Chapter 27: Where Wise Men Fear To Tread

We caught up to them on the next landing, at the ninth-floor door. Fred and Ave were at the front, Dylan a sword’s length behind. They’d developed a system. Fred would pull a zombie, tripping it, Dylan would stab through its head, while Ave pushed oncoming zombies back with her hammers. Sometimes, she’d push one’s chest with her left, forcing it to stop, then smash it’s head with her right. Sometimes, Fred would simply pull a zombie into his sword, but most of the time, they stayed with their pattern. Once, Dylan had to jump ahead, stabbing so close to Fred’s ear I thought he’d clip him, to get a zombie about to bite down on Fred’s left arm.

Bent grabbed a body’s legs, looked back at me, saying, “Let’s dump these behind us in case that door breaks.”

“A body blockage.”

“Yup.”

I grabbed the other filthy leg, and we tossed it down the stairs. Onto the next one.

“Gross,” said Marci, joining in to help.

While the warriors – it seems so strange saying that! – fought and destroyed the undead, we piled the decaying bodies up on the landing between the eighth and ninth floors. Rotting guts and worse smeared the stairs, dripping in places. The pile of corpses was large enough it would be difficult for a normal person to overcome. I hoped it would stop these mindless things.

And just in time, too, as the thumping sound below was met with a hollow metal tearing sound, probably the rope pulling on the pipes.

I wanted to berate Fred for not listening. Yell a little! I’d ordered him to defend our rear, but he ignored me, running ahead. The thing is it worked out better this way. I stewed on that for a while, moving these bodies, wondering what would happen next time he didn’t listen. I’d hate to be right then.

“Holy shit,” said Dylan, slumping against the wall.

“I think that’s the last of them.” Ave tore a shirt off a corpse, began cleaning her very gore-covered hammers. She flicked a solid piece of something down the stairwell.

Fred yawned, stretching his arms out, breathing in deeply. “Oh man, that was great!” He looked down the stairs at us, “You guys find any treasure in their pockets?”

“We’re not, ah, just no. We’re piling them down, to make a barrier.”

“Against what?”

I shut up, grabbing another leg with Bent.

Marci blew her hair off her face, “More of the zombies, Fred. They’re going to be breaking through the door down there soon.”

“I say let them come! I’ll go down and fight them. More XP for us all.”

“We have to keep moving up.” I said, sitting on a step for a break, “The sooner we take out the altars, the, ah,” I was going to say, ‘sooner we get back on mission,’ but went with, “the sooner we get the quest XP. And level up.”

“Yeah! I hear you, Boss.” He put his pack down, rummaging through it, then pulling out a waterskin, drinking.

I looked away. “Marci, once we get out of this, remind me never to get a job as an undertaker.”

“Why not? You’re more than qualified now. Just think how easy it will be – those bodies won’t even be trying to eat you!”

Bent wiped his hands on a corpse’s pants. “And they’ll have been cleaned by the time you bury them. Wait, no, cleaning will also be your job as an undertaker.”

“Yeah, that’s a hard no for me. Wait. Listen.”

A large rending sound echoed up the stairwell, followed by the sound of metal banging into the floor, and too many moans of the dead.

“Shit, they breached the door.” I stood, “Alright, team, let’s move. Same order we’re in now. We have to be quick about it, to the thirteenth floor.”

***

Our heavies, Fred, Ave and Dylan, killed a few stragglers on the way up and we moved at a pretty good pace, getting to the thirteenth floor shortly. I listened below, but couldn’t tell if the hoard were following us, going downstairs or just milling about. Shuffling noises and hard to locate precisely. But they weren’t immediately behind us, and that’s all that mattered.

Pulled my sword out a little, it glowed brightly. “Guys, there’s zombies behind that door. Let me check for-”

“Good,” said Ave, face aglow, splotches of gore over her forearms, and reaching for the handle. “We’ve got this,” she turned and pulled the door open. A metal bar the width of a coffee cup shot out of the right frame, slamming her in the temple. Ave fell sideways, hitting the ground hard. Zombies on the other side immediately moved toward us, reaching for her, crouching down to come under the bar.

