Dark Winter

by John Hennessy

  “Alright. Alright then. I was there the night your parents died, but I wasn’t alone in the dark. Someone else was there too.”

  “Here we go again!” screamed Beth. “You refuse to take the blame for things that you did!!”

  I really hoped Beth wouldn’t do that. She would only become what ironically, Curie stopped me from becoming a few moments ago.

  “Beth O’Neill. This is the truth. I was not alone. But someone known to your parents, yet seemingly unknown to you, was there. You had a sister, you see.”

  “What?!! You are lying to save your own skin. You damned liar!”

  I had to speak up. “Beth. Don’t do it. He’s messing with you. Please. Put the bow down. We can go to the police or something.”

  It was my turn to ramble incoherently. What was I thinking?

  “I’m not lying,” said Curie, calmly. “Your sister was older than you, by some twelve years. She had fallen on hard times though, and had set the fire ablaze to claim the insurance on your parents. I managed to get her out of there, but couldn’t save your parents. I am sorry.”

  Beth was silent for a moment. Curie wondered had she bought his description of events.

  “That’s utter bull,” said Beth, raising the bow once more.

  “It is not.”

  “Then where is she? My sister?”

  “Why, Beth, she’s in the next room. All you had to do was ask.”

  * * *

  Troy didn’t like cemeteries anything more than Toril did. He teased her often how she was into the occult and witchcraft and many other things, but could not bear to be amongst graves.

  “It’s the dead, not the graves themselves,” Toril corrected Troy one day, when they were discussing it.

  He hoped they would have more conversations. He didn’t want what happened between them to be his last memory of her.

  As he ran to the cemetery, he realised he may still not be able to find Toril. It was a big shot thinking she was still here. If he knew Toril well enough, she had probably moved on. Still, he wanted to make sure. With zombies, Dana and the madman Curie lurking about, it was anyone’s guess where Toril was.

  Troy passed by numerous graves until he saw the chapel. Yes! This is where the girls would be. Beth was with them, and would be into all that religious stuff. On checking the door, he was not surprised to find it unlocked. Had he checked around the back of the chapel, he would have found Toril’s body.

  Instead, he walked inside, and there was a streak of moonlight through the stained glass windows that shone on Jacinta’s body.

  “Poor Jay,” thought Troy.

  Jacinta looked at peace. Serene, almost, in death. She had been through a lot in her life.

  “At least you can rest now,” Troy said, patting her shoulder. He was pretty nauseous at the coldness of her body. The other thing that disturbed him was that Jacinta’s eyes had not been closed, as was the normal practise after someone’s death.

  “What the-”

  He was certain he could see something in her eyes. Was she alive?

  No.

  But her eyes were reflecting something. As its teeth sank into his neck, Troy managed to spin around and release himself from its grip. But the realisation came all too late. He had been attacked by a Zeryth.

  The zombie backed off momentarily, then came at Troy again. There was nothing to grab at, just thin air. There was time to observe that its skull was exposed, and it had no eyes, or if it did, they were countersunk deep into its sockets.

  It disappeared from view, with only Troy’s curses filling the air. His life was over. It would only be a matter of time before he became one of them.

  * * *

  For Toril Withers, there had been no white light, no tunnel, no meeting anyone on the other side. There was, however, the very real feeling of numbness and a dull headed feeling, pretty much how anyone would feel after consuming too much alcohol.

  There was an incessant thud-thud-thud going on in the back of her head. She couldn’t shift it.

  Still, she was alive. Alive, and as she ran her hands over her legs, head, and chest, seemingly unhurt.

  “I should be dead,” said Toril, almost surprised to hear words coming out her mouth. "I really ought to be dead.”

  Logic wouldn’t be able to play a part here, so Toril dusted herself down and stood up slowly. Dana was gone, but could be back in an instant, Toril knew that for sure. She had to get moving.

  Toril wanted to check on Jacinta. Oh, she knew it was all hopeless, there was no way of bringing her back.

  “I just want to be with her. She shouldn’t be all alone in there.”

  Then Toril saw what had been causing the thud-thud-thud in her head. She might have head pains, but there was no doubt what she saw with her own eyes.

  In front of the chapel doors, inside where Jacinta lay, were a group of zombies that were maybe thirty in number, and easily outnumbered Toril.

  There was no way she could fight them all.

  She watched in horror as the thud-thud-thuds resulted in the doors being broken open, and the Zeryths poured in.

  “Jacinta!!!!” screamed Toril.

  She could not run towards them, that would be suicide. There had to be another way into the chapel. Toril decided to make a run for it to the rear of the old building on the other side, and sure enough, found a huge wrought iron door there.

