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

Chapter Twenty-Five

Merry

FEAR FLUTTERS IN MERRY’S belly like a flaming moth. Just steps away, Monk and the hairy soldier, Shrub, scramble to their feet and hiss. Battson scoots backward, bumping into Merry and knocking him to one knee.

Behind him, the Page screams.

Shrub leaps at Merry, knocking him onto his back. It’s the hardest he’s ever been hit, and the first time he’s been struck by a human. The impact knocks the wind out of his gut. His head strikes the floor, and stars blossom in his vision. He fumbles against Shrub’s chest, but the Horror lowers its head. Shrub’s hot, panting breath rakes at his beard.

At last, the darkness has won.

He whimpers. A metal blade flicks its tongue through Shrub’s neck. The Horror’s head falls from its shoulders and smacks Merry in the face. He shuts his mouth and wipes the cursed blood from his face.

Pushing Shrub’s headless body away, he sits up in a daze. Nearby, Hays hits Monk upside the head with a pickaxe.

But hot hands grasp Merry’s chest. Shrub’s headless body clambers over him. Fingers pinch and fumble his flesh, and he kicks the Horror backward. It stumbles onto its feet and into the wall, leaving a bloody smear over Grouchy’s diagram. Blood jettisons out the open neck. Its hands clench and unclench as if grabbing chunks of air.

“Shit on me,” Grouchy says with his typical eloquence.

Grouchy slams a fist-sized rock onto Shrub’s severed head. The skull bursts open, and Shrub’s body collapses like a puppet with snipped strings.

For a long while, the only noise is their heavy breathing and the Horrors’ incessant digging. The sound tickles the back of Merry’s brain, where darkness swirls and swells. That same darkness nests under his feet and dares him to take a step.

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

All around them, lantern-cast shadows wiggle and dance. Taunting Merry. Laughing at him. He reaches in his pocket for his worry stone, but it’s gone. The soldiers took it—and the roots—back on the path.

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

Finally, the captain speaks. “I heard the gate break just before the cave-in. I guess one got in.”

Hays coughs. “Lucky you didn’t get bit, Cap’n.”

The captain shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m lucky.”

Merry wipes more blood and drool off of his face. The dark blood could have been bled by the night itself.

“Careful,” Hays tells him. “Watch out for blood bugs.”

“What?”

“Blood bugs. Little creatures that swim in blood. My sister Randa taught me that’s how sickness gets passed, by blood bugs swimming from one person to another.”

“Blood bugs.” Battson scowls, shakes his head. “Shut up, pinky.”

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

The captain addresses everyone, “Let’s get going. No telling how long before those demons claw their way in.”

“Agreed,” Grouchy says. “I’ll get the dinermite. Snoozy, can you prep the blasting caps and rig the fuses? Merry, can you work the lift and make sure those rungs get pulled?”

“Of course.” Merry offers a grin.

At last, he’s gaining Grouchy’s respect. It really feels like Merry has become accepted as part of the dwarf family now that the family is falling apart. He doesn’t agree with the current plan, but he’s done meddling and politicking. If only he’d given Blushful that tea, maybe things would have gone differently. The core help him if Grouchy ever finds out. No matter. He can’t change the past. He can only leave it buried in the darkness where it belongs.

“Grouchy, Battson’s with you,” the captain says.

“What?” Battson says, but the captain gives him a rusty dagger stare.

Hays and the captain agree to pry the rungs off the vertical shaft. The captain orders the Page to stay in the staging chamber and warn the others if the Horrors break through.

Tchk. Tchk. Tchk.

Everyone gathers pickaxes, fuses, rope, and other gear. The soldiers stack their dead neatly in the corner. Merry passes around the one canteen of water stored in the mine. Battson, of course, refuses to drink after the dwarfs.

Before the group splits up, Grouchy pulls Merry aside. “Merr, you saved my ass back there with the Prince.”

Merry’s smile widens, the corners of his mouth propping up his warmed cheeks. “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“Well, be careful down there.” Grouchy lowers his voice. “Take care of Snoozy. Don’t trust the swobs.”

“You’re stuck with the foul one. The captain and the boy seem quite likable. I think under—”

“No.” Grouchy’s face hardens. “The swobs are our enemies. Don’t ever forget that. They may seem nice enough now, but how long do you figure that’ll last outside this mine?”

Grouchy pats Merry’s belly and limps down the northeast passage with Battson.

Before Merry can duck into the northwest passage, Snoozy steps in his path. The heavy-eyed dwarf holds out one clenched fist, then opens it to reveal Merry’s worry stone. Shiny and black, the stone looks like a hole in Snoozy’s palm. Always, there’s a hole. In every plan. In every day. In every moment. A hole that lets the darkness in.

“I thought you should have this,” Snoozy says, his breath sweet with honey-gum.

Merry’s stomach lurches. “Th-thank you, Snoozy.”

“I found it in the bags,” he says pointedly.

If Snoozy found the worry stone, he also found the raylee roots. He should tell the others that Snoozy has the roots—he knows Snoozy won’t be able to control himself—but in doing so, he’d be revealing his own horrible deed.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Snoozy.”

Hays approaches and asks Snoozy, “When you were in the woods earlier, did you see a dog? About this high?” He holds his hand at mid-thigh level.

With Snoozy distracted, Merry ducks into the passage.

Into the darkness.