A Zombie Christmas Carol (17 page)

Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs!

“I don’t know what day of the month it is!” said Scrooge. “I don’t know how long I’ve been among the Spirits. I don’t know anything. I’m quite a baby. Never mind. I don’t care. I’d rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo here!”

He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!

“What’s to-day!” cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes and, who seemed to be in a hurry, which was odd based on his clothing.

“Eh?” returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.

“What’s to-day, my fine fellow?” said Scrooge.

“To-day!” replied the boy. “Why, Christmas Day, sir, but it doesn’t matter so.  They say the demons have returned and the army is trying to keep them out of the city, sir.”

“It’s Christmas Day!” said Scrooge to himself. “I haven’t missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!”

Scrooge seemed impervious to the comments from the boy as he delighted in life and the fact that he had the chance to make amend, to make his life in the image of something new and good.

“Hallo!” returned the boy, though he looked confused at the man’s apparent unwillingness to understand the terrible events unfolding.

“Do you know the Poulterer’s, in the next street but one, at the corner?” Scrooge inquired.

“I should hope I did,” replied the lad.

“An intelligent boy!” said Scrooge. “A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there?—Not the little prize Turkey: the big one?”

“What, the one as big as me?” returned the boy.

“What a delightful boy!” said Scrooge. “It’s a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck!”

“It’s hanging there now,” replied the boy.

“Is it?” said Scrooge. “Go and buy it.”

“Walk-er!” exclaimed the boy.

“No, no,” said Scrooge, “I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell ’em to bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come back with the man, and I’ll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I’ll give you half-a-crown!”

The boy looked around him as though he expected some evil to take him and then without further hesitation he was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast.

“I’ll take it to Bob Cratchit’s!” whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh, before stopping and thinking.

“Good Lord, I remember now.  Poor Cratchit and his family are at this very moment trapped and fighting for their lives in their home,” he said, as he recalled his previous experience of Mr Cratchit barricading the door of his home against the horde.

“Well, his family is certainly going to need a hearty meal if they are to survive this day, and I have every intention of making sure they do!”

He moved to the wall that carried the odd assortment of relics and weapons.  The first looked just like the old sword that Mr. Jenkins had shown him so many years before.  He pulled it down and withdrew the blade.  It was dark and pitted but sturdy and still sharp, even after this long time of abandon.  Next to the sword was a small dagger that he ducked into his trousers and a duelling sword of a type known as a smallsword that looked like a thin, pointed fire poker.  As he examined the weapons, a series of shouts and screams came from the street.  He rushed outwards, grabbing his thick coat on the way.

“What is happening?” he shouted, as some stricken people darted past him and along the road.  A young boy looked towards him as his mother grabbed and yanked him away.  Scrooge looked to the right and spotted the danger, the undead were here and they had already made their way from the docks and into the heart of the city.

“What did the Ghost say?” he muttered to himself, trying to recall what he had seen in his experiences with the Spirits.

“Why yes, the creatures are being controlled by some malevolent beast looking to bring ruin to the city.  The Spirit said there was something in the Bank that they were drawn to, an object from across the seas that was responsible for their evil intent and power.”

Scrooge stopped and looked whimsical as though an idea of great import and peculiarity had entered his mind.

“Yes, of course.  I will stop these creatures and with that will ensure Christmas stays the way it always should be.  First things first though, I must endeavour to make certain  Cratchit and his family are safe, then I will resolve the situation at the Bank,” he said wryly before adding, “and it is perhaps time to rectify certain inequities.”

Staggering up the road the first party of the dead approached him.  They were just like the creatures he had encountered seven years prior, but unlike at that time these monsters appeared to have a purpose.  Off into the distance he could see other groups taking different routes though the city, almost like a team of cleaners working through a large house.

“Good Lord, they plan to empty or kill every soul in the city!” exclaimed Scrooge.

He looked down to the scabbard of the light cavalry sword and withdrew the dull blade.  It was heavy in his hand and without any effort seemed to drop down at the tip as though it had a will of its own to cut.  Scrooge looked up and centred his attention on the three zombies now only twenty feet from him.

“Come on you devils!” he shouted as he shuffled towards them, holding the sword up high to his right shoulder.

As he reached the first creature, he noticed it wearing a docker’s clothing and even carried some tools on it.  Some poor worker must have fallen victim to these most evil of creatures.  Looking at its face, the eyes were pitted and sunken and its mouth dripped a congealed and foul looking blood.  The skin was pale and lifeless and the creature moved as though another person was twisting and contorting its limbs.

With a single bold movement, Scrooge brought the blade down in a cutting motion that instantly transformed him back to decades earlier.  The blade slashed into the creature’s shoulder, keeping the movement until it left its body just below the ribs.  As the blade dropped down Scrooge stepped forward and lifted it back to deliver another downwards cut but this time from the left.  The two cuts formed an X shape on the creature and before he had returned the sword to his right shoulder, the creature started its collapse.

The other two zombies moved forward, each reaching out to grab at Scrooge.  He stepped back, almost stumbling as he gave ground.  With several quick cuts, he slashed into the arms of his attackers but other than causing cursory damage, they continued their progress towards him. 

“Stop damn you!” shouted Scrooge as his cuts became more erratic.

