Aftermath

every corner she could in case more of the dead were close.
    Much as she’d rather they battered this particularly foul aberration into oblivion, Lorna was beginning to appreciate the significance of Michael’s comments. She watched as he moved toward the group of bodies again, and they all tried to get out of the way, as if they knew he was going to attack. But when he stopped and didn’t advance any farther, the creature at the front seemed to visibly relax, slouching its shoulders and rocking back slightly on what was left of its heels. Michael remained a cautious half-meter away, and shone his torch directly into its wizened face once again. It didn’t react. Its wide, dark, emotionless eyes slowly moved around Michael’s face.
    “Poor thing,” Lorna said, surprising everyone.
    “What do you mean, poor thing?” Howard said, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You sound like you pity it! You know what these bastards have done, how much pain and grief they’ve caused us.”
    “Yes, but none of it was their fault, was it? They had no control over what was happening to them. Same as we didn’t.”
    “We should just get rid of them,” Howard suggested. “Finish them off and put them out of our misery.”
    The corpse seemed to react to his words. It immediately became more animated and reached out for the torch Michael was still holding. He pulled it back and stepped out of the way, concerned it was about to lash out at him, but it didn’t. It made a second clumsy grab at the torch, but it was definitely the torch it was going for, not Michael. Not sure what he was doing, and with the light from all the other torches now focused on this one particular figure, he handed it over. It tried to grip but it couldn’t and its bony hands simply slipped off the handle. The torch dropped to the ground. Michael picked it up again. The corpse’s shoulders slumped forward and it dropped its head and its hand in what Michael presumed was a bizarre approximation of frustration.
    “What’s it doing now?” Howard asked.
    “Giving up, I think,” Michael said. “Bloody hell, it’s like they’ve come full circle.”
    “Full circle? What are you talking about?”
    “Just look at it. It’s helpless. It hasn’t attacked me, and I don’t even think it wants to. What I mean is, I think it’s got more self-control than any others I’ve seen before. It doesn’t seem to want to fight anymore.”
    The creature moved, correcting its balance, and Michael flinched nervously. It tried once again to grab the torch, but it still couldn’t get a strong enough grip. Perhaps sensing the futility of its actions and the limitations of its physical shell, it instead raised its hand up to its head, almost seeming to be pointing at its skull.
    “What’s it doing now?” Lorna asked, transfixed, all thoughts of what was happening elsewhere in the castle temporarily forgotten. Michael couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He sounded stupid when he tried to give them his interpretation of the dead man’s behavior.
    “I think it wants me to kill it.”
    “You’re out of your bloody mind,” Harte said, trying to getpast so that he could finish the damn thing off. Michael blocked him again.
    “I’m serious.”
    He looked at several of the other decaying faces crowding behind the first corpse. They all seemed as passive as it was. Michael remained cautious.
    “How many are here?” Howard nervously mumbled, asking an obviously unanswerable question.
    “There could be hundreds,” Kieran said. “I don’t expect Jackson stopped to shut the door behind him when he was trying to get in here. That’s if there even is a door.”
    “Well, there must be something,” Lorna said, tracking the irregular movement of another corpse with her torch, “otherwise they’d probably have filled this place, wouldn’t they?”
    “Only one way to find out,” Michael said. He began to move again, edging around the first body, doing all he could not to make direct contact with it. It watched him as well as it was able, following his movements with its entire head, not just its eyes, having long since lost anything resembling fine motor skills.
    He moved toward the far end of this chamber, and the bodies there dropped back, appearing to try and get out of his way. Beyond this room was another sloping passageway, narrow and steep. A corpse was crawling toward him on its hands and knees, its pitifully slow and awkward progress going