—Opening statement for the defense,
Ex-Governor George Robinson, Trial of Lizzie Borden,
June 20, 1893, The Omaha Daily Bee
“A
rghhhh!” Lizzie screamed and lunged. She attacked the sawdust- filled dummy with everything she had. The blade stuck dead-center in the space above the black spots she had painted on to give the formerly featureless face some eyes as a point of reference.
“Bravo, Magnifique!” Her instructor and fellow Society member Pierre Moret clapped his hands in admiration, his face alight with pleasure. “Liz, that was wonderful. Your aim and strength have improved tremendously. I’m so glad you listened to me about doing arm exercises with the dumbbells, even if it sounded strange. I can truly see an improvement.”
She shook the wet curls off her forehead. With a smile, she removed the thick padded vest before taking a deep pull of cold water. “Thank you. I almost didn’t believe you at first, but you were right. I can feel the difference in my arm and hand strength. It really has helped.”
He returned her smile as he went to pull the blade from the target and handed it over. “Now, one more thing you need to practice is your thrust. Like so.”
Putting one leg behind him, he stood in a lunge position and pulled his arm back before plunging it forward with all his might. “You understand? Level your stance. I saw you wobble, which weakens your delivery. Put all your strength into the hand with the blade. Now you try.”
He handed her the blade, his eyes dark and intent, as she positioned herself, pulled her arm back, and thrust the blade forward with a cry. “Arggh!”
“Good, good, much better.” Drawing closer, he took her arm and showed her where to tighten her hold. “You’re doing very well. Remember to keep your arm straight, like this.”
He stood so close, Lizzie feared to turn her head, but she did. Her eyes met his and held, the seconds quietly ticking by. Her heart pounded harder as he leaned in, mere inches away, for the kiss that she knew was coming.
Ever since she and Pierre met, she had recognized the spark between them. As much as she tried to keep her mind on the lessons, as the days went on and they worked together, she couldn’t help but notice that he cut a fine figure. She found herself admiring his agility and his muscular form, along with enjoying his wry sense of humor. To his credit, he never seemed the least bit curious, or judgmental, about her past. Yet, even if he was all business when it came to their lessons, Lizzie could see a growing interest in his eyes. And yes, she often wondered where it would lead.
She could easily have stepped back, or away, or stopped him with a word, but her feet felt glued to the floor. And in truth, Lizzie really didn’t want to, at least not today. Today she was weak. With John no longer a part of her life, and after all the months of being judged and vilified, she longed to be appreciated. Truth be told, she was tired of being lonely and alone.
As their lips met, she gasped softly. She savored the feel of his mouth teasing and testing hers. His hand on her back pushed her closer to him. She felt her reservations fade with the realization that little separated them but his thin shirt, and her light cotton blouse and chemise, her electing most days to forgo a corset.
Just when Lizzie thought she would suffocate from the passion ignited between them, and what they might do next, her practical mind took over. She tried to focus, firmly putting her hands on his chest. Slowly, she broke free of their kiss, pushing herself out of his embrace.
“No,” she muttered. “We’d better not.”
He gazed at her, his hazel eyes dark, and reached out to caress her neck, willing her back into his arms. The brush of his fingers on her neck made her skin tingle. She felt herself weaken for a moment and almost gave in—almost. As much as she wanted to let things continue, she couldn’t. Not right now. Silently cursing herself for her unexplained reticence, she shook her head.
“We-we can’t—we shouldn’t—do this.” Lizzie made a feeble attempt to explain her decision, even if she didn’t understand it. “I fear our lessons will suffer if we let ourselves become too personally involved. For now. Until… until all this is over.”
He nodded, his eyes still dark with desire. “All right, for now.”
With that, he grabbed a sword and challenged her to match wits and strength with him, but not before first pulling her close for one last, deep kiss that made her stumble in surprise once he let her go.
“En garde,” he called out and got into position. Their swords met, the clang of metal on metal filling the air. They thrust and lunged and parried when movement near the stairs caught her eye. The pounding of footsteps and Emma’s frantic cries stopped her cold.
