I ran down the alley, and every zombie within the sound of my shout, which is to say all of them, followed after me. Zombies can’t resist a big juicy brain, especially one that can perform geometric calculations, solve quadratic equations, or conjugate verbs in a foreign language, none of which I can actually do, but zombies are perhaps not as discerning as they should be. I darted this way and that, easily outpacing the decaying monsters. They were slow but came on inexorably, which is to say unrelentingly or inevitably or remorselessly, or in this case all three.
I rounded another corner and came face to face with the end of the alley. It was a dead end, which would have been ironic had I been chased by living things, but as I was being chased by dead things, it was just sort of poetic. I turned around and the zombies continued toward me, just as inexorable and unrelenting and inevitable and remorseless as before.
Glancing to my right, I saw a door. It wasn’t just any door either. It was the back door to the fine public bath that I had previously visited, which is to say in chapter four and five. Yanking it open, I ran inside just ahead of the grey-fleshed fiends. Beyond the door was a long but narrow storage room with another door on the other side. I raced through this second door to find myself in the enormous cool bathing room. It was so early that there were no customers as yet. The only person present was the boy who had given me a back massage, Lespie by name.
“Quick!” I shouted as I walked quickly around the side of the pool—walked because running near the pool was strictly prohibited. “Bolt those side doors then move these lounges to block the sides of the pool.”
“Ack! Zombies!” he cried.
“Even so. Now do as I said. I want to force these zombies into the water.”
He did as directed, blockading one side of the pool with lounge chairs while I did the same thing on the other side. Then Lespie joined me at the far end of the pool as the zombies began wading across. While they weren’t very impressive as far as swimming was concerned, they were excellent waders.
“Nothing’s happening,” I said.
“What did you expect?”
“I expected some boiling and churning. I expected that the zombies would dissolve, leaving us with something akin to zombie soup.”
“Why would you expect that?” wondered Lespie.
“I was told you used holy water.”
“No, we use wholly water, as in water with nothing added to it.”
“Oh bother,” said I. “Grab those two pitchers of massage oil and follow me.”
Dragging the boy with me, I ran out the front door of the building. Taking one of the large pottery pitchers of oil, I poured the inflammable liquid, which is to say the flammable liquid, as flammable and inflammable oddly enough mean the same thing, all over the front entrance of the baths.
“Go to that house across the street and get the oil lamp in the window,” I ordered Lespie.
While he ran off to complete his errand, I ran around to the back of the baths and closed the door behind the last zombie. Then I doused the back wall with the other pitcher of oil. When I returned to the front, the boy had arrived with a lit lantern, which I took from him and dashed across the front of the building. Immediately the wood structure exploded into flames. We could still hear the zombies inside as the fire engulfed them, but unlike living creatures that might have been expected to scream hideously, they continued only to moan hideously. The building was one great pyre when an entire troop of knights arrived, led by Queen Elleena, bright shining armor beneath her purple cloak.
“The zombies have been taken care of, Your Majesty,” said I, with a bow.
“You know this entire block is going to burn down, don’t you?” she said, looking around.
“It was his oil.” I pointed at Lespie.
“Think of it as an opportunity, You Majesty,” said Lespie. “You can rebuild this ugly old part of the city.
“Yes,” mused the Queen. “I can see it now—a marble bathhouse, a museum, a theater, maybe an opera house…”
“Perhaps another orphanage,” I suggested.
“Captain of the Guard,” called the Queen. “Take this boy back to the palace. He is to be given a knighthood.
She dismounted. “Take the rest of your men and my horse with you. He doesn’t like the fire. I will be along in a few minutes.”
Although none of the sturdy warhorses present, including the Queen’s great white charger, seemed the least bit bothered by the huge fire, the soldiers and their captain did as they were ordered and all left, save only two who remained without their horses to serve as bodyguards. Elleena took hold of my arm and guided me away from the increasingly hot side of the street to the other less hot side of the street.
“The mist is fading,” she said. “It will be a pleasant day.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“I can’t believe you put the blame on that boy.”
“You mean you can’t believe I gave him the credit,” said I.
“I will admit that one is as unlikely as the other.” She paused and looked into my eyes. “We can’t see each other anymore, Eaglethorpe.”
“What?”
“We can’t see each other anymore. I have feelings for you, deep feelings, but I am the Queen and we would never be allowed to be together. I don’t want to see you if I can never be with you. I just couldn’t stand it. So I want you to leave Illustria. Go visit your family, live your life, forget about me, and never come back here.”
She turned and walked away. Her two bodyguards fell in step behind her.
“Goodbye Queen Elleena of Aerithraine, with whom I once had the pleasure of spending five years.”
* * * * *
A week later I relaxed beneath a tree in the front yard of my parents’ new home in Dewberry Hills. My father and mother and Aunt Oregana sat on the front porch, the latter two talking animatedly about the neighborhood gossip, though I could hear my father’s snoring over their words. Cousin Gervil walked hand in hand with his friend Rupert along the edge of the pond. Hysteria wandered through my father’s garden eating turnip and carrot tops. The smells of recently cut hay and wildflowers mingled with the aroma of the Boysenberry Get-Your-Head-Out-of-your-Ass Pie, cooling on the windowsill. I moved down so that I could recline completely, using a root for a pillow.
“That’s the stupidest story you’ve yet come up with,” said Ellwood Cyrene, rolling over and propping his head up with his hand.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“There hasn’t been a zombie outbreak in Illustria in months.”
“So I’m a bit ahead of the curve,” said I, “historically speaking.”
“The ending was just ridiculous.” His voice became sultry falsetto. “Oh Eaglethorpe, I love you so much I just can’t stand to see you anymore. Please leave forever.”
“I thought it was very touching.”
“And this whole thing about me, being a woman.”
“You are a woman.”
“No, you are a woman.”
“No, you are a woman! You are a woman and your real name is…”
“Shh! Quietly.”
“You’re real name is Elleena.”
“And Rupert’s real name is Sally. What is your point?”
“I have no point other than to say that my story is not so stupid as you would make it out to be,” said I. “I will admit that it would have been better if you hadn’t constantly interjected your editorializing into it.”
“You don’t have to add everything anybody says,” he said. “But I did like how you made it seem like burning down half the city was a good idea.”
“It was only seventeen blocks.”
“Well,” said Ellwood, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. “I suppose it’s not completely stupid. Why don’t we go have a piece of pie?”
“I have never turned down a woman offering me pie,” said I, climbing to my feet.
“No man neither,” said Ellwood.
“That is true,” said I. “No man neither.”
To be continued…