Free Zombie Mage by Jonathan J. Drake Page A

uttered four clear, but haunting, words to his colleagues.
    "He's definitely a deader!"
     
    * * * *
     
    Olligh awoke to find himself sprawled out on a stone table in a small
room.  Another, longer wooden table stood next to him with books, knives, hooks
and other metal instruments strewn on it.  On the wall to his left, coffins
were stacked tidily in alcoves.  Wondering where he was, he suddenly remembered
the incantation that was cast on him in the graveyard.  He wriggled his feet and
fingers, relieved to be able to move them again and glad that Warden Philips’
spell wasn’t permanent. Now he just had to find out where he was. Nothing
looked familiar and he wondered if he was now trapped in the Dark Cloaks domain.
Just as he was about to sit up, he heard some heavy footsteps approaching and
the creak of a door opening. 
    “Hello, hello.  I’m back!” a man yelled.
    Olligh shut his eyes and remained motionless, waiting
for an opportunity to escape.
    “Good, good. I like it when I don’t get a reply. It
makes my job a whole lot easier.  I mean, obviously you’re dead and you
wouldn’t reply anyway but, it’s good to make certain.” 
    The man sighed and unzipped something.  After a
moment’s silence, he walked towards Olligh and stood by his side.
    “Before I commence, I must introduce myself.  It’s
something I always do, out of respect for the dead.  I’m Doctor Sykes and I’m
here today to find out how you’ve died.   An interesting job, wouldn’t you
agree?”
    Olligh certainly did agree but he decided to play it
safe and continue to play dead for a while.  Although the circumstances were
not ideal, