Jane Slayre

by Sherri Browning Erwin

  I needed to form a plan with Miss Temple. Clearly she knew all about the zombies and Mr. Bokorhurst's horrific enterprise. Working together, we might meet with success in freeing the affected from the curse before any more of them developed a taste for flesh. I despaired of ever stopping Mr. Bokorhurst entirely.

  The next morning, once the others left the room, I rose, washed,

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  dressed, and prepared to go to breakfast. I was hungry, I realised, and I needed to keep up my strength. I ate quickly, picked up my ration of bread and cheese, and set off for the woods to practise my training. Once I'd worked up a healthy glow with physical exertion, I decided to retire to my favourite spot to eat my dinner. Mary Ann Wilson was already there, and she gave me a nod of greeting as she consumed her own bread and cheese.

  No more mutton pie for Lowood. Miss Temple had burned them all far from the school, so as not to interest any of the special students with the aroma. I was glad to see that Mary Ann seemed too enamoured of her dinner to gossip today. My mood was reflective, not social. To me, it seemed the sun was shining in tribute to Helen Burns, so bright a soul, and that the birds sang her praises and even the bees hummed hymns in her honour. Later, I would gather flowers and try to find her grave, if she'd been buried yet. I squinted off to the mounds, all freshly patted down. What if Mr. Bokorhurst tried to harvest her? Would I be ready to fight him off? Anything to protect Helen.

  "There's talk of resuming classes," Mary Ann said, breaking the golden spell of silence. "Next week, perhaps. Miss Scatcherd was in the library this morning drafting letters to the absent pupils to return to school."

  "Do you think they will return?"

  Mary Ann shrugged. "Most will want to finish what they started. Mr. Bokorhurst can promise employment to the older girls."

  "Employment?"

  "Catherine Johnstone and Caroline henley will be leaving us. Caroline's off to Brighton to be a governess, and Catherine a lady's maid in London. Mr. Bokorhurst announced it last night. You hadn't heard? Ah, but you were in bed. Oh, wouldn't I like to go to London!"

  I stifled a groan. Mary Ann wouldn't like to go to London the way Catherine Johnstone was to do it, with a reanimated brain in a shell of a body. She and Caroline had become part of the "special"

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  set since taking ill with typhus. I imagined Catherine hulking around like Abbot, parroting her mistress's speeches and losing her limbs in the wardrobe. Of course, the special students never seemed to have a problem with parts becoming unattached since Mr. Bokorhurst had no doubt perfected his technique, as he'd told Mrs. Reed. It troubled me to think of a zombie working closely with children. What if they were fed meat? I had to speak to Miss Temple right away. There was no time to waste.

  "Helen Burns did not envy Catherine a bit. She thought that she would prefer to be sent to Scotland if she were to be a maid. Scotland? La, can you imagine? It's so cold and so far away."

  I gasped at the name. "Helen Burns?"

  Mary Ann nodded. "Oh, yes. She came back from the sickroom today. We all thought she would never recover. She's still weak, of course, poor thing. But she's back with us."

  Back with us? There was only one way that could be possible. The revelation rocked me to my very core. I choked a little on my cheese and spent some minutes coughing.

  "Oh dear." Mary Ann jumped down from our perch. "Your cough sounds terrible. Perhaps you should check in with Miss Temple. Miss Scatcherd said that the sickness had likely passed, but perhaps not."

  I almost corrected Mary Ann and explained about the bit of cheese, but stopped myself in time. "Miss Temple? Yes. I will seek her out at once."

  I could not get back inside fast enough. I left all my things and ran straight for the door. Where could Helen be? I had to see her, yet I dreaded seeing her, all at the same time. Mr. Bokorhurst had been at school, and now Helen had returned. I prayed that Miss Temple would have answers, and while I prayed, I pleaded the case for Helen Burns, God's most devoted little subject.

  "Please, God, protect Helen. Don't let Mr. Bokorhurst have robbed her of her chance to fly to heaven."

  Before I reached the classroom, I knew Mary Ann Wilson spoke

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  the truth. There, at a table surrounded by ten or so of the "special" others, Helen sat perched on the edge of her chair. She leaned over a book and read, her lips moving, her body rocking slightly with every word.

  I approached and placed my hand on her shoulder. So cold! "Helen, how are you?"

  She looked at me, but she might as well have looked straight through me to the wall. The absence of life in her eyes, dear reader, how it cut me to the bone! Her eyes, formerly alight with such wit and wisdom as to lend her a divine quality, now appeared dull and grey.

  "Jane." At least she knew me. "Leave me. I must read my psalms."

  Psalms! Mr. Bokorhurst's favoured psalms. She turned back to her book.

  I hesitated. What to say? "Miss Temple wants to see you. She has something for you." Helen continued to read. "An assignment from Mr. Bokorhurst."

  Now she stopped reading and rose. "Mr. Bokorhurst?"

  "You are to come with me." I took her hand, gently for fear of detachment, and led her from the table. "To Miss Temple's room."

  I did not need to guide her down the hall. Her feet, indeed all of her, followed. She clearly knew the way. She chanted as we walked. "Mr. Bokorhurst instructs us to find the Lord in all things. Mr. Bokorhurst alone knows the way to God."

  "I believe you know the way, Helen. If only I could set you free to follow your true path."

  She ignored me. As much as I wanted to save her, I doubted my ability to do what I had to do. When I looked at her quickly, without allowing my eyes to linger, she was still Helen, my bosom friend, beside me. Dear, sweet Helen Burns.

  Perhaps Miss Temple could help me find the strength. We reached her door and I knocked quietly. There was no answer. I opened the door and instructed Helen to go in.

  "I do not see Miss Temple," Helen said.

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  I called out but there was no answer, no sign of the lady or the nurse who had taken her station in the corner to look after the sleeping Helen. The little bed I'd shared with Helen had already been removed.

  "Let us sit together," I said to Helen, guiding her to a chair. "Miss Temple will be along shortly. Would you like some tea? We can ring for toast." I had no authority to offer such fortification, but I knew Helen would refuse it.

  "No, thank you," she said, proving me correct. "I'm not hungry. Is there a Bible? I would like to read my psalms while I wait."

  "Yes. I saw one by the bed." She started to get up. I gestured for her to sit back down. "I'll get it for you."

  As I went to the other side of the room to fetch Miss Temple's sword, I heard Helen start to chant a psalm before I'd even returned.

  "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul."

  I froze in my tracks behind Helen, the unsheathed weapon in my hands. At once, my heart broke for her. I couldn't be certain if the words belonged to zombie Helen or the real Helen somewhere inside her, crying out for help. Her words rung in my ears. He restores my soul.

  "May God help you, Helen," I said on a sob. "May he keep you and guide you and love you, always, as I have done."

  She started to turn towards my voice, but before I could see her face, before I had to look in her eyes and see all over again emptiness instead of Helen, I lifted the sword and brought it, with all my strength, down on her neck. Her head rolled. Her body staggered and fell, slumping to the table. For a moment, I thought I'd made a terrible mistake, that Helen had in fact been alive and I'd killed her. I gasped, dropped the sword, and covered my mouth with my hands. Dear Lord! What had I done?

  But then, I caught sight of the green goo dribbling from the orifice

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  where her head had been. Her beautiful, brillian
t head! And I knew, on sight of green goo in place of blood, that Helen was indeed no more. I had not taken her life. I had restored her to peace. I fancied I could hear her sweet voice saying, "Good-bye, Jane." I closed my eyes to blink back the tears.

  A hand touched my shoulder and startled me. I screamed, I think. I couldn't tell if the sound had actually made it to my lips or if it had only happened in my head, like Helen's good-bye.

  "Jane!" Miss Temple's voice. I turned. "I'm glad to see you. We need to talk."

  "About Helen? I already know."

  She looked and saw the body in the chair. Her arms went around me and she pulled me to her. "Jane."

