The Undertakers

by Ty Drago

  I nodded. “It’ll make it harder to get back.”

  Booth continued, “Earlier this week, as planned, I announced my candidacy for the office of mayor of Philadelphia. My years spent smiling for the human cameras, cultivating the trust and respect of this city’s foolish natives, have finally borne fruit. In two weeks I will become the first of our kind to seize genuine control over a major Earth city! Then, in time, I shall bore deeper into the world of human politics. In a month, City Hall; in five years, the governor’s mansion in Harrisburg; and in ten…the White House!”

  “This dead guy thinks big, doesn’t he?” Dave remarked.

  “Ugh,” Helene moaned softly, shaking her head. “I can’t keep that Mask thing going. It gives me a headache.”

  “Me too,” I admitted reluctantly. I uncrossed my eyes, resigned to having to witness Booth is his stolen Undertaker body.

  Booth declared, “In the three years since we established our foothold on this world, I have worked tirelessly toward increasing the scope of our invasion. Our brethren have now begun to infiltrate every metropolitan area on the East Coast. Still it is only fitting that it is here, where our campaign began, that I have taken this glorious step toward final triumph! Brothers and sisters, I—and I alone—have given us our greatest success to date! This is my success. My glory!”

  The cheers of the Corpse crowd were almost deafening.

  Dave scowled. “He’s talking like he’s already won the election.”

  I watched the thing on the platform, feeling anger churn inside me like molten lava.

  “So before we begin tonight’s festivities,” Booth said, “each of you must once again declare your loyalty to me! For I alone can bring us total victory! I alone can make us masters of Earth!”

  What followed seemed less like an oath of loyalty than a cry of worship. There could be no doubt that Booth, no matter whose body he wore, was the boss of the Deaders.

  This guy’s evil even by Corpse standards.

  Booth spoke again, this time in a more serious tone. “We are not, however, without our enemies, brothers and sisters. As all of you are aware, almost from the moment we arrived in this place and began taking their bodies for our own, there have appeared among these pathetic humans those who can See.” A hiss of general loathing rumbled through the crowd. “At first we believed these cases unique, and we removed each threat as it appeared. After all, these Seers were nothing but human children, to whom adults barely listen, much less believe.

  “But then there appeared one adult with this power—a policeman named Ritter. Of all the humans, he came closest to discovering our secrets—and revealing us!”

  Another group hiss.

  I felt a surge of pride.

  That’s my dad this stinking cadaver is complaining about!

  Then Booth grinned savagely, his thin lips pulled back against surprisingly white teeth. “But eventually I dealt with him myself, brothers and sisters. And sweet it was to take that puny man’s life!”

  This was followed by a roar of appreciation. For a moment I thought I might explode with rage.

  “Easy, Will,” Helene whispered, touching my arm.

  Easy, Will.

  I forced myself to keep still and listen.

  Booth went on. “With his death, however, we face his legacy—these brats who somehow share his Sight. They plague us! Organized and well led, they infiltrate the city’s schools, spiriting away other Seers before we can find and deal with them. And their goal, brother and sisters? Their goal is to build an army to stand against us. Us!”

  As one, the audience of walking dead laughed. It was a harsh, raspy sound that hurt my ears.

  Booth sneered, “They call themselves the Undertakers. They strike at us in the night and then flee, unseen, to their hidden lair. But they are merely whelps romanced by a child’s delusion of battle and glory. We have tolerated them, for what can they really do? Their weapons cause us no lasting harm. At worst they rob us of a handful of Seers each year. So after a few token attempts at discovering their lair, we had all but forgotten them…

  “Until now.”

  Booth’s expression twisted in anger. “Today we have a new enemy: the son of Karl Ritter. Long have we watched this human child, waiting for him to shows signs of his father’s inexplicable ability. But when he did, the Undertakers—the cursed Undertakers—spirited him away like all the rest! Now they have him, and the spy that we slipped in among their newest trainees failed to secure him for us.”

