Return of the Titans

CHAPTER FIVE

I did the only reasonable thing when faced with such a horrific face.

I cried out and punched him right in his leathery kisser.

And that wasn't an exaggeration. The zombie's face felt like a freshly-made leather jacket and was both surprisingly and uncomfortably warm to the touch. It snapped back with a crack, as would anything that just got punched, except I saw the joints and bones that kept his head on his shoulders jerk backwards. They moved with a sickening fluidity until he was staring straight up at the sky, but at an angle so he could also see whoever was coming from behind.

I shook my pulsating hand, bobbing a little in case the guy wanted to go again. I was on an adrenaline high after the chase, and not even Doc and his soothing voice could ease it away.

Speaking of Doc, he stepped in before I could go on with my promise. "Enough, Frankie," he said, holding up a hand to stop me. "Mister Frederick, here, is no threat."

"Nnyg," the man gurgled in agreement.

But I wasn't so certain. I jerked my chin toward the man's direction, who was now touching his overly-stretched neck, as if confirming that it was, indeed, snapped all the way back. It was an obscene sight, I couldn't say that I wasn't still floored at his presence. Not even the process of preparing a body for its eternal rest was as discomforting. The only thing that kept me where I was was that I had made the point that I could handle myself if it came to it.

Dear god, don't let it come to it.

"How do I know he's not with those...Lion-Men?" I speculated.

"The Lion-Men have no allies," Doc said. "They are a breed of monster where solitude is their sole companion. And even if they did, they don't live long." He looked at Frederick with a partial smile, as if sharing a joke only the two of them knew and understood.

"And I," the man, Frederick, added after he finally grabbed hold of his head and righted it upwards once again, "am not a part of their horde. Obviously." He rubbed the sag of skin that hung beneath his chin, glaring at me with eyes as red and cloudy as an inflamed wound. "Or perhaps not to some."

Again, I did not like this asshole, but not as much as Mufasa. He didn't make it known that he wanted to kill me at our first meeting. But I made a mental note to watch this guy, and not leave George Washington alone around him.

"What are you, then?" I asked him, genuinely curious. I didn't want to slip and call him a flesh-eating monster and enrage him even more. It was apparent that my feelings for him were mutual.

Frederick scoffed and looked at Doc. "Finally. An actual question." Frederick placed a hand against his chest, where his heart was if it still worked. "I am a Wraith."

"You're a Christmas ornament?"

Frederick flinched, and the scowl that was already across his face deepened until it might as well have been set in stone. "Not wreath, you insufferable heathen. Wraith. The steward of my creator, we are eternal companions. Unlike my brethren, who have either been dismissed from service or have yet to find a master. I assume the setup didn't filter into your childish mind."

Doc tapped the rim of his ring against the glass diamond on his cane. "Frederick, what did I say? This is our guest." He turned toward me and offered me one of his infamous smiles, one that showed a fraction of the goodwill in his heart. I felt almost ashamed that I punched his buddy in the face suddenly.