“Lizzie, hurry! A bunch of those creatures are outside!”
Lizzie flung the weapons bag across her shoulder and added a couple more knives to the pockets inside. “How many? Is anyone else out there?”
Emma shrugged. “I lost count at ten. Yes, some of the Society members are trying to stop them, but only a few, and not nearly enough. I saw a couple of the neighbors come out, too. I felt sorry for them.”
Lizzie raised her eyebrows at that. The neighbors most often ignored what went on outside their front doors, preferring instead to pretend that nothing unusual went on. Lizzie fell into that category as well, she knew, so if they had seen her taking such a shocking, unladylike action as fighting in the street, they simply turned away. They acted like they saw nothing. They picked a bad time to quit being nosy, she thought. It would be a horrible, and fatal, choice if they went out unprepared. Still, there wasn’t a thing anyone could do for them.
Emma’s comment drew a muttered curse from Pierre, who quickened his pace. He fastened two knives at his waist, slung a sword over his shoulder, and fastened a revolver at his side before heading for the stairs.
“Neither of you are to come out without a full supply of weapons,” he warned. “That is why the unprepared should never get involved. It’s far too dangerous. You both are ready, but be careful. See you outside.”
That Emma wanted to get involved made Lizzie glad, but she suspected there had to be a better reason for her sister’s interest. Then, as she turned, Lizzie saw the longing on Emma’s face. It hit her like a brick. How could I be so ignorant! Until now she hadn’t realized that Emma had any kind of romantic interest in their instructor given the ten-year age difference, but apparently she did. How could I be so blind?
Inwardly Lizzie cursed herself, also relieved that nothing other than that kiss had happened between her and Pierre. She decided to see how to get him and Emma together more often. If that didn’t work out, she vowed to make sure her sister wasn’t hurt, or feel rejected.
She finished gathering her tools, at the last strapping a knife to her waist. “Emma, are you ready?”
Her sister nodded, her face pale. “Yes.”
“You can stay inside, you know. There’s no need for you to go out there if you feel uncomfortable.”
Emma’s bottom lip quivered slightly, but she remained firm as they ran up the stairs. “No, I-I have to. I want to help.”
“Very well, but stay close. You get in trouble, call out.” Lizzie stopped at the front door and made her sister look at her. “Remember to attack and move. Whatever you do, don’t get within grabbing distance. You only get one chance at this.”
She gave her sister a trembling smile before pushing the door open. Lizzie almost pulled Emma back inside, but it was already too late. Their arrival drew the immediate attention of three extremely disgusting and ugly specimens, the rapid decay and rot on their faces having erased most traces of humanness.
The flapping pieces of clothing hanging from their legs and arms looked neither masculine nor feminine to Lizzie. Clumps of hair hung from the remaining grayish skin patches on their mostly bare skulls.
Decay had already eaten away the majority of their features leaving only gaping eye sockets and a hollow hole in the center where their noses had been. The holes now held a mass of ni
ghtmarish white worms wriggling inside. That the creatures turned and began moving in their direction as one made their eyeless appearance even creepier.
Her observations came to a halt as the first creature shuffled closer with a snarl. GRRRR! Lizzie jumped back and thrust her sword at it to make some room, catching the monster on its skeletal arm. The sword made a sickening scrape against its rotted arm bone.
“Emma! Get the other one.” Lizzie motioned her to move aside. “Watch yourself. Don’t let it get away!”
She thrust and danced, jabbed and jumped. The creature lunged, snarled, and chomped its mouth at her, the smell of rot wafting from between its few broken, blackened teeth. Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw Emma jab at her evil pursuer. Her fighting skills proved to be adequate, but Lizzie had a bad feeling about how slowly her sister seemed to respond.
As if it sensed her momentary distraction, the creature in front of her moaned and swiped at her with its rotted fingers. Lizzie leaped out of the way and steadied herself. This had to end.
“Yiiiii!” She yelled and jumped forward, jabbing her sword through the ghoul’s eye socket. Her action dislodged the squirming ball of worms, which dropped to the ground, the mass moving in a frenzy. The sword struck bone and then slid into the creature’s soft, diseased brain mass. It released with a wet slurrrp. The spark of un-life faded, and the ghoul slumped to the ground, dying for the second, and final, time.
