The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Dairy Comics (Featuring "The Prodigious Cheese-Man")

 

            Harold sits regally atop a throne of gold and yellow.

            “I didn’t ask for this power…”

            As we examine him we can see he is wearing a colored outfit, similar in hue to that of his throne. The garb almost looks like that of a cut rate comic book hero; yellow cape, orange tights, oversized gloves shaped like triangles of pale yellow.

            Harold snaps his fingers. A small square of yellow-orange appears before Harold’s open mouth.

            “This blessing…”

            Harold chomps down on the tiny floating brick of cheese, devours it in one bite. He snaps his fingers again, repeating the process.

            “This curse.”

            “They say with great power comes great responsibility. But even they never knew the power I now hold, and what it might cost me.” Harold gazes down, taking in the ridiculous over-sized gloves covering his hands. He scans the back of his hands in deep contemplation…

*

            …In an alley coated in shadow, two dark figures stand speaking in hushed whispers. It’s easy to tell from their body language and rushed conversation they’re up to no good.

            But then an ethereal figure floats down from the sky. For a moment it resembles our innocent protagonist Harold, but that’s merely a fleeting trick on the eyes. For we now only see…

            “The Prodigious Cheese Man!” One of the ne’er-do-wells cries out, as he takes off running.

            The other pauses, if only to ask, “If he’s got cheese powers, how does that make him fly?”

            A booming voice delivers the line that makes villains quiver with an upset stomach. It is his only response, “Are you fellas lactose intolerant? You will be!”

            Both men are now in full sprint, trying to get to the open street at the end of the alleyway.

            The Cheese Man’s right hand begins to reshape itself, in a few moments where there was an abnormally large gloved hand, there’s now a Gatling-gun shaped appendage.

            “No criminal can escape the Curd Turret!” Cheese Man declares, as he opens fire on the two men. Round upon round of creamy, gel-like cheese curds erupt from the barrel that once was a hand. The substance coats the blacktop, covers the walls of the buildings that form the alley, and pelts dumpsters- the twangy-thud of them echoing off the metal containers.  

            The two men are cut down, covered in a thick layer of cheese curd, so much so that they struggle to move, but cannot.

            Just then a van skids into view at the mouth of the alley. The side panel is flung aside, revealing a mounted gun. A man in a black ski mask grins maniacally behind it.

            “Remember, Cheese-Man; turnabout is fair play!” the masked man cackles into the night, releasing the lever on the .50 caliber machine gun. This time its metal shell casings that ring against the pavement instead of the splat of cheese curds.

            Cheese-Man is forced to take evasive action. He dives behind the closest dumpster, knowing that the gunfire will soon tear through the dumpster’s material. The bullets fly past, some so close Cheese Man can feel the hot break in the air as they whiz by.

            As the chaos surrounds him, Cheese-Man closes his eyes to try and think. Its then he hears the most majestic sound his ears could imagine: a cow mooing into the night.

            Make no mistake, this is no ordinary moo. It’s fearsome and prolonged, more like the feral howl of a wolf than anything a bovine creature might produce.

            Cheese-Man opens his eyes, and finds himself staring up at the moon. Superimposed over it is the shadow of a cow. And lucky for him, it’s not just any cow.

            In a flash, the cow’s silhouette has disappeared from the face of the moon. With a whoosh the panel van in front of the alley is hit from the rear by what seems to be a cannon. The vehicle rocks on its frame, causing the masked machine gunner to fly forward, the machine gun grows still and quiet.

            One of the thugs ensnared within the mound of cheese curds comments, “So the cow can fly too? I don’t understand any of this.”

            “Shut up you!” Cheese-Man emerges from the alley and is greeted by a green cow, wearing what appear to be yellow galoshes, and matching goggles.

            “Moo the Cow, ol’ friend!” Cheese-Man attempts to high-five the cow.

            The cow replies with, “Moo.”

            “Oh ya, right.” Cheese-Man lowers his hand realizing his mistake, “Well it’s great to see you as always. Your timing is impeccable.”

