Zombie Mage (6 page)

“Lara?” His voice sounded strained.  It felt unusual
to be returning to a woman whom he knew very little about, other than she used
to be his wife and they cared for each other immensely.  However, since his
dream, the snippets of memories that had returned were strong enough for him to
realise that his life was empty without her.  It was peculiar to feel something
for her deep inside and it left him more frustrated than ever, not being able
to remember more about their time together. To make matters worse, he tried to stand
but his leg had annoyingly gone limp yet again.

“Lara, are you awake?”

Something creaked.

“Who’s there?” Lara replied.

Olligh breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she was
still alive. Steadying himself on a stack of boxes, he struggled to his feet.  He
was beginning to feel dizzy again.

“It’s me - Olligh.  I’ve come back for you.”

He turned the corner and spotted Lara, lying in her
casket in the same position as earlier.  Next to her head was a blue bottle
which looked familiar.  He staggered forward, trying to control his light
headedness, and just managed to reach her casket. He grasped the side tightly
to prevent falling over.  Lara turned her head and gaped up at him.  Her eyes
widened with horror and she screamed, terrified by the sight of his rotten face.

“Don't hurt me! Go away. Leave me alone!”

“Lara, it’s me. It's Olligh. Don’t you remember me?”

Lara shrank back, her eyes darting around the
chamber.  She screamed again and the bottle fell to the floor.  At this point,
Olligh’s head began to throb.  The chamber started to revolve quickly and
bright colours made it difficult for him to see clearly.  He gripped her casket
tightly, confused and disorientated.  He could hear loud voices from behind the
door and something rolled against his good foot.  It was the bottle.  He
suddenly remembered what it was and the advice Lara had given him.

It’s poison.

They don’t want you to remember.

Olligh suddenly felt sick.  The bottle was empty.  Why
did she drink it?   Why couldn’t she have waited?  Someone turned a key in the
lock just as Olligh lost his grip on the casket.  He fell to the floor and the
door burst open but he never saw his captors.  He’d vanished once again.

* * * *

Something approached with bright lights but it swerved, just missing
him. Olligh struggled to his feet. He was standing on a dark road with woodland
to either side.  The wind howled through the trees, shaking the leaves and
branches with devilish fury.  A man emerged from the strange object, waving his
fist and shouting at him. “Are you mad? You nearly got us both killed!”

Olligh trudged along the road, trying to ignore him. 
He wondered where he was this time, hoping to spot something familiar in the
gloom of the night.  As for the object that nearly hit him, although intrigued,
it wasn’t his immediate concern.  Right now, he needed to get home, find his
wife and discover what disease had afflicted them both.

“Hey, where you going?  I’m speaking to you!”

Olligh glanced back and noticed the man was now
approaching him so he quickened his pace, trying to avoid a confrontation. 

“Are you deaf as well as stupid?”

The man was quicker and grabbed him from behind,
forcing his arm up behind his back. “Yeah, bet you can hear me now, can’t you? 
Ain’t going to ignore me anymore, are you?”

He yanked his arm up tighter but there was a loud
snap. Something had definitely broken but Olligh couldn’t feel any pain.  His
whole arm was now oddly numb.  The man released him and stepped back.  Olligh’s
arm dropped and flopped by his side. “What the… are you some kind of freak?”

Olligh turned to face him. “Freak?  What do you mean
freak?”

The man pointed at him, a look of disgust on his face.
“Look at you. You’re all scabby. You’re freaking hideous.”

Olligh eyed him up and down. “It’s none of your business. 
Anyway, you’re certainly no oil painting, yourself.  What’s wrong with you
people?  Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

The man’s eyes widened.  He stared aghast at Olligh.
“Oh, man – what are you?”

Olligh shook his head.  “No, the question should be –
what are you? Why is it that everywhere I go, I’m met with violence?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault.  You riled me.  I nearly
crashed my car into a tree because of you.   Look, you need a doctor badly,
man.  You’re not right.”

“No, I don’t need help.  You’re the one who isn’t
right. You need the help, not me.”

Olligh tried to move his arm but it hung loosely by
his side.  “I can’t move my arm…" He sighed. "You’ve broken it.  You
had no right to do that.”

“Look, Freak, if you hadn’t been snoozing in the middle
of the road to begin with we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

Olligh’s eyes narrowed.  “You know nothing about me!
How dare you ridicule and assault me.”

The man shrugged and turned to his car.  “Whatever!
Sue me! You’re lucky I never broke your legs as well.”

Symnestcha!

The word flashed deep within his mind’s eye.  He
somehow knew its meaning, what the word was capable of and how to combine
destructive energies to it.   It pressed loosely against his tongue, teasing
him - just waiting to be invoked.

As the man reached his car, Olligh pointed at him and
spoke the word of power.  He felt a strangely familiar sensation – a heavy
pressure in his head and a sudden release of energy.  The man gripped his chest
and staggered forward, falling to the ground.   He turned towards Olligh, a
look of desperation on his face, pleading with him to stop.  Olligh walked
slowly towards him, his hand still outstretched but now shrouded with a faint
green haze.

“In my land, your insolence would’ve been dealt with quickly
and effectively.”

 He clenched his fist and the man held his throat,
squirming with pain.

“In my land, you would’ve experienced a lifetime of
pain and suffering for your actions.”

 The man screamed in agony, helpless to prevent the
suffering.

“In my land-”

The man shook his head and managed a few words between
gasps. “I’m not in your flaming land!”

