How To Rescue A Dead Princess Part 10

"Yes. A change of clothes would be nice. Most of us were buried in our finest garments, but it's been a while, and they're starting to get tattered. Plus, our rotting flesh isn't doing much for the smell."

"No problem," Grysh said.

"There was one more thing," said the zombie foreman, trying to recall. "Chuck-what was that suggestion you made at the meeting last week?"

"Hats."

"That's right, we want hats that say 'Grysh's Graveyard Guardians' on the front. White ones, with green lettering."

"I see," said Grysh. "Anything else?"

"I have something," said one of the female zombies, raising her hand. "But you'll think it's stupid."

"Fine. Keep it to yourself then," said Grysh. "Okay, I'm going to think over these ideas you've brought up, and then reject them reject them!"

The zombies looked surprised. The foreman looked downright flabbergasted. "But I thought-"

He stood there silently for a moment.

"Sorry, I a.s.sumed you were going to interrupt me. But I thought you said-"

"Quiet!" snarled Grysh. "You can take your grievances and stick them where the sun only shines at infrequent intervals if at all! Randall, destroy them!"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Randall, who had quit following the conversation shortly after the word "to."

"Prove your worthiness!" the witch said. "Show these creatures what happens to those who dare challenge my labor policies!"

"Couldn't you turn Sir William back? He really gets into these impossible odds situations."

"My powers are gone. I'm helpless."

"That's pretty darn inconvenient, wouldn't you say?"

"Tell me about it. Last century I was levitating the entire populace of Friesner over the nearby tar pits when they went out. Didn't get invited back for months."

"Could I have a weapon or something?"

"Stop stalling!" said Demon Baby. "Can't you see that they'll be right upon us in nearly half an hour?"

Randall knew this was the moment of truth. If he was going to prove his bravery, he'd have to do it now. This was the instant in his life that decided whether he was a true hero, or a lowly coward.

Then the instant pa.s.sed with no real revelation.

But another moment of truth soon arrived, and Randall took advantage of this one. He walked over to the water that had pooled on the floor from Grysh's wringing, then yanked off his loincloth.

"I can see his loins!" said one of the zombies.

Throwing all modesty aside, Randall crouched down and soaked up most of the water with the cloth. Then he stood back up and prepared for his attack.

"Oh no!" gasped the zombie foreman. "He's twisting his wet loincloth! He'll be able to snap it at us!"

"We've got to shamble away!" shouted another zombie.

The zombies started the lengthy process of turning around so they could retreat. Randall rushed forward and snapped his cloth at the foreman.

"Ow! Stop it!"

Randall snapped it again.

"Stop it, you unfeeling monster! We're leaving!"

"And don't try this again!" Randall ordered. "I'm more than willing to twist my loincloth at a moment's notice!"

Seven minutes and fifty-four seconds after they'd arrived, the zombies were gone. Randall wrung out his loincloth, then put it back on.

"You've done very well," said Grysh. "How would you like to be my personal servant?"

"Nah."

"Fine. Now, away with you! Your quest awaits!"

"What about Sir William?"

"He stays here. That's my a.s.surance that you'll return."

"You'd be more a.s.sured of my return if Sir William was along to make sure I didn't get killed."

"You don't need him. This is your journey, Randall. The princess and the knight will be here when you return. Bring me the Necklace of Power and the other reagents! Now, go!"

She snapped her fingers. Randall vanished.

"He's a good kid," said Grysh.

Demon Baby nodded his agreement. "So, you think he'll find the necklace? I've never even heard of it before."

"Of course you haven't. It doesn't exist. I just want to see what he'll do."

Chapter 9.

The Last Single-Digit Chapter Number RANDALL WAS not ordinarily one to wallow in the negative, but as he walked across the seemingly endless expanse of desert, he decided to do a mental rundown of the bad things in his life at the moment.

He was hot and thirsty. The only liquid for miles was the sweat that had pooled in his shoes. He was lost. All directions looked the same, and he had no idea which way he was supposed to be traveling. He was hungry. He was tired. The loincloth was going to give him a major tan line.

Time pa.s.sed....

RANDALL HAD been wandering for two days, and was growing less and less cheerful about the whole affair. He walked in a daze, eyes glazed over, muttering incoherent things to himself like "Call me Ishmael." He lacked the materials for a decent sand castle. Even the mirages he saw weren't any good.

Time pa.s.sed....

RANDALL HAD lost it.

"Yondah lies da castle of mah faddah," he said, over and over, the accent getting worse each time he spoke.

Then he collapsed.

"Person...?"

"Yondah ... yondah ... yondah..."

"Person, please sit up." It was a high-pitched, tinny voice. "Person, you can't give up."

"...yondah ... yondah ... burma shave..."

"Just open your eyes," begged the voice.

Randall opened one as a compromise. There was n.o.body there. "Don't tell me I expended all that energy for nothing," he warned.

"Over here. By your ear."

Randall turned his head. n.o.body there.

"No, no, the other ear."

Randall turned again. n.o.body there.

"Sorry, I was moving over to the first ear to save you some trouble. Now I'm behind your head."

"Not going to look behind my head. You can forget it."

"I'll move around to your nose. Don't inhale, please."

"Don't have the strength."

A tiny beetle-like creature, about the size of a dvorkin (which is about the size of a fully-grown spugglet's tooth), flew in front of his face. "Hi," it said.

"Okay, I've seen you," Randall told it. "Could I please die now?"

"I don't want you to die. You're my friend."

"I've never even met you before."

"You're still my friend. I love you."

"Kind of free with the ol' affection there, aren't you?"

"I can't help it. My heart is just full of love."

"Well, my heart is full of sand. I can't go any more. I've been walking for three days. My chest hair is all burnt off, and I was very fond of what little I had."

"But I can help you!"

"If you flew into my mouth and let me eat you, I could probably get another ten feet of walking in."

"Please, get up. If you follow me, I can take you someplace beautiful where people will be ever so nice to you!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Beautiful by any standards, or beautiful by the standards of a little bug who's already decided that it loves me?"

"Well, my standards. I guess I'm easily pleased, but still, it has to be better than dying at the edge of the desert."

"The edge?"

"Relatively speaking. It's a big desert."

"Wouldn't happen to be a Necklace of Power lying around here, would there?"

"No. Just sand."

"Figures."

Using all the force he could muster, Randall got back to his feet. "Follow me," said the beetle, flying a couple feet ahead of him. "It's not far ... relatively speaking..."

Time pa.s.sed....

THE BUG finished with its life story. It had been born one day, flew around the desert for a while, then found Randall.

"How much further?" Randall asked.

"We're almost there."

"I don't see anything worth not dying for."

"Six more steps."