            However, fate’s sense of timing is more macabre.

            The masked man is dizzy as he tumbles from the passenger side of the van. Though this does not seem to affect the grip he has on the pistol in his hand. He staggers towards our distracted heroes.

            Cheese-Man’s back is to the masked man, but Moo the Cow sees the villain clearly. “Mooooo!” the cow pitches Cheese-Man out of the way, as the masked man raises his gun.

            Two shots are fired as Cheese-Man looks on in horror.

*

            Again, we are transported back to Harold, the Cheese-Man that was, and will forever be sitting atop his throne alone.

            “Yes,” he says to himself solemnly, “great powers indeed…but even with great powers I fall short of being able to stop a bullet, return the dead to life, or perform mouth-to-snout resuscitation.”

            Cheese-Man is through grieving. He rises to through the air, clenching his fists in rage. As he floats there, hovering above the ground he vows, “I will find this masked man and I will make him pay. I promise you Moo!”

*

            In the background of the room, the two thugs from the alleyway, are still frozen in dry cheese curd, hardened to the density of stone. One looks to the other, “I still don’t get how he can fly. I don’t care how cheesy his powers are. They can’t make you fly?”

            His partner responds, “Oh my God! Shut up already!”

            “What? It’s a legitimate question!”

 

THE END?

 

R.I.P. Moo the Cow 7/17/17-7/17/17

 

The Less Ordinary Life of Harold - Introduction

Intro

Are you as bummed as I am that you can’t fly? That aliens don’t exist but Trump does? That you don’t have millions of dollars in your bank account? That zombies only really show up on AMC and SyFy?

Well then you’ll be happy to meet Harold. Every once and again we will pop in to check on good ole’ Harry and see just what he’s got going on in his less oridinary- maybe even extraordinary- life.

Harold may be lucky to live in a world where superpowers exist, or where he’s suddenly asked to command a rescue mission into the jungle. Or its quite possible that Harold may merely have an impeccable imagination.

You won’t know unless you drop by and see what Harold is up to!

*

Hi all! I have been toying with the idea of doing a semi-weekly-if-and-when-I-feel-like-it series about a guy that can sort of out-think the parameters of *ugh* reality.

Harold’s adventures are going to be loosely based on the concept of the fantastic meeting the realistic and how those two things might coexist within a certain context.

So here’s hoping you tune in as I get this new idea rolling. I hope you stick with me as Harold and his stories are fleshed out into something more substaintial.

As always, thank you for reading, sharing and enjoying my work. I appreciate everyone stopping by to read the crazy ideas that nest in my brain, and end up on the page.

Thank you!

- David

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 10

I stepped closer to the man, immediately I felt Praesus’ hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Not knowing what to say, I said nothing at all. There was something that drew me to this man, to this prisoner. Who knew how long the Allaine’s and their cohorts had held him here against his will. Following some deep urge, I reached for the restraints that bound his right wrist.

Praesus, having never let go of my shoulder, pulled me back before I could make any progress at loosening his shackles. I could only see that their weight had gouged his wrists badly, leaving a circular trail of crimson over broken skin.

“He is not our concern.” Praesus spoke through clenched teeth. Old Rufus sniffed idly at the broken crown on the stone floor, and seemed to agree with Praesus’ stance.  In a hurry, Rufus trotted to Praesus’ side, an act I had never seen him to prior to that moment. I couldn’t tell if he was warming up to Praesus, or simply wanted to keep his distance from the shackled man.

“He is our concern,” I urged, pointing at the mam, “This could’ve been us!”

“We’ve no clue who he is, or what they are holding him for!” Praesus was, as usual, quick to anger and quick to expose the tenuous nature of our partnership.

I asserted, “You mean were holding, as soon as we are able, we are setting him free. I’m not leaving him here for the remnants of this  group to do with him as they see fit.”

Praesus’ face was the definition of disbelief, “You just used trickery, and the love of two siblings to subdue a woman who’s very reason for vengeance against you was due to you turning her brother into a flesh eating monster who you control, and now suddenly you feel like now is a prop’r moment for charity?” Praesus spoke slowly and methodically.

