Everything was just as Noah remembered inside the mausoleum, including the coffin across the room in the place of honor. It was the first thing his eyes were drawn to, seeking confirmation that it was still firmly shut.
“Alright, I vote that we wait till morning to grab the pendant,” Leah said, pulling the door closed behind them. “In case it wakes up that zombie again. I’d like to get a good night’s sleep before we have to deal with that, and it would be great for there to be actual sunlight outside so we can escape if we need to.”
“Excellent idea,” Noah said, setting the candle carefully on the ground and then flopping down beside it. “I need sleep.”
“You took a nap right before we left,” Brian said.
“I don’t care. Wake me up when it’s morning. Extremely late into the morning. I’m not skipping school just to wake up at seven AM.”
“We all need to take a shift to watch the candles,” Brian informed him sternly. “So you’re going to miss out on a few hours of sleep no matter what. I’ll let you pick when you want to go, though.”
“Why can’t we just use the lights on our phones?” Noah complained.
“My phone lasts about fifteen minutes when I turn the flashlight on,” Brian said calmly. “And I know yours isn’t much better.”
“Fine, I want the last shift.”
“Great. And while we’re all still awake, let me say this: if at any point we get down to the last candle, wake everyone up so we can move outside. It would be better to be exposed outdoors for a few hours than to be trapped in here with no light. Understand?”
They all nodded seriously.
“Great. I’m going to put all the candles right here along the wall. We have three more; keep track. Always keep at least two burning.”
“Yes, sir,” Leah said.
Brian gave her a look. “Don’t mess this up. I don’t want to be trapped in a mausoleum forever.”
“I don’t think any of us do,” she replied. “We’ll be careful.”
“Can I go to bed now?” Noah asked.
“Yes,” Brian sighed. “Go right ahead.”
Noah relaxed onto the stone floor. When he had slept in this spot yesterday, it had been bone-chillingly cold and quite literally hard as rock. Now, to his sensibilities, at least, it was as comfortable as any mattress.
This sickness might suck in a lot of ways, but it sure makes it easy to get to sleep, was his last thought before he drifted off.
He dreamt of hunger.
The next thing he knew, a voice was speaking into his ear, pulling him unwillingly into consciousness.
“It’s your turn, Noah.”
He groaned and rolled over to find May crouching beside him, her eyes reflecting the dancing orange light of the candles beside them.
“The sun will rise in about an hour and a half,” she whispered. “I just lit the last two candles. They should last us until morning.”
“Alright,” Noah mumbled. “Enjoy your sleep.”
He watched jealousy as she lay down beside Leah and closed her eyes, going motionless. Usually as a person fell asleep their breathing gradually slowed and deepened, but May displayed no such visible transition. If his own experiences were anything to go by, though, she was already halfway to dreamland.
He sighed and slouched against the wall. Now I just have to stay awake for ninety minutes. He looked over at the two candles. They were both obviously freshly lit. Stacked up beside them were three empty aluminum tealight casings.
Noah had no idea how long a single candle was supposed to last. He peered at the small blocks of wax and couldn’t help but think they looked far too small to burn for more than even twenty minutes.
He shrugged and leaned back. Clearly, he had very little experience with candles. They were arguably a sort of technology all in themselves.
Noah glanced at his friends. They were laying nearly shoulder-to-shoulder along the wall. The longer he looked at them, the more uncomfortable he began to feel, and it took him a minute to realize it was because of how still they all were. Of course they weren’t breathing, but there were also no small shifts or twitches as they slept. It was uncanny. He wondered if the three of them had noticed the same thing during their shifts.
He had to look away after another moment, the uncomfortable sensation strengthening into a tangible dread. It felt exactly like he was trapped in a small, dark space with three corpses.
Stop it, he admonished his brain. It’s just my friends, and they’re not dead. I’m as much dead as they are. Get over it.
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Besides, we’re in a mausoleum. There’s an actual zombie in here. That’s the one I should be worrying about.
The thoughts did nothing to ease his anxiety. At least I’m not in danger of falling asleep now, he thought. No matter how comfortable he might be physically, his mind was too tense for him to drift off.
Almost as soon as he convinced himself his own anxiety was a good thing, he began to calm down. A few minutes passed and he once again found himself fighting to keep his eyes propped open. He knew that if he shut them for even a moment he would be asleep before he knew what had happened.
He gazed at the candles. They had hardly burned through any wax or wick. I could just crack the door and go to sleep. The sunlight would shine inside in the morning, and the candles would probably still be burning anyways.
