A Zombie Christmas Carol (18 page)

“Here they are good people of London. Will you see them take your homes, your friends and your families?” shouted Scrooge.

“No!” came the reply in unison from the swelling ranks.

“Follow me!” shouted Scrooge and with a swing of his sword, he rushed ahead as fast as he could.

With a crash, he hit the first of the zombies and then proceeded to hack and slash with great vigour. As each cut came down onto the head of a creature, Scrooge felt his zeal and strength returning. It was as though life was breathing back into his shell. For a moment he could have been overwhelmed, but for the small group of vagabonds and youths that jumped out from the dark alleys nearby and joined in the fight. They were small but far from weak and with each strike that Scrooge delivered, another ten came from the young boys.

“Come!” shouted the gentleman that Scrooge had so recently seen scorning him in the future.

“Will you let common children such as these deny you of your chance to cleanse this place?” he added.

With a deft move, he withdrew a slender and sophisticated looking sword. It had much in common with a traditional court sword, and though lacking in any discernable edge its tip was sharp and it was well constructed. From inside his coat pocket he withdrew a small pistol and with a cry rushed headlong into the fight.

Before long the entire street looked like some ancient battlefield, as one by one the local inhabitants opened their doors and joined the fray, men with their axes and woman carrying pots and pans. In less than a full minute the horde of creatures lay battered and crushed, and all for the loss of not one person. As the people paused catching their breath, the door to old Bob Cratchit’s home opened and he stepped out, holding a metal poker in one hand. He looked terrified and had evidently been struggling against these fiends for some time. He looked at the armed group and held out his weapon in front of him, expecting an attack at any moment.

“I will not let you in!” he shouted.

“Mr Cratchit, old boy! It is me, your friend Scrooge!” came a shout from the centre of the mass of people.

“Scrooge?” he asked in surprise.

He pushed forward of the crowd, now dripping in sweat and still carrying the wrapped bird under his arm. He moved up to the man and handed him the concealed item.

“Something for you and your dear family!” he said a grin. “I am sorry it took so long.”

Mr Cratchit opened up the brown paper and peered inside, spotting the massive, tasty looking bird before looking back at Scrooge.

“I, I don’t know what to say,” he said in surprise.

“Say nothing, my good man. I could do with your help though,” he said as he waved over to the crowd of people

Mrs Cratchit moved to the open door and looked out, surprised to see Scrooge stood there.

“Mr Scrooge has brought us a fine gift,” said old Bob Cratchit, as he handed the mighty bird over to his wife.

She peeked inside, still stunned by the crowd and the arrival of such a gift.

“We must be off, this group of creatures is just one of many, they are making their way to the Bank, just like they did when old Jacob met his end, God rest his soul,” said Scrooge as he stepped back.

“You are going to fight them?” said an incredulous Mr Cratchit.

“Yes, and if you would join us I would be honoured,” Scrooge replied.

Turning to his wife and children, he spoke briefly and then after hugging his children he pushed the door shut behind him. Jumping down into the street, he moved up to the front of the crowd where Scrooge stood waiting.

“I’m here, sir, what did you have in mind?” he asked.

Scrooge turned to the people and raised his sword in the air.

“To the Bank!” he cried.

He turned to Mr Cratchit, “I’ll explain my little plan on the way,” he said.

As they rounded the corner, they encountered two more zombies who were beating incessantly on some poor soul’s door. Scrooge did not even have to act; the number of the men at the front leapt into action and smashed them both to the floor. They all moved on and swelled in numbers as those in their homes felt it would be safer to stay with them, rather than trapped in their homes waiting for Death.

“These creatures are controlled by some foul artefact from overseas. There is a sacred spot below the Bank, in fact where years ago a mysterious and sinister cult used to worship. If the artefact is placed there it will allow its owner to take control of this horde, and command them at will. Until that happens only those creatures very near to the object can be fully controlled,” he explained.

“Jacob and I saw it years ago and the Keepers very nearly managed to use it. Thankfully, the militia arrived in time and drove it away. This time I fear they may already be close, look!” said Scrooge, as he pointed down one of the alleys. At the far end, he could see the parallel street to the one they followed. A group at least as large as theirs staggered along, presumably heading to the Bank.

“Why don’t we just find the Keepers and stop them before they reach the Bank?” asked Mr Cratchit.

“A fine question, my boy, and one that is simply answered, where are the Keepers? Yes, they brought it here but how do we find them? The only thing we know for certainty is that the Bank is where they must take it. If we can take control of the Bank and stop them from placing the item in its place at the heart of the old temple, we can stop them and perhaps destroy the artefact once and for all,” explained Scrooge.

The group continued their march, now more a small army and their numbers still swelled to more than two hundred souls. As they moved on Scrooge looked back proud of the spirit of his companions, and of what they had achieved with just a little effort and courage. Three children came running from a side alley and up to Scrooge.

“Mr, they are just over the hill, you should turn back!” said one.

“Yes, you’ll all be killed!” said another.

“Not with Mr Scrooge with us!” shouted one of the boys in the small army.

They moved past the three children who upon seeing such a mighty host quickly fell in at the rear and followed. If nothing else, they preferred the company of large numbers to the hiding out in the shadows, waiting for help that likely would never arrive.

They reached the summit and the front line slowed and then stopped. From their position, they could see the open square in front of the Bank was an open battle. A mixture of the undead, local people and the odd soldier were fighting a bloody battle and it was clear the increasing number of undead were winning. From the front of the Bank a small group of militia were trying to fight their way out of the broken door, but only a handful remained and the weight of numbers were soon to push them inside. Several fires burned in the street, a column of smoke rose up from a broken structure nearby.

