by A.R. Wise
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The Tennerblane River flowed beside New Carrinton, and a man-made tributary had been dug to not only feed the moat, but also to allow a stream to run through the city itself. There was a shipyard on the river itself, outside of the wall and beside the eastern gate, but the tributary that went through the city itself wasn’t meant for ships. The tributary was meant to help beautify the city, and the homes beside the water had been some of the most expensive in town. Unfortunately, the tributary caused foundation problems for those homes, causing many of them to shift and crack. The once wealthy area had been abandoned by the aristocracy, and had eventually become a middle class area at best. Low-born families bought the former homes of the rich citizens at discounted prices, and then did their best to save the homes. The banks of the tributary were now fortified, but some of the buildings had been damaged too badly for easy repair and sat abandoned.
Samuel Second-Sword had been tasked with investigating one of these decrepit, musty buildings along the river, and he used the pommel of his sword to bang on the door. “City Sword here.” Despite this home being abandoned, Sam knew there could be squatters within. He pushed the door open, causing the rusty hinges to squeal in protest. The door was lodged in its warped frame, the bottom scraping on the wood floor within. Sam had to slam his shoulder into the door to get it to open wide enough for him to enter.
It was dark inside, dank and covered in spider webs. Sam was certain the home was empty, but still had to check. He set his lantern down, opened the hinged door on its side, and then used his flint grinder to light the oiled wick within. The lantern’s orange light pushed away the darkness, and cast wavering shadows on the walls.
The home had scant pieces of furniture that had been deemed worthless by the former owners and left behind. It also appeared that this had been the home of a vagrant or two over the years as Sam saw that there were bedrolls in one of the corners.
He took a step forward and the loose floorboards beneath him shifted and creaked. This house had been severely damaged by the tributary, and Sam wondered how safe it was to be inside. It wasn’t uncommon for these old homes to collapse, and he took careful steps as he made his way to the kitchen.
The home had a back door off the kitchen that led to the alley, and Sam saw that this part of the house had been recently opened. There was a path leading away from the back door and to a different part of the house. He walked further into the kitchen and then caught sight of a young, pale girl on the other side of the room, partially hidden in the threshold of the hallway beyond. When he looked up at her, she ducked away. He heard her bare feet padding on the wooden floor.
“Hey, come back here. Hey you, girl,” said Sam as he gave chase. “What’re you doing here?” A plank beneath him broke, and he stumbled and fell to his knees, crashing down hard enough to stun him for a moment. He heard a door creak open somewhere in the house as he got up and limped after the child, following the path that had been left in the dust on the floor. The floor cracked beneath him and shifted, causing him to nearly lose his balance again. As he moved, he kept a wary eye on the floor. Then, just as he was about to reach the spot where the girl had been watching him, he looked up and saw someone else standing there.
It was a grown man, fully nude except for a leather mask that covered his mouth. He looked grey even in the orange light of the lantern’s flame, and his hair had almost entirely fallen out. His eyes were black and glassy, and there were dark red tears dripping down his cheeks and then running along the side of his gag. He was a zombie, evident by the gaping wound on his neck and the stain of old blood that traced down his hairy chest. He was followed by another creature, similarly gagged and advancing from a door that the child had opened down the hall.
Sam halted and tried to draw his sword, but the space was too confined and the creature was moving too fast. He retreated back into the kitchen and the floor groaned beneath his weight. The zombies were moving fast, and there were more than two of them now. Whatever door had been opened, there was a horde of the monsters waiting to get out. As they came, the floor cracked and sunk. Sam knew he had to get out, and turned to run when the board he was standing on snapped, causing his leg to fall through. The lantern hit the floor, shattering the glass and causing the oil reservoir inside to spill out onto the wood. The zombies at his back were quick to grab him, but their fiercest weapons were caged as they uselessly slammed their gagged mouths against his armor.
He shoved at them and cursed as he tried to free his leg, but something below had grabbed hold of him. There were zombies in the cellar, and they caught his foot. He screamed out for help, and then anchored himself before thrusting upward, freeing his foot and simultaneously knocking back the horde that had descended upon him. However, he also broke the rotted wood joist that was keeping this portion of the floor aloft, and the weight of the gathered horde was enough to finish the job. The entire floor caved in, and Sam found himself plunged into a pack of the gagged creatures that had been waiting in the basement. They held him tight, even as he fought, but they couldn’t feed on him.
He still had hope.
The Second-Sword punched one of the creatures on the bridge of the man’s nose, his gauntlet shattering bone. Next he tried to roll over to stand up, but the horde had wormed their fingers into the leather straps that kept his breastplate on. He started to strike the creature’s holding him, desperate to free himself and climb to safety, and then he smelled smoke. The broken lantern had started a fire, although he couldn’t see where.
His battle with the horde took his attention away from the smoldering lantern. Even though the zombies couldn’t bite him, their scrambling claws were finding their way to his flesh. The creatures were determined to murder him however they could, and he had to fight them away from his face as they reached for his mouth and eyes. The floor had crushed a good amount of the horde, pinning them to the stone floor of the cellar, but it was hard to silence the zombies forever, and they still moved beneath him. Their arms reached up through the broken floor and gripped Sam, holding him as the zombies above crawled on top of him.
Samuel Second-Sword continued to cry out for help as the zombies finally got their fingers into his flesh, digging and pulling relentlessly. Smoke was billowing up from the wreckage now, and the bright glow of new flames filled the kitchen with blazing light. Sam could see the hungry dead as they tore into him, digging endlessly with their bony fingers, finally getting past his desperate swings to rip at his lips.
As the pain intensified he wished that the fire would take him first. He hoped the smoke would choke him to death so that he could avoid this agony, but he would get no such respite. He was forced to endure the pain as the zombie’s fingers burrowed into his flesh, slowly tearing him apart bit by bit.