Friday, December 28, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 133.29

“What's that in your hand?” Harold hoped desperately it was what he thought it was. “Is it a freshly-charged battery for my phone?”

“No.” Jasfoup pressed a cylindrical object into his hand. “But it does have batteries in. Perhaps Dill could jury-rig a converter out of old socks and a piece of dental floss to win your grudging respect by the end of the forty-minute show. Oh, wait, this isn't television, is it?”

“It's a torch.” Gillian flicked it on, the beam falling on the scattered bones of the two security guards. “Ugh. You never get a clean body from a zombie.”

“As opposed to a leech?” Jasfoup examined the only doorway within their reach. “I've seen you leave corpses like dried sultanas before now. Try telling me those were funeral ready?”

“At least I left the embalmer with less work. Our friend here leaves corpses more suitable for a construction engineer.”

“I leave their faces on.” Dill looked up from examining his wounds with the aid of one of the torches Jasfoup had handed out. “Give me some respect.”

“Why didn't you give out torches before? We've been in the dark for the last ten minutes.”

“You seemed to be enjoying it.” Jasfoup reached up to the twin doors of the elevator entrance. “I thought you were relishing the darkness as a freer in inhibitions. You certainly managed to relate how you felt about the undead.”

“How do you know that? Were you listening?”

“Of course. What did you think was taking us so long?”

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