I shrugged, “You gotta pick your spots.”

Arms up in futility, Praesus swore and threw back his head in a hardy laugh.

“Hey, don’t try to make me out to be the bad guy here. I didn’t see you coming up with any morally acceptable means of escaping this shithole for the second time today!”

Old Rufus cut into our debate with a series of curt barks. Praesus and I turned to see the deceased Anton hovering with his open maw over his sister Asta’s shoulder.

“Anton get it together!” my voice rolled and echoed down the prison hall. The zombie Anton snapped to attention, immediately uninterested in the still living flesh that coated his sister’s arm.

Praesus took note of this, but said nothing. He was more focused on the unidentified prisoner. I didn’t venture any closer, but I gave the man a good once over to see if anything stood out. His garb, other than the well worn purple robe and cracked crown, was normal.

“Is he royalty, maybe from another portal? Someone they would’ve saw as a rival?”

Praesus was being more cautious than I, “He’s a burden we do not need. We need to fend for ourselves.”

“You need to fend for yourself, I am fairly confident with their captain under my command, and his sister captive, I can all but walk right through anything else they throw at me. Can you say the same?”

“Your newfound confidence astounds.” Praesus’ voice was grim, but my point stifled him, at least in the moment.

“I am not proposing taking him with us, just letting him go to give him a fighting chance.”

“He could be a cannibal,” Praesus was grasping at straws.

I stepped out of the cell briefly, gripping the torch from the wall that had concealed the man. “Great the arsonist, extortionist and kidnapper has views on the irreparable corruptibility of another.” Quickly, I hopped back into the cell and shone the torchlight over the man’s beaten face.

The torchlight was illuminating, in more ways than one. I was able to look past the man’s battered countenance; numerous welts and the long-dried blood spatters were caked all over his face.

Praesus continued in vain, “...a thief, some other kind of deviant. I am simply saying, you do not know this man, nor what he is capable of.”

“Yes, I do,” my arm went slack, the torch fell to the ground. I turned to Praesus and spoke weakly, “I do know this man, because this man is my father.”

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 9

Asta was now being restrained in the arms of her dead brother. Tears had spilled from her eyes, made their way down her cheeks. She could not wipe at them due to her arms being gripped tightly at her sides. Although, based on the forlorn look upon her face, I don’t believe she would have cared to do so anyway. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if the blank stare signified some level of catatonia.

Kneeling, I quickly searched the guards and found the key to open Old Rufus’ cell. He was padding impatiently in a circle across from us. When I opened the cell and slid the steel door aside, Rufus looked up at me as if to say, What took you so long?

I began to head towards the prison’s exit, for the second time that day.

Praesus’s voice boomed behind me, “We are to leave now?”

I turned behind me with a look that I thought accurately conveyed What else are we supposed to do? But for good measure, I verbalized it for Praesus as well.

“Where are we going to go? The windows, the portals, they are dormant.”

“Shit,” Praesus was right, even if we got out of this dump again, we didn’t really have a destination- at least not one we could currently get to. I thought for a moment, and then whirled to meet Asta’s eyes. “What do you know about the window-like portals that enable people to travel between worlds?”

Asta only stared blankly ahead, I might as well not even been there.

Praesus  stepped in, “Woman, if you can’t tell us how we can get out of here, your utility has just plummeted.”

Though he towered over her, Asta stared through Praesus’ mighty chest. Her eyes were a million miles away, I guessed somewhere dark and cold.

“Then there’s no need for your brother or you, for that matter,” Praesus stretched a threatening hand towards Asta’s neck. She didn’t even blink. With a heavy sigh Praesus turned back to me, “Useless, she won’ budge.”

I looked at Anton, his face was slack, the only energy was in those green pits in his skull he called eyes. I wondered fleetingly what the point of view might’ve from his side might’ve been like. He held his sister in a reverse bear hug. Her body was limp to the point I thought she might’ve slipped through his arms at any moment.

