Resurrection (6 page)

The rest of the room, away from where the bodies were, was empty, but there on the floor, etched into the rock, were a large number of magical symbols I didn’t recognize. Schooled as I was in demonology and the dark arts, that was surprising. I dredged my memory to see if maybe they’d simply been buried in the murk, under thoughts of a particularly good night out, but there was nothing. A little common sense told me they were necromantic in nature, given all the zombies, obviously, but that didn’t tell me much about their true purpose.

Unable to decipher the symbols, I decided to record them. I pulled out Candy’s phone, feeling a twinge of guilt knowing she was lying just a few feet away, and snapped off a few shots. Tiny clicks accompanied each picture, the sound over-loud in the confines of the cavern. The images, while a little dark and spotty, would be good enough for what I needed.

McConnell grunted behind me, shuffling his feet. Realizing he couldn’t see past me in the cramped quarters of the tunnel, and thinking I didn’t want to get caught unaware in a space I could barely move in, I stepped into the room. As he followed me, I heard him hiss. I glanced back to see him staring off past me, his eyes grim.

I mouthed the word, “What?”

He pointed to the corpses. “They know we’re here.” He didn’t bother to whisper.

I turned around slowly just as a gentle creaking, like a ship moored at low tide, sprung up behind me. My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw the corpses on the pile rising up, slowly getting to their feet. They groaned a horrible threnody, spewing bouts of random nonsense as their blank stares settled on us.

I slid the phone back into my pocket. “Time to go.”

I spun around to run but before I could take a step, a hail of zombies dropped down on top of us from out of the alcoves; the same ones I told myself to watch and had forgotten to do so.

Under slabs of rotten flesh, I crashed to the floor, narrowly avoiding having my nose bitten off. Assaulted by the smell as much as by the zombies, I squirmed, trying to get them off me. To my relief, my gun hand was free. Twisting my wrist into an awkward angle to point it toward the corpses, knowing it was gonna hurt for a while—if I lived that long—I snapped off a round. The recoil whipped my hand back and slammed my knuckles into the rock floor, causing an explosion of pain before going mercifully numb.

Though I was gonna have a hard time using my right hand effectively, the pain was worth it. My shot struck the top zombie in the side of the head. Its dead again body rolled to the side, and off me. I helped it along, using its bulk as a bulldozer to muscle the other two that were gnawing at me, off my chest. It worked somewhat. My upper body loose, I sat up just as a pair of gnashing teeth tore into the meat of my calf.

Biting back a scream, I pressed the barrel of my gun against its biting head and blew a fist-sized hole in it, my hand twinging like a motherfucker. Its head snapped back and crumpled, leaving behind its teeth, still buried in my leg. I shot the other one and swiped at the embedded teeth, knocking them loose in jagged little pieces. With a growl, I examined the wound. A gooey greenness was mixed in with the blood.

“If I catch Corpse Creep, I’m gonna kill you again,” I shouted at the toothless undead while I hopped to my feet. My leg gratefully supported my weight, though it felt as if it were on fire.

I glanced around for McConnell. He, too, had been caught off guard by the attack. While I played zombie snack, he must have freed himself. A pool of melted, disfigured flesh and yellowed bone encircled him. Steam wafted up from the waxy zombie puddle as he stood with clenched fists, sparkling gray energy whirling about his hands.

When the rest of the horde approached, their chaotic symphony of gibbered epithets leading the charge, he let loose. A fiery blast of energy burst from his hands, slamming into the clueless zombies. The temperature in the room rose by twenty degrees as the front line of undead exploded into ash. Black clouds filled the air, biting at my lungs. It was like sitting in a sauna that was built inside an ashtray—the perfect stop smoking ad.

Coughing out the bitter blackness, I watched as the next wave of zombies ignited with gray flame. Its touch was virulent, contagious. Methodically, the fire leapt about the room, attaching itself to the corpses like sentient napalm, sparing everything not undead, for which I was quite grateful. The surviving zombies shrieked their incoherence at the wizard, their ranks going up around them faster than a California hillside. They were pissed.

