Page 21 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

“Well, these two, Leptoptilos and Knare, they know each other. They were both in the same evil group at one point, I can’t remember the name. I’ll never understand why evil wizards like to team up so much. They tried to overthrow the city of Kitezh and found their own country. I believe Taran was one of the wizards who stopped them. It was all over the news.”

“I’ve been trying to get in to see Leptoptilos. That name, seriously, I’m calling him Lee from now on. Anyway, I haven’t been able to find anything recent on Knare. He fits the bill though: matches the magical profile, he’s got to be pushing eighty, and he holds a grudge against Taran,” If Taran was right and he is a necromancer, he would have a grudge against the Order too, Mal thought.

“Well then, you have your leads,” Yu said, clapping their hands together. “Glad I can be of assistance. I’ll let you get on with it.” In an instant Yu had transformed back into the strict-looking librarian. “And do try and keep a modicum of decorum, will you?” they said in a voice more befitting the old woman.

Yu led them back through the nooks and crannies of the labyrinthine library and into the study hall. Hala remarked on the way that had Yu not been there, they probably would have been lost down there forever. They arrived to find no scholars or denizens, no one horny or frustrated, just empty desks. Yu became themselves again and wore a new mask of concern. The other three couldn’t see why; Mal just assumed everyone had gone on lunch break. When Mal voiced this possibility, he was perturbed by the reply.

“They don’t go on lunch break. They don’t eat lunch.”

What the fuck do they eat then? Mal thought. Books? Mal put his hilarious thoughts aside as he suddenly shared the concern that Yu was showing so visibly. A creeping had set in. He couldn’t tell quite what it was, but it felt like a ghostly hand was slowly walking up his spine. Caressing his very being. He felt it worm its way up and through him, as if under his skin. His world swam. He followed the others as they headed for the stairs. He squirmed as the feeling reached the middle of his back. The others, now aware of the strange malady befalling Mal, seemed all the more concerned for their situation. Even Yu seemed genuinely worried for him. He would have thought it very sweet given they had just met, but now the creeping had reached the top of his spine and it was a creep no more. Mal was hit by a wave of dread, a cavalcade of pain and nausea. It was so violent it nearly knocked him off his feet. Now, however, he recognized the malady; he’d felt this before, but never this acutely. His death sense. Gods, he hated that phrase. It made him sound like Spider-Man, but Spider-Man was a hero, and all he could do was fuck with the dead. He was balled over now, hands on his knees, head heavy with pain. The others had stopped to check on him, but a sense of urgency had gripped the group. The kind of panic that sets in upon prey when it knows it’s being hunted.

Mal didn’t help matters, as in his haste to explain what was happening he simply said, “The dead are coming.” Which is possibly the worst thing to say to a group of frightened people. Unfortunately for them, it was also quite accurate.

10Anima and Flesh

Of the many horrors our world possesses—plagues, Eldritch beasts, social media—there is but one Mal wished never to meet again. Zombies. Him being a necromancer, you would think he had plentiful experience with zombies, and thus the sight of one wouldn’t scare the arse off him. But Mal’s dealings with the dead still involved life. Mal’s experience thus far with necromancy had been the practice of finding a lost soul and temporarily stuffing it back into the body from which it came. He had done something altogether different with his parents. Finding out what that was, however, would require research, and that wasn’t an appealing prospect to Mal. Research an evil power and make it stronger? No thank you.

His only experience thus far with the walking dead, as it were, was the first time his parents took off their wedding rings. Almost instantly his parents switched off, but their bodies continued on, walking mindlessly around the house. The lights were on, but nobody was home. He watched as the bodies obeyed his commands and generally did as they were told, if slowly. That was, until he stopped concentrating on them. Freed from his control, the bodies took control of themselves. Luckily, before they could tear the ten year-old Mal limb from limb, he took back control and promptly forced them to put their rings back on. At which point, his parents returned. For better or worse.

So as Mal stood there, in a cramped library corridor, doubled over in nausea and pain, the last thing he wanted to see was the walking dead. He watched the end of the corridor in hideous anticipation as strange noises rattled and bounced off the walls. Something was coming for them. Scraping thuds. Guttural breaths. Whatever it was, it was big. Fortunately for Mal, the first thing to come around the corner wasn’t the undead …

But a moth the size of a human. It came crashing around the corner into the corridor. Its wings flapped painfully into the walls as it bounced and collided with bookshelves and tomes, sending everything flying. The man-sized moth charged at them. Had you, for some ungodly reason, been scared of moths, you would have soiled yourself six times over at the sight. As the group were not scared of moths, but merely scared of insanely large moths, they just screamed. Its large black eyes fixed on them and it buzzed and scraped its way toward them. Bony, hairy legs crashed into the floor as it dragged itself forward. Just as it was about to reach them, it stopped. More accurately, it was pulled backward. Unfortunately for Mal, it was not by a giant bird but by the undead. The horde pulled the beast toward them and Mal watched as the moth was ripped apart wing from wing, like something out of a Lovecraftian nature documentary. Guts and blood of all the wrong colors sprayed onto the walls, antennae snapped, eyes popped, and a thorax was stamped on. When they were finished with the moth, the dead stared down their next victims, relishing in their anguish, before they charged at the group.

