Trembling With Fear 5-18-25

‘Til Undeath Do Us Part, by Rory Kane

Today is my wedding day and, despite my mother’s disapproval, I wear a white tuxedo instead of a dress. The doors open to reveal my bride, Melanie, on her father’s arm. She is a queen in her lacy bodice, off-the-shoulder sleeves, and flowing skirts. I wipe away tears, I couldn’t stop smiling if I tried. 

Our eyes meet and she grins. Her smile drops as she coughs and pauses, blushing, to let it pass. The crowd murmurs warmly, assuming Melanie is choked up to see me all in white and waiting. 

I am a (new) doctor, so I notice that her cough sounds wet and productive, compared to last night when it was still dry. A bridesmaid I barely know (residency is a bitch on the social life) retrieves a water bottle and offers it as Melanie climbs the steps. 

I make a mental list for later: masks, warm tea with honey, and cold medicine before our honeymoon flight. 

Finally, Melanie stands across from me, her expression strained but her smile genuine. The sheen on her forehead tells me she’s running a slight fever. We may postpone the honeymoon, but neither of us will postpone this wedding. We’ll get through it dead or alive.

The officiant, a mutual friend, opens the ceremony but I barely hear him. I’m too busy taking in my bride. When her smile falters as she stares vaguely at my forehead, I grow concerned.

I clear my throat, relieved when Melanie shakes herself out of her reverie. She coughs into her bouquet, a hacking, harsh sound. 

“You okay, babe?” I whisper. 

Melanie waves my concern away with one hand, sipping her water and clearing her throat. 

The officiant opens his speech with the responsibilities of marriage. He pauses when Melanie coughs, segueing into a story of Melanie helping me through my own sickness and reminding me that I’m now well-prepared to do the same for her. The crowd chuckles. Melanie’s giggle becomes another coughing fit. I quickly supply my pocket square as a handkerchief and the officiant noticeably tenses when Melanie coughs pink phlegm into it. 

“And now the vows,” the officiant says hesitantly.

I also hesitate, but Melanie motions for me to continue. 

“I’m not stopping for anything,” she says in a raspy voice, and I feel the sentiment in my bones. We’ve waited to complete my residency and her epidemiology PhD. Weeks of long shifts at my hospital wore me down, too. Melanie spent the last few days pulling full shifts and all-nighters at her lab, working with experimental pathogens on little sleep, just to get to this altar. Of course she’s caught some little infection.

I slide the ring onto her finger and begin. 

“The spark I felt when I met you has developed into a raging fever—ah, fire.” Melanie smiles at my mistake. “It can never be extinguished. You are my hope in the darkest moments, you remind me to find the wonder and beauty in everything. Through sickness and in health, I will always be by your side.” I pause to control my happy tears, before finishing with my promises. 

Melanie cries and coughs and my thrill of finally saying these vows wavers, I’m worried about her. I reach out to help steady her as she sways, her muscles clenching and unclenching, her face twisted, then happy. When her gaze meets mine, both irises are rimmed in red. My heart drops. 

“Babe,” I say quietly, deeply concerned in an instant. 

She holds up her hand, fingertips blue and skin pale. “My turn.” 

Her vows begin with a hoarse, “Ellie, I love you more fiercely than—” she coughs again, “than I thought I could love anyone. We are entangled like prions in the brain, and I… brains… mmmm…” Another coughing fit takes her. This one does not let up and the coughing becomes wet gasps for air. Whispers of concern surge through the crowd. 

Melanie bends over and grips my arm, her hand unnaturally cold. Strained gulps of air become long, rasping groans. I hold her up and feel when she exhales a quiet, horrible death rattle before going completely still. 

“Mel?” I ask. Swallowing my rising despair, I lean down to try and listen for her breathing. 

With a hungry growl, Melanie’s grip tightens around my arm and her head turns to bite my ear. She bites down so hard that, when I pull away in surprise, part of my ear stays in her mouth. While I barely notice the pain, the room erupts into screams. Melanie turns to the crowd with a bloody smile and my ear drops from her mouth. A whiff of decay wafts from her as she moves in bizarre, jerky motions. 

“What the fuck?” the officiant yells. The room echoes with screams and the chaos of family and friends fleeing. 

My heart aches as I look at the love of my life, transformed into a beautiful, rotting monster by a mysterious disease. I think back on the vows I just made. 

The officiant backs away, but I grab him. 

“Pronounce us,” I demand. 

He stares at me, mouth agape, but he must see determination in my eyes because he does.

“You may kiss the bride?” he says. I release him and he runs while the crowd devolves into chaos. Everyone who attended the rehearsal dinner starts coughing and I look out at the first two rows are full of people with wet, productive coughs. They stare in horrified realization at Melanie, who models their fate. 

I feel dizzy. 

I take Melanie in my arms and ignore the squelching sound her body makes. Her dull gaze meets mine, then travels up to my forehead. 

“I knew you always loved me for my brains,” I say. 

Then I kiss her, because I made a promise that I intend to keep. 

As I feel my flesh change, all I can think is, ‘Til undeath do us part.