Anton, if it weren’t for your untimely demise, your sister might still be worth something to us.

“Well squire?” Praesus mocking emphasis on the word squire, was particularly evident this round.

I shushed him. “Quiet, listen.”

Faintly coming from the rear of the prison was a strange murmur. I began to follow its source, leading to the back of the cell. Praesus followed, while Anton and Asta stayed unmoving in what was maybe the strangest sibling embrace in history.

Carefully, I traced my hand along the perimeter of the prison hall and listened. The sound was muffled, but growing. It was low and harsh, it was the sound of desperation mated with a whisper.  

Ellen? Yellow?

I could almost make it out now, as we closed in. It was low and harsh, it was the sound of desperation mated with a whisper.

Praesus and I reached the terminus of the prison. We were stymied by a large brick wall flanked by two torchlights, only the right was lit. We, well I, hunkered and waited, listening. Praesus just stood, looking at me like I was mad.

“...Hello help...”

It was coming from behind the wall. “See! Did you hear that?”

Praesus nodded, “They must have a prisoner beyond that wall they do not want anyone to know of.”

I turned, beginning to shout at Asta, “Who’s behind t--” I waved a hand dismissively at Asta, the newly mute.

Old Rufus had followed us inquisitively down the corridor, eager for a hunt.  

“You think we should break it down?”

I shrugged. And then casually pulled the unlit torchlight on the left. With a rumble, almost as great as the arrogant smirk on my face, the wall receded into a space within the floor. Behind it was a man held aloft only by the taught chains that were shackled to his wrists. My eyes followed them as they ended in large metal clasps that were fastened to the wall about ten feet above him on either side. The man lay awkwardly, with his legs tucked underneath him. As if he had fallen that way, and no longer had the strength to change positions. His face was covered in aged bruises and masses of contused skin. These matched the dirty purple robe that had grown too large for him. He had either shrunk, or had been missing meals.

“He’s been tucked away in here for awhile,” Praesus pulled a handkerchief from his vest and used it to cover his nose and mouth.

Old Rufus barked. This time I took it as a warning.

The man, perhaps in is late forties, was in bad shape. And while all the dire details that made up his full set of circumstances were compelling, none drew more of my attention than the splintered crown that lay at his bare feet.

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 8

The dead man that was Anton Allaine stumbled towards Praesus and I with an otherworldly hunger. Someone had stripped him of his regal armor. Altogether, what was left of him was minimal. His flesh had a dim gray tinge, most of his chest was covered with blood. The only clue to who it belonged was the fact that there was so much of it, that I was certain it had come from multiple sources. In addition to the crimson liquid that seemed to be everywhere, Anton Allaine had apparently had his clothing nearly torn to shreds. It gave him the appearance of a long dead corpse, one who’s funeral suit had been eaten away by earthworms, insects and time under the ground.

Though his body gave the impression of one who had passed over to the other side, Anton’s face held a much different look. If you were able somehow see past the glowing green eyes, you might have noticed Anton’s lips. They were dry and thin, and his teeth seemed to be trying to push them out if the way, with his tongue in tow.

As Praesus and I took in the sight, Asta spoke to me specifically, “I am going to let my brother into your cell. One of two things will happen: You will either cure him. Or he will kill you.”

Praesus gave me a tainted glance. I held up a dismissive hand.

One of Asta’s guards swung open our cell’s door. The other prodded Anton to enter. Both of them regarded Anton with an equal mixture of terror and revulsion, they only went as close as they needed.  

Anton entered slowly at first, but as he got closer he must’ve sensed or smelled us somehow. His sleepwalking shuffle turned more urgent. And along with it, those teeth, pinned down by only his narrow lips began to search by snapping in our general direction.

Asta signaled the guards to shut the door, they quickly and gladly obliged her. Anton, or what Anton had become rather, in large part to me, was getting closer, teeth bared and making indicative guttural sounds in our direction.

Calmly, Praesus looked at me, “What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Now isn’t the time for jokin’ squire. Change the man back!”