A grunt at her side alerted Lizzie to the second ghoul’s impending attack. It clawed at her with the two remaining fingers left on its rotted left hand. Wasting no time, Lizzie pulled out the bat and swung. WHACK! The monster’s skull exploded, sending pieces everywhere. The remaining rotted flesh folded in on itself like a piece of bad fruit as the fully dead body crumpled.
Lizzie had no time to savor her success, however, as Emma screamed. “Lizzie, help! Help me!”
In horror, Lizzie turned and ran to free her sister from a scene she knew would always haunt her—Emma wedged in a corner, swinging her sword at a steadily advancing group of creatures ugly enough to give her bad dreams for many sleepless nights to come.
Lizzie screamed to get their attention, to put their focus on her instead, but this time she failed. The garish group steadily closed in, keeping their empty eye sockets on the small figure bravely flailing away with her sword.
Her heart in her throat, Lizzie slashed at the other ghouls blocking her path. She stabbed and jabbed, making quick disposal of several more as she fought her way to get to Emma in time.
“Emma, keep fighting,” Lizzie yelled. “Shoot them!”
“No gun! Lizzie, hurry, please hurry!”
Lizzie brought out her gun and aimed, but put it away a moment later. Given the close proximity, she couldn’t chance hitting her sister. A quick glance told her she had a better chance of reaching Emma than Pierre, whom she saw fighting off a ghastly group near one of the neighbor’s houses two doors away.
She slammed the bat into dead flesh. She swung and hit, sending the monsters crumbling and falling to bloody pieces to her left and right.
“Emma, keep fighting! Keep going!”
“Liz, help. I can’t keep it up much longer. They’re getting closer!”
With all her might, Lizzie fought and lunged. Her wild swings forged a path through the monsters. Only a few feet remained between her and Emma when Lizzie heard a terrible clatter of metal against stone. Emma cried out as the sword slipped from her hand, leaving her with only one weapon.
“No, No!” Lizzie screamed and pushed forward, shoving and swinging her bat like a madwoman. When the last few monsters dropped, she found herself inches away from a horrible creature. It looked barely human, its decomposed body mostly gore and decay. The rotted but still-moving remains came in closer, releasing a sickening aroma that made her wish she’d put cotton in her nostrils.
This was bad, but the scene beyond the crawling, snarling creature made Lizzie’s heart stop. She held her breath at the sight of Emma’s rich, deep brown hair, and the occasional tip of her bat, as she bravely swung at her last two attackers.
“Hang on, Emma, hang on!”
Whispering a silent prayer, Lizzie swung her own bat, hoping she could reach her sister in time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Q. See the gashes where his face was laid open?
A. No, sir.
Q. Nothing of that kind?
A. No, sir.
—Lizzie Borden at inquest, questioned by District Attorney Hosea Knowlton, August 9-11, 1892
L
izzie swung again—WHACK!—and cracked the head of the terribly putrefied creature nearest to her like a Brazil nut. What was left of its diseased brain spilled out in a black, oozing mess. She choked on the stench of death and rot, the odor worse than that of a skunk’s decaying body lying on the side of the road.
Moving in closer, Lizzie came within swinging distance just as Emma screamed. The noise attracted two more undead, which came around the corner and moved in faster than Lizzie expected. Like one possessed, she swung like a wild woman against the horrific undead things encircling her.
“I’m close, Emma. Keep going, don’t stop!”
Lizzie yelled and pulled out her dagger. Bat in one hand, the knife in the other, she stabbed one monster in the throat, grimacing at the flood of dead, black blood that oozed over the knife and onto her hand. Yet she couldn’t stop. Lizzie stabbed and struck and jabbed.
Seeing her chance, she dropped the bat, got out the gun, and cocked it. Lizzie jammed it into the face of the other creature and pulled the trigger. CRACK! The thing reeled back and fell, the hole in its forehead telling her all she needed to know.
