Chapter 6

The night passed with the ambient clamor of the undead pawing at the building. Aiden had retreated to his bedroll and his pack, nearly emptying it out to look at his available tools.

He laid each one out in a neat row with exact spacing. One of the only things that could irritate him instantly was having his things in a haphazard pile. Even at home the children were not allowed near the closet where he hung each one in the space created for it. Were he just coming home from a long week in the wilds, he would first clean the instruments of his trade and oil them. Elena would move her sewing chair to sit just off to his right and continue patching the kid’s clothing. He’d smell the perfume of cooking spices on her skin and see the enticing view from her bare feet up to her mid calf. But I’m not at home. Aiden reminded himself, having to take a deep breath to chase the longing from his mind. And I’ll never see them again if I don’t get ready for tomorrow. Soon, He promised them silently, Soon I’ll be there.

“Are you ready to be civil with me, Alden?” Mira’s voice broke through his reverie. He glanced at her, noticing the small smear of blood on the front of her apron. Her long sleeves had been rolled and pined up.

“What happened?” He asked gesturing at her apron.

Mira looked down with surprise as if seeing it for the first time. “Well Bridget had cut herself pretty badly out there.”

His brow knit together. “When did that happen?”

“She said her pants leg got caught on one of the fruit baskets and dug into her.”

Aiden was impressed. Any girl her age would have at least cried out at being cut. She hadn’t even whimpered. “I had no idea.” He said truthfully. “Is she alright?”

Mira laughed shortly, putting her hands on her hips. “She’s just fine. A little shaken up but who wouldn’t be? What about you though?” She crouched down to his level. “Did you get injured?”

Aiden shook his head. “No, none of them got that close.” He said, hoping that Bridget had not seen him wrestling with one of them. There was something in her voice when she asked that put him on edge. What did she know that he didn’t?

“Then why all the mud?” Mira eyes seemed to narrow on him as if she could spot the lie on his face.

“I slipped.” He blurted out, releasing all his pent up breath. Would she buy it?

Her gaze trapped him for a few more moments before she looked away. Whether she believed him or not, she wouldn’t press the issue just yet. “Right…I believe before all of this started I was going to take a look at your cheek.” Mira reminded him gently. His hand went there automatically.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Are you sure? It looks like it’s getting a little puffy around the edges of that bandage. If the area swells, you’ve got an infection.” She mentioned casually. “And I saw a man once with an infected lip. It drained white all over his chin and neck—“

Aiden bit back his revulsion. How did medicine people talk about these things without being sickened by the thought? “Would you like to look at it anyway, doc?” He interrupted her vivid picture and she stopped, smiling.

“Well of course I’ll look you over, Mr. Alden.” She switched to a kneeling position and began peeling away the bandage. It had already become loose in his battle with the undead and it came off so easily that he didn’t even feel it. Her icy cold fingertips he did notice.

“Do you need a fire to warm those hands of yours?” He pulled back from her direct touch.

She grinned at him wolfishly. “Everyone complains about my hands.” She murmured, her attention wrapped up in the examination of the wound. “You know who doesn’t?” She asked right as her fingertip touched one of the scratches directly.

Wincing, Aiden resisted the urge to pull away. “Who’s that.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“The silly men with mild fevers who think their whole world is ending.” She probed another portion of the scratch and he winced again. “Oh come now, the little boys with sprained ankles will stay stiller than you.”

“What do you expect? You are digging into my face, after all.”

She shook her head and pulled away. “Alright, it’s healing but you may be developing a little bit of an infection.” She picked up the bandage and turned it over in her hands. “What did you use to affix this to your skin? Sap?”

Aiden shrugged. He had used tree sap after the long wrap that had been wound under his neck and onto the crown of his head had grown hot and itchy. It seemed like a good idea to him.

“Goddess alive, you did use sap.” Mira laughed and balled the bandage up. “You are turning into one needy patient, Mr. Alden.” She said with a good natured smile and he realized what he liked so much about her. The other villagers were indecisive and more frightened of doing anything than a rodent was scared of being swallowed even though it was sitting in the cat’s mouth. Mira was different. She carried herself with the self-assurance of someone who lived moment to moment. “I don’t think I have any astringents prepared right now.”

“Nothing available? You’re lettin’ me down, doc.” Aiden replied with a grin.

She smacked his knee and shook her head. “As if I knew when you walked in this place that you’d be such a pain.” She grinned at him. “Anyway, I’ll have some whipped up by the time you leave and I suppose I’ll donate some clean bandages for you too.”

“Need some sap, doc?” He called after her as she stood up and walked away.

“In the modern world we live in, Alden, there are some adhesives you can use which are not crawling with bacteria.” She turned away and left him to his own affairs. With Mira and her pointed questions gone, Aiden had little more to do than clean what mud he could from his clothing and wash his gloves.