My attention bounded from Praesus to Anton’s reanimated corpse, “I can’t do that…”

“What?” Praesus was now backing up, heading towards the rear of the cell.

“I mean, I dunno what I mean.This is all new to me.” I focused, tried to concentrate and see if my powers to bring the dead back to life might include the ability to reverse what I had done, and restore Anton’s humanity.
I reached out with my mind to Anton’s corpse. On some other plane, I saw my thoughts travelling towards him. My will itself flowed from me in a bright green arc, like a tornado crossing over a water’s surface. Then I thought of emptying a colored liquid into a glass of plain water. My will to control this man went from me like a green fountain, crossed the small cell and found him. It enveloped him, catching him up in a green swirling mist. I glanced back at Praesus who was in fact watching intently, but by his eyes I could tell he was not seeing what I was. The guards, and Asta herself, peered intently from outside the cell, but again I could tell they were not seeing this fantasm of power that I was.

Quickly, I swung my gaze back to Anton, the green array had all but subsided, and as it did, it evaporated into nothing- that being if it ever was actually anything to begin with.  

Anton was still. He had stopped with the growls and was standing as still as you would have expected, that is, from any normal dead man.

After several moments, I approached him. Although, I had no idea what I was going to do, or even look for once I reached him. Anton stood, back to the cell door, his eyes locked on mine.

Asta cried out to her brother. Anton didn’t respond, but he heaved slightly forward at his waist, and held up an arm, with his forefinger raised. It was if he were indicating he needed just a moment.

“Anton!” Asta, threw herself at the bars. Anton dropped his arm, as he simultaneously dropped to his knees. “He’s back, he’s hurting, let me in there!”

Oddly, the guards looked at me before making a move. “Let me in there now dammit!” Asta’s voice tore through the small space. This broke the guard’s hesitation and they scrambled, opening the door as quickly as they could.

“Anton, by Eve! You’re back! you’re okay!” Asta flew to him, throwing her arms around her brother’s shoulders. When this occurred Anton returned her embrace, the only difference was Anton grabbed Asta’s slender wrist, and then promptly placed it between his teeth.

Yelling to Anton, I said, “No! Don’t you bite down you sunovabitch!” I dashed towards Asta Allaine and her dead brother. Anton turned her around to face me, as he gripped her, teeth ready to meet flesh. I knelt next to her, and whispered in her ear. I told her how I had the events in the courtyard led to Anton’s death. I told her how all we wanted to do was escape. I told her how I had coerced her to get into this cell. I finished by saying, “All it took was a little hope.”

No longer at the back of the cell, Praesus was now standing at it’s doorway, looking over the battered bodies of the two guards. He stared at his knuckles, now covered in blood, “Cursed...”

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 7

The three of us trudged back the very same way we had entered this land hours before. In the midst of a remote snow field stood a window of miraculous qualities. An ordinary window it was not.

When we stepped in front of the window-like portal, Praesus, myself, and even Old Rufus the dog, noticed a problem. Namely, that the portal, instead of showing us view of the interior of Praesus’ chamber, from where we had traveled, showed only a fuzzy grey-black smudge. It reminded me of an old television set whose picture tube had just burnt out.

“Can we go through that?” I asked Praesus.

Carefully, he prodded it with his club as Rufus sniffed its edges. “Solid, it does not appear we can enter.”

“No you may not enter, for you still have dealings with us…”

The voice behind us sounded familiar, however, I couldn’t quite place it.

“Hands up this time please!”

“Oh, the lovely lady archer.” I raised my hands and turned. Praesus did the same, although he harbored his typical look of chiseled anger. Rufus simply patted before us, the look in his eyes seemed to indicate he knew how all of this was going to end.

“Your plague sorcery has decimated my home, and…” the young woman grew emotional, but caught herself just before tears, “and you’ve cursed my brother. You will come with me, or you will die where you stand.”

“Young madam,” Praesus said stepping forward, “on your authority alone we will be doin’ no such thing.”

