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

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Grouchy

GROUCHY RUNS BACK TO the vertical shaft, and thoughts boil in his brain. Snow smiled at him. Waved at him. Summoned the other Horrors. What does this mean? He grabs a skull-sized rock in case the pursuing mob overtakes him. His thoughts cease when he hears the soldiers’ voices.

“You threw Cobb at us?” Hays says.

“I’m just saying, pinky,” Battson says. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Where’s Captain?”

“Cap’n ain’t here no more.”

Battson doesn’t respond. Grouchy finds the two soldiers braced against the floor at the top of the shaft, holding onto a rope suspended below. The area surrounding the shaft is bare aside from blood and debris, offering nothing to grab for support. By leveraging themselves against the floor, they’ve kept the rope from descending further, but they can’t pull it upward. The shaft’s sharp lip has frayed the rope, now a raggedy flower blooming from a tired stem.

“The worms are hungry,” Snoozy moans below. “The core is whispering”

Across from the soldiers, Grouchy limps to the shaft’s edge. Below, Snoozy dangles from the rope, as does a bald soldier Horror. Where the hells is Merry?

“Do I have to do every damn thing myself?” Grouchy lobs the rock down the shaft. It strikes the Horror, who hisses in response and thrashes even more. “Like that, you grisly spud?”

He hurls another rock, which smacks the Horror in the ear. Its head snaps to one side and the Horror plummets below with a ragged hiss. After an abrupt thud, a soft moan emanates from the darkness.

Hays and Battson pull upward as Grouchy limp-runs around the shaft to assist. The rope’s fray blossoms wider. With a grunt, he lunges.

The rope snaps.

He snatches it below the break, inhales a thankful breath, and hoists the rope upward.

“One of you damn swobs mind dropping your poker to help me out here?”

Hays scrambles to the edge and yanks Snoozy upward. They collapse in a sweaty, gasping pile. Grouchy pats Snoozy’s trembling belly. Snoozy nods and blinks his bloodshot eyes several times.

“Hey,” Battson says. “I couldn’t help not hearing the impressive explosion. I’m just saying. What happened?”

Grouchy’s stomach wobbles. He shakes his head. “No time to explain. Where’s Merry?”

Hays clears his throat. “He was up here when the lifts fell.”

“Shit-cakes.” He imagines Merry falling to his death or worse, being made into a meal. His stomach sours, but he chokes out the words. “Then there were two. Let’s go.”

They sprint—a pair of dwarfs and a pair of humans—down the northwest passage, and the oncoming horde closes fast. Hays leads the way, carrying a lantern. Grouchy’s at the rear, panting and limping. His throat and lungs play host to a swarm of angry bees. What he wouldn’t give for some water. And a big damn meal.

At the staging chamber, all four of them pant, ready to collapse. The headless corpses are strewn about the room.

“What happened here?” Hays says, coughing.

“No time to explain,” Battson says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Hays runs for the blood-stained tunnel dug into the caved-in exit. He’s halfway into the tunnel when Battson yells, “Wait.”

Something hisses, yanks Hays into the tunnel. Battson lunges and pulls him backward. The two soldiers tumble onto the floor. It’s then that Grouchy notices the captain’s wings pinned to Hays chest.

“Can’t go that way,” Battson says, gasping.

“It’s too narrow anyway.” Grouchy points at his generous waist.

“What the hell was that?” Hays says.

Snoozy shines a lantern into the tunnel, then waves. “Hi, Bones.”

Hissing and the frantic scrambling of rocks answer him. Grouchy guides Snoozy away from the entrance and pats his belly.

Before turning his back on the tunnel, Grouchy locks eyes with the elder dwarf. Bones’ eyes were always so full of energy, but now they’re filled past the brim with dark rage. He hates how things ended between him and his elder.

“I’m sorry.” Grouchy mouths the words—too little, too late.

“Alrighty then.” Hays says. “We make our stand here. Everyone grab a weapon.”

“No,” Grouchy says. “There’s another way. Follow me.”

With his lantern dimmed and away from his face, he leads them at a jog into the abandoned northeast passage. There, tears slide down his cheeks. And for once, they are not tears for his Snowflake.

No, these tears belong to Bones, who Grouchy disappointed. To Blushful and Dim and Coughy. And especially to Merry. What he wouldn’t give to see that dumb idiotic smile one more time.