16. A Small Mistake

Nick watched as the abomination flung Marie to the ground and took off toward the city. The creature’s decaying strides were sluggish, but with its size, it moved at an impressive clip. “Lopsang, Shirley, we need to stop that thing before it gets out of the cemetery, or we’re going to have a big problem.” On top of the potential catastrophic explosion, abominations were twice as infective as other undead creations. They constantly leaked fluid everywhere, making them the perfect candidate for super spreading.

Shirley took off after the creature, unloading rounds as she went. Its general form was starting to deflate, but not fast enough to stall its movement entirely.

Lopsang sprinted ahead, still holding on to his pair of sickles.

“You couldn’t have picked something with a little more range?” shouted Nick.

“You know I don’t like guns,” replied Lopsang. “And neither do you if memory serves.”

The abomination was halfway to the entrance of the graveyard.

“I thought fighting the undead would count as an exception.” Truth be told, there had been more exceptions than not lately. Nick tried not to think about the implication and aimed a large mausoleum on their left. A perfect, pristine alabaster angel stood atop it carved from marble—The amount they must have paid for maintenance. Nick stopped running, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger. The revolver sounded like a cannon. I should invest in earplugs. The thought was cut off by the immediate crunching pain in his right shoulder. A line of fire ran down his arm and threatened to spasm across his back.

The angel’s legs shattered, sending hunks of marble spinning to ricochet off the other graves. The abomination, momentarily distracted, looked up at the source of the noise. What remained of the angel tilted and fell, bouncing off the edge of the mausoleum and landing with a thud in the creature’s soft flesh. Horrible liquid splashed up from the point of impact. The abomination fell to its side.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.”

Shirley and Lopsang stopped running. A cloud of gas rose from the creature’s lifeless body.

“Is that it?” asked Shirley. “These things don’t multiply or replicate or anything else we should know about?”

“No, Shirley, when it’s dead, it’s dead.”

Lopsang sheathed his sickles. “Well, that hasn’t been strictly true, but I’ll take your word for it.” A sheen of sweat beaded on his face. “Better check on James and Marie. They took some hits back there.”

They were halfway to turning around when a gurgling, sloshing noise came from behind.

Nick felt cold dread slide over him as he turned around.

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The abomination was already on its feet again, the tear in its sternum knitting up as stitches of purple light ran across its mottled skin. The form of the angel looked like a tumor on the creature’s left side. The creature’s many eyes glowed with fire. On its back, a particularly stretched head let out a rattling moan.

“I thought you said they didn’t get back up?”

“This is more than simple necromancy.” Nick looked back and saw Red Death getting to their feet, holding the staff out to Marie.

The abomination moved, gaining speed with every second.

“Do anything you can to drop it now. We’re going to have to burn it to the ground.”

“That’s going to cause an explosion.”

“Better here among the dead than out there.” Nick pulled the triggers on his revolvers as fast as he could. Each report sent new spikes of pain through his shoulders, arms, and back. If he didn’t die, he was going to be in pain for the rest of his life.

Lopsang ran after the creature, reaching into his jacket and producing a few glass baubles.

Nick looked at them with a strange familiarity. Did I make those? There were plenty of weapons and preventatives lying around the apartment that he had crafted in a drunken rage, but the baubles looked too neat. “Lopsang, before you throw that—”

It was too late. Lopsang tossed three of the baubles in a handful toward the abomination. They glinted in the sunlight, shining like miniature suns. The first struck the abomination in the back and stuck there, held in the creature’s body by a mix of decaying tissue and strange musculature. The second and third struck the concrete, breaking with an almost imperceptible, delicate shatter. Immediately, a bright, white flame leaped into the sky, creating a swirling pillar of fire. A deep, throaty rumble like the faraway sound of an angry god, echoed from the flame, stopping the abomination dead in its tracks.

The creature had enough time to be startled, but not much else. The pillar of flame caught hold of the sphere lodged in its back, and a look of concern briefly crossed the creature’s many faces. The constant exhalation of gas from the abomination’s dying body finally caught.

Nick felt a hot wind before he felt anything else. It stank like a dried ocean suddenly washing up on a crowded beach. The abomination was no longer visible behind a growing sphere of fire. In the same instant, Nick did his best to dive behind one of the nearby mausoleums. He wasn’t fast enough. The shockwave rocked his body. Sound and fury blanketed him followed closely by pain.

Distantly, he felt great pressure on his back as he smacked into the side of a mausoleum. He looked up and watched a gout of roaring flame lick toward the sky, leaving acrid black smoke in its wake. Gobs of flesh and other refuse catapulted into the city beyond. That’s not good. The thought was the clearest thing about the situation. Chunks of undead flesh raining down on the citizens of New Orleans posed a variety of risks. He wondered if he would be able to fight his way through a horde of the undead.

Nick blinked and far too much time passed in an instant. The ball of flame was gone, but smoke still hung in the air. The entrance to the graveyard was no more, and instead, a flattened area of rubble and stone took its place. Across the street, a building collapsed, sending up its own plume of smoke. The sound of shouting and sirens echoed through the fog.

James slid into his field of view, mouthing something and pointing towards the gate.

Nick tried to speak but managed nothing more than a dusty croak. Even that caused an uncomfortable gurgling in his chest. Pain radiated in a maniacal spiral from his back to every limb, making the thought of moving impossible. “I’m alive,” he said, or at least, he tried to say.

“That’s great, Nick, but you won’t be for long.” James pointed again.

The tour guide who had set up shop outside the cemetery was walking toward them. No, that wasn’t right. He was shambling. The man was missing half his face and one of his legs dragged behind him like a sad party favor. His eyes were white and gobs of black blood dribbled down his lips, splashing on the rubble.

Oh shit, we’ve made zombies. Nick passed out.