  I had that feeling again, the one I'd had after I'd stood up to Mrs. Reed and showed her the stake intended for her son should he attack me again--a feeling of power and triumph, a fierce pleasure racing through my veins. I'd done the right thing. I'd saved Helen. I'd set her free.

  After Miss Temple and I held our own small service and burial for Helen Burns, we returned to Miss Temple's rooms to talk.

  I learned that Miss Temple had known about Mr. Bokorhurst's activities for some time, and she greatly disapproved. He'd threatened her with turning her out without a recommendation, and she feared that she would be better served to stay at Lowood to help nurse students to health and look after us than to leave us all to the mercy of a man like Mr. Bokorhurst.

  "He truly means well," she said. "he seems to believe he's doing a service for the dead, in keeping their bodies useful after their soul's earthly departure. He would not do anything to harm the girls in life."

  "Except for starving us and half freezing us to death. Besides, if

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  he thought he was doing well, he would have no need to threaten you."

  "Jane." Miss Temple smiled. "You're so small for your age, and yet you seem so much older than your years."

  "I'm much stronger than I look, too. I've been practising."

  "As I've seen. The time has come, then. We shall free all the girls from their curses and put a stop to Mr. Bokorhurst's actions at last."

  CHAPTER 11

  THE NEXT MORNING, WE began our day as usual, with Miss Temple checking on the patients in the sickroom while I rose in the dorm, dressing with the other girls, and keeping watch over the "special students" amongst us. Most girls planned to enjoy their rumored last few days of freedom in the woods. After a brief repast, they took their dinners in parcels and separated from the rest of us to run off into the fields and woods. As usual, the special students gathered at the round tables in the classroom to recite psalms.

  Miss Temple waited until everyone settled into activity. She'd sent the teachers on errands, respectively, to the apothecary, to post letters, to procure needles and thread. With the nurse and Miss Miller keeping watch over the girls in the sickroom and the other girls out roaming in nature, we had the schoolroom to ourselves with the special students. Miss Temple informed the zombified girls that Mr. Bokorhurst had important plans for each of them, even the youngest, and that she would be sending them each out of the room to receive instructions from him in the privacy of the library.

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  Miss Temple hated to lie, but she deemed it a necessity to restore the girls' souls to heaven, where they belonged.

  I waited in the library, sword in hand, ready to decapitate them as they entered. One at a time they came in, as Miss Temple sent them, starting with Catherine Johnstone. I stood behind a row of books and coughed, so she would follow the sound and be drawn to the right location. Just as she turned a corner, slice! I delivered a solid stroke, a clean cut. I wished we had planned a little better, though. I had barely enough time to fetch the head and drag the corpse out of the way between two other shelves of books before another zombie came in. Plus, the green goo was already making the floor slippery, as if I were stepping in pea soup. Next came Jilly Richards, Amanda Green, and Millie harvey.

  After the fourth, it became mechanical. I was surprised at my own strength. Eight more came in succession, and I made short work of them all. All except Mona Billings, who somehow got the idea to duck just as I swung the saber. Upon sight of me, she became angry. Angry zombies are strong zombies, as I knew from experience with Abbot. I began striking wildly to keep her away from me in the close space, and I sliced through a few books and cut off one of Mona's hands before I found my bearings again and did the deed. I'd feared that we'd made a mistake and Mona was perfectly mortal after all, but the sight of the oozing green goo warmed my heart and convinced me that we had done the right thing.

  By my calculation, we had six more to free, all smaller girls, when I heard a voice that boomed like thunder in the other room. Mr. Bokorhurst!

  My heart raced with panic. I ran to the door to listen, nearly slipping on Mona's remains. The zombies were expressing surprise at Mr. Bokorhurst's appearance, and Miss Temple struggled to keep order.

  "Where are the others, Miss Temple? I expected to find the older girls leading the group in reciting their psalms. Have you given them orders contrary to my wishes?"

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  "Yes, Mr. Bokorhurst. I have." I gasped, a little surprised by Miss Temple's easy admission. "The time has come to return your special students to nature, to the heavenly home they deserve."