Olligh thrust his palm forward and lowered his head,
releasing his victim from the incantation.  The man rolled on his side and
glanced up, his eyes fearful yet thankful the pain had stopped. “I’m sorry,” he
said, breathing heavily. “Don’t kill me. Please, I won’t mention that I've seen
you.  Just let me go.”

For a moment, Olligh remained quiet; he stroked his
chin, contemplating his next action.  “Go then, and be thankful for my mercy.”

The man struggled to his feet and reached for his car
door.  He stared at something in the distance before returning his gaze to
Olligh.  He had an expectant, almost nervous look on his face.

“Well, what you waiting for?”

Bright lights flooded the road and something blared at
Olligh.  He froze to the spot, unable to move.  It hurtled towards him, trying
unsuccessfully to swerve out of the way, and slammed into him.

The man watched as the lorry screeched to a halt and
the anxious driver abandoned his vehicle to see what he’d hit.  He shuddered. 
Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was human.

* * * *

The smell.  Olligh sniffed, surprised his sense of smell had returned.
Was something burning? He looked up to discover he wasn’t on the road any
more.  He was now in a stone kitchen.  Lara, his wife, was singing happily
while scrubbing something in the sink.  She looked so beautiful, young and
radiant.  He watched for a moment, happy to see her again but unsure if this
was reality or another vivid memory.

“Lara, is something burning?”

She stopped singing and turned her head.  Spotting him
on the floor, she smiled. “What you doing down there, silly?”

“I… I don’t really know.”

“Well, get up and sit at the table.  I’m baking
cookies. They’re full of juicy raisins. I know they’re your favourite.”

Smoke drifted up from the hearth in the corner of the
kitchen.  Olligh smirked.

“True, they’re my favourite, but only when you don’t
burn them.”

Lara gazed over at the hearth and frowned. “You’ve
always told me you preferred them slightly burnt.”

“Nonsense. Whatever made you think that?  Burnt
cookies taste revolting.”

Olligh tried to stand but he couldn’t get up.  His
body was completely numb. “What’s wrong with me?  I can’t get up.”

Lara remained quiet and continued scrubbing.

“Lara, can you help me?”

There was no reply.  The smell of burning became more
powerful.

“Lara? Have I upset you? This isn’t funny!”

Turning to face him, Olligh was horrified to see
Lara’s face now badly burnt; her skin was blistered and smoking.  The smell of
scorched cookies, mixed with the foul stench of burning flesh, almost made him
gag.   Lara walked towards him.  She reached out and stumbled, collapsing on
top of him.

“Burn with me, Olligh, I know you prefer it that way.”

Olligh tried to push her away but his arms hung limply
by his sides.  She leaned forward to kiss him, her lips dripping with burnt
flesh.   Repulsed, he tried to turn his head away but she laughed and forced it
back.   Without warning, she burst into flames. 

* * * *

Olligh was wracked with pain. There was no escape, every inch of his
body throbbed.  He felt as though he was going to pass out.  The face of a
small, chubby man hovered over him, panic evident in his eyes. 

“Hey there – hold on!  Don’t you die on me. Can I get
you anything?”

Olligh strained to see properly, his vision becoming
blurred.  “C...C... Cookies.”

The man shook his head.  “What? Cookies? Are you mad?
You’re in no condition for cookies.  Look, I’ve called for an ambulance. It
won’t be long.  Don't you dare die on me!”

He turned to speak to someone else. “Are you with him?
Do you know his name?”

Olligh felt dizzy.  Everything began to spin, faster
and faster.  He groaned.  At this point, death seemed favourable to this
excruciating pain.

“What was he doing out in the middle of the road?  I’d
better not lose my licence over this!”

The chubby man returned his gaze to where Olligh lay
but he was no longer there.

Olligh found himself in a small, dimly lit room, surrounded by long
shelves tightly packed with cuts of meat.  There appeared to be only one way
out, a huge door with a thick metal handle.  Oddly, the pain in his body had
gone and he could now move both arms.  He felt his chest and legs, relieved to
find that everything was still in one piece.  Whatever it was that had slammed
into him should’ve left him crippled or dead but by some miracle he was alive. 
For a moment, he sat unmoving.  He deliberated over what strange and powerful
magic could transport him from place to place and also heal him.   Thinking
back to what the barber had said in Ekelton village, he determined it was most
important to get back to his own land and find his house.  There, he hoped to
get the answers he so dearly needed.  Someone there would know him and probably
be able to explain more.  Standing, he tried the door handle but it just
rattled loosely in his hand. 

“You won’t get out that way,” said a child’s voice
from behind.

Olligh turned sharply but couldn’t see anyone.

“Up here!”

Looking up, he noticed a young boy stretched out on
the top shelf peering down at him.  One side of his face was ripped apart and
his jaw bone protruded from the unsightly gash.

“Hey, are you like me?” asked the boy.

Olligh blinked.  “Like you?”

“Are you from Ness Moor?”

“Ness Moor?  No, I’m from Ekelton.”

The boy smiled.  “Hey, we’re neighbours. You came here
like me.  I saw you.”

Olligh walked closer, intrigued that someone else was
in the same situation as him.

“Boy, do you know what’s happening here to us?”

The boy scrunched his face. “Erm, you mean you don’t
know?”

Olligh shook his head. “No – I know nothing other than
I’m ridden with disease and appearing in strange lands different to my own.”

“Well, it should be obvious.”

“Obvious? How is it obvious?”

“You're dead like me.”

“Don’t be silly, boy.  If I was dead, how am I walking
from place to place and talking?  Why do I still feel pain and emotion?”