Tim Marquitz - Resurrection

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.

Just as we reached the bottom of the open crypt entrance, about four feet from the roof, I kicked my legs out, slamming them into the wall. When they connected, I pushed with all my might redirecting our momentum. It worked…

…kinda.

My head and shoulders shot out through the crypt, but it wasn’t enough. We were moving too fast. McConnell’s back slammed into the ceiling hard, followed a split-second later by the zombie crashing into us.

The impact drove the wizard’s head into the back of mine. Stars exploded in front of my eyes, my vision whirling as our ascent ended abruptly. Through the haze, I felt our weight return. Gravity, my old nemesis, had reasserted itself. We were falling.

In a panic, I reached out with both hands and grabbed whatever I could. My fingers sunk into the soft, thick carpet and latched on. It didn’t take but an instant to realize that wasn’t gonna work.

Red strips of carpet peeled away like from an orange, curling up in strips between my fingers. I shouted a million epithets as we fell, tumbling back into the hole.

As my hands slid past the edge of the crypt, I tried again, desperate. This time I got lucky. My fingers locked onto the concrete lip. I bore down with everything I had, the sudden snap of McConnell’s and the zombie’s weight nearly tearing my fingers off. My hands and arms felt as if they were being massaged by a blowtorch as McConnell slipped down, pulling the shirt tight against my throat like a noose. I gasped, unable to breathe. Frantic, I dug in while summoning every ounce of energy I could muster. I fought and I fought, inching my way upward. The relentless zombie tore at McConnell all the while.

Each torturous inch was like crawling a mile naked across a carpet of glass shards. Every muscle in my body shrieked, but at last, I’d gained enough ground I could leverage my arms against the sides of the crypt opening. With one last agonizing effort, I’d pulled us through far enough that only our lower bodies hung inside the hole, not counting our zombie hitchhiker. It clung on viciously snapping at McConnell’s back, which probably looked like bloody hamburger by now.

Comforted by the solidness of the ground, my heart still doing somersaults in my chest, I could at last do something about the zombie. Unable to reach my gun, I started to kick, lashing out with everything I had. It wasn’t much, but fortunately, it was enough. The zombie slipped loose and fell back into the hole, chittering madly.

Free of the undead, I slipped McConnell’s arms from around my neck and sucked in a deep breath, my throat raw. Even so, it felt glorious. But with no time to waste, I undid the belt that held the wizard’s legs to mine and pulled him the rest of the way out of the hole. Once I’d done that, I rolled him over. What little optimism I’d gained from our escape withered.

While not disemboweled, the wound was as close as you can come without being so. Not having the skills to deal with it, I yanked my shirt off his arms and used it to stuff the wound, keeping pressure on it with one hand. With my free hand, I dug out Candy’s phone and put a call into DRAC.

If McConnell was gonna live, he’d need more than my help.

At DRAC headquarters, the doctors wheeled McConnell off in a hurry. Recruited for being the best at what they do, their empathic psychic talents augmenting their surgical skills, he was in good hands. Though his wounds were serious and he’d lost a lot of blood, they believed he’d make it. I guess that’s good news to someone.

Fortunately for me, my wounds were nowhere near as severe. With the exception of the bite, my injuries were caused by natural means, the majority of them having already closed. Only a few of the deepest cuts still remained, their puckered edges creeping together, knitting shut with each passing minute. I’d have to see to the bite later.