  She pulled at it with her remaining strength, but it would not budge. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. She had taken a shot from Dana at full power, after all. She could deal such feelings later. Right now, they were an irritation.

  The moans became a crescendo. Zeryths were crowding behind her. She had been found, and had nowhere else to go.

  * * *

  I tried to stop Beth, but she was in a frenzied state. Poor girl. I had just tried to kill her, and Curie might still end up achieving that if he managed to tip her fragile state into full-blown insanity.

  Beth shoulder barged her way into the next room, and crashed onto the floor.

  I wanted to kick Curie, hard, for teasing her. But soon, he would get all that was coming to him. It was not for me to deal out judgement and death.

  Instead, I chased after Beth into the next room, which, on the surface, looked empty. There was no-one here. I turned to run back to Curie, but I felt something sharp in my back.

  “Don’t move, Romilly,” said Beth.

  “It’s not your fingers this time, is it?”

  “You know it.”

  “Beth, Curie’s messing with you, don’t you see? He’s trying to turn me against you, the old devil.”

  “You’re pleading for your life, after what you just tried to do to me?”

  “I don’t know what came over me,” I said. The arrow head probed angrily, but I didn’t feel like it had broken my skin. Beth might be angry, and rightly so, but I didn’t feel she had the will to hurt me.

  She withdrew the bow.

  “Turn around.”

  Thank God she had seen sense.

  “Slowly,” she said icily.

  Oh. Not so good.

  “You will help me find her, Romilly.”

  I wanted to say that there probably wasn’t a sister, and that Curie was using this lie to distract us, as a means of escape. Again. Beth clearly wanted to know for sure, so I couldn’t refuse her.

  “The room is empty,” said Beth, “so she must be behind one of the panels. Help me break them, Romilly. My legs are useless. I’ve healed my knee enough to walk though.”

  The panels were just that, and easy to break. I kicked them hard, and they splintered easily. With my hands, I tore a huge panel back, and inside, we saw two coffins.

  One was white, with gold handles on the side of the casket. A child no more than ten or twelve could fit in there.

  The stench of death hung in the air. I wanted to vomit, I really did, but held back.

  Beth strained her neck, and slowly followed me, using the bow as a rudimentary walking stick to
steady herself.

  We both looked at each other.

  “It’s the other one,” we said at the same time.

  The room was impossibly dusty. I wretched violently, and Beth started too.

  “We haven’t much time,” she said. “We’ve got to open it,” she spluttered.

  “Curie will get away,” I spat out.

  “He won’t get far. Come on Romilly. Heave.”

  We both dug our nails in under the lid. I wasn’t sure was Beth was thinking, but I for one was terrified. Whatever lay in that coffin, I didn’t want to see it.

  * * *

  “Get away from me, you demons!” screamed Toril at the top of her voice.

  She swished violently with her wand, but hands grabbed at her hair, and fingers groped her abdomen. Toril knew of the typical behaviour of zombies. They burrowed into your stomach and pulled your insides out.

  She cursed repeatedly as the clammy fingers probed at her stomach. To think it had come to this.

  * * *

  Once the dust had settled, we could make out the remains of a human body. A girl, maybe no more than eighteen or twenty, judging by the size of the corpse.

  Save for a few strands of hair, there was no way to know if this woman had been Beth’s sister.

  There was one thing that caught Beth’s eye, and her scowl at me softened.

  “Oh Milly,” she cried. “It’s a cross, just like the one I had. Milly. I really had a sister!”

  I didn’t buy it. This could be anyone, anyone at all. But this had been Curie’s game all along. He had a death wish, and could not escape Dana, or Diabhal, by a conventional death.

  No. Someone else would have to do it. Someone unconnected. Someone pure.

  Beth.

  As these thoughts raced through my mind, it was too late. She had pushed through the pain, and let the adrenaline carry her.

  She was going to kill Curie, and the damnedest thing of all? He had planned it all along.

  * * *

  “Toril! Jesus! Get in here!” shouted Troy.

  He kicked out at the zombies, and they backed off. He brandished a large candleholder at them, and the flames licked at the group, and they seemed to recoil.

  It gave Troy the time and space he needed to free Toril from the grabbing hands.

  “Get back you scum,” he shouted.

  Troy managed to shut the door, and bolt it securely.

  He desperately wanted to kiss Toril, and tell her everything would be alright.

  She was hurt, he could see that, but she was breathing. Just.

  “Withers, damnit, don’t die on me here.”

  Toril’s eyes flickered into life.

  “You look terrible, Jackson.”

  “You’re not looking so hot yourself, my lady,” said Troy. “You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

  “Not a chance. But when I am better, you have got some questions to answer. Boy, have you.”

