Authors: Jonathan J. Drake
Olligh smiled, overjoyed to see his beloved. She was
so beautiful in every way.
“You know,” Lara continued, “we've been together for a
good six months so I'm glad you've at least remembered my name. It shows you
haven't completely lost your senses."
Olligh tried to lift his head to look around but his
neck and shoulders felt stiff and unresponsive. His arms and legs also
continued to be under the influence of Warden Philip's magic and although he
could now feel them, he was still unable to move them.
"What happened to me?"
Lara giggled and brushed her hair away from her eyes.
"You tell me. One minute we're walking together hand in hand and then,
the next thing I know, you're lying down there in that filthy ditch."
"I... I fell."
"Yes, I gathered that. Thankfully it's only a
small ditch and you landed on your bottom, not your head."
"So I see..."
"By chance, on the way down, did you fall head
over heels in love with me again?"
Olligh managed a weak smile. "Oh, I've missed
you, Lara... It feels as though we've been apart for such a long time."
Lara grinned broadly and reached for his hand again.
"What are you rambling on about, Silly? You haven't been anywhere and
neither have I."
"And, of course I love you. Earlier, when I
realised it was you in the casket, my heart dropped. At that point, I knew
instantly how much you meant to me."
Lara stroked his hand and smiled softly.
"Casket? What casket? You're acting ever so strangely, Olligh. I didn't
realise that bottom concussion was a proven medical condition."
Olligh smirked. "You've never lost your sense of
humour either."
"Of course not. It's one of my most redeeming
features and, if I remember rightly, it’s the first thing that you found
attractive about me."
"Not the only thing. You're ever so beautiful as
well."
Lara blushed and ruffled Olligh's hair. "If you
say so."
"I know so. Never let anyone tell you
otherwise."
"Right, Silly. Look, you're making me blush.
You know you're the only man who's ever been able to do that to me."
Olligh chuckled and continued to gaze into Lara's
eyes.
"Right!" Lara continued. "That’s enough
delirious chatter for now. Let's get you out of this ditch, eh?"
"Well, I'm not sure I can move. I'm so weak and
everything feels so odd."
"Odd?"
"Yes, it's as though I'm not really here. I've
been through so much recently and, right now, everything feels so perfect...
Perhaps too perfect. I'm not sure what's real anymore."
Olligh watched as Lara stood and walked slowly towards
the end of the ditch, a confused and concerned expression on her face. For a
while, she stood unmoving near his feet.
"Lara? Is everything okay?"
Lara didn't respond. Olligh watched her intently,
waiting for a reaction, wondering whether or not he was experiencing another
strange vision or memory. As he studied her face, it gradually became blurred
and distorted; she began to blend in with the bleak surroundings until only
darkness remained where she once stood. Olligh sighed heavily. He felt a tear
in his eye, but understood that it was too good to be true considering
everything he'd already been through. Not able to do much else, he waited in
the gloom until some cloaked figures appeared by the sides of the ditch. They
leaned over the edge, prodding and poking him. Someone grabbed his feet and
pulled, heaving him out from the ditch and along the muddy forest track. With
his body paralysed, Olligh felt helpless and could do nothing to prevent his
captors taking him. He wondered if they were Dark Cloaks but decided it was
pointless to ask. He realised his time was up. They had finally caught up
with him.
After being dragged a short distance, his feet were
released and a man's face peered down at him; with the glow of the moon, his captor’s
face looked ominously pale and frightening. Leaning closer, the man felt
Olligh's neck and grunted something illegible. He then closed Olligh's eyelids
and uttered four clear, but haunting, words to his colleagues.
"He's definitely a deader!"
* * * *
Olligh awoke to find himself sprawled out on a stone table in a small
room. Another, longer wooden table stood next to him with books, knives, hooks
and other metal instruments strewn on it. On the wall to his left, coffins
were stacked tidily in alcoves. Wondering where he was, he suddenly remembered
the incantation that was cast on him in the graveyard. He wriggled his feet and
fingers, relieved to be able to move them again and glad that Warden Philips’
spell wasn’t permanent. Now he just had to find out where he was. Nothing
looked familiar and he wondered if he was now trapped in the Dark Cloaks domain.
Just as he was about to sit up, he heard some heavy footsteps approaching and
the creak of a door opening.
“Hello, hello. I’m back!” a man yelled.
Olligh shut his eyes and remained motionless, waiting
for an opportunity to escape.
“Good, good. I like it when I don’t get a reply. It
makes my job a whole lot easier. I mean, obviously you’re dead and you
wouldn’t reply anyway but, it’s good to make certain.”
The man sighed and unzipped something. After a
moment’s silence, he walked towards Olligh and stood by his side.
“Before I commence, I must introduce myself. It’s
something I always do, out of respect for the dead. I’m Doctor Sykes and I’m
here today to find out how you’ve died. An interesting job, wouldn’t you
agree?”
Olligh certainly did agree but he decided to play it
safe and continue to play dead for a while. Although the circumstances were
not ideal, he wondered if the batty doctor might be able to shed some light on
his decrepit appearance.
“Now, if your meagre brain was working and your
combinatorial neuronal network was fully functional, I imagine right now that
you’d be wondering how I’m going to determine how you died. Would you agree?”
Doctor Sykes paused, as if waiting for an answer.
"Yes, I thought so," he continued.
"Look, I’ll get straight to the point and tell you in layman’s terms so
that you’ll comprehend what I’m saying. To begin with, I'll slice you open...
That's the worst part, especially if you've been dead a while. The stench can
be quite overpowering at times and it's even worse if I get a squirt of foul
smelling fluid. It doesn't taste too pleasant either. I can certainly vouch
for that.”
Doctor Sykes chuckled and leaned forward. Olligh felt
his breath on his face.
