DISCLAIMER: I know that everyone was shocked and saddened by the bombings in London last week. So I don't really have anything profound to say here; I just wanted to let the families of the victims and the people of England know that we folks over here in the States are supporting you and that our thoughts and prayers are with you. I've no doubt the United Kingdom will emerge even stronger from this recent tragedy. And in the meantime, on with the story...
As the Jag raced along the country roads toward the hotel, the Penrith P.D. perimeter buzzed in anticipation of …something. Anything. Another guest going postal on them with cutlery would be something. Instead, there was no apparent movement inside, no hint of anything sinister except for that unsettling glow. The unharmed guests had been evacuated and stood huddled in the night air.
What no one on the outside could observe was a huge spike in ectoplasmic activity within the walls of the structure. Most of it gathering in the front foyer around a particular source of energy…a well-dressed, droll, slightly self-righteous source of energy. With ginger hair and great cheekbones, despite the flesh that had rotted away around them.
And above this hum of activity, outside Room 34, a beautiful young witch had just finished casting a very unique spell which should buy her a considerable amount of time. Smirking, she opened the door to the room and carried the unconscious innkeeper inside, locking it behind them. She placed Evie in the nearest chair.
"Almost time now, Evie," the witch chuckled, patting the unresponsive Miss Fairfax on the cheek. "You know it's really rather poetic, the plans I have for you. One scorned woman's mortal flesh offers the gift of life for the spirit of another…" As Pru spoke, she drew a pentagram in red ink on the deep beige carpet, then dragged Evelyn into it.
"Of course, I've no doubt you wouldn't be too pleased with the notion. So closed-minded, dear, you couldn't possibly see the beauty in it. So I do hope that wherever your soul ends up, you'll find it in your heart…to forgive me."
Outside, a massive thunderclap rattled the walls of the building; Pru smiled and turned to the closed bathroom door. The door that had begun to illuminate from behind…
"Besides, you needn't feel quite so lonely in all of this," Pru explained to her still-unconscious victim. "It's not as though you're the only one I've had to drug to meet my own ends. Your precious reformed reanimates are about to make certain no one disturbs what is about to happen."
The room began to quake, and a vase tumbled from the nearby end table and rolled to Pru's feet. She traced the delicate pattern on its surface with one long fingernail.
"You didn't really think those calf livers arrived in such poor shape by accident, did you?" she giggled, drumming her nails on the vase as she relished her plot. "No, that was my fault, I'm afraid. I just happened to bump into old Hiram's delivery boy on his way to the inn and we…had a little understanding. By the time he woke up, he didn't remember my having broken into the van. Or tainting the livers with my persuasion potion….and a little bit of human blood. Some AB negative, some O positive—I wasn't sure what their favorite flavor was."
Evelyn began to stir, but Pru quickly picked up the vase and bashed her over the head with it. Crouching down, spider-like, she wiped a trickle of blood from the innkeeper's forehead whispered into her ear.
"Your zombie underlings are under my control now," she stated. "They are going to protect us from anyone who tries to stop me. And now that I've undone all your reconditioning, and they've got a taste for their old habits…they should start to get hungry for a hot meal right about now…"
Down in the kitchen, young Jocasta clambered out of a broom closet where she'd been cowering since one of the lady guests had come running through the galley brandishing a knife the length of her arm.
"Helloooo?" There were no lights on, no illumination at all save for a misty green light that seemed to be lingering outside. She could see the reflection of what looked like police car lights bounce off the window panes, and realized she should have pulled herself together and let herself be escorted out with the others. She'd just been so terrified…
"Aaaah!" A bit like that; she let out a shriek as she opened the delivery door and was cut off in her tracks by a hunched-over female zombie. Charlotte Weatherby…she was the town doctor's daughter. Once.
"Bloody hell, didn't they think to lock you all up? Come on…" Without a second thought, as she had been all these months since Z-Day, Jocasta reached forward to guide the zombie out to the recreation shed. And then there was the pain…in a flash, the dead woman wrenched her wrist up to her mouth and tore an enormous chunk of flesh from her forearm. The girl fell to her feet, screaming with pain. Even if she had the mind to flee, it was no use; four other zombies emerged from the darkness and they were upon her in no time.
"Faster. Must go faster," Sara muttered from the passenger seat as Julian navigated the roadway back to the Eden River Inn.
"The speed limit signs aren't merely there for decoration, Sara."
"You are such a boy scout," she scoffed, shaking her head. She glanced up at the rearview mirror and saw Shaun staring out the window, stroking his goatee the way he always did when he was deep in thought. "So according to Ashford, we have to add three more bodies to the casualty count."
"But Pru was at the shop," Shaun noted, still looking out at the countryside.
"Which means whatever killed Emma is still at the inn," Julian observed. "And it's getting stronger."
"Any ideas on what we should do first once we get to the hotel?" Sara inquired.
