Even laid out, Sharley didn't look anything but dead. Death wasn't like it seemed in the movies; her skin was grey, cold, lifeless as wax, the blood on her face dried nearly black. Her dead eyes still stared, and one of the first things Tanya did was close them--just before Spocklar fell.
"Hey," she said, kneeling next to him. "Hey. It's gonna be okay, all right? You got her here, you rest now--there's some things I have to do for her before her dad gets here, but it's going to be okay. You did just what you should've done."
Even as she spoke the zombies were busy behind her, carrying towels and kettles and bowls, while Tanya took both his hands in hers. Her hands were cool, inhumanly smooth. "And when this is done she'll never be able to die again. I understand if you can't help me with this, or even if you can't be in here because it's too much, but you just need to remember that this is going to be all right."
Arlene, who had filled a large bowl with some water from the kettle, set it down on the table beside Sharley's head and dunked a towel in it. She set to work on Sharley's face with quiet efficiency. Dry though it was, the blood bloomed rusty on the towel, but at least with each careful dab it was a little less gruesome. Another little zombie set to work on the disaster of her hair, tangled and full of needles as well as sticky with blood.