“NO!” shouted Fred, shaking, grabbed the first dead attacker, tossing it into the wall behind us. He ducked and rushed the mob, slamming one into the wall with such strength, its head crushed against the marble. A nearby zombie grabbed at him and Fred smashed his elbow into its face, whirled around and pushed still others back, drew his sword and hacked and hacked.

Tearing my gaze off him, I bent down to check on Ave. The right side of her face was crushed, eye popping out, blood pouring out onto the floor.

“Healing potion, now!” I checked her pulse. Still strong. Tossed my pack on the ground, digging for the healing pot.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” said Dylan as he raced into the hallway.

“Here!” Marci pushed a potion into my hands, then stood up and ran at the zombie Fred had tossed in, body checking it down the stairs.

Putting my hand under Ave’s neck, her hands were twitching, eyes blinking, I opened her mouth, poured the liquid in. She coughed, but some got into her. The bleeding stopped, swelling starting to shrink, eye moving back into its socket. But she was still a mess, pupils different sizes and some bone visible at her temple. I opened my own potion, poured it into her mouth and this time, she drank the whole thing. Her face, bones, skin and all, knitted itself back to normal.

Ave coughed and spit blood, sitting up. “Holy shit, I feel dizzy.”

“You got the left side of your face crushed and . . . somehow restored. Can you focus? Can you see straight? What’s four plus five?”

Marci screamed, “They’re coming up!”

“Nine. Boss. Yeah, I can see your pretty face.”

Staying focused on Ave, I asked, “Can you stand?”

“Oh, I can do more than stand.” She pushed up to her feet, picked up her hammers, winked at me, then headed over to Marci, who was backing up as two more of the dead crested the stairs to our landing.

I didn’t know whether to curse or be happy. All of that could have been avoided if she’d just let me check for traps. Taking hold of my backpack as I stood, I swung it around my arms. Ave was already smashing zombies coming up the stairs, Marci backing her up, but staying well behind, out of the hammer swings.

“River!” Bent grabbed my shirt, “Fred’s fallen!”

“What?”

Down the hallway littered with bodies of the dead, Dylan was swinging his sword, warding off a shorter, hairless and grey skinned humanlike creature with long fingers, thick, triangular fingernails and a wide smile filled with sharp teeth. It slashed at him with its hands, he parried, batting them away with the sword and backing up. The creature followed him, unfazed that metal had just slapped its forearms.

Beyond them, one of the things was dragging Fred away by the collar. He wasn’t moving, arms limp at his side. It entirely black eyes caught my gaze, and its smile widened almost to its grey ears, pulling Fred into a room and away from us.

Dylan’s next strike was sluggish. His left leg stiff, he tripped, falling backwards, sword arm above his head, going limp, sword falling out of his fingers.

“Shit!”

Hunched over, the creature crept over to him, taking him by the leg, then dragging him down the hallway.

I tossed my sword to my left hand, taking hold of my whip in my right. Uncoiled it to the floor. Readied my arm back. Snapped the whip underhand, cracking it against the thing’s skull.

Impossibly, it turned its head around, cocking it sideways, smiled, and continued pulling Dylan away.

I pulled the whip back, sent it flying toward the creature, but this time wrapped it around its neck and jerked violently, tugging it off its feet.

It fell to the floor, I pulled the whip taut. The thing took hold of the whip on its end, stood up, yanked me toward it, my hand outstretched and I let go of the handle. Snarling, gaze locked on me, it raced this way.

No time to change hands, I lunged at the last second, stabbing through its heart, the sword glowing as it entered all too easily, brightening the room opposite as it burst through its back.

In a mockery of a hug, the creature grabbed my arms with its claws, digging in painfully, pulling me toward it, the sword further through it, and trying to bite down on my neck. I pushed it back with everything I had, then a hand smashed into its face, fire bursting orange and red behind into its head, a heat so intense, I pulled back and shielded my own face, the smell of charred flesh and burnt insects filling up the room, it fell to the floor.