“They must have already placed the object in its evil place!” shouted Scrooge.

He turned to his group of volunteers.

“I have seen this object before now, it is fragile and can be destroyed. We need to break through their line and fight our way inside. We must be strong and make our way into the catacombs to where the object lies. Once it is smashed, its power will be lost and these creatures will lose their master’s control. They will not suddenly die but they will lose their plan and will be much easier to beat. Are you ready to end this?” he shouted as he lifted his curved sword high into the air.

“Let ‘em have it!” shouted one of the boys who rushed off, closely followed by several of his friends.

“Charge!” shouted Scrooge.

With a roar, the crowd surged down the hill and towards the swirling melee. The boys struck the creatures first and with both speed and agility managed to slip past whilst delivering sniping strikes with their weapons. Mr Cratchit and Scrooge, plus a group of older men, pushed on to the right and started to work their way through a thick throng of the zombies. As Scrooge slashed downwards, the others pushed and stamped. One of the men was dragged down, and it looked as though his fate was sealed. Just in time though, a woman knelt down and struck the creature with a pan, the force of the impact knocking the creature backwards. As it landed on its back, another man jumped in and thrust a sharpened piece of wood into its torso.

Inside the Bank was the small number of surviving soldiers that the creatures had pushed inside the building, and were stuck in a tiny group, each trying desperately to protect the flank of the next. One by one they were dragged to the ground until only the three strongest remained.

Bob Cratchit reached the broken door and pushed inside. Two men followed him and then Scrooge chased behind them. With a cut and slash, they broke through the first group of dead and reached the three soldiers.

“Who are you?” shouted the largest soldier, as he swung his curved blade and brought down another creature.

Scrooge leapt forward and hacked down two as he reached the man.

“Scrooge, and we are here to destroy the artefact.”

“How do you know about it?” asked the second soldier, whilst pushing back two zombies.

“Does it matter?” asked Mr Cratchit. “We need to get there, and fast, or the city will be overrun!”

Scrooge leaned forward and shouted to the tallest soldier.

“We will take care of this, you need to get reinforcements to clear up their survivors when we succeed,” said Scrooge.

“Succeed? You are only a few people!” said the third soldier.

Part of the doorframe collapsed, and through the dust emerged at least twenty more people who rushed in to hack and stab at the undead that were still moving up from the secret underground vault in the Bank.

“Look, there are more outside, this is our chance,” shouted Scrooge.

He turned from the soldier, and towards the dark opening, he knew to lead underground. As he moved forwards, he called to the others around him.

“Come, to the crypt!”

The open area of the Bank only contained a dozen or so zombies, and they were quickly dispatched, by Scrooge’s people as they headed to the steps. The soldiers rushed the door, and in the small window the fight had created, were able to slip outside and into the darkness of the alleys. As they left the building a small number of the undead trickled inside, each one seeming to know exactly where the one, true threat remained.

As the three soldiers sneaked away, the tallest turned back and watched in amazement, as the creatures appeared to close ranks around the Bank. There must have been two or three hundred of them and they formed a thick band of growling death. The local people had fallen back and resorted to hurling objects at the horde though none seemed to want to tangle with such a large and now uniform mass of creatures.

“I hope they know what they’re doing,” said the taller soldier.

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t help them yet. We need to get the lads here and quickly,” said the second.

The soldiers nodded almost in unison and then turned and rushed away though as they moved they were careful to avoid the odd creature making its way to the square.

Inside the Bank, the small group of Scrooge’s followers moved down the stairs and into the underground chamber. It was slightly different to the way he had seen it in his visitations by the Spirits. Icons and imagery hung from the walls and columns, and candles burned in almost every corner of the place. For a moment, it gave the impression of a wondrous grotto full of sparkling lights and wonders. In the centre stood group of twelve men in red, just like the ones Scrooge had seen in his glimpses of the Past. They stood around the item, presumably the artefact.

“Behind us!” cried one of the boys, as he was struck and tumbled down the stairs.

As the noise from their arrival awoke the interest of the Keepers of the artefact, they drew their weapons. Before moving, several of them threw knives or used short bows and then they charged. The first impact of these missiles brought three poor souls to the ground, one certainly dead and the other two were seriously hurt.

Though Scrooge’s group outnumbered the Keepers, they were nowhere near the level of skill of these men. A furious melee broke out with only Scrooge being able to offer the enemy more than token resistance. In less than a minute of fighting, they had lost another five. They were down to just two dozen people able to carry on. Three of the men in red tried to separate Scrooge from the group, but he would not be so. As the first approached, he hacked for his head. The man, well used to fighting with a blade moved it to intercept, but was tricked. It was a simple feint from an old man! As his opponent lifted his weapon in defence, Scrooge slashed the man from the thigh to the chest. The rest of his people rallied around him and they tried to push back the group of men in red.

As the battle continued on, another three of the Keepers died.  There were eight of them and those that remained were the strongest and fastest. Scrooge had reached to within ten feet of the artefact when he was seen. It was as though something clicked in their heads as they realised the precious item was in danger. Abandoning the battle, they all swept in to stop Scrooge. From the staircase, at least a dozen of the undead had made it inside and were working their way down to the swirling fight. Two boys, both armed with newly collected swords from the dead Keepers did their best to slow them down.