  The audience hissed their collective displeasure. It suddenly struck me that the crowd’s reactions to Booth’s speech seemed almost childish, cheering the good points and booing the bad ones.

  This isn’t a secret meeting. It’s a pep rally!

  And the “big game” they intend to win is me!

  “We must have William Ritter, brothers and sisters! We must take him apart, cell by cell, and learn from him just how these humans are able to penetrate our illusion. Then there will be nothing to stop us!”

  A new cheer followed, more raucous and terrible than any of the others.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “As mayor I shall bring the whole of this city’s resources to bear against the Undertakers. We will find their hidden lair and scratch that persistent itch once and for all! At the same time, we will take possession of Ritter’s only son!

  “I state this as my blood oath to you!”

  Booth’s audience went into an almost animalistic frenzy, hopping up and down, flailing their arms, and cheering with their rotting, swollen tongues. All of them were dead. All of them wrapped in the stolen bodies of men and women who had once been real people with real lives.

  These were invaders, yes. And killers. But they were thieves too.

  They stole dignity.

  “What’s that?” Dave whispered, pointing.

  All three of us craned our necks to see.

  A small contingent of well-dressed Corpses was marching through the crowd, approaching the podium. At the sight of them, I felt my anger fade, replaced by a growing dread.

  The Corpses went suddenly, ominously quiet.

  “Oh, no…” Helene whispered.

  Nestled in among the contingent, looking small and terrified, walked Amy Filewicz.

  Her clothes were soiled and torn, her hair matted, and her face grubby and tear-streaked. Suddenly, despite what she’d done, I felt sick at heart to see her. Whatever was happening, Amy was right in the middle of it, and she clearly didn’t want to be.

  “Here,” declared Booth, “is a whelp whose mind was turned to us by the pelligog. She was placed into the Undertakers’ training center, originally to discover the location of their lair. Later, however, when we learned that William Ritter was among her fellow trainees, she was ordered to help us capture him. But in the midst of the attempted capture, the quarry escaped—after this little brat tried to kill him without permission!”

  Her Corpse escorts scooped Amy up under each arm and deposited her on the platform. There she stood, staring wide-eyed up at Booth, who smiled wickedly down at her.

  “I don’t blame you for failing us, child,” he said soothingly. “After all, failure is the way of your kind. Instead, tonight you will have the honor of validating the promise I’ve made to my brethren. Tonight your blood will seal my oath!”

  He touched her face with his slimy, decaying fingers. She flinched and trembled but didn’t try to run. The Corpse grinned and licked his lips with a black tongue that glistened hideously in the harsh parade ground lights.

  His fingers settled around the girl’s throat.

  With an almost electric shock, I grasped what was about to happen.

  He’s gonna kill her—right now!

  I didn’t think. I just reacted. No way was I going to watch this innocent girl get murdered to satisfy some sick ritual!

  “No!” I exclaimed, yanking the water pistol from my belt and charging out of the shadows.

  “Will!” He
lene screamed loudly—too loudly.

  On the parade grounds, hundreds of dead eyes turned toward us as if pulled by a common string.

  CHAPTER 35

  Disaster

  My heart seemed to seize up inside my chest as the realization of what I’d just done came crashing down on me. Cold, bitter terror flooded my mind. Desperately I clutched at Tara’s father’s words.

  Be brave.

  But then something my own dad had sometimes said bubbled up to the surface.

  There’s a difference between courage and suicide.

  Well, it was too late to worry about that now.

  Feeling suddenly terribly foolish, I brandished my pistol at the motionless wall of Corpses. There were so many of them! They looked hungrily back at me—all dead eyes and rotting fists that opened and closed in eerie unison.

  On the platform, Kenny Booth grinned, still clutching the terrified, trembling girl.

  “Well, Mr. Ritter,” he purred, “this is a pleasant surprise.” Then to the mob, he barked, “Take him alive and undamaged!” His grin widened. “At least, mostly undamaged!”

