Every Good Story Has at Least One Zombie...

...The growling grew in strength and intensity and for a moment my Pirate Queen resolve flickered like a headlight with a loose wire.

Of course, I knew I could never look at myself in a mirror again if I abandoned my friend to pain and anguish. I may be a pirate but my philosophy is a lot like the Rangers...never leave a fallen comrade.

I reached way deep down inside, grabbed that scared little part of me by the neck and shook it like a rotweiler with a poodle in its mouth.

Then I took a few steps back, sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes and threw myself against the door with everything that was in me. The flimsy thing split right down the center, spilling me into the putrid interior of the shack. I also fell flat on the floor with a whoosh of escaping air. (Somehow it was both my finest hour and also a testament to years of weeble-wobbling around the world like a clutzy whirlwind).

I lay for just a moment, there on the hard-packed dirt floor, trying to regain my Pirate Queen fortitude.

Unfortunately, the zombie standing to my right had never lost his.

When I heard the rumbling-grumbling-growl I shot to my knees, peering up. What I saw filled me with icky, icky feelings.

(You see, I use the scientific term for what a living being feels when in the presence of the living dead--I'm so hip)!

What stood, looking down at me was once a man, though how long ago was anyone's guess. The clothes were tattered, rumpled and coated with murk and other unidentifiable crap. The hair was matted and completely worn away in places; leaving the scalp looking like a path through a neighbor's back yard, the kind all the kids ride their bikes on... Still, it was the face that really got to me... The upper lip was completely gone, as though it had been bitten off by the demon-lover from hell. Gore oozed down the thing's chin...not bloody gore, but the green-black of a contaminated cistern. The nose was still there, as perfect as the day the thing had died but it's eyes were two white bulges, no irises to be seen... and no eyelids either.

As much as I'd like to lie and say that I was unaffected by the sight, I can't. My stomach got all queasy and that icky feeling rose, along with bile, into my throat, threatening to make me puke like a 14 year old girl at her first party...

A BAD first party.

Of course, you have to realize that I saw all this in tenths of a second...

As the zombie continued his steady mumbling-grumbling-growl, he turned to face more fully in my direction. Finally, my Pirate Queen reflexes kicked into gear and I shot the rest of the way to my feet and reached behind my back for the dagger I keep for just such zombie emergencies...I knew it really wasn't much use against something already dead but I was willing to tempt fate, and having it in my hand made me feel a bit more in control of things. The zombie advanced a step toward me and as it did I once again heard Edgar's cry of anguish... He was just to my left, in a cage...

Now I had a choice.

Face down the zombie first, or free my caged friend... On the one hand, I might easily defeat the nasty undead weasel and then be quite at my leisure to release my buddy... On the other, I might loose and if I failed to release my friend first, he would suffer the same fate as before...

It was no contest. Forgetting for the nonce about the rotting creature reaching for me, I bent down, grasped the cage door in one hand, put my boot against the edge of the cage and gave one mighty pull... The door shot open and my friend raced for the freedom of the night...

Now it was just us, the gore splattered undead thing and the short, but still quite fierce Pirate Queen...

Now there's gratitude for you.

I was about to turn and face the zombie and my fate, when I felt the cool and slimy flesh of its hand on my neck... And then the sound of gnashing teeth closing in...

I gave a loud screech and committing an act of bravado that was so far beyond the realm of instinct or good sense that it wasn't even in the same UNIVERSE, I threw all my weight backwards into the thing, knocking it to the floor and landing on top of it. I immediately rolled away and staggered to my feet, swinging wildly with my knife on the off chance that the thing was just as quick as I was.

Luckily, it was not.

Unluckily, it was still between me and the door...

And then I remembered...

I'm a kick-ass Pirate Queen! I make my own FREAKING doors!

Putting my head down and taking yet another deep breath, I launched myself at the window in the nearest wall, shooting through it and landing in 24 inches of snow, ice and at the very bottom, mud.

Yes, it was cold. Yes, it sucked.

And yes, it was the greatest cold-water bath I've ever had...

Though I'm not sure if I'll get all the zombie ichor off of the collar of my fleece...

Meh. Edgar is safe and now I know why I got the Batcave so cheaply...

Just so you know, zombies do not make particularly good neighbors.

I'm just sayin'.