That Risen Snow: A Scary Tale of Snow White and Zombies (Wattys 2014 Award Winner)

Chapter Eleven

Blushful

THIS IS TORTURE.

Not the evil coursing through Blushful’s veins. Not the cold empty hole swirling inside his belly. Not the fact that his best friend in the world, Dim, is now one of those monsters. No, torture is Grouchy and Snoozy staring down at him in his chair at the foot of the stairs—the center of attention.

“How you doing, Blush?” Grouchy says.

“Same as I was doing the last time you asked me. Like cold, hard crap.”

“Yeah? Well, you smell like it, too. But I must be hungry for punishment, because me and Snoozy are gonna haul your sad sack up the stairs now.”

Upstairs, Merry finishes packing supplies. Downstairs, Coughy makes final preparations in the kitchen—from which stinging fumes now emanate. Grouchy takes the lead, hoisting up Blushful’s chair by the back while Snoozy lifts it by the legs.

With each lurching step, the hole in his belly yawns and bites his insides. His brain is a fried egg sloshing inside a broken shell. He breathes slowly, each inhalation punctuated by a stabbing pain in his lungs. His bones are carved ice, and his muscles are rice paper. His finger stumps tingle.

Halfway up the stairs, Snoozy speaks up. “Can’t I do something else besides pull a cord? Huh. Accord. Acorn. Cored.”

Blushful keeps his eyes on Grouchy, who now has the Prince’s sword strapped to his back. Grouchy points upstairs. “I want you with Merry.”

Blushful coughs. “Hey, you two. Less talking. More lifting.”

“Hear that, Snoozy? Leadership’s gone to his damned head.”

His vision fades, like a candle flame in the wind.

Grouchy speaks in the darkness, his voice so distant. “I don’t trust that grinning idiot. Keep an eye on him.”

“I want you both to know,” Snoozy says, “I’m sorry about what I did. About being so weak.”

Blushful tries waving his hands, to warn them both. Except his joints freeze, his bones turn to ice.

Grouchy grunts. “Ain’t none of us perfect, or we wouldn’t be here.” A pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Blushful’s gone hollow,” Snoozy says.

“He breathing?”

Hot hands fumble with his face and neck. The voices are now distant pulses, the thump thump of sloshing blood. The hole in his belly explodes without warning. A flame ignites in Blushful’s heart and bursts through his veins. The hands touching him are now icy cold.

When he opens his eyes, the world is blood reds, flame oranges, and aching yellows. A hiss erupts from his belly, now a squirming mess of hot coals.

The hole inside him burns unbearably.

Must be extinguished.

Doused in blood.