23

Neener




"Yes - this is good." the King proclaims. "We'll use it for our headquarters while we plan."

This is a spacious enclosure - a corral offset from the stables and surrounded by tall stone walls - what happens in here can't be seen from anywhere in the Castle itself. It's normally used for running horses, but works quite well for containing unruly zombie girls and housing ragtag rebel gangs.

"There's fresh water!" DeMonica announces, working a pump by the wall and holding her black-gloved hand under the stream.

"Yes - we could all do with a good cleaning." Diddy agrees. "But first lets pow wow."

Xey is sitting Muffin down on an overturned half-barrel near the wall, where she once again becomes quiescent. Works like magic every time. Then we all sit on hay bales piled near the opposite wall.

"Is it true mate?" Xey begins "Did ye really drag us all through 'ell just for that accordion?"

Diddy smiles knowingly, looks down at the dirty antique hanging against his chest.

"My friend, this instrument is far more than it looks." He idly plays a little, but it sounds just as bad as anything we've heard him play yet. Xey's eyes meet mine and we both shake our heads sadly. Perhaps after all our good king has lost his mind.

"But to business!" Diddy claps his hands sharply. At least it's good to see him with some snap again. "Xey - we've got to get you a weapon. I saw some scythes on a shelf back in the stables - those will do until we get into the Castle itself, then I should be able to get us all some proper weapons. DeMonica of course is already set in that department. How about our cowardly friend?"

All eyes converge on me.

I heft the heavy battle axe, pull it from my belt and swing it twice in short arcs.

"Too heavy and unwieldy. I'd like something lighter."

"Noted. And how about the assignment I gave you? Have you remembered any more?"

For a moment I'm caught completely off guard. What is he talking about? Then it comes back to me - our conversation way back on Nunya's ferryboat - after Diddy's momentary vision of Reality Babe. I had told him about my own strange vision of her, and also about The Coal Cellar. She had told me to try to remember what had happened there in Grammy Greta's Coal Cellar with my sister when we were just children. And no - I'm embarrassed to admit, I hadn't even thought about it at all since then.

"Well, I've thought about it a lot since then, Yeah - there was the Coal Cellar, and me and my sister. We were in there... we were just kids you know - it's so long ago I can barely remember it at all. We were in there, and we were jut kids, and"

Suddenly something comes back to me, right in the middle of my stalling.

"And there was - something. Dead. A - dead - body? Or no... not a body - well not human anyway. It was - a cat. A kitten. Yes. It had got in the cellar somehow and died down there, and the smell was terrible. Weird that you couldn't smell it up in the house at all."

"And what about it?" Diddy prompts. "What happened?"

"Well.. we found it, and we were just kids - just young - and we found this kitten, and we - we had to - bury it. Yeah - that's it! We decided to bury it - right there in the coal cellar, where it would never be found. For some reason it was important to us that nobody ever disturb the body - we wanted to believe that it would find everlasting peace and never be disturbed. So - we buried it."

"In the cellar?" Diddy asks.

"In the Coal Cellar. Yeah."

"Alright. Well, if that's supposed to be helpful, then I don't

"UNDER the coal"

"What?"

"Under. The coal. We buried it underneath the piles of coal. Because we figured nobody would ever see it there. We knew if we dug up dirt and then buried it and replaced the dirt you'd be able to see that something had been done there.. it might prompt people to dig and see what was down there. So we moved most of a big pile of coal. Little by little, just the two of us, with shovels we found there. Moved the pile over, dug a hole, buried the poor kitten with appropriate pomp and ceremony, and then replaced the coal."

"Ah. I see. Underground AND under an old pile of coal. Very good. I'll bet it's still there, undisturbed to this day! But I still don't see how that helps us." He looks thoughtful for a moment then shakes his head as if to clear some persistent but perplexing thought. "Well alright. So much for that. Now, if I can get us into the armory I should be able to get us all some good serviceable armour as well as weapons

"Sporadic."

".. wat?"

"Sporadic. I just remembered that too. It's a word that was in my head - and I don't even know what it means. But it seemed important. 'Go with it' was in my head too. I've been using that as a sort of mantra throughout this whole thing, but I had forgotten about Sporadic. Anybody know what it means?"

"Why yes - it simply means intermittent. From time to time - not constant. But again - I don't see

Zombie-Muffin is looking straight at me.

Not looking around absently like she normally does. Not staring blankly into space while slavering and snapping. Well, she's still slavering, but she's stopped snapping and is now staring hard directly into my eyes. And the look on her face is one of wonderment. It's the most composed and coordinated her body movements and facial expressions have been since she became a zombie.

"Well I'll be!" Xey breathes. What's gotten into 'er?"

"Sporadic." Diddy repeats loudly. Now Muffin looks at him. Her mouth actually closes - and stays closed for longer than it takes to snap at something. There's still a long string of foamy drool hanging from her chin, but her posture is now upright and her face is registering some vague dull thought process.

She begins to look around - not randomly now so much as searchingly. Her expression is changing to one of alarm, as if she's struggling with some idea that she knows is vitally important, but it's still beyond her.

And suddenly she turns toward the rough stone wall behind her - turns and reaches out. The arms that for two days have done nothing but hang lifelessly and swing around like ropes from her shoulders banging into things reach out and she places her hands against the surface of the wall.

We all stand slowly, utterly astonished. We advance a single wary step toward her. Now she's running her hands gently against the wall - almost caressingly.

I remember when I did the same at the giant mushroom where Ganjataki sat smoking his hookah and dispensing stoner wisdom - and I remember that I had wanted to tell her about it then - to have her try the same thing. It had greatly increased the clarity of my vision and all my senses. And I hoped it would do the same for her - possibly spark these strange mysterious powers O had said she possessed. And that was exactly when she had run off terrified, at the mercy of the emotion-enhancing Amygdala and had become a zombie.

Now her hands stop drifting across the surface of the wall and she turns and again looks directly into my eyes.

"You could almost swear she's thinkin' " Xey says.

"She is. Or she's trying." I respond. Then I run to her, crouch down beside her, and take one of her hands in mine.

I need to keep her from losing that thought she's struggling with. I don't know why, but I place my palm against hers, rub them gently together. Maybe this will help. Then I for some reason place the tip of my index finger against her palm and press, as if I'm trying to push my finger right into or through her palm.

"It's fricken' Helen Keller!" Xey laughs. "Water!! Water!!"

Everyone laughs nervously, but their attention is riveted as I keep tapping and pressing against her palm. I have no idea what I'm doing, but it seems right somehow. So I go with it.

And then her other hand comes up slowly - she extends her own index finger and mimics what I'm doing - pointing it against her palm and jabbing clumsily against it. Her head is tilted down inside its iron wire cage, yellow featureless eyes fixed intently on her palm as if the fate of all mankind lies somehow there in the balance. Perhaps it does.

And nothing happens.