20 The Undead

Depending on how you see it, it's either a good or bad thing that there aren't bodies. For there to be so much blood, several people have extensive wounds, and it's good we don't have to see them; bad because we have no idea where they went; nobody who lost this much blood, up and walked away. Following that thought, a low drawn out moan echoes through the air; freezing the blood in my veins. My breath stutters in my throat and my panicked thumping heart threatens to leap out of my chest. Daric breaks into a cold sweat, and tremors wrack his body. Shooting a glance to Ivo, I can tell he is suffering similar problems. I try to convince myself I imagined it, but it sounded again.

Louder and closer, accompanied by others. Multiple moans ring out. Followed by the sound of something dragging along the dirt. I wanted to move, tried to unroot my feet, but blind terror left me petrified. From the right side of the alley opening, a humanoid shadow stretches along the ground. Then came another and more until the shadows are little more than a writhing mass of disjointed limbs. It crept further until the source of the shadows finally came into sight.

Daric slumps, knocking against me. I keep him from hitting the ground, but he is out cold. I bite back a whimper. What was I saying about the grip of the damned?

Standing before us are shambling masses of bones and flesh. Their decaying, bloated, and blue skin clings to black bones by strips. Watching more and more stumble along, I manage to hold my gasp when I figure out where the villagers went. Or rather, what they've become. Undead creatures birthed from corpses and asura. /This is much worse than all my worst case scenarios combined./ I have never been one to pray, but I did now. Prayed for them to continue on their way, not to see us, and for us to survive this encounter. However, at that moment, Daric wakes up. And he didn't do it quietly, and it got their attention. In a macabre version of military men, as one, they stopped and snapped their heads to us. Gaping black maws for eyes pin us down, neither side moves.

Daric shifts, trying to get up despite my bruising hold. "What," he mumbles.

And like that, the trance breaks. At the first step they take, I grab Daric from one side. Ivo, without a word, grabs him from the other and we bolt. We ignore Darics confused mutterings, and he eventually catches on. He can either run under his own power or get dragged, but he was going to move. We run without speaking; focusing all our energy into our legs. These are not like the slow moving zombies of old Hollywood. The smell of the grave hits me. They're gaining. More pop up as we run blindly. Arms shoot out of the stone walls like a jack in the box. Scraping and clawing at our clothes. Boney hands like knives rake us. Still, we do not falter in our step for a misstep will mean our deaths. Survival overrides everything.

We came face to face with a wall. Blocked in, trapped. I push the boys behind me as I face the oncoming horde. I must have squeezed my eyes shut because when I heard laughter, they snapped open. The zombies are jerking from where they stand a few yards away but going no further. Held in place by an unseen force. I don't let my guard down. Fearing any moment they will spring forward to tear us apart. I follow the sound of laughter to the roof of the building on the right. There is an overcast from the clouds so I can't make out their faces. A man, judging from his general shape, is still laughing in a mocking tone that grates on my frayed nerves.

The clouds shift away, allowing the light of the moons to shine through, I gasp at who I see. Standing closest to the edge is the three bastards who chased me through town; they're as dirty and disheveled as when I first met them. They, however, aren't what surprised me. Standing a bit further back is Monna holding up Zain, who looks seconds from death. My concern melts away to anger when I read her face. It isn't the face of someone taken hostage. Instead, it's the face of victory.

At that moment, I knew she threw in with the people hunting me. I have every right to be angry, but I couldn't hold onto it for long. I hear the small, heartbreaking noises from Ivo and Daric when they too have realized what Monna has done.

"Why?" Daric asks with his voice on the edge of a sob.

"Because she wants to get rid of the girl," is Loud Mouth's arrogant reply.

"What in the name of Goddess above did I do to you? We weren't exactly nice to each other, but let's be honest, that was your fault." I say pointlessly trying to use logic on a child. I'm technically the one to blame because I'm supposed to be the adult, but let's not focus on that.

"It's what you would have done!" She screeches, her eyes going a little too wide, taking on a maniacal look. "You will lead us to our deaths! I have to protect them and this way you become one of the cursed dead!" She drops her voice and expression. Shrugging her shoulder like she didn't just go on a crazed rant, "you won't leave here alive." Having a child speak about my planned murder like it's a matter of fact is as frightening as her unhinged ranting. She stands arrogant, like aligning with a group of people who will kill her as soon as this is over, is worth being proud of. How screwed up is her little head to believe he wouldn't turn on her, but I would?

The drunkard refuses to be ignored, "why she did anything doesn't matter. What matters is I have control of the draugr. Do as I say and I won't feed all of you to them."

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Learning the name of these creatures triggers the distant memory of a story. The Undead Draugr, it was called. The story of a verza mage, raising his dead daughter due to grief. If I remember clearly, they can't die, and once bitten by a draugr, you'll turn into one.

"That's not what we agreed on!" Monna stumbles closer to the drunkard.

/What did she think was going to happen?/

"You agreed, not to harm them!" she hollers.

"Then it's a good thing I won't be doing anything," his face twists into a snarl.

He gestures to his dumbass cronies. The aging old man holds Monna back, and the skinny guy drags a barely conscious Zain to the drunkard. With sadistic glee, he takes Zain, pausing long enough to make sure everyone understood what he was about to do, and shoves him over into a few zombies he let move. Monna breaks the hold, rushing to the edge.

I scream the children scream, and most of all Zain screams the loudest. There are a few zombies in the way, but not enough to block the view completely. Helpless, I watched as they fed on him; relentlessly tearing into a fragile little boy. I cradle myself as tears ran freely. His bones become black, and his skin becomes blue. I sob, nevermore will those bright green eyes be filled with joy. An eternity of screams and torn flesh later. What is left of him stands. No, not him, because Zain is dead, joining the ranks of the draugr. "It" will soon fall upon us to feast. To rip us apart until we too join their ranks.

Monna wails, "No! No! NOO!" She clutches her head and collapses on herself, babbling, "I was trying to save him. I didn't do anything wrong. I was trying to help. It's not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault," She repeats like a mantra while rocking, trying to convince herself.

All the while they laughed like he told the worlds greatest joke. I want nothing more than to devolve into a simpering mass of tears, but I bottle it all because I need to focus on finding a way out; keeping my heart together with nothing but spit and willpower.