It was the shuffling of feet and continuous murmur of voices that woke him, but the shaft of brilliant sunlight lancing into the town hall as the large doors were propped open was what kept him awake. His body jolted from the resting position into awareness. There was no soft slipping from the peace of sleep into the cares of the day. It was possibly the worst sleep he had experienced in a long while. Somewhere during his morning routine, the familiar stab of pain just behind his left eye allowed him no reprieve.

Outside the men surveyed the damage, taking visual notes of where the undead had clawed into the wood with their unfeeling hands. Others went to retrieve the cart. There the men took care to avoid the blood puddle where the donkey should have been and gripped around the area where more of it splashed vividly against the light oak panels. The argument was brought up that perhaps the food was tainted and therefore should not be eaten, but with the crops flooded and the lord no where to be found, supplies could not be turned away.

Aiden joined the others that crowded around one of the windowed areas. The shutters had been torn clean from their nailed down positions and broken into long pieces.

“Looks like you ticked them off, Alden.” One of the men joked, drawing a chuckle from some, while others held a disapproving frown.

“Oh?” He asked, moving through the crowd to see the damage himself. Black scorch marks covered a good portion of the outer wall near the window ledge. At shoulder level, the sturdy beam appeared chipped away on the edges, almost as if a dog had been chewing on it.

“What is that?” Someone asked. Richard shrugged and took his knife to the residue, scraping away a bit. Aiden didn’t need to see what Richard found, he could already guess what had happened. So a little fire didn’t kill the undead; that meant there were four on the loose.

“By the goddess’s grace! Get back from that you mangy mutt!” The old man’s cries alerted the group. Aiden muscled his way through them, rounding the corner of the town hall. The old man flailed his cane at the hunting dog menacingly. Not three feet from the backside of the town hall lay the charred form of the undead corpse he had fought the night before. Belly down, it’s arms were outstretched as if it tried to crawl away from the flames on its back. A black ooze pooled around it. He nudged the thing with the toe of his boot and the small action broke through the outer husk. More liquid, like a sludge leaked out of the new hole and he stepped back.

“Get back.” He said over his shoulder to the men who had come to investigate.

“What is that?” one of them asked.

“The one I lit on fire last night.” He responded automatically, squatting on his haunches as his mind worked to figure out a way to dispose of it without actually touching it. It was the best way to ensure that no villager came into direct contact with the creatures. He may not believe that touching the things spread the plague, but they undoubtedly would not take that kind of risk.

The bright moonlight settled into every available space in the area around him, giving benign objects an eerie glow. He crouched behind the cart, the wicker cage in hand. Beneath bars of reed and vine, the rabbit stirred uneasily as if sensing his own uncertainty. Over and over again he replayed in his mind what would happen, willing to life the outcome he desired. The urge to go check the traps overwhelmed him but he had to stay put right there, least he become the target and not the unfortunate animal in his grasp.

“Steady Aiden, the traps are good. You know they are good, now so wait. It’s just like that time with the cougar.” He gave a quiet, strangled laugh at the absurdity of his comparison. That had been a bad night too with the rain and pure dumb luck aiding the cougar into disarming the traps. A week, he had spent hunting the beast until finaly he had no choice. The cougar’s lair, deep inside a mountain cave was the staging ground of its deathtrap and Aiden waited with baited breath upwind to make sure it worked. This was different, these were not predictable animals which had hunting patterns and left behind trails to follow. This wasn’t even alive. Who knew if the spikes would work as designed? It made only sense for the corpses to lift themselves out of the ditches and off of the wooden nails.

“You always have the oil.” He whispered to himself, his gloves hands rubbing his thighs nervously. Who could sit still when death crept in the shadows nearby? The urge to check his traps overwhelmed him and he allowed a quick glance. The rope lay coiled at the base of the well, the rest of its length in large loops. The stakes were perfectly upright with no thanks to the careless villagers who would have them at every which angle. All but one, he spotted it instantly; the last one that needed to be sharpened again. His teeth gritted in irritation. Why did he let that idiot Gary bury that last one by himself? The man may be skilled with a carving knife but he couldn’t as much as count properly. His hands clenched into tight fists and he struggled to calm the anger boiling inside. This whole ordeal was taking its toll on him. His head pounded, his body shook with nervousness and almost as if on cue, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach took root. He doubled over, resting his head onto his knees. Unable to do much else, Aiden took slow, deep breaths to try and relax his muscles.

“Think of Elena.” He said and then tried to do just that. The picture in his mind of her oval face and long brown hair woven into complicated braids wavered, replaced by a new thought. This ill feeling, the one that made him feel like hanging his head over a bucket, had come before without warning. Shortly after, the undead attacked that girl.

