I Came Back As A Zombie And They Wanted My Kidney Chapter 10

I Came Back As A Zombie And They Wanted My Kidney Chapter 10

After the trial, the Holloway mansion was empty.

Eleanor fell gravely ill after watching my body turn to ash. Within a few months, her hair had turned shockingly white.

Harrison stepped down as CEO, handing over the vast majority of the family business to a professional management team.

They spent the rest of their lives paying a debt they couldn’t repay.

Harrison bought the biggest double plot in Crestwood Memorial Gardens. Sunny. Peaceful.

A massive headstone next to Wren’s memorial.

Frank and Martha Miller. Their names carved into the stone.

“Wren loved them most,” Harrison said. “They gave her a real home. We don’t deserve to be called her parents. Let her stay with them forever.”

Dash went back to the priest. Begged on his knees for one more favor.

The priest didn’t want to see him. Dash, desperate, stayed outside the church for an entire day and night, a blank check held high in his hand.

“We don’t ask for miracles. We don’t ask for forgiveness.”

“Just help her find her way. Her brain was slow. It was dark down there.”

“What if she gets lost? What if she can’t find her parents?”

The priest sighed. Took the check.

For three days, he performed a ceremony at the grave.

Eleanor stayed in her room. Made clothes. Hundreds of them.
Dresses. Toys. Paper houses. Cars.

All burned.

Smoke rising into the sky.

“Kid’s slow. People on the other side will take advantage of her. The money I’ll exchange into their currency. Pay off the Reapers.”

“With this, even if she moves slow, they’ll guide her straight to the Millers.”

Eleanor knelt by the fire. Tears streaming.

“Wren, put on more clothes. Don’t catch a cold. Your adoptive parents are good people. Mommy sent the best house and garden models for them.”

“The three of you, be happy… Mommy is so sorry. I… I don’t expect your forgiveness…”

Dash threw spirit money into the flames. Didn’t speak anything.

When it was over, Harrison gave half the family fortune to a new foundation.

The Wren Holloway Foundation.

It shouldered two missions.

Aid honest poor workers, the likes of the Millers. Offer insurance and medical assistance.

Fight for missing children and bring them safely home.

“It’s the only good we can do for her now. Maybe it helps her find peace.”

—

The afterlife was dark.

I walked for a long time.

Then light came. Lit the whole path.

A stone bridge appeared. Two people were waiting there.

A man in an old coat. A woman in a flowered apron.

It was Frank. He was holding a plastic bag. Two apples. A bag of cookies.

“Sweetie!”

Martha rushed toward me only to pause halfway, wiping her face roughly.

“Look at me. Always rushing.”

Frank walked up slowly. Pushed the bag into my hand.

“Your mom said there wasn’t much good food here. I brought these.”

“Apples are fresh. Sweet.”

I took the bag.

Ghosts don’t feel weight. But I held it tight.

“They got convicted.”

“The people who killed us. Death penalty.”

“The girl who planned it. Life.”

Frank blinked. Let out a breath. “That’s good news.”

“When the truck hit, your mom threw herself over you.”

“But it didn’t work.”

Martha’s eyes went wet. She touched my face.

“Did they hurt you? At the Holloways?”

“You’re skinny.”

“Mom. I was a zombie.”

“Zombies don’t get skinny. But my arm fell off.”

Martha stared. Then laughed.

“You always did tell wild stories.”

“Really. The brother ripped it off.”

“But he cried after.”

Frank and Martha looked at each other.

“Did they… treat you right, in the end?” Martha asked, choosing her words carefully.

“Yeah. The last few hours. They were.”

“Mom Eleanor held me.”

“Dad Harrison called everyone to save me.”

“And my brother Dash, he cried.”

Martha wiped her tears.

“That’s a relief. You should’ve had a wonderful life all along.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more. We were poor.”

“No.”

“Those years with you… they were the best years.”

Frank turned away. Rubbed his face with his sleeve.

A voice called from the end of the path.

Time to go.

“Let’s go, baby.”

Martha took my hand.

Frank walked on my other side, his rough, calloused palm wrapping around my free hand.

It was just like when we’d walk through dark nights when I was little.

One on my left, one on my right, they sandwiched me in between them.

“Mom. Can I be your daughter in the next life?”

“Yes.”

“But next time, I’ll be a rich mom.”

“Then you won’t suffer anymore.”

The three shadows blurred and blended, vanishing into the radiance at the road’s end.