Oh, Henry. This was written back in the days when my work of reference for anyone even slightly mentally ill was Bill Sienkiewicz’s Stray Toasters. I’m lucky poor ol’ Henry wasn’t saying “Blood. And oranges.”
More mystery developing around this guy in the chair, and his — psychologist? Psychiatrist? working with him. Obviously something’s up.
John, originally, was supposed to be a family therapist, and an original direction (as in, early, not as in unique, but it would have been that too, I suppose) for this series was to just keep John Requin as a family shrink, trying to help people contend with their “affliction.” But, full of youth and hubris and Big Ideas, I was determined to put every single one of those Big Ideas into a comic book about intelligent zombies.
Roy, thankfully, was along for the ride. We quickly discovered one of the huge problem with the concept as applied to black-and-white books: the Returners (our shop name for the living dead; “Deadies” is a slur along the same lines as — well, you know what a slur is) are supposed to pass for human, more or less. They’re not SUPPOSED to be scary shambling half-eaten things, they’re just dead people walking around, and plunging right into the depths of the Uncanny Valley with every step.
So draw a zombie that’s supposed to look pretty much like a regular human, without colour.
Tricky, hey? You can’t use greys, because then it just looks like it’s got a wicked-ass tan. It also makes it impossible to draw characters with different skin hues down the road. Greens, yellows — obviously out.
We’ll talk about our workaround tomorrow with the big Page 3 reveal.
Ambiance: Normalcy is breaking down. HENRY knows something is wrong, even if JOHN will not admit it. What is going on? Why does this scene feel off somehow?
PANEL ONE
JOHN is enshrouded, unreachable.
JOHN
I told you, Henry, I feel your therapy needs --
HENRY
Well it doesn't, okay? It doesn't need.
PANEL TWO
HENRY is a little freaked out. Fraying around the edges. It shows.
HENRY
I liked it better when I could see you to talk to you. You just sit in the dark alla time now.
JOHN
Henry...
PANEL THREE
HENRY stands up as though to approach JOHN.
HENRY
And it stinks in here. And it's so friggin' cold. It's like a meat locker in here, for, for, for rotten meat. Rotten meat.
JOHN
Sit down, Henry.
PANEL FOUR
HENRY is more agitated. His hands are working in front of him. He's what the kids would call “buggin'” .
HENRY
You, you, you – this is – what is this? This is the therapy I need? Doctor Shadow? Huh?
JOHN
Sit down now, Henry.
PANEL FIVE
JOHN leans forward in his chair. We still can't see him. But there's menace here. There's something we don't want to know about JOHN.
JOHN
Pleae. Henry. You're just getting us both upset.
PANEL SIX
HENRY throws open the door. Light floods through it. We can now see how dark it's been in the office – it's been a mausoleum, a shroud in there. Outside it's a beautiful day.
HENRY
I don't, I don't care how upset you get. It, it stinks in here. I'm going.