The closest zombie now grabbed Scrooge’s arm and its grip was stronger and more powerful than he could possibly have imagined.  Pain shot up through his muscles and the reflex action caused him to open his hand.  The sword dropped down to the floor and, in a brief moment, the two creatures were on him. He fought back as hard as his frail body would allow but he simply was not strong enough to hold off the two of them.  One moved closer, exposing its foul fangs and the blood infused drool that ran from its mouth.  Scrooge looked down in fear but spotted the small dagger he had pushed into his belt earlier.  He pushed his elbow up into the closest creature’s throat to give him some advantage and then grabbed the dagger. Without thought, or hesitation, he stabbed it into the thing’s throat in an upward motion that must have forced the point into the base of the back of the brain.

It was as though somebody had blown on the wick of a candle.  The creature’s eyes flickered and life vanished from the body.  It collapsed to the ground as though an invisible hand had been holding it up to walk and move.  Spurred on by his success Scrooge pushed the remaining monster from him and then stepped back himself giving him a little space to move.  He spotted his sword lying on the ground and grabbed for it.  The zombie was almost upon him but was not speedy enough.  With one swift horizontal cut, he slashed the thing’s head clean from its shoulders.  The head toppled off and the body slumped lifelessly to the ground. 

Behind the body stood two children, both young boys and both in absolute awe.  The first boy carried the bird that Scrooge had asked him to buy earlier.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir!” said the first.

“Where did you learn that?” asked the second.

Scrooge straightened his back and tried to retrieve his breath before speaking to the boy.

“A long, long time ago from an old soldier.  Where are you both going?” he asked, out of interest, and surprise, being as everybody else was abandoning the streets.

“We heard that a group of foreigners are bring something into the city, any person that becomes near it is attacked by those dark, unholy things,” said the first boy.

“My brother was bitten by one in the dark just two hours ago, sir. He had a fever and died. Then he awoke from death and attacked my sister. That’s when the rest of us scarpered, sir,” said the second.

Scrooge considered the situation for a moment. It occurred to him that he could never stop them placing the object at the sacred site in the heart of the city all by himself. He needed help from people that cared enough to put themselves in danger for others.

More people ran past, some dropping their goods as they ran but none slowed down, they simply continued as fast as they could, shouting, crying and screaming.

“Boys, we need to stop this. Do you want to be forced out of your own town by this group of thieves and filth?” he asked sternly

“No, sir. How can we do anything, sir?” asked the first boy.

“Boy, you know the home of Mr Cratchit?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, the gentleman who works here?” answered the boy.

“Find your friends and tell them to meet there in ten minutes, not a minute more. We shall create an army of good people and we will march on the Bank. We will fight our way inside and destroy that which the evil wishes to reach.”

The two boys looked at each other in confusion, not understanding the point old Scrooge was making.

“Listen, I have seen this object before, it is evil and will destroy all we know and love. I am not able to explain how, but I know it will bring ruin to this place for years to come. Bring your family, your friends and all you can find. Arm yourselves with pans, knives or anything else you can acquire. You will be like Lord Uxbridge and his heavy cavalry, riding to the rescue. Now go, young boys, with haste!” he cried.

The two boys excitedly rushed away towards their homes, leaving Scrooge with a sword in one hand and the great bird in another.

Picking up his feet, Scrooge ambled down the street and towards Cratchit’s home. It was a bizarre sight, as the old man appeared to be impervious to the gloom of the city as those inhabitants continued to stream by. One man, of similar age stopped, recognising Scrooge.

“Good day, sir,” he said in surprise.

Scrooge slowed and glanced up and down at the man. A moment of realisation dawned on him as he recognised the man from his visions of the future. It was one of the gentlemen who said he had said hello to Scrooge on many a day.

“A good day it is indeed, Sir!” said Scrooge as he hurriedly shook the man’s hand.

Scrooge made to move away but the man held on to him with a puzzled expression on his face.

“But, sir, have you not seen the evils entering the city? We must leave forthwith,” he said.

“Humbug, sir, humbug!” said Scrooge with a glint in his eye. “I say we gather up the good citizens and we resolve to defeat the confounded horde this very day. Already the young boys and urchins are assembling just a few roads away. We will leave in not more than five minutes to the heart of this problem!” he said with great gusto.

“But, sir, what do you know of this evil?” asked the befuddled man.

“I have seen its face and I have fought it before. Trust me my good man, if you join me you will help to make this Christmas Day one that is always remembered.”

The man looked about, noticing a small number of people watching their conversation. A few more continued to run past, but an even greater number stood by.

“I saw him fighting them just now, he killed a group of them and he’s just an old man!” shouted one.

“Old man indeed!” laughed Scrooge. “Think what we could do together. We will drive them out, as the rain drives the filth from the streets. Are you with me, good people?” he cried.

A great cheer rose up in the street from over thirty people that had gathered.

“Grab any weapon you can and follow me!” he cried, and shouting they moved off towards Cratchit’s home. Each of the crowd grabbed any item they could to use as a weapon. Some grabbed rocks, others pieces of timber and some a mixture of labouring tools. As they moved on they encountered more terrified people. These poor souls slowed and then stopped in amazement to see the small, scruffy army of people marching behind Scrooge. As they rounded the final corner, Scrooge could see the Cratchit home and it was not a minute too soon. In front of the house was a group of at least twenty of the walking dead. Off behind these in the distant gloom an even larger group staggered ever closer.