Shaun heaved a sigh and glanced over at them determinedly. "I vote we have a sit-down. I'll make the tea."
"Remind me why I brought him back on board?" Julian groaned.
"It was a joke, for fuck's sake," Shaun protested, scowling at the back of Julian's head. He and Sara, however, exchanged a look of "I could use a break before I do this, couldn't you?"
"Look, I've already ordered in a tactical team. They should be here in a matter of hours," Julian said. "And for once, the element of chaos should be beneficial to us. You and Shaun can slip through the police perimeter and gain entrance into the hotel. I think the first order of business should be to evacuate. If we can get the people far enough away from the inn, maybe they'll be safe."
"But if Pru grinds up the Velkor scales in the hotel's tea," Sara conjectured, "she could make every guest into a spiritual conduit."
"Yeah, I mean, remember what Will was going on about?" Shaun reminded. "Something about there being a lot of unfriendly ghosts that might like to cross over."
"Dammit, Shaun…" Sara whined, knowing exactly where that topic would lead.
"Will?" Julian asked. "He said 'Will,' did he not?"
"Yeah," Sara answered hesitantly, shooting Shaun a look.
"As in Will Collins?"
"Yes. Jules….Will's a ghost. He turned up in a dream of mine the other night and every since he's been dropping by occasionally to…um, chat."
"And when were you going to tell me about this? One day, eventually, perhaps over brunch?"
"At some point in the future when we weren't in any potential danger, definitely. Brunch could easily have been involved."
"Hey, we could have all gone down to the King's Head," Shaun piped up. "They do a great..."
"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Riley." Julian gripped the steering wheel. "I have a feeling we're going to have yet more to discuss at this imminent point in the future, Sara…"
"Jules, this is so not the time to pout because I hit you…twice."
"I am not pouting. And considering I've had to constantly struggle with being in the shadow of the great and honorable Will, you can understand my reluctance to be in the shadow of his ghost."
"Will may have died honorably, but if it's any consolation, you've become equally adept at being as big a pain in my ass as he was. And ghosts don't have shadows, Jules. It's in the slayer handbook."
"As if you use the slayer handbook for anything other than a doorstop."
"Guys, come on!" Shaun interjected. "Look, I'm sorry about the joke, there. No more jokes. This is my serious face." He pointed to his head and Julian and Sara both threw a glance into the rearview mirror. "We need to focus on taking down this crazy old bag."
Sara and Julian exchanged chastised looks.
"Right. Well, like Sara said," Julian acknowledged, "every guest who drinks that tea could be turned into a host for the inn's spirits. And that's when things get interesting."
"Define 'interesting'," Sara inquired.
"'Oh God, oh God, we're all gonna' die'?"
"What about the zombies, the ones that work at the hotel?" Shaun asked.
"Reanimates? They'll be fine," Julian asserted. "No ghost would want to possess someone who's already dead. It'd be too much déjà vu for them."
"So we'll evacuate the inn and then try to find Pru," Sara said.
"And Evelyn."
"Why?"
"She opened the portal in the first place. She already has a connection to Maggie, whether she knows it or not. Most likely, Pru will try to use her as the main conduit."
As they drove over the last hillock and approached the inn, Shaun reached forward and placed his hand on Julian's shoulder.
"I've got a cunning plan, West…"
"I can hardly contain my anticipation."
"Try, because I need you to shut it. Everyone quiet…turn off your headlights, Julian, and slow down." The handler obliged, and the car rolled gently down the road at a snail's pace.
"It looks like they already evacuated the building," Sara observed. "That's good. Less bodies, less opportunity for possession."
"Well we've got to get past them first, and I think I know a way," Shaun grinned. "When…Emma and I were sightseeing, I noticed there's a back gate behind the great lawn and the gardens. It's not very high so we could probably climb over…aaand then we can leg it across the lawn to the back entrance. Easy peasy."
"See, Jules," Sara said, lifting Shaun's hand from the handler's shoulder and placing it on her own. "I told you he was good."
"Okay, here goes nothing, then," Julian sighed, dropping the car into neutral and coasting silently down the hill away from the front courtyard. After they were out of sight, he started the engine again and drove around the length of the grounds, with only the moonlight to guide them.
"Wait, wait…stop, this is it." They looked up at the wrought-iron gate. It wasn't very high, true, but the gravel below didn't look like a soft landing. Still, they leapt out of the car and gave it their best shot; Julian watched them until they were safely inside.
"No broken ankles? Scrapes? Lovely. Gotta go meet the backup, be safe!" And with that, the Jag pulled away.
"I'm touched by his concern," Shaun cracked. He and Sara looked across the lawn through the drizzling rain at the inn, whose structure suddenly seemed ominous and foreboding in the supernatural glow. It was then that they noticed the figures wandering about on the lawn…figures that weren't in police uniforms.
"Why are all those reanimates just roaming around?" Shaun asked.