McConnell roared back, his energy building once more. He raised his hands, readying to finish the job. Right then, I saw a blur of black spring from one of the alcoves. It dove toward us. My mind whirled. It had to be the guy who attacked Baalth’s men. No zombie could move like that.

I spun and tried to track him with my gun, firing, but he was too fast. My shot whined off into the darkness. Less than a heartbeat later, the shrouded figure, dressed from head to toe in what looked like a ninja outfit, landed in a crouch beside McConnell.

The wizard barely realized he was there, focused as he was on the zombies. There was a flash of silver, followed by an arc of crimson that flung blood across the room. McConnell let out a pained cry and clutched at his stomach. He stumbled backwards toward the tunnel, his pants discolored with an ever-growing red stain.

I dove forward, angling myself for a clear shot, and let loose a barrage. The assailant saw me coming. He ducked, using The Gray for cover, and leapt to an alcove. The move was pure grace. He stared down at me for a split-second, his masked face hiding his expression. I leveled my gun as his cold eyes bored holes through me. Before I could get off another shot, he disappeared into the shadows just as McConnell collapsed.

Torn between chasing the guy and helping McConnell, my rarely present conscience took the lead. Hatred being too weak a word to express how I felt about the cowboy, he had probably saved my life. I couldn’t have decimated the zombies like he had. There’s no telling how I would have fared against the horde alone. I at least owed him a chance at survival, if nothing else.

My eyes peeled on the alcoves, my teeth grinding, I raced to his side holstering my gun as the few remaining zombies made their way toward us. I took a quick peek at McConnell, looking to assess the wound. It was bad; real bad.

A chasm of intermingled red and black ran a good twelve inches across his stomach, just below the beltline. It was ugly. The floor beneath him was slick with dark blood and there was a stinging, bitter scent coming off the wound I couldn’t recognize. Whatever it was, it’d have to wait. Unceremoniously, I dragged him bodily back into the tunnel. It was too narrow to carry him.

A trail of crimson bled out behind us in the passage and The Gray’s quiet moans punctuated the seriousness of his condition. As quick as possible, I hauled him back toward the crypt. There was no time for gentle. Deep down, I can’t say I was all that bothered by it.

At the base of the ascent, I propped him against the wall. “I need your help, McConnell.” I lifted his chin so we were eye to swimming eye. His were glassy and unresponsive. “If you want to live, we’re gonna have to do this together.”

He groaned, his head bobbling weakly. He was losing a lot of blood and I didn’t have time to staunch the flow, the zombies catching up. I could hear their garbled voices rebounding through the tunnel, drawing closer. Unable to fly, I was gonna have to do things the hard way. I yanked my shirt off and spun around, pressing my back into McConnell’s barrel chest.

“Put your arms over my shoulders,” I shouted, reaching back to help.

After a few fumbled attempts with McConnell doing nothing to help, I managed to drape his meaty arms over me. Using the shirt, I tied them together, just above the elbows. He grunted as I pulled the shirt uncomfortably tight. I muttered a half-ass apology while I yanked my belt off, my ammo cartridges dropping to the floor with a clack. I hoped I wouldn’t need them.

To the insistent sounds of approaching zombies, I leaned back against McConnell, drawing a muffled protest as I used the wall to support us. No time to be nice, I grabbed one of his legs and yanked it up, draping it over my own. I did the same to the second. Then I wrapped the belt around his ankles, circling it around until I barely had enough room to cinch it. Once I’d locked it in, his legs secure around my waist, I spread my own legs a little more to keep his from sliding off as I turned to face the wall. I caught a glimpse of shambling zombie as I did.

Spurred on, I stretched out, and pressed hard against the wall with my elbows, forearms, and feet. Finding the vague impressions of hand and footholds, I dug in, pulling us up. Weakened and unable to hold on, McConnell shifted downward as unconsciousness claimed him, the knotted shirt pulling tight against my collarbones and throat. I could barely breathe, but there was nothing I could do about it. The alternative was never breathing again. I couldn’t let that happen. Do you know how embarrassing a killed by a zombie epitaph would be?

