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"Use your sword, idiot! They can't hurt you." |
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"What are they doing?" The goateed man had dropped his flashlight and was holding the sword in both hands, hacking away at the dead until their bones flew through the air like tall grass. |
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"Just some old friends dropping in for the holiday. Ignore them." |
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But that was easier said than done. |
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Dead Anasazi were rising from their graves like it was the Second Coming. Headless bodies, armless torsos, men, women, petrified little childrenhusks of human beings that were more gristle than substance. The corpses with legs climbed up and tried to walk. The ones without legs dragged themselves over the bones of their ancestors on skinless hands. Those without hands or arms wiggled like spiders that had taken a blast of insecticide right in the snout. |
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"Why are you doing this?" the Dark Man shouted as he swung his arm back and forth in great sweeping arcs. |
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Body parts filled the air like chaff blown before a hurricane wind, but still the dead rose, clutching and clawing even as the blades snapped their bones like green sticks and bit deep into their desiccated flesh. Sweat ran in rivers from both the Dark Man and his assistant. Their arms grew weary, but still the dead came. And all the while, Kyna shouted encouragement to the Anasazi and insults at the Dark Man and his assistant. |
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"Yo! You skinny bags of bones! How's it feel to have the dead tell you to kiss their asses? |
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"Hey fuzzface! Your buddy scarface is going to get you killed!" |
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"Master," the goateed man panted. "I can't keep this up." |
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"You stop and I'll kill you myself." The Dark Man's eyes blazed with fires of madness as he screeched at the spirits of his enemies. "You'll pay for this! By the dark lords, you'll all payyyy!" |
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The goateed man didn't shout anythinghe couldn't. He |
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