"Actually, it seems like they're coming toward us," Sara added.
One of the undead figures closest to them stepped into the moonlight and moaned, the shattered bones in his neck creaking. His mouth was smeared with fresh blood.
"Ohhh, cock it.…Sara, I think it might be a good idea to…"
"Run like hell?"
"Well, y'see, it's not exactly necessary to run…"
"Shaun, it's dark, it's cold, and I still have several fresh wounds that make me look like a tasty treat to these things. I happen to think 'running like hell' is a very solid plan."
"You might have a point there. Come on." He grabbed her jacket sleeve and they scurried quickly past the approaching horde. The hotel was too far, but there was a large shed several yards away. They rushed to the door and Shaun threw his shoulder against it, busting it open. Sara rushed inside and he closed it behind them, fumbling in the dark for something heavy; he dragged a large dusty chest to the entrance and lodged it shut.
"How many are out there?" Sara inquired.
"Lots," Shaun replied, peeking through the wooden slats.
"What made them start attacking again, do you think? Ugh, that sound, the looks on their faces…I'm fairly alarmed here," Sara muttered, shivering only partly from the cold rain. She jumped as Shaun managed to land his hands on a flashlight and flipped it on, the beam landing right in her face…then she jumped again as the first zombie reached the shed and began to clawing its hands on the walls.
"Hey," Shaun said, reaching for Sara and brushing his knuckles on her cheek. "I've got this sorted, I promise. We'll make it." Maybe it was just the way the damp torchlight made his eyes gleam, or the content of his smile…but she believed him. Sorta.
"Okay, since you're king of the fucking zombies, tell me what to do," Sara replied.
"Well, hm-hm-hm…since Ashford confiscated all your weapons," Shaun said, backing toward the sporting equipment piled in the back of the shed "…we're gonna' have to do this old school." He placed the flashlight on a nearby shelf and began to rummage through the shed's inventory, picking up a cricket bat. He wiped the dust off it with his sleeve and spun it in his grasp, then snapped around and took a sharp, hard practice swing. "Groovy."
"Aha, there it is…that's got my name on it," Sara exclaimed, reaching out for a longbow and some arrows.
"Nope, no good," Shaun declared, snatching them away.
"Oh, come on, I'm a crack shot with my crossbow. This is old-school for me."
"Look, I know you're keen to try your fancy Legolas moves, but that's no good against zombies. You have to take time to reload, and every second you lose is a second for them to get closer to you." He forced a croquet mallet into her hands. "It's all about blunt force trauma. Here, try this."
"But…that means I'll have to get close to them."
"Yeah. Just aim for the head. What's the big deal?"
"I can't…I just…I have this thing about zombies."
"Ohhh…I get it," Shaun nodded. "The whole 'Why did it have to be snakes,' right?"
"Pretty much. I mean, there are two things in this world that really scare me. I'm talking 'paralyzed with fear' kind of scared. And that's zombies and spiders."
"What about zombie spiders?"
"It's not funny, Shaun," she snapped.
"I'm not trying to be funny. But you're the one that said zombies weren't on your 'to slay' list. You said they were five by five."
"That was before they started coming at me, eager to gnaw off my appendages. I think I'm entitled to change my opinion in the circumstances."
"Fine. The important thing is there are dozens of them between us and the inn." He placed his hands on her shoulders and felt her trembling. "Now the only way we're gonna' get into that inn is by cracking the skull of every zombie that gets in our way."
A mournful howl split through the calming rhythm of the rain on the roof. Sara gripped the mallet in her hands. "I can't do this," she whispered, her eyes filled with terror as they stared at the door.
"Of course you can. Sara, look at me." Her wide eyes returned to meet his. "Do you trust me?"
She wordlessly nodded.
"Do you believe me when I say we're gonna' get through this?"
"Yeah…yes," she stammered.
"Do you want to get in that building and kick Pru's arse?"
"Ohh, very much so."
"That's a girl," he smiled, kissing her cheek. "Remember, aim for the head, watch your exposed skin because you don't want to let them bite you, and lastly, they're slow. We can outrun them."
"Gotcha." Shaun started toward the door and Sara grabbed his arm, pulling him back into her arms and kissing his lips.
"For luck," she said when they pulled apart. Shaun smirked, besottedly.
"Right." He started toward the door again…and stopped, again. "Also, once this is all over…we'll definitely have to get past this fear of zombies thing, because you do realize I live with one?"
"Well, I'm sure that Ed's different," Sara eked, with a weak smile. She meant it sincerely, and she could tell he understood that. Nodding, Shaun hurled himself against the door and motioned to Sara to move the chest that was blocking it; once their bodies pushing back against the entrance was the only things keeping the zombies out, they both took deep breaths.
"You ready to do this?" Shaun asked.
Sara gathered every cast-iron-bitch instinct in her body, shook off her fear and raised the mallet to a swinging position. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"Then let's make a mess."