  A rumbling chuckle rolled through the mass of Corpses as they slowly advanced.

  I knew I had eight good shots in my gun—maybe nine. Then they’d be on me.

  How stupid am I?

  I’d jumped to Amy’s rescue without a thought, much less a plan. But I couldn’t imagine having done anything differently. Booth had been about to murder the girl, and the idea of just standing there and watching it happen—

  No.

  No matter how things turned out, I was proud of what I’d done.

  I’m sorry, Mom. Kiss Emmie for me.

  Abruptly the lights flooding the parade grounds went out.

  I blinked into the sudden darkness that was rendered even deeper by the cloudy night. Then my Undertaker training kicked in, and I didn’t bother wondering what had happened. It was an opportunity, and I took it.

  I had no idea if the Corpses were as blinded as I was, but I had no intention of waiting for my eyes—and theirs—to adjust.

  Turning sharply left, I ran across the width of the parade grounds. Some fifty feet to my right, I could hear the wall of Corpses collapsing into chaos as the walking dead all jostled each other in the confusing blackness. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I skirted the main force of their numbers before cutting in and hurrying toward where I hoped the platform waited.

  I reached it seconds later, almost running into it in the dark. Hastily I climbed up onto it and squinted into the surrounding black, desperately trying to spot Booth and Amy. For several agonizing moments, I couldn’t see them.

  Then the Corpse himself came to my aid, calling out into the crowd, “Spread out! Cover the exits! Don’t let him escape again!”

  There! Ten feet away—a tall silhouette clutching a smaller one. I could just hear the terrified girl’s sobs.

  Silently I drew closer. Booth’s head was turning this way and that, scanning the darkness.

  I’m right here, Deader! Just give me a few more seconds.

  I considered using Tom’s Taser to drop the monster but worried that its light would alert the others. No, the gun would be better—although first I needed a diversion.

  Turning, I fired three quick bursts of saltwater out into the crowd of Corpses below the platform. Within moments the air was flooded with groans of helpless outrage. I heard bodies collide and crash down to grassy floor of the parade grounds.

  Nearby, Booth stiffened.

  He knows I’m here. But he’s too late.

  Smiling in the darkness, I changed my aim and fired again.

  Now it was Kenny Booth’s turn to groan.

  The Corpse staggered away, his arms out in front of him like a sleepwalker, looking for all the world like the zombie I knew I wasn’t supposed to call him. He wandered toward the edge of the platform, and as I watched, did a clumsy sideways tumble off it. It occurred to me, with satisfaction, that the mud down there would ruin his fancy suit.

  I ran to Amy’s side.

  Injured and terrified, she jumped when I took her hand.

  “It’s me—Will,” I whispered. “Come on.”

  “Wh-what?” she stammered.

  My eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness, and I could easily see her grimy, tear-soaked face now that I was closer. She evidently recognized me too because she started to say something. I clamped my hand over her mouth. “Shut up, and stay close!”

  Amy nodded fearfully.

  I led her to the rear end of the platform, and once there, I helped her down onto the grass. Then, using the big, blocky silhouettes of the fort’s half-dozen buildings as landmarks, I navigated the darkness, making my way back toward the commandant’s house.

  I was halfway there when the lights came back on.

  I felt my heart leap into my throat. One moment, Amy and I were moving like ghosts through nice, shielding darkness, and the next, we were pinned by dazzling light.

  Amy screamed, squeezing my hand so hard that my knuckles went white.

  Dozens of walking cadavers surrounded us, littering the path of our escape route. Once again, all their heads turned in my direction.

  This time, however, they didn’t come at me slowly.

  This time they charged.

  I pulled Amy toward the only gap I could see in the Corpses’ ranks. One of the cadavers, a female, lunged at me, and I fired into her face, driving her back. Another approached from my left, and I whirled and sprayed saltwater at that one too. The Corpse fell away just as the last of my ammunition dribbled from the pistol’s plastic barrel.

