A Zombie Christmas Carol (19 page)

Scrooge on the other hand seemed possessed. As he swung his blade he was deftly assisted by Mr Cratchit and a group of children and adults determined to fight these evil men. The fight was long and brutal and before long only ten of Scrooge’s party remained, whilst the Keepers’ number whittled down to five.

The gentleman, to whom Scrooge had seen in his vision of the future, was still there and remarkably good with his sword and walking stick. As he stabbed one of the Keepers in the shoulder, he noticed a gap and leapt forward towards the artefact. Scrooge, seeing the man moving ahead tried to help but the fast moving blades stopped him. As the man reached down, he grasped the artefact and placed his hands upon it.

“Destroy it, destroy it now!” cried Scrooge and he desperately hacked another of the Keepers to the ground.

The old man looked confused and stumbled backwards as though afraid of Scrooge or perhaps the Keepers. As he retired, his hands slipped off the artefact. Two of the evil men stepped back and faced him, both with their wicked blades held aloft. Yet none would attack him. As this extraordinary event unfolded, the rest of the fight slowed and then stopped, the two groups staring, waiting for the old man to do something.

The zombies, who had now entered the chamber were just a short distance away and had stopped. They stood silently, as though waiting for an order.

“What is happening?” asked Mr Cratchit.

“It is the artefact. Whoever touches it controls the dead. Good Lord, sir, you must have the power now!” cried Scrooge.

The old man, still clutching his stick and sword dropped to his knees in fear.

“My eyes!” he screamed, “I can see them!”

As he turned and moved, the undead seemed almost to mimic him. It was clear that the dark powers of the artefact had turned him into the Master of the Dead, though what he would do was anybody’s guess.

The boy, the one that just a short while ago had bought the great bird, slid neatly between the legs of the Keepers and, without hesitating brought his weapon, a simple broom handle down hard onto the artefact, still placed in its box. As the weapon struck a crack flash erupted from the case and a shockwave like a blast of wind tore through the room. The Keepers cried out and rushed for the staircase, abandoning the shattered relic and both the undead that still lurked. The zombies started to move though they lacked the control or coordination they seemed to have before.

“Good work, my boy, you’ve broken the link, look!” cried Scrooge.

The tired group watched incredulously as the zombies staggered about, each one uncertain as to what to do.

“Finish them, my boys, clear the room!” shouted Scrooge.

With one last push, they rushed about the place, each cutting and hacking until every last one of the creatures was still.

Scrooge, the old man and Mr Cratchit moved over to the shattered relic and looked down at its pieces. The old man moved to pick them up but Scrooge stopped him.

“Be careful, we do not know if any power remains,” said Scrooge, as he moved to a burning lantern on the wall and brought it towards the remains of the relic.

“You, lend me your handkerchief,” ordered Scrooge.

A man in his early twenties handed over a small piece of cloth with which Scrooge carefully scooped up the pieces and deposited them in the broken wooden box.

“Collect anything you can find that burns and bring it here!” called Mr Cratchit.

In just a few minutes, the group had erected a small bonfire over the relic. Without hesitation, Scrooge lowered the torch and started the fire. In took a few minutes for the fuel to take hold and then it burned furiously as though its heart were naphtha itself. As the flamed burnt though the box the fingers of red flame changed to blue, then green and then a screech, like the sound of a harp echoed in the room. The flame returned to normal and in a few minutes the relic, the box and all the fuel reduced to ash.

Scrooge placed his sword in its scabbards and turned to the survivors.

“A great piece of work my friends, you have done great deeds,” he explained with a look of joy.

A mighty roar like the sound of a war horn bellowed from outside and reached the underground chamber and with it a great cry of triumph. Scrooge was at the stairs first and close behind him were the rest, some of them helping to carry the wounded to the surface. They reached the floor of the Bank and found it deserted. Without waiting, they surged outside, expecting to find the horse and a raging battle. Instead, they ran out to see a group of several dozen mounted soldiers who were in the square and waving their swords in the air. On the ground were scores of bodies from the undead horde.

Even better, the wounded seemed to be getting better and those that appeared near death saw life returning to them.

“The darkness must have left them, the spread has stopped,” said Bob Cratchit.

“Indeed it has!” said Scrooge with a smile.

“How about the young lady in my home? Will she be safe or will she turn?” asked a worried Bob Cratchit.

“Look around you, it is over. The fight has been won and it is time to celebrate!” said a joyful Scrooge.

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. The young boy spared the ravages of the disaster that could have befallen London. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

As for the artefact, Scrooge never again heard anything of the item or the shards rumoured to have been scattered. No signs of the undead were heard of again, and before long their very existence became nothing more than mystery or myth.

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!