Chapter 12

“NOAH!” came a frenzied yell as I arrived into the dream world. It sounded far away, muffled.

“Noah, hurry!”

Closer this time, and not as muffled.

“NOAH!”

Finally, I emerged into the scene, my brain still muddled a bit from falling asleep so recently.

“No!”

I stood up, clutching my hockey stick close. I had arrived late. Dorothy screamed as she entered from another room, and the zombified women were all looming over something... something small.

“Guinness!” I cried out, realizing they were crowded around him. I ran forward, the hockey stick coming to bear (?) and smashing one of the ladies in the skull.

She jerked to the side and fell, her face locked into a snarl, revealing rotten, yellowed teeth. There was fresh blood on the incisors.

Before I had time to see if Guinness was harmed, the second zombie lurched toward me. I held up my hockey stick.

“Don't come any closer,” I warned. She trudged on, a thin line of drool hanging, escaped from her lower lip. I swept the hockey stick along the ground, tripping her. The third zombie was busy slowly blundering toward Dorothy. I ran to where Guinness had fallen, putting down my hockey stick to push him over, for he was lying on his stomach.

The face that greeted me was not Guinness. It was pale, bloodless, with sunken eyes that did not recognize me. I noticed a wound on his arm- a bite, I assumed, from the first zombie I had clobbered.

“D****t,” I hissed, pushing Guinness away, grabbing my hockey stick, and backing away. I reached in my pants and brought out the journal, opening it.

I didn't have names.

I dodged a slow swipe from one of the zombies. Dorothy screamed loud and long, and I rushed toward her, using my weight to slam the pursuing zombie into the wall. The thing gave a gurgle as I did so and slid down the wall into a sitting position, its hands moving to hold its head in it's daze.

“Maybe,” I began out loud, “Maybe I can go back in, to before they turn Guinness into a zombie.” A gnome zombie. It sounded like some ridiculous rock band's name.

I glanced at Guinness, who had stood up and was sluggishly moving toward me.

“S**t, I guess it'll have to do. I hate having to do this twice. I hope Guinness will be alright in the real world. He's never been hurt before, much less zombified.”

Assuring myself gnomes were known for their resilience, I closed the journal and immediately sprinkled the smelling salts.

***

I awoke before Dorothy, coughing as I shoveled potato chips into my mouth. Both Julianna and John looked at me expectantly.

“Didn't work. I'll need to go back in,” I admitted.

Dorothy woke up five minutes later, after some gentle shaking.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Jones, but I'll have to go in a second time. I need to know their names.”

“I saw you!” she cried, pointing a shaky finger at me. “You saved my life. That zombie was about to... to...”

“Gram, you have to calm down. You know the doctor said you can't get too worked up.”

Dorothy nodded slowly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“It's no worries to go back in. I'm still rather tired and won't need the aid of the sleeping pills.”

“Alright,” I said, “I'll be quick, I promise.”

We both lied down.

***

This time I beat Dorothy to the dream. A blank apartment appeared; meticulously cleaned. The antithesis of my apartment. Porcelain figurines of cats and kittens were on tables, in glass cabinets, and generally anywhere there was a flat surface.

“Bid,” I heard a voice say, one that was familiar. It must have been Dorothy.

“Pass,” said a second voice.

No one had materialized yet, and so I ducked out the front door, waiting. After several moments, I knocked.

“Was that the door?”

“I think so. Dorothy, you go open it.”

There was a shuffling of feet, and the door opened. Dorothy's eyes widened as she recognized me.

“What-”

“Shh,” I whispered, putting a finger to my lips.

She nodded, running her fingers across her lips in a 'my lips are sealed' gesture.

She moved to let me in, and I nodded to the ladies at the bridge table.

“Evening, ladies. I'm just the exterminator. Please don't mind me.”

They giggled and the first lady whispered something. At least, she thought she whispered. She was old, and I assumed her hearing aid was off, because she practically yelled it.

“He's cute,” she 'whispered'. I flushed.

“My name's Noah. Noah Clifton.”

I strode forward to shake their hands in succession.

“My name's Agnes, this is Myrtle, and Eileen.”

Myrtle had turned pale.

“Did you say Noah Clifton?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Noah, she's looking for you.”

“I'm cold,” said Dorothy, and she stood up.

I eyed Myrtle suspiciously. Was she senile?

“She's tried to send you signs. A unicorn... a bear...”

My eyes widened.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“Just a messenger. He's been corrupting us. You must hurry to her.”

Dorothy had left the room, and I watched as the women seemed to age fifteen years; their skin hung sickly from their faces, and their eyes were glassy and crazed.

“No!” I yelled. “Tell me! Who?”

But it was too late. Myrtle only gnashed her teeth and sent spittle flying. Dorothy walked back in, and she pierced the air with her scream.

Before Myrtle could orient herself, I grabbed her head and twisted, feeling the sickening snap of her neck. I was stoic. Something was happening. Something big, I reasoned. Someone had been watching me �" had been sending me clues to her existence.

I used my hockey stick to bludgeon in the skull of the zombie that was stalking Dorothy, the blood splattering onto her dress as I did so. She looked horrified.

“Look away,” I said, unfeeling. All I could think about was what Myrtle could possibly have meant by her words.

Dorothy covered her face with her hands, sank to her knees, and wept. I dispatched the last zombie with strong kick to the face, and then stepped back to look at the scene. The last zombie wasn't 'dead' yet; its hand twitched, and I could see its eyes starting to open. I quickly ran over and pulled out a strand of gray hair. My journal was in my hands in an instant, and I opened it and pressed the hair to the page, pricking my finger to write 'Myrtle'. With one, terrible scream -one that mocked a human yell- the zombie was sucked into the pages.

With the remaining two zombies dispatched, I took my time in gathering their hair and catching them in the pages.

Someone was looking for me... a her. I didn't know how I would figure out how to meet her, but I had to try. I had to finish this up and talk to Guinness.

The last of the zombies vanished and I moved toward Dorothy, who still sat on the floor, her body quaking.

“Hey, shh... it's okay now,” I said softly, putting my hands on both her shoulders. “I hate leaving with you so upset. Still makes it a nightmare, right?”

Dorothy slowly moved her hands from her face. Her blue eyes were watery �" from the crying or from age I couldn't tell.

“Is it over?” she asked.

“Yes, they're all gone.”

All that was left were the stains on the carpet and on Dorothy's dress. When she finally stood up, I turned her away from the grisly scene.

“We're going back now,” I informed her, removing my hands from her shoulders. A trembling hand shot out and grabbed onto my hand, and when I looked at Dorothy, her eyes were wide and imploring. I smiled and grasped her hand tightly. With my free hand, I grabbed a handful of the smelling salts and we vanished into the darkness.