Nothing But Bones

15: Bones and Rot

In contrast, Tiff can't keep herself from grinning. She pans the beam of her flashlight up it and bares her teeth in delight. It's easy not to flinch when you've worked so many decomposition cases and your boss keeps indulging you in your weird obsession with prodding corpses. It's even easier when you just want to see what's making this thing tick— some sort of virus, some sort of magic, some sort of deep-seated curse of grief and rage.

Turning its head quickly and harsher than a normal neck should, the creature makes a noise somewhere between a grumble and a growl. Clearly, it has noticed them crowded in the doorway.

"Okay, well..." Elton swallows. "This is both a massive fucking surprise and also not. You said necromancy and I'm looking at it."

"There it is," she breathes. "There it is. Bring forth the donkeys."

Elton chooses not to ask about the donkeys.

Something in the corner blocked by the door makes a shuffling noise. This gives the zombie cause to look away from the group and settle into some sort of crouching stance.

Is it making itself wider? Elton can't figure it out. Near Tiff's ear, he whispers, "What the fuck do we do?"

"Just— one second." Tiff peeks behind the door.

A grinning skull meets Tiff's gaze and its connected skeleton body back pedals, bones rattling on its hands as it waves her off.

She brings a hand to her face, keeping the other, with the still-shining flashlight in it, near her hip. "Oh my god, that's so neat! Are you sentient?"

The skeleton nods at Tiff, jaw clacking with every bob. It points at the zombie and backs further into the corner. The zombie simply continues to stay in its weird crouch and looks back and forth between Tiff and the skeleton.

"Hold on, hold on." She holds up a finger. "I have an idea, and maybe we can talk if it works. Give me a second."

Tiff rummages through her bag until she comes up with what she knows she'll probably need: two pills from an unlabeled bottle and a centrifuge-type test tube full of a peach-colored liquid from one of the exterior pockets of her bag. Knowing Elton will probably object (people often do), she shoves the pills into her mouth and downs them with the solution before he can say anything. This particular combination has been a little more theoretical than she would like, but that's true of everything she hasn't found a consistent formula for yet. It's a trial-and-error process where everything tastes bitter, and sometimes you need to take something you invented for a slightly different purpose in tandem with something you made for semi-psychic ones in the hopes that you'll be able to talk to a skeleton behind a door in a haunted house in Canada. That's par for the course. Improv, or something.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and looks back to the skeleton. "Did it work?"

Looking at Tiff with its hollow, empty eye sockets, the skeleton nods.

"Great." The taste in her mouth sucks. She wishes she brought something to drink other than old water.

The skeleton speaks, without vocal cords or diaphragm, but with clear intent. "How intriguing! I would be more impressed by your magical ability, but I myself appear to be quite the testament to the feat in that regard."

"You really are. You're an absolute wonder."

"As much as I'd love to chat, and I would, there appears to be another undead creature blocking my exit. He seems to be quite insistent I stay put while the master of this house is gone." Bony hands gesture towards the zombie and then fall to its sides. Hollow sockets peer at Tiff, watching like they're expecting her to do something.