“My first spell.” Bent said, staring, still holding his arm up, smoke wafting into the air above his hand.

“Damn! Thank you. Bent, we’re not done!” His gaze slowly moved from the burning remnants of that headless body to me, “Dylan! Go!”

He snapped out of it, rushing down the hallway.

Fighting sounds echoing from the stairwell. I began to walk over to the doorway, but my body was suddenly heavy. My left arm was tingling, pain spreading through it, sword falling out of my grip. I held myself up with my right hand on the wall. “Ave! Marci!” The pain crept down my left side, abs cramping, seizing, leg beginning to tingle, and I dropped to my knees.

“River! Are you ok?” Marci crouched down beside me. “Zombies. So many of them coming up the stairs. I don’t think Ave can hold it. Where is everyone?!”

Pulled the keys out of my pocket, dropped them on the ground. “Get her. In here. Lock the door.” The pain was spreading, I fell forward into her.

“River! Shit, ok, wait here.” Marci got up and out of my view.

I heard her shouting at Ave but couldn’t focus on anything except my body. Breathed in, let it out. My left hand went from numb back to tingling, pain spreading along it like an icy fire. Yet my fingers moved. I closed and shut them. Shoulder sluggish, feeling returning like it’d gone to sleep. My stomach stopped seizing. I felt nauseous and tired but pushed myself up.

Keys fell, Marci swore, keys hitting each other, metallic ringing, then, a bolt clicking into place. “Got it!”

My leg went from numb to pins and needles, and I could move it again. I sat up. A jolt of pain raced along my thigh, so I pressed on it to calm the muscle. It started to feel normal. “Holy. That was not fun.”

Marci crouched down beside me, taking hold of my shoulders, “You ok? Need a healing potion?”

“No, no, I’m getting better. I don’t know what that was. Some kind of poison? A paralytic effect. Very painful, I couldn’t move for a bit. Help me up.”

Ave reached under my arms and hefted me to my feet with ease. I steadied myself against the wall.

She asked, “Where’s Fred?”

I pointed down the hall but didn’t trust her enough to tell her where Fred was. She’d go rushing in and get herself paralyzed. “If Dylan can’t walk, pick him up. We’ll go after Fred together.”

Ave jogged down the hall.

Banging against the door we’d just entered through. It held.

Marci stood up with my sword. “Here.”

I took it by the handle, sheathed it, then collected and coiled my bullwhip, returning it to my belt. “Thanks. Good God, what was that thing? I’m glad you’re ok. Good work back there. Let’s go save Fred.”

Marci smiled, looking down too quickly. Then linked arms with me and started us walking quickly, “I thought you were going to die there.”

“I think I’m ok now. Everything feels normal. If the effect is that temporary, Fred might have killed the creature that took him.” We walked down the hallway quickly to our friends, passing rooms on each side.

“Or it’s continuing to paralyze him.”

Ave knelt down beside Bent, put her hands under Dylan and picked him up. He remained limp. She said, “He’s still breathing, but isn’t moving.”

“I think it’s a paralytic. But skeletal muscles only.”

Bent stood, asked, “He’s going to be ok?”

“I’m sure of it. The same thing just happened to me and I’m ok. Are there any more zombies in this hallway? We need to help Fred, but we can’t leave Dylan here if there are.”

“Fred pretty much cleared them out.”

“Uh, ok. Ave, can you hold him for now? If more of those things come . . .”

“Yeah.” She narrowed her, “but-”

“You’re our heavy hitter. I know.” I turned to our wizard, “Bent. Your spell incinerated one. I’m going to need you on point here.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. You and me this time. Same tactic. I’ll wrap it up in my whip, stab it, you fry it.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, then asked, “What if there’s more than one?”

Marci added, “Or more zombies?”

Putting my hands to my forehead, a little shake, “Then Ave is dropping Dylan and swinging those hammers.”