Excerpt: Being Undead: It's Not Just For Vampires Anymore

I'll admit, I've read a lot of science fiction and fantasy novels in my day and a good portion of those involved vampires. It seemed like they all described coming back from the dead like waking up from a dream or just a really deep sleep. I can tell you for certain, however, that it doesn't feel anything like that. Unless maybe you happen to wake up in a pool of water that has a live toaster in it.
Anything I may have experienced prior to reviving was gone- ok, that part was like waking from a dream. I had no idea what I had been doing, where I was doing it, or if I was even anywhere at all. All I knew was pain. Every fiber of my being was on fire as nerves began to come to life again, muscles convulsed violently and I bellowed as everything once dormant started to move and work. It was an eternity before it all finally stopped and, breathing heavily, I looked around the room and tried to focus on the objects around me. The floor under me was cold stone, as were the walls, but the ceiling had support beams and rafters. A stair case off to my left. A basement, I thought, though I only had a vague memory of what a basement was. I sniffed and another thought occurred. Flame...candles. I groaned as I sat up, muscles still stiff from disuse, and looked around to see that I was laying on top of a symbol carved in the floor inside a circle of burning candles. The image caused a memory of something I had read once before float to the surface, though I couldn't remember the book title or plot, I knew that this was probably a bad situation. I moved to stand up, but froze in place when I got a good look to my right. There was a young woman laying a circle just like mine, but she was unconscious and there was a pool of water around her, leaking out from her clothes to crawl slowly toward the candles.
I moved quickly despite my stiff legs, the candles going out as I knocked them out of my way to get to the young woman, and instinct took over. I leaned close and listened for a breath moving her, but there was none. I checked for a pulse and was relieved to find that she still at least had that. I wasn't sure where my actions were coming from, but I didn't question it. I knew that if I didn't do something she would die. I kept telling myself that as I pushed my breath into her then listened for it to be pushed back out. When it wasn't, I used my hands to pump the air back out and listened again. I repeated that a few times and was losing up until I heard a soft gurgle. I pushed her on her side, but not quick enough to keep her from spewing water all over me. Murky water and wisps of wisps of fog came from her breath as she coughed up everything from her lungs. The fog, that can't be normal, I thought and took off the jacket from my suite to cover her with when she started shivering.
She looked up at me with big blue eyes that were frightened for a moment, but when she noticed my jacket around her, she smiled. "It worked," she croaked.
"Uhh, what did?" At first I thought maybe she was the victim of some sacrificial ritual- that's what the circles had me thinking, anyway, but now I wondered if she wasn't behind the whole thing.
"Let me change clothes before I catch a cold and I'll explain everything. There's another set for you over there on that desk if you want to change out of that suit." She smiled and stood on wobbly legs, then stopped at the edge of the candle circle. At some point, all of the candles had blown out, though I hadn't really noticed until then. She picked one up and looked at it, a wrinkle forming on her brow that really only made her look younger, then shrugged and placed it down again.
I watched as she made her way up the stairs, then sighed and made my way over to the desk she had pointed out. It was dim in the basement with the candles out, but there was a lamp on the desk that I tuned on. The desk looked like a librarian's nightmare. There were books of various sizes and ages strewn all over the desk with papers thrown everywhere around them, covered in notes that had been written in a frenzy. Either that or she had very bad hand writing. I recognized the symbols on the floor on one of the pages, but the notes were written in a language I didn't know. I shook my head a little at the mess and looked for the clothes she mentioned. There was a corner of the desk that had been cleaned off (I could tell by the books and papers being in an uneven pile right next to it) to make room for jeans, underwear, and a grey t-shirt. I glanced back at the door to make sure it was shut, then started to change clothes. Everything fit surprisingly well, which only made me feel more suspicious. I sighed again and thought What have you gotten yourself into now- and the thought stopped.

I knew my name was suppose to go at the end but...I couldn't remember what it was.