  Fighting panic, I dropped the gun and fished out Tom’s pocketknife, releasing its Taser.

  But in my heart, I knew it was hopeless. There were too many of them, and they were everywhere. In seconds a dozen Corpses would descend on us, and it would all be over.

  Then something small, round, and blue whizzed over my head.

  It struck the nearest Corpse full in the face and exploded, stopping him in his tracks and dropping him to the grass, where he spasmed like an upended turtle. Before I could really grasp what was happening, another of the somethings caught a second Corpse in the chest, sending it staggering spastically off in a new direction. Then another. And another. Within moments the sky will filled with colored orbs, each about the size of my fist.

  Water balloons.

  I nearly laughed out loud.

  There had to be dozens of the things raining chaos down on the hoard of walking dead, transforming them into a panicked mob.

  Still clutching Amy’s hand, I spun around.

  Angels lined the west wall battlements. Each was armed with a funny-looking slingshot, and each had a huge sack a small water balloons hanging from his or her belt. As I watched, they methodically hooked balloons into their slingshots’ leather pouches, took aim, and fired. In this manner, working as one, the ten of them were each able to launch perhaps a dozen projectiles per minute into the night air!

  Sharyn’s eyes found mine, and for once she didn’t smile. Instead she paused in her firing routine just long enough to quickly gesture Amy and me toward them.

  I nodded. Then I looked back toward the commandant’s house for Dave and Helene. At first I spotted neither one, but then Helene came rushing around the corner, her pistol at the ready. She shot first one Corpse and then another before giving me a heroic wave.

  Grinning with relief, I waved back—

  —only to watch in horror as a Corpse caught her from behind.

  Helene screamed and thrashed, but the dead man knocked her gun away. Then, his milky eyes triumphant, he clamped one slick, decaying hand over her mouth and yanked her savagely back into the shadows.

  Screaming, I shook free of Amy and started forward.

  Another Corpse appeared in front of me. This one was flailing wildly, blinded by one of the water balloons, and completely unaware of my presence. Nevertheless, as I tried to get around him, he change
d direction suddenly—and with the thoughtless power of a hurricane, he body-slammed me. The blow was both accidental and incredibly powerful. I felt my feet leave the grass, saw the darkened sky tumble past me, and then heard a terrible thump! as my head hit a rock.

  I tried to get up, but my arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate.

  Helene! I called silently.

  And then everything went black.

  CHAPTER 36

  Angel

  William?”

  I opened my eyes. I was lying on a cot under a thin blanket. My head ached. My shoulders and arms ached. My legs and chest ached. In fact, it felt like my hair ached.

  But the worst was the light. It was dazzling—utterly blinding, as if the Corpses had decided to torture me by strapping me right up against one of those huge parade ground lamps.

  “William?”

  Definitely not a Corpse. Their voices didn’t sound so sweet—almost musical. Mom’s did. I could definitely remember my mother sometimes sounding like that.

  But of course it couldn’t be my mom. She was part of another time. Another life.

  “William?”

  Slowly my bleary gaze settled on the woman who was leaning over me. She was pretty and fair-skinned, with a thick mane of blond hair. It seemed to fill the air around her with its luminescence.

  Kind of like a halo.

  The woman smiled the single-most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. “There we are.” Her voice had an odd, echoing quality, as if she were far down a tunnel. But she was so close!

  “Who—?” I began, but she put a finger to my lips.

  “Shhh. Don’t speak, William. Not yet. You’ve been rather badly hurt.”

  No kidding.

  I tried to remember. There’d been this blinded Corpse. It had plowed into me. Jeez, it had been like getting hit by a truck.

  “I don’t have much time, William. So just listen. I knew your father. I once gave him something of great value that he then presented to Tom Jefferson. I think you can guess what it was.”

  The pocketknife. Had to be. So this woman had given my dad that strange gadget? Who was she? I tried to voice these questions, but her finger stayed on my lips—gently but firmly silencing me.