"Next, I'll cut you into little chunks and no
doubt spend a fair amount of time studying your body organs; if autolysis
hasn’t already devoured them, that is.”
Olligh nearly spluttered but managed to compose
himself. The doctor didn't appear to notice any change in his appearance,
probably assuming any unusual facial distortion was the result of trapped wind.
“You’ve haven’t had a good life, have you? I believe
you’ve more than likely grown up without a close family. I imagine you’ve also
lived in squalor for the most part and probably survived on a diet consisting
of diseased, bloated rats. Hmm, where are my gloves?”
The room remained quiet for a moment and Olligh
wondered what he was doing.
“Yes, my apotheosis must be correct. As a physician,
you tend to glean disturbingly accurate information from your patients. It
makes my job ever so much more worthwhile and rewarding.”
Olligh continued to listen, curious as to where the
conversation was leading.
“You see, quite frankly, you’re hideous. There’s no
way someone as revolting as you could ever make a substantial contribution to
society.”
Olligh didn’t want to hear any more. He sat up
straight. “I beg your pardon!”
Doctor Sykes’ jaw dropped and he clutched the side of
the table tightly. His face looked rather flushed and he felt faint.
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?” Olligh
asked.
The doctor remained frozen to the spot, his beady eyes
fixed solidly on his patient.
“Let me tell you something,” Olligh continued. “Just
because someone is splattered with volatile boils and they look a bit
different, doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve had a bad upbringing and can’t
contribute to society.”
“Erm... Sir... You’re quite correct but never mind
that. It was purely mindless babble. It helps me focus on my job. The main
thing is, you’re alive! This is a wondrous occasion.” The doctor shook his
head in disbelief. “You, sir! You’ve managed to return from the beyond.”
Olligh sighed. “Indeed, and it took you how long to
determine this?”
The doctor reached for a clipboard from the table. “I
must conduct tests. I must find out more. I mean, we've all heard rumours
about the dead rising but, until you've actually witnessed this for yourself,
it's purely mindless speculation. This is a truly remarkable day for me and for
science."
“Yes, but unfortunately, I must be leaving. I have
important things to do.”
“No, but you can’t. I’ve saved your life.”
“What? You’ve done nothing of the sort. You were
about to slice me up and remove my body parts.”
“You were brought in here from a muddy ditch in the
forest. If my colleagues hadn't found you, wild beasts would've most likely
devoured you by now.”
“Nonsense, no wild beast would have the stomach to eat
me.”
Olligh stepped down from the stone table and Doctor
Sykes grabbed his arm tightly. “I can’t allow you to leave.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“You will.”
“I won’t.”
Olligh scowled, baring his yellow teeth. “Do you
realise, I haven’t eaten anything for at least ten days and you’re beginning to
look rather appetising?”
Doctor Sykes blinked. He released Olligh’s arm and
took a step backwards. “Well, when you explain it that way, you do have a most
valid point.”
Olligh glanced around the room searching for an exit. Spotting
the doorway, he rushed past the bemused doctor towards it.
“Erm... Please don’t go. Look, I’ll get you anything
you want.”
Olligh grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
“Not interested. I do, however, hope your next patient is more subdued for you
than what I've been.”
“Please! I can get you chicken legs, tripe and even
some slabs of lamb if you desire. In return, I’ll only perform a few basic
tests.”
“I don’t think so. If you were to get me back on that
table, you’d be slicing me up without remorse. Besides, I lied. I’m not in the
slightest bit hungry!”
With that, Olligh slammed the door shut and climbed up
some stone steps leading to an open trapdoor into an empty kitchen. To ensure
the doctor wasn’t able to pursue him, he closed the trapdoor and dragged a
heavy table on top of it. Just as he got the table leg in position over it,
somebody screamed. Turning, he noticed a serving maid cowering in the corner
of the kitchen next to an open door. She pointed at him shakily.
“Who are you? Where’s Doctor Sykes?”
Olligh scratched his nose, his eyes darting around the
kitchen searching for an escape route. Unfortunately, the only exit he could
see was behind the maid.
“Shh!” Olligh said, holding a finger to his mouth.
“There’s no need to get all stressed and agitated. He’s fine. He’s down in
the cellar sharpening his blades.”
“The... the cellar?” She glanced at the kitchen floor
before returning her gaze back to Olligh.
“If he’s down there, why’ve you blocked the way out?
Is he dead? Have you eaten him?”
“Eaten him? What do you mean, eaten him? Do I have
the word cannibal scrawled on my forehead or something?”
The maid sobbed. “Don’t lie! You’ve eaten him, haven’t
you? Please, I beg of you, don’t harm me. I’m sure I wouldn't taste very
nice.”
She slowly stepped backwards towards the open doorway
anticipating her escape.
“This just gets better and better. How many times do
I have to explain to people that I’m not interested in eating them? In fact,
it’s more likely that your weird and wonderful doctor down there enjoys a quiet
taste of human flesh on the side. He was certainly desperate to sample my
insides.”
Olligh decided the conversation wasn’t helping
matters. He stepped towards the door to leave but his knee went weak and he
fell forward, almost grabbing the maid. She shrieked and ran out of the
kitchen, leaving him to collapse onto the stone floor.
“Oh, wonderful.” He sighed. “Why can’t I have some
good luck for a change? I can’t even feel my leg now.”
Unable to stand, he rubbed and slapped his leg, trying
to get some feeling back. Content with a slight tingling sensation, he reached
for the table and heaved himself back to his feet. He lurched through the
doorway and along a corridor with many more doors, trying to find the quickest
route out of the building. Straight ahead, he could hear alarmed shouting and
the door at the end of the corridor burst open. A small group of peasant men
rushed inside, waving their fists at him.