Aiden sat still, his eyes wide open and ignoring the uncomfortable sensations running through his body. He leaned to the left of the cart, getting a full view of the town hall. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. A black flash interrupted the shadow of the building to the left of the town hall and he focused on it. Sure enough, the black skittered with speed he wouldn’t have estimated for a corpse to be able to move, into another shadow. So they run. The conclusion settled around him like lead weight on his shoulders. He hadn’t factored that into his calculations. The rope was possibly too long now. What other options were there? He could not run from this fight and certainly did not have the skill to handle three possible assailants.

The lantern’s warm glow caught his eye and he pushed it flush into the corner of the cart. The cage door’s latch slipped several times, his right hand shaking so badly that he couldn’t get a good grip on it with his thick gloves. He glanced up to see the forms of two other undead flanking the first, the three of them crouching in the safety of the building. There wasn’t much time left. His fingers gripped the latch and he wrenched it out of place, destroying all hope of it working properly again. Then without hesitation, he grabbed the rabbit by its hind leg and broke the fragile bone.

Screeching pierced through the stillness; he mashed the door back in place and tossed the rabbit onto the cart as he crept in a low crouch to the well. The rabbit wailed, its cries sounding more and more like a tortured baby. It had the effect he was looking for. The corpses lost all intention of terrorizing the villagers inside the town hall and made a wild dash to the source of the sound. Aiden waited, the muscles in his arm flexing as he was forced to wait.

The first one cleared his marker, running faster than the other two. Then the two cleared and he pushed the heavy stone down into the well, jumping back as the rope whipped into place, nearly catching his arm. He dove underneath the cart, getting an ant’s eye view of his trap working. The pulley above the well hummed as it belayed the stone to the well’s depths and the first loop snapped tight, the second following suit. *Splash!* The sound of the rock hitting the water reverberated in his ears. It was off! The rope line was off by a clear 6 inches! He watched as it pulled loosely taut. Let it be enough, let it be enough! He prayed to whatever could hear him. Let it be enough! His mind screamed.

The first undead had missed the rope but its fellows had not. The twang of rope hitting something was followed by the stumbling and shuffling of feet as the undead tried to rebalance. One brushed up against the first hard and forced it to fall as well. The set of trenches seemed to reach up and grab the feet of the undead, tipping them off balance again and again until finally they collectively pitched face-first onto the spikes.

Aiden crawled out from underneath the cart and tore off to the ditch where the bodies wriggled and howled. He jumped onto the back of one, his bodyweight crushing the animated flesh onto the spikes. The tip of one of the longer spikes jutted up through the skull and he moved on. The middle creature flailed but as he approached, it was also pulling itself off of the stakes! His dagger’s sharpened edge led the way as he kicked it’s upturned shoulder, forcing it onto its side. The flesh cut easily but the brown ichors bubbled up from inside, splattering against the front of him. His face turned away as his dagger continued to saw through the neck portion. Next he pulled the head back and stomped his boot onto the back of its spine and the corpse stopped jerking instantly. So there was a way to kill them. He let the head fall back to the ditch with a thud. Black and brown ooze dribbled down the front of him, soaking into the first layer of his clothes. He would thank Mira later for convincing him to wear two sets of clothing, preventing the blood from reaching his skin. No one had proven yet that contact could cause the plague, but few people wanted to test the theory out. The last was no challenge at all. The corpse wriggled like a worm on a fish hook and he helped it along by bringing his boot down onto the back of its head.

Relief flooded him warmly. He made his way back to the rabbit cage. The creature had stopped its screaming, its wide eyes watching him with fear. Ignoring it, he grabbed the lantern and went to disarm the fuel trap he had rigged to the side of the building to his right. The lantern handle was slick with gore and it slid around in his palm. He put it down and had just set his gloves onto the window ledge when it hit him again. The feeling akin to sea sickness crawled over him and with the danger past; he let his head hang low. Dinner, he found, tasted twice as bad coming back up as it did going down the first time. Long minutes passed as he suffered through waves of nausea, but it soon faded.

He straightened, exhaustion beginning to pull at him, and went to release the knife from its holding position when the tiny hairs along his arms and on the back of his neck stood. Cold washed over his skin like a bitter wind chilling the sweat that soaked his shirt, but there was no breeze. Dread crept onto his shoulders from somewhere deep inside.

Airy, like the words were forced over long unused vocal chords, the words froze him in place. “Well, well. What have we here? A freshly infected who has not yet succumbed?”

The words were drawn out and deliberate.