“RUN!” Mal said, but the group needed no encouragement. They sprinted back the way they’d came, heavy thudding footsteps behind them. Mal wished now his magic was closer to that of a storm mage. Shifting tiny electrons wouldn’t do shit against a horde of zombies, and a horde they were. Mal turned briefly to see what must have been a dozen corpses charging at them. Some fleshy, some only bone. The group reemerged into the study hall and slammed the door behind them. Des and Hala pushed a small bookshelf in front of it while Mal and Yu tried to catch their breath.

“Is there another way out?” Mal said, praying Yu could guide them to another exit.

“I don’t know, I just come here to read books, I haven’t explored every facet of this place.”

Des and Hala finished their barricade and made their way over to them.

“Mal,” Des said, “can’t you do something?” Mal looked at her as if to say Don’t tell them my secret, but she seemed to read his mind. “Is that really more important than saving us right now?”

“Good point,” Mal said. Although the Order might disagree, Mal thought. “Okay, get behind me.”

“Why?” Hala said, voicing both her and Yu’s confusion.

“Because if I can’t stop them, you’re gonna need to run.” Mal closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were not his own. The group watched on in awed horror as shadows lapped at the fringes of Mal’s body, echoing and mimicking his movement. Mal had always wondered if only he could see the shadows, but evidently they all could. Gasps of “What the fuck?” and “What is he doing?” came from Hala and Yu as Mal wrestled with his power.

Flashes of his parents’ faces tensing and contorting struck his mind and the panic that accompanied his powers set in. His world swayed, his breath quickened. But adrenaline rose to meet them. His hands shook but his breath was still his own. He was still in control. He drew in a slow, measured breath and prepared himself. His body had chosen to fight this time and Mal was grateful for it.

Knocking, banging, scraping fell upon the barricaded door. Mal raised his hand and the shadows followed. He watched as a fleshy fist smashed through the wood, clawing for them; another arm came through after. He’d been ignoring the dead his whole life, and now they were knocking down the door. More and more, fist and bone and flesh colliding and breaking holes in the door. The group backed up farther and farther into the study hall. Mal turned to his companions and saw them urging him to do something, and quickly. Problem was, he had no idea what he was doing. He’d never studied for this; he didn’t even know if you could study for this. Why wasn’t there a secret necromancer school where he could have fun adventures and have learned all of this by now? It could be called the Bonetown Afterlife Academy and each year he would save the world and, more importantly, his grades. THINK, he screamed at himself, what do I do? He remembered the day his parents went feral, the feeling of commanding their corpses. Better give it a go, he thought.

He reached out and tried to take control, seize the false-life in their bodies and make it his own. But these bodies were already moving, and not by his hand. He reached out, pulling everything he could from the place within him that did not belong. He felt them coming toward him, felt them pounding on the door; he could sense them, but they felt out of reach. Like he just wasn’t tall enough to grab a ledge. The horde smashed through the door.

The first few fell over the bookcase, but the next clambered over them and made for the group. Mal could feel their presence now more than ever, which would have been helpful if he could do anything about it. Yells came from Des, Hala, and Yu for him to do something, but all seemed to be failing him. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t control them, he couldn’t stop them, he had only ever practiced bringing people back.

Bringing them back …

The corpse of a large man made for Mal, slowly ambling toward him. Mal held his hand up and searched. It always took a moment, a moment he might not have. A shadowy fist slammed the large man in the face. The zombie held still, looking around, confused. More zombies urged slowly forward behind him.

“What the fuck is happening?” the large man said, staring at the group. “Am I …?” He looked down at his own rotting corpse and burst into screaming tears. Mal didn’t have time to explain what was happening to the poor sod, because two more came by just after him. An old woman and a young man, slack-jawed, glazed eyes, and groaning for flesh. Mal tried again. Two more shadowy fists slammed the zombies in the face. The young man immediately started vomiting, but the old woman handled it quite well.

“Oh, oh my, is that my grandson? Oh heavens,” the old woman zombie said. More streamed in, clutching and reaching for them, and as they did, Mal brought them back. One zombie got a bit too close to Hala and they all watched as Des punched it so hard it flew across the room. Mal was nearly caught mid-swing by a zombie but was quick enough to slam his soul back into him, at which point the zombie apologized. Slowly the group fell back as Mal brought back more and more of them. Hala and Yu started trying to console the understandably confused undead while Des took a more active approach of punching anything that got too close. At one point he could have sworn he saw her bare her teeth in the frenzy.

This continued on as they were pushed farther and farther back into the study hall. Zombie after zombie turned into confused undead, over and over. Occasionally Mal would let one slip back into zombie mode and Des would be on hand to smack them across the room. Soon the room was full and they had no further place to run. Mal sweated through his top and held out both hands as if trying to carry everyone at once. The frenzy had given way to a mild, very English frustration. It felt more like a gathering at a village council; everyone was surely very upset or confused but no one was really sure why they were there. A murmur filled the room as Mal noticed that the stream of zombies had stopped. This was it. He had them all. Mal thought he might pass out. It felt as though he were carrying a very large slippery boulder, and any second he would drop it on his foot and they would all be dead. Slowly, the group made their way past the confused undead, apologizing and consoling those who needed it. He heard Hala say:

“It’s all okay, someone is going to come along and explain everything in just a moment, if you could all just remain calm and let us pass.” Somehow this worked; several zombies even sat down to scooch out of their way. The group exchanged looks of horrified joy as their impending doom had become slightly more pending.