That Risen Snow: A Scary Tale of Snow White and Zombies (Wattys 2014 Award Winner)

Chapter Thirteen

Grouchy

A GREAT BALL OF fire explodes in the kitchen. The cottage shakes, and the stairwell rattles. A hot, invisible hand shoves Grouchy onto his ass, knocking him halfway down the stairs.

Snoozy catches him before he tumbles off the staircase. Grouchy’s injured knee throbs. The stink of burnt hair and smoke assaults his nose. The gruesome scene he just witnessed is branded inside his skull: Blushful’s bone jutting out of his forearm like a bookmark, Coughy’s wide, desperate eyes, and the almost lustful motion of Blushful’s head slurping at Coughy’s neck.

He assesses the madness below. In the kitchen, flames rejoice in an orgy of destruction. Across the cottage, Blushful rises, his beard charred. One arm hangs uselessly. Back in the kitchen, Snow perches on the charred windowsill, the shutters blown out by the explosion. Crusty brown blood covers her face and arms. Coughy, now in flames, staggers across the ground floor—spreading the fire.

In unison, Snow and Blushful charge the stairs. Snoozy pulls Grouchy to his feet, and they scamper up the staircase. Blushful leaps for Grouchy’s foot, but thankfully loses his grip on the stairs. Snow jumps and scales the side of the stairs like an oversized spider.

Grouchy reaches the landing, but Snow grabs his ankle. He falls forward—stomach smacking against the wood floor—then rolls onto his back. Snow clambers onto him, her slight limbs jabbing the wind from his belly. She hisses, spraying blood and spittle. Before she can bite, footsteps hurry forward. Merry slams one of the supply bags into her chest, propelling her and the bag backward off the stairwell.

Coughing, Grouchy crawls into the loft. Merry slams the door behind him. As soon as he latches the crossbars, heavy thuds pound on the other side. The door rattles on its hinges, but the crossbars hold.

For now, they’re safe. Flickering shadows lick across the three dwarfs’ faces. The scratchy scent of smoke spreads in the still air.

“And then there were three,” Grouchy says. “Shit.”

Merry helpfully does the math. “There’s more of them than us.”

“We have to leave.”

Merry shakes his head. “But where?”

"The mine.” Grouchy unsheathes the Prince’s sword, tosses it onto the bed. “We’ll be safe there. If we trap them there, we can find Dr. Killington.”

Merry shakes his head. “Trying to capture them is what got us into this mess. We need to protect ourselves.”

Grouchy steps toward Merry. “Coward.”

“Fool,” Merry says. “We don’t know that a cure exists. Do you think Bones would risk everything to save a horde of monsters?”

“Bones valued life. And freedom.” Anger bubbles in Grouchy’s belly, making his squeaky voice low and grumbly. “Those are our friends. They’re prisoners in their own bodies.”

“And you’d know all about being a prisoner, wouldn’t you?”

“Bones knew the risks when he took Snow in. Knew he was defying the Queen.”

Merry flails his hands. “And look where that got us! We need real leadership now. Please.”

“I’ve got more leadership in my hairy ass than you have in—”

“Then why did Bones give me so many responsibilities? He was grooming me to take his place.”

Smoke slithers under the door. Below, flames crackle and something crashes. He and Merry are close enough that Merry’s breath grazes Grouchy’s beard. Sweat pours down his back, soaking his clothes. They don’t have time to argue, but Grouchy can’t help himself.

“He gave you busy work to make you feel useful, you ass. Think about our names. I’m Grouchy because I’m a pissed-off, motherless fumper. Dim was Dim because people thought he was a dumb ass. Coughy was Coughy because he was frightened of a sneeze. Bones gave us names to help confront our horrors. Except for you. You he called ‘Merry,’ not because you’re so fancy-fumping happy, but because you’re so sad with your shit-eating grin. If you confronted your horrors head on, you’d shrivel like the dickless twerp that you are.”

“You want to face things head on?” Merry says, voice high and cracking. “What about your feelings for Snow?”

Grouchy flinches, the word Snow like a slap in his face.

Snoozy steps between them and places a hand on each dwarf’s belly. “Don’t.”

Merry continues. “You think just because Snow can talk to animals, she’d lower herself to loving a mongrel like—”

Rage bursts in Grouchy’s belly, hotter even than the inferno raging below. He roars and lunges, ready to gouge out Merry’s eyes, strangle him, crush his nose, and worse. Except Snoozy holds him back.

Eyes wide with fright, Merry grabs the sword from the bed. “Come on then. See what a coward I am.”

“Enough.” Snoozy shoves Grouchy, then stomps to the door and holds the crossbars. “Stop it, or I open this door.”

Grouchy and Merry exchange agitated glares.

Snoozy coughs, smoke thickening around his ankles. “We are in a burning cottage filled with Horrors. Your argument can wait.” Snoozy’s eyes go glassy a moment. “Wait. Weight. Weightless. Sprouting inside. Patience. More patients.” He shakes his head. “It’s time to go. Now make your peace.”

Grouchy coughs. “Snoozy, we don’t need—”

Snoozy kicks the door. “I will open this door right now. Let all the nasty seeds inside.”

Merry extends a hand to Grouchy. “Fine.”   

Grouchy takes Merry’s hand, the palm smooth and soft. It’s not a worker’s hand. He considers giving Merry a painful squeeze, but decides to behave.

“May your hands be empty,” Grouchy says.

“May your belly be full,” Merry says.

Grouchy turns to Snoozy. “Grand. Now, can we go?”

Snoozy shakes his head. “You two go. I’m staying.”