The archer confidently whistled between her fingers, and a bevy of troops appeared against the cold breaking wind. They all showed gritted teeth and an array of readied weapons.

“That increases your authority substantially, I assume you’ll be escorting us back to the prison quarters?” I asked.

She motioned back the way we had come with bow drawn, “March, and be quiet as yer doing it.” Her reinforcements fell in behind her as we all headed back to the fort we had only escaped from minutes ago.

*

Back at the prison cell that I had broken out of earlier that day, the lady archer sat in front of Praesus and I on an old stool, only a set of time-weathered bars between us. The quarters smelled of shit and our own failure, the scents so entangled I couldn’t separate the two.

How could we let this woman follow us, and then subdue us?

I saw Old Rufus beyond the prison bars, chained just out of our reach

“I know what you’re askin’ yourself,” Praesus said, in spite of the woman listening to our every word.

“What?”

“How could we let this lone archer, and her band of merry idiots capture us?”

Surprised, I answered, “Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Do tell…”

“We’re cursed young squire.”

“Eh, say again?”

“We’re cursed you and I, the two of us I mean, our working in tandem.”

“Right, and just how do you know this?” I spoke making sure Praesus would be well aware of my skepticism.

“No more talk.” the lady archer stood, as some noise came from the front of the prison. We heard a door open, the kind of sound you’d expect, ancient and medieval, hinged metal grinding against one another for the same space.

The lady archer shouted up the steps, “How is he? Is he ready?” her voice wavered with feeling.

Two guards came into view, they were escorting what looked to be another prisoner. With a closer look, I realized one of the guards was the man I had covered in Praesus’ elimination in order to prompt our earlier escape. They led, what I assumed was a man, down the corridor. Whoever he was, if it was in fact a he, was covered in a metal shroud that ended just below his neck. The contraption was something from Dumas' nightmares. This new prisoners hands were bound behind him, with a copious amount of chain.

They stopped in front of our cell, the now cleaned guard spoke to the lady archer, “He’s no better or no worse madam.”   

“Looks like we gettin’ a roomie squire.”

I didn’t fully realize what was happening until this new and mysterious prisoner turned towards me. The metal mask fastened to his head, had a narrow gap at eye level. Despite it’s small size, I could see a pair of those telltale green eyes glowing from within.

The lady archer nodded to the guards, one swung open our cell, the other unclasped the fastening mechanisms that held the mask on, letting it clang to the floor. Together they pushed the man into the cell Praesus and I shared. Without the mask, I recognized him instantly; Anton Allaine, the man who was commanding the opposing troops during our escape.

The lady archer’s resemblance to him was uncanny. As she leveled a finger at me, I saw the same sureness, same proud stance. In much the same way her brother had, she introduced herself, “You left my brother for dead and he ended up a ghoul. I, Asta Allaine would have you restore him or perish.”

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 6

A man stood over me, sword to my throat. He and his troops had myself, Praesus and Old Rufus surrounded. I looked around, wanting, waiting for someone, something to swoop into the cramped courtyard and save us.

I stared up at the sun, felt the wind against my skin for perhaps the last time.

The man looked down on me with contempt, “You coward, can you not even bear to look your vindicator in the eyes? Are you not man enough to accept your punishment?” Anton Allaine waited for my response, his face held a look of smugness. The look fit him well.

Smiling, I blurted out something that I thought was both clever and displayed my keen sense of bravado, “You’re all doomed.”

Anton Allaine was able to ask, “Just what might you be referring to?” before all hell broke loose in that courtyard.

From behind the gathering of men that aimed to kill us, rose the corpses of Garreth Lee and Jonathan Tomy. Their skin now pocked and grey, their eyes filled with what was becoming to me at least, a familiar green glow.

I didn’t yet fully understand it, but inherently I knew, in death they belonged to me now, they were under my control. Puppet-ghouls that moved as I wished, did what I commanded. My disbelief was only rivaled by my ignorance of how I was controlling them. I wanted to solve that mystery, but something deep within suggested that I not think about it too much.