  “At least you’re still talking to me,” said Troy.

  “For the moment,” said Toril. “We do have a problem.”

  “Just the one?”

  “I prefer to see all challenges as a collective problem,” said Toril. “You should know that about me by now.”

  Toril slowly sat up, and hugged her knees. Then, looking around, she wore a panicked look in her face.

  “What I also know,” said Troy, “is when you try and look all cool but inside, you are tripping. Now what is it? Our pale-faced friends outside aren’t going to wait. I have to get you to safety.”

  “My wand, and my pentacle,” said Toril. “I’ve lost them both. It’s over, Troy.”

  Looking at him now, the anger she had felt evaporated. He had made a good job of it, but there was no mistaking the wound. A zeryth had wounded him, and whatever time Troy had left on this earth, would not be much.

  There would be no final kiss, no way to be close again. The demons had even taken that from her.

  “Then if it’s over, let it be, Toril. I’m going to stay with you.”

  He went to hug her, but she put her hands up towards his chest, but took care not to touch him.

  “You have to go outside, Troy, and be with them. You know this.”

  “Then why did you come here?” said Troy, desperation in his voice. “I came here to save you, and now, you want me out? Is that it?”

  “You’re hurt. You can’t save me.”

  “I know, but I just want to be with you.”

  “You can’t, Troy. You just can’t.”

  “Toril, please.”

  “If you stay, you will hurt me for sure.”

  “I promise you, I won’t. I just saved you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” said Toril. “But when you become one of them, you will hurt me. I don’t have the power to stop you.”

  “You think you are only strong because of your pentacle and that wand? We’re all much stronger than we realise.”

  “Is that why you delivered Romilly into the hands of Curie? Why you threw that axe at Dana? She can’t be killed, Troy! He sent you on a suicide mission, only it’s Jacinta, and not you, who are dead!”

  Okay, cheap shot, thought Toril. But her head hurt, her back was wracked in pain, and her boyfriend was about to join the legions of Zerythra that were banging down on the door.

  Instead of getting angry at her, Troy wanted to hold her, and wipe the tears from Toril’s face.

  “I suppose this is my punishment for hurting Jacinta,” said Troy, “but I really was aiming for Dana. I…I had no control over what I was doing, you have to believe me.”

  Toril’s face, which had been contorted in equal amounts of pain and rage, softened.

  “I know. I’d like to think we always have control over what we’re doing. Maybe it’s much less than we realise.”

  Troy had come around to accepting his fate. “I’m glad it will be you that will do it though, Toril, you know, when the time comes. Don’t feed me to the wolves, will you?”

  Toril was trying to consider all possibilities. If she left things as they are, Troy would turn into a full zeryth, and would kill her. If she went outside, the group of Zerythra would kill her, go find Romilly and Beth, assuming they were still alive, and kill them too.

  Troy’s situation was unsalvageable. He would turn into one of them, soon enough, maybe hours, maybe a few minutes. It was impossible to tell.

  She would have to kill him, but how?

  Troy seemed to read her mind. He got up, started to walk around, and just as Toril was about to say “Where are you going?” Troy returned.

  “It’s rather heavy,” he said, holding up a gold-plated candlestick in his hand. “You might need both arms to swing it, but yeah, with enough momentum, it should be okay. Make sure it’s in one, Toril, okay?”

  Oh my. thought Toril. He’s thinking of doing, what I was having to think of doing. I just didn’t have the sense of rage with Troy, that I had against Dana, and we all saw how that ended. Curie was right. I was pathetic.

  Troy continued, unabated, and handed Troy the candlestick. He was right, it was really heavy.

  “Come on now Withers, no self-pity. This is not the time.”

  Troy dropped to his knees and placed his hands on the floor.

  He nodded his head forward. “I don’t want you to look at me whilst you do this. I just want good memories of you, Toril. Don’t let me become one of them.”

  Logic dictated that Troy could not be saved, and that Toril had to do this, otherwise Troy would become undead, and pretty much unkillable. Apart from the thud-thud-thudding noises, these zeryths were completely unlike any zombies Toril had read about.

  Toril’s eyes locked in on the back of Troy’s head. She lifted the candlestick as high as she could, swinging it back like a baseball bat, and gritted her teeth.

  “Now, Toril!” shouted Troy. “It has to be NOW!”

  * * *

  “Beth! No!” I screamed after her, but she was moving too fast for me. H
ow this was possible, I did not know. Her leg was supposed to be hurt, and yet she was racing ahead of me.

  I ran after her, and could see a clearing in the woods that I had not noticed before. Curie was on his knees, the moon light shining on his wizened face. He was smiling, laughing even, as Beth stood a few feet from him, the bow trained on his skull.