. He frowned, though, at the sight of his son’s disheveled state. “Oh-” he suddenly realized what that particular night was, “-tonight…” He walked over to Jesse and pressed the younger male into a lonely seat. He headed for the kitchen to fetch some water for the young man. “Don’t worry, son. I’m here now.”
The minutes went by painfully for Jesse- figuratively and literally.
The pains grew more, signaling the beating of the transformation. He could feel his bones muscles shifting under his skin. Jesse was curled up in pain on the couch, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. Gabriel knelt next to his son, his hand on Jesse’s back as he tried to sooth him.
“Shhh,” Gabriel tried to calm him but the pain racked through his body. “It’ll be over soon.”
“Gabe, leave…” Jesse grunted out before letting out a painful shout. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or worse…”
Gabriel let out a half hearted chuckle. “Can’t kill a dead man, Jess.”
Jesse’s breathing got more labored. “There’s always a first time for everyth- Ahhh!” His back hunched and arched. He and his skin began to morph; his skin fraying before dark brown fur started to sprout all over. His nails grew and sharpened.
Gabriel took a step back. He had seen this transformation so many times but it never got easier. For either male.
Jesse threw his head back and let out a howl. His face distorted; skull stretching out painfully to form a wolf’s head. His teeth stretched out from the gums of his jaw, causing his mouth to bleed. At the rapid growth of his body, Jesse’s clothes ripped from his body.
As the man became a monster, Gabriel’s eyes drifted to the gun that lay on the side table. His fingers twitched for a second but he shoved the thought out of his mind.
There was a howl; Gabriel’s blood would have run cold if he had any left.
A large, furry mound lay curled on the couch. Jesse lifted his head, maw coated with thick blood. His eyes landed on his father, and Jesse let out a growl. In his animalistic state of mind, he didn’t recognize the most important person in his life.
Like a creature stalking his prey, Jesse crawled slowly off the couch toward Gabriel. He growled, bearing his teeth at the Draugar. Gabriel put a hand out to the distance himself from the Lycan.
“Jesse,” Gabriel said, almost heartbroken. “Jesse, it’s me. It’s Gabe.” When that didn’t seem to do the trick, he resorted to what he used to do. “Jesse, it’s alright. It’s your father.” At this, Jesse’s growling ceased. He looked at Gabriel and moved forward slowly before sniffing the man. Jesse let out a whine and licked Gabriel’s face. He nuzzled his maw in Gabriel’s chest and whimpered sadly- the pain and ache of the transformation still lingered.
He hated seeing Jesse in pain- in either forms. Gabriel shifted and sat down on the floor. Jesse laid his head in Gabriel’s lap and whimpered. He ran a hand through the fur on Jesse’s head and neck, hoping it would calm him. Gabriel leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Jesse’s head. Jesse closed his eyes; muscles and bones finally settling. It was a relief, even if it was only momentary.
“You’re going to be okay, Jesse. I promise.”
A promise Gabriel couldn’t keep.
“But never forget: I love you, son.”
Jesse woke up on the couch nude and sore. The transformation wore off; he was human again.
Well, as human as he could get.
But as Jesse rose to a sitting position, the foggy memories of that night flooded in. His eyes watered when Gabriel’s face appeared in the foggy visions.
“No,” he cried, tears running down his cheeks. “Not again.”
Jesse buried his head in his hands and cried. He believed the visit from his father last night was a hallucination; just like many before. Jesse lost count how many mornings after his transformation he’s wake up and cry because he thought he saw Gabriel. How many mornings he’d be convinced he was visited by his father only to find it was just his mind tricking him.
It broke him every time.
Jesse had not had a hallucination in months, and he believed he was finally getting better.
Apparently he was wrong.
Jesse didn’t notice a figure watching through a window.
Gabriel watched as Jesse sobbed- he wanted nothing more than to comfort his son. To hug him and reveal he really was alive. Just barely, though.
But Gabriel believed it would be better to stay away. He couldn’t risk putting Jesse in danger.
Gabriel gripped the necklace in his hand, a tear ran down his cheek.