Aiden did not want to turn around; he could not turn around. His legs felt weak and he gripped onto the window ledge for support. He knew, before the long sharpened finger bones curled over his shoulder and spun him about. He didn’t need to see the clouded eyes black as a moonless night set to the side of the cavity where a nose should have been and above the eternal, lipless grin of a skull fighting its way through the flesh. Aiden knew down inside what it was from the first time it spoke. Forced to face an evil that was unlike the undead that lay at their final rest in the ditch to his right, all the thoughts of escape vanished from his mind.

The lich breathed deliberately and spoke again, its teeth clicking slightly together on some of the words. “It is interesting that you have struck out against your brethren tonight. The girl I could overlook as you must not have known this was my territory and my cattle. Then you went with them into their puny stick house and it came to me that perhaps you did not know what you were.”

“Ca-cattle?” Aiden forced himself to say. Speaking seemed to give him back some control over himself and he found he could stand a little straighter.

“The little breathers that hide at night and think they are safe during the day.” The flaps of skin covering the sides of its face drew back, revealing the joint of the lowerjaw in what Aiden could only assume was a grin.

“The people? They are not cattle, they are people.” He said, gaining some strength from the thought of those who counted on him near by. “They’re what you were once, do you not remember that?”

“That’s right, you little curr!” It hissed. “I was one of the living, breathing, eating and excreting animals that you protect. I cared for them all! My friends and my family; These were the things I would sacrifice everything for. Then a rider comes into town and boards his horse at my stable. He drags himself into my inn and begs for a room. The blood---“ It wheezed, bringing its razor tipped hands up in front of it. “All over my hands. I let the wretch go and he dies in the night, only to rise again as one of those which I now control.” It looked up at him, as if coming from the depth of its memory. A snarl ripped loose from its throat and before Aiden could move he was pinned against the building. The lich leaned on him heavily, it’s words loud in his ears. “And do you know what those I cared for did?”

“N-no.” Aiden responded, struggling to breathe as it crushed against his chest.

“They locked me into the barn and lit it aflame. They blamed me for letting the cretin loose into the village. They blamed me for the deaths it caused and tried to burn me alive. I escaped through a window and waited, watching as each day the disease ate through my body. It will take your hands first, did you know that?”

It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. Aiden refused to give in to the creature’s scare tactics. He mustered all of his strength and shoved the lich back a few steps. “I am not like you.” He growled; his fists balling together.

“But you are, you are and it will worm through your veins just as it did mine. When the pain comes and takes what little life you have left, you will understand.”

Now in full command of his sentences, it was time to end this confrontation. “Leave these people alone, they have done nothing to you.”

“They are the past. You and I are the first of what is to come. There will be more, so many more like us that we will create our own race and they will be the food that they are. Do you not see?”

“All I see is a corpse that spins lies and talks too much.” Came Aiden’s flat reply, his hand reached back and the hilt of the knife was his. The lich drew back onto itself, readying to lunge.

“If you will not see the inevitable future then I have only one use for you.”

“Enlighten me.” He said with sarcasm, lifting the knife from its holding place.

“You will be the first of my new slaves!” It lurched forward then, coming up short as Aiden drove the knife into its ribcage. The lich staggered back a step, looking down at the blade and then back to him. It laughed a dry hacking sound and pulled the knife out.

“You think to stop me with this? I am already dead!” The lich threw the knife to the side, thinking nothing of the long thin fishing line tied precariously to the water skin of lamp oil. The slipknot released and the oil drenched the lich. “What is this?” It sputtered.

“What? Can’t smell now?”

It hissed at him, its fingers curling dangerously.

“Here let me demonstrate!” Aiden yelled, snatching up the lantern from the ground and bringing it crashing down at the lich’s feet where the oil pooled. The liquid caught aflame instantly and the creature howled an unearthly sound.

“That’s how they should have done it back in your village! How is it? Not too hot I hope!” He taunted, dodging to the side as the lich stumbled towards him. “The thing I hate about you dead sons of bitches, is that you cost so much to kill! That oil was about the same price as week of meals for me, but damn if it isn’t worth it!” He continued to taunt, the burning corpse staggering after him into the middle of the village. There it dropped to the ground. It’s head rolled from its place and the rest of its body crumpled onto itself.

Aiden watched the flames as they flickered endlessly into the night, fueled by the remained of the oil and the black sludge that the lich had been reduced to. Now he did not feel so brave. He sat down hard, his hands shaking. Aiden looked hard at them, remembering what the lich had said. The skin was chaffed and chapped, much like they did during winter. There’s nothing to be worried about. He assured himself. The damn thing was just playing with me. He swallowed the growing lump of nervousness, a stray thought edging into his mind. Aiden pulled his legs up against his chest, leaning back onto the cart’s wheel. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, dragging him down into the darkness of sleep. But what if it was right?