The gun re-cocked, she aimed, and fired again at one of the ghouls that had separated itself from the pack. It honed in on Emma, intent on taking her into its undead ranks. Now it fell truly dead. Finally, only two creatures remained between her and Emma.
“EMMA!”
Her yell got the creatures’ attention like she’d hoped. The last two ghouls shuffled to one side, with Lizzie moving to the other. It was enough to give Emma room to get out of their reach and behind her.
ROWR! Both monsters went on the attack, fleshless arms raised, rotted hands reaching. As the undead duo lunged, Lizzie prayed for guidance, re-set the gun, aimed, and fired. BLAM! The bullet exploded the remaining pieces of one of the monster’s rotted features into tiny bits. It rocked back and then fell in a gory mess at her feet. She whirled and plunged the dagger into the creature’s eye as it jumped at her. It, too, fell with a final moan at her feet.
Lizzie let out a long sigh of relief as Emma emerged from behind her with a cry and fell into her arms. “Liz, Lizzie, I-I never thought I would make it.” Her cries increased. “I-I want no more of this. I can’t do it. I CAN’T!”
The street finally cleared, and with the last of the ghouls forever dead, Lizzie watched Pierre talking to the Society members who’d arrived for the clean-up. Sadly, she counted a couple neighbors’ bodies among the fallen on the street. She waved and tried to get his attention. He loped over, a worried look on his face at the sight of Emma clinging to Lizzie’s side like she’d never let go.
“Are you both all right?”
Lizzie gave a solemn nod and lowered her voice as Emma continued to cry in gulping sobs. “She’s near hysterics. I’m taking her inside. We’ll have to discuss things another time.”
He reached over and squeezed her arm. “I understand. Have a good rest, both of you, and I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
As he left, she spoke softly, urging her sister to come inside. “Emma, we should go in now, all right? I want to make you some tea, and we can get you into a hot bath. How does that sound?”
Emma mumbled as Lizzie led her inside and into the kitchen. Helping her into a chair, Lizzie quickly made two cups of strong black tea. Without hesitation, she added a good splash of whiskey to each of the cups. No question they both needed it.
The hot
drink hit the spot. As Emma sipped and began to calm down, Lizzie gave her sister the once-over, her inner alarm clanging. She grabbed a wet cloth and wiped off most of the black gunk and blood that streaked Emma’s face. She wiped Emma’s hair, frowning at the spots of blood and fluids that dotted Emma’s arms, blouse, and skirt. That was expected. Lizzie knew she looked as bad, if not worse, except for one difference—Emma’s dress had several holes and tears in it. Her clothing had none.
Tears filled Lizzie’s eyes at the thought of Emma getting harmed in all this. If anything happened to her…
She tried not to choke on the idea of what could’ve happened. Guilt flooded in. All those months Emma had been there for her, sitting in court, holding her up, keeping her spirits high when she faltered. Through the worst of it, Emma had never even had time to mourn the loss of Father and Mrs. Borden properly, all her focus being on Lizzie and the trial. Emma had been her main supporter—and she’d let her sister down.
A sob broke from Lizzie at the realization that she should’ve stopped Emma. No matter what, she should have insisted her sister stay inside the house where it was safe. Emma never, for any reason, should’ve gone into the fray, not under any circumstances!
“Oh, Emma, Emma.” Lizzie tried to hold back the tears, but failed.
“I’m so sorry, Emma, I truly am sorry. I should’ve made you stay inside. You’re not hurt, are you?”
Emma raised her tear and blood-streaked face, and smiled. “Hurt? No, I feel fine, jes’ fine. I feel all right.”
“Emma, your dress. It’s ripped and torn. Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”
Perplexed, Emma shook her head and reached out to pat Lizzie’s hand. “Nope. Only my dress is torn.” She began to mumble again and then sighed. “They never touched me, they did not get me, no, not me.”
“Are you sure?” She rose and went to refill their cups. “How about some more tea?”
Emma took a loud slurp and set the cup back down. “Lis-che, I am fine, so fine. Can I go to bed now? I feel tired, I could ushhh a nap.”
Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter (Book 1): Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter Page 17