Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 106.03

“Ah...” Dill's voice trailed off.

“Honestly, I don't mind. It's all of a muchness to me, after all. I can just gate out before the roof collapses. Gilliancan run really fast when she has to and Harold's already got a cushy little job lined up in the afterlife. So if you want to risk setting the place on fir, you be my guest. You're the one who will be trapped under three hundred feet of solid rock, sentient while your body slowly rots, hoping a worm will pass by and give you another hour of life, or another minute.”

Jasfoup put a cheroot in his mouth, went to light it, paused again. He used it as an extension of his hand, a pointer to mark out his argument. “How long do zombies stay self aware, anyway? Some people say it's until your brains are unable to function but in my experience – and Harold's, actually, since we shared the adventure – self awareness of an earthbound spirit remains in the bones and only departs when the bones are reduced to ash.”

“Or are pulverised by an industrial chipper.” Harold nodded. “That was a bad night.”

“What happened?”

“A necromancer recalled all the spirits of my ancestors in the mausoleum and directed then to attack.” Harold shuddered. “You don't know terror until your long-dead great grandmother tries to pinch your cheeks and tell you you're a 'bonny wee lad'.”

“Of course, we've no way of knowing in your case since you're unique.” Jasfoup clapped Dill on the back. “It'll be an interesting experiment. I'll visit from time to time and check on your progress. It shouldn't take more then two hundred years at the most.”

Dill slid the cheroot into his top pocket. “I'll save it for later.”

Harold nodded. “That's probably wise.”

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