Even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew he wouldn’t do it; there was a reason they had discarded that idea from the beginning. Wolves might not be able to fit through the small opening, but plenty of smaller scavenger-type critters would fare just fine. And while Noah knew they weren’t dead, any animal that happened to wander inside would think differently. A bit of bad luck and they could be completely consumed by morning, whether it be by rats or any other opportunistic critter.
He stood abruptly and began pacing up and down the length of the room. Anything to stay awake. He made a dozen laps of the mausoleum before he started worrying that he was just exhausting himself further, and he sat back down.
He felt so tired that he wondered if the sickness was affecting his mental energy levels. He wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. I’m going to crash, he realized. He wouldn’t make it to morning.
He glanced around the room in one last lethargic search for something, anything, to force himself awake. His eyes lingered on the lever and coffin, but he quickly disregarded them; he might be desperate, but he wasn’t stupid.
His sight then fell upon the twin flames of the candles, and he stared into their hypnotizing depths for a good twenty seconds. His eyes suddenly widened and he shook himself. He knew how he could guarantee he would stay awake. He slid himself towards the candles with a dangerous plan coalescing in his mind.
The problem was that he was too comfortable. Sleep was hovering within tantalizing reach; all he had to do was relax slightly and he would be unconscious. But he knew there was a way to make himself significantly uncomfortable.
This might be even more idiotic than messing with the coffin, he thought dully. My mind is definitely addled by sleep deprivation. That, or the sickness. It’s one or the other for sure.
He waved a hand over one of the flames. There was, of course, no sensation of heat. He had to check; it would have been quite unfortunate if he had a random weakness to fire that he only found out about once it was too late.
He withdrew his hand, picked up the candle, and leaned back against the wall with it placed carefully in the palm of his hand. He stared at it for a long moment, wondering if this was a dumb idea.
He finally shrugged to himself and extended his pointer finger, letting it sit within the flame. The fire wrapped smoothly around his skin, forming a pronged shape. He held his finger there a moment longer before lifting it out, revealing the worst burn he had ever gotten. The charred skin popped and peeled before his very eyes, making him wince, but he didn’t look away. The damaged skin soon fell away and was replaced with freshly grown flesh. In less than sixty seconds the finger was indistinguishable from his other digits, if perhaps a bit cleaner.
Noah sat perfectly still, waiting for his hunger to make itself known, but all he could feel was a faint pang in protest of his regeneration.
He frowned. Apparently that wasn’t enough damage. He hesitated for a moment before inserting his finger back into the flame. A slight warmth seemed to radiate from the candle, but he knew it was because his body was working to heal the burn damage rather than the actual temperature of the fire.
He let his finger sit there for well over a minute, his finger warming with every passing second, before he decided enough was enough and he lifted it from the flame to examine it in morbid interest.
The digit was charred black and glowing like an ember. He waited patiently for it to heal, but there was no visible change.
Growing slightly worried, he poked tentatively at it and tried to curl the finger, only for the top bit of his finger to break off at the knuckle.
“Aw, man,” he muttered, disgusted. He nudged the crumbling thing away, unintentionally causing it to disintegrate into a lump of unrecognizable ash, and refocused his attention on what remained of his hand.
Don’t tell me I just burned my own finger off for nothing. I’ll never hear the end of this.
He squinted closely at the stump. Much to his relief, it was growing back, albeit quite slowly. Slowly was a relative term, of course. Flesh visibly extended from the raw tip of the finger, gradually thickening and reforming into its normal shape.
Noah braced himself for the hunger, but even so, it came like a kick to the gut, forcing him to double over. He needed to eat.
This is all part of the plan, he reminded himself. Keep it together.
If he had known he would have to regenerate half his finger from scratch, though, he might have thought twice about burning himself. It might not have been as bad as the fallout of healing a split arm, but it still left him in a desperate state.
Noah looked longingly at the door.
I could just step outside for a quick minute to grab some food. I can take my phone light. That’ll give me at least fifteen minutes. That’s plenty.
He stood up.
Stop, Noah thought, feeling like he was arguing with another person rather than himself. I can eat in the morning. I need to stay here for my friends. I am in control. I can do this.
He wrenched his hand back from the door handle. If he were breathing, he would be taking quick, agitated gasps, but the pressure was contained within his mind.
He forced himself back down into a sitting position.
I should check if the sun has risen yet, he found himself thinking, but immediately recognized the source of the thought as his hunger, trying to get him to go outside. He pulled out his phone and powered it on instead, checking the time. He still had to wait over an hour for sunrise to come.
Easy, he told himself.
He imagined locking his own limbs to the floor, holding them unyieldingly in place. He would not move for anything.
Noah locked his gaze onto the candles and settled back. He would make it to daylight.