Zombie Harold Rambly rose again as well, he had fed (ironically on Jonathan Tomy) and seemed more responsive. His shambling had faded, he now walked upright coated in the crimson remnants of his meal.

With nothing but the power of my mind I willed them to attack Allaine and his party.

They never saw it coming. Through my peripheral vision, I even saw Praesus appear to wince as Rambly casually grabbed the arm of an unwitting archer and chomped down on it as though it were a hunk of turkey leg. Zombie Jonathan and Zombie Garreth followed suit, tearing into two more guards like they were cattle. The screams began, and escalated from there. Even those that weren’t being attacked could not seem to fathom what was happening around them. They seemed to question their former comrades rising from the dead, and snacking on them as a tad unusual, go figure.

Allaine turned away from me long enough to take in the gruesome display behind him. With a snap he turned back to me, “What sorcery--”

“Is this?” I met him halfway through the line. “Ya, I get that a lot lately. Why is that such a popular saying here?”

Allaine was through talking, he raised his sword and swiped downward, aiming to cleave me in two. I rolled aside, the only thing his sword met was the recently deceased corpse of one, Miguel Cervantes. I watched as Allaine’s sword cut a jagged path into Cervantes’ torso, rending the flesh from the deltoid to the superior portion of pectoralis major. Zombie Cervantes gripped the sword’s blade with both hands with an otherworldly focus. The zombie attempted to wrench the sword up and out of its own flesh. This only served to increase the spilled blood and saw the flesh from his palms. Had he been living the pain would have been immeasurable. However, throughout the entire ordeal the Zombie Cervantes stared blankly ahead at Allaine with those green eyes burning. Allaine, aghast and puzzled could only stare back, watching the creature feebly attempt to remove the sword from its body.  

Amidst the chaos, I scrambled backwards in the dirt, signaling to Rufus and Praesus that it was time we go. As more soldiers perished, I took control of them as well, swelling the zombie ranks to six, then seven, then eight. I made them all feed in gory fashion.

The three of us darted for the gate, Praesus maneuvering to the hand crank that would operate the gate’s mechanism.

“Work your magic big man.” I hollered, as the screams to our rear served to punctuate my sentence.

I noticed Praesus did not even make eye contact, let alone respond. Yet, he did begin turning the massive hand crank, and the gate began to open enough for the three of us to slip past.

As we left the courtyard behind, I couldn't help but look at the mayhem once more. Mayhem I had unleashed. I saw Anton Allaine being swarmed by death in the forms of those he had once lived with side by side. His sword swings were wild and ineffective, he backed up, likely overcome by fear and mania at what he was seeing.

Allaine might find it comforting that although he had to bear witness, he was not the one responsible for such macabre actions.  

My last image was of two zombies towering over him as he fell onto his backside. Arms outstretched, Allaine attempted to beg off, I could only assume the zombies were not apt to accept his pleas.

As Praesus and I breached the gate, with Rufus in tow, he asked me, “Where to now?”

“That depends, am I to guess that you are no longer interested in killing me?” I asked this of Praesus.

“I feel our debts are settled, I no longer have reason to.”

Instantly, I thought that Praesus was still unaware that Old Rufus and I had left his brother for dead. I didn't dare speak this fact aloud.

Praesus noted my sudden quiet, “You don’t have a response to that?”

“I think I appreciate that fact,” It sounded ridiculous even in thought, but I hadn’t even had a moment to think about Praesus’ brother, it seemed like so long ago, so much had happened since then, non-stop. I hadn’t even time to think, and barely had time to remember. Although, our reasons were strong ones, the choices we made still left Praesus minus one brother.

“Then I will accompany you, until such a time as we can get back to my home. Today at least I am in your debt. Where would you have us go?”

Contemplating, I looked down at Old Rufus and stroked his fur, “Your home is exactly where we need to head back to. I suspect that Helena and Thaddeus knew more about my arrival then they let on.”

“I would guarantee that to be true.” Praesus said knowingly.

“Then we make our way back to their cabin, and drop in for a visit.”