  "Miss Temple! I am astonished. What better home can we give them but one where toil and sacrifice is supported and appreciated?"

  "If God intended the girls to continue a life of endless toil and sacrifice, Mr. Bokorhurst, he would have let them live in your care instead of calling them home from their earthly confines. As it is, they are a danger to the others. Though the housekeeper, may she rest in peace, was warned, two of them got hold of mutton pies, and we're lucky there were not more. Now follow him and let them go!"

  "Where is Miss Scatcherd?" he bellowed. "Eve Scatcherd, show yourself! Surely Miss Scatcherd would not stand back and allow you to destroy our careful enterprise?"

  Reader, I could no longer stay behind the library door. For my own safety, keeping hidden would have been the wisest choice, but something larger than concern for myself seemed to thrum, nay to pound, in my veins. I heard, or imagined, Helen encouraging me, telling me to stand beside Miss Temple in her rebellion.

  I concealed the sword under my pinafore and stepped out in time to see Miss Temple crossing her arms, standing her ground in bold defiance. "I sent her away. I've sent them all away on errands so I could complete my mission to save the girls."

  "Save them? You're destroying them!"

  "Destroying their earthly remains," I said in a tone so clear and loud I barely recognised it as my own. "What are they but empty shells of girls, once full of life, now forced to do your bidding?"

  Mr. Bokorhurst gasped. "Jane Slayre! I should have heeded Mrs. Reed's warnings more carefully. She warned that you would not be easy to control."

  "I will not be controlled!" I turned to my former classmates. "Do you not see what he has done? Do you not wish to be free to continue on your path to heaven, where you belong? He is not your

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  master! He will sell you, profit from you, as he sold Miss Martha Abbot to Mrs. Reed. God awaits you in heaven. Stand up! Rise up! Stop Mr. Bokorhurst from using you. Follow your true maker to your heavenly home."

  I dropped to my knees, out of breath from my imploring. They would not follow me, a mere girl, a classmate, over one so imposing and authoritative as Mr. Bokorhurst. He had them in a trance. But I thought of Helen and I could not give up. I repeated her last words, from the psalm. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul."

  As I knelt, Mona Billings's hand, which I had tucked in my pocket and forgotten in moving the corpse, tumbled to the floor to land at Karen Marist's zombie feet. She blinked in bewilderment, leaned down, picked up the grisly prize, and bit one of the fingers clean off.

  "Mmm." She groaned in pleasure and passed the thing to the zombie
student to her left. I immediately rose, ready with my sword, but Miss Temple was prepared, too. She withdrew a dagger from her pocket and pointed it straight at Karen, throwing it with deadly precision, straight to the heart, before the zombie could erupt into a flesh-hungry frenzy.

  It would not stop Karen, but would subdue her for the time. Unfortunately, the other girls were still passing around the hand, and Miss Temple would have to waste precious moments to run off and fetch another sword.

  "He restores my soul," the girls all repeated in unison, then looked at one another and rose.

  Imagine my surprise when the girls began slowly circling Mr. Bokorhurst, chanting the psalm as Helen had, over and over: "He restores my soul. He restores my soul."

  They began to tear at Mr. Bokorhurst, ripping at his clothing and his hair. I believe the spectacle of the event, and the justice of Mr. Bokorhurst falling to such a fate, kept Miss Temple and me frozen in place, unable to move. Fortunately, the zombies did not move at

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  any accelerated rate. Miss Temple came to her senses first. "Stop them, Jane! We must stop them."

  I waved my saber and took Karen's head before she could come to her senses, then rushed towards the throng around Mr. Bokorhurst. Large as he was, he was no match for the superhuman strength of his zombified subjects. Miss Temple returned with her weapon and began slicing at the others with expert precision. One head, then two, rolled. She spun, leveled a kick at another, and sent her flying across the room. I ran after and took care of that one, but my strength from swinging the sword all day had begun to falter. I only managed to hack her neck half through. Nerves and veins spurted the distinctive green goo, but the head was still attached. I gave another whack and finished the deed.