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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Grouchy

GROUCHY SCRATCHES THE DIAMOND quickly against the wall while the humans’ eyes dig into the back of his neck. Prison taught him never to turn his back on danger. It also taught him the importance of numbers in a fight. The humans outnumber the dwarfs six to three.

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

Behind him, the captain says, “Tell us. How did you know about destroying the creatures’ brains? Is there anything else you know about them?”

Snoozy tells them about fleeing the house, fighting off Blushful, and then climbing up the tree. Of how the Prince grabbed him as he climbed down. Damn it. The Prince still walks. Grouchy’s blood simmers. He stares at Snoozy.

“The Prince w-was so quiet.” Snoozy’s voice shakes. “A-all smoke and snowflakes until he started moaning. He grabbed me. I was rooted. So, I let go. It is autumn, after all. I fell on top of him and wiggled free. Somehow, I grabbed his honey-gum.” He pauses to pop another piece of gum into his mouth. “As I ran away, there was Blushful, still lying on the ground. Popped bubble. Weightless. Waiting. Finally at peace. Stabbing his eye killed him. I went between the trees and found Grouchy and Merry.” Snoozy looks to Merry now. “Their bags were outside the tent.”

Snoozy’s balled fists, sweaty forehead, compulsively-chewing jaw, and hunched soldiers tell Grouchy that the raylee root poison in his system is eating him alive.

Grouchy turns to his completed diagram. “Right. So, this is the mine. We’re here.”

He points at the staging chamber on the diagram, from which a passage extends deep into the mountainside and curves around the main deposit of ore inside the mountain. Where the passage begins curving around the ore, a deep shaft drops straight down a length taller than most trees. At the far end of the passage, another shaft drops down—but this shaft spirals in a coil. The shaft and the spiraling passage are connected below on three different levels. From these levels, additional passages are dug outward into the ore deposit. Essentially, the northwest passage looks like a bizarre step ladder—with one straight rail for the shaft, one twisted rail for the spiraling passage, and three rungs for the three lower levels.

“The spiral ramp has rails for a mine car,” Grouchy says. “The shaft has a platform that can be lowered and raised from up top.”

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

The captain tilts his head. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

Grouchy winds his finger down the spiral. “One group lures the Horrors down the spiral here to the lower levels. Another group caves-in the entrance to the spiral. A third group hauls up the first group using the vertical shaft’s platform. The Horrors will be trapped. We have a raft at the other side of the mountain. It’ll take us to Abundance. To Dr. Killington.”

Monk strokes his mustache. “We’ve pulled off worse plans, Captain.”

The captain frowns. “The Horrors can’t get up the shaft?”

“Emergency rungs are built into the shaft. We’d have to pry them out from the bottom level using the lift.”

“How do we cave-in the ramp?” Monk holds up a battered pickaxe. “These tools are about done.”

“Dandelion,” Snoozy says, eyes fixed on the floor. “Sun burst. Boom.”

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

Grouchy nods. “We have explosives. But we’ll have to retrieve them from the abandoned northeast passage.”

Merry shakes his head and points at him. “Hold it one darned minute. How many plans do we have to watch go up in flames? Let’s put the Horrors in a bag. Let’s put the Horrors in the cottage. Let’s trap the Horrors in the mine. No more. Let’s finish this now. Battson is right. We should just slaughter them and be done with it.”

The captain slams his fist into the rubble, raises his voice. “They’re my soldiers, and they’ll do as I say. And I say we try to contain these Horrors, then find a cure. Otherwise, our Queen will have all of our heads.”

“Damn the Queen,” Battson says. “I vote for killing these Horrors.”

“I vote with you, Cap’n,” Hays says.

“I vote for capturing them,” the Page says, largely ignored.

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

“This is not a democracy,” the captain says. “You don’t get a vote. This is the Service.”

Despite the fact that the captain agrees with his plan, anger boils in Grouchy’s belly. The words bubble up his throat fueled by steam and hatred. “Like hells it is. This isn’t the Service. It’s our damn mine, not a battlefield. And you’re not soldiers anymore. You’re survivors, just like us.”

“We should vote,” Merry adds.

Battson nods. “Agreed. We should vote. But humans each get two votes, and the dwarfs each get one.”

That’s it. Balls to this. Grouchy hobbles over to Battson, his busted toe flaring with pain. “I’m finished with you, swob.”

“Then finish me, stump.”

“Battson, stand down or I will feed you to those Horrors outside.” The captain’s yell echoes down the mine. He takes a labored breath. “Boy, do you really think it’s as easy as taking these monsters down one by one? You think you will be able to do that here in this dark, cramped cave? What if one slips through? In the Rice Wars, the dwarfs had suicide rebels that we called ‘Dump-Stumps.’” He turns to the dwarfs. “No offense.”

Grouchy spits. “Balls.”

The captain turns back to Battson. “Know why we called them that? Because when you’re fighting something that has nothing to lose, it’s like having a big load of shit dumped on you. And right now, we’ve got a whole army of shit out there waiting to—”

The rubble behind Shrub and Monk shifts, and rock sprays in all directions. A mangled Horror emerges, its face a mess of torn flesh and cracked bone. It flails blindly, both its eyes now shattered cavities. The Page screams.

Shrub scoots off the pile, but the Horror falls on him, bites the back of his head. The soldier’s head snaps backward. Monk swings his pickaxe and shatters the Horror’s skull. Shrub hisses, jerks forward, and pulls back with Monk’s right ear between his teeth. Monk screams, chokes, and hisses.

Grouchy unsheathes Honey-Stick.