“Ever hear of Jenny Craig?” I asked McConnell, sounding like a frog, my voice croaking. Built like a brick shit house, the wizard was a big, steaming pile of dead weight.

To make things worse, the rough rocks were like razors against my skin, slashing my arms to ribbons as I ground them into the walls to support our ascent. Now wet with my blood, the already awkward movement became even more difficult as each bracing thrust opened more wounds, adding to the slickness of the walls. I glanced up as I inched my way toward the mausoleum, the square patch of light seeming a million miles away.

Below me, I heard the jabbered call of the zombies, their shuffling feet on the rocks nearby. We were still too close to the floor, my legs and McConnell’s fat ass still within reach. I pressed harder, squirming upward, grinding the bones of my arms against the jagged walls, whimpering like a beaten dog.

All of a sudden, I felt a tug that nearly pulled me from the wall. I managed a glance back as I leveraged myself, damn near tearing my shoulders out of their sockets. What I saw tied my stomach in knots. An enterprising zombie had latched a hand onto McConnell’s belt, adding its weight to ours while swatting at the wizard’s exposed back with the other.

McConnell regained consciousness with a hoarse shout as the corpse carved red troughs along his spine. I bore down harder as The Gray’s pained twitches threatened to yank me from my unsteady perch. My arms screamed out in agony. The bones of my shoulders ground together.

“Damn it, McConnell, stop squirming. You’re gonna get us killed.” I thumped my head against his to draw his pained attention. “I can’t hold us much longer. I need a boost.”

His only response was a grunt that showered my neck with warm, bloody spittle. He was passing out again. I thumped him once more, getting a growl in response.

“Now, McConnell!”

Though he said nothing, I saw a dull gray sputter to life around his hands. It flickered for an instant, then died. I felt his weight shift as the zombie tore into him again. We both cried out at the same time. Chunks of my arm peeled back against the sharp edges of the wall as our combined weight dragged us down an inch at a time, slow and excruciating.

I growled in frustration, doing my best to keep us stable, but it was a losing battle. That thought was reinforced as another zombie appeared alongside the first below. I heard its gibbered voice mingling with its buddy’s. Its grasping hands joined the effort to tear us from the wall. It wouldn’t be long until they succeeded, my arms going numb.

Just as I contemplated dropping, figuring I’d take my chances in the hole, McConnell’s hands lit up again. A strained moan escaped his lips as I felt the pressure on my arms relax, our weight buoyed by his magic. A split-second later we were being pushed upward, gathering momentum. I tucked my arms in to avoid having them ripped off as we hurtled upward, and loosed a sigh of relief.

The comforted feeling didn’t last long.

I looked down and noticed we still had a passenger, one of its dead hands clasped tight around the wizard’s leg, the other swinging loose. To make matters worse, McConnell’s head was slumped against my shoulder and the glow had retreated from his hands. That, however, didn’t stop our ascent.

I looked above us and saw the light from the mausoleum, which had looked so far away earlier, was now hurtling toward us way too fast. I groaned.

“Wake up!” I screamed, but McConnell didn’t bat an eyelid. He was too far gone to hear.

It was just my luck. I’d escaped being mauled by a gaggle of zombies only to be smashed against the rock ceiling. After which, I’d no doubt fall back down and crash into the stone floor where I’d be set upon once again and mauled by said zombies. This was working out great.

Not interested in either scenario, I curled my legs up tight against my body and tucked my head a bit, doing what I could to change my angle in regard to the narrow shaft. McConnell’s body arched over me, placing him somewhat between me and the fast approaching ceiling of rock. While not my intent, I can’t say I could give two squirts about the fact he’d hit first if things didn’t pan out. The maneuver, however, did nothing to shake our zombie hitchhiker. It still held on, its free hand latching ahold of my injured calf to ensure its grip. Its fingers dug into the wound and I gritted my teeth.

Though I knew we were gonna hit something, no matter what I did, I was hoping I could change the angle and minimize the impact to give us a shot at getting out alive. Not much of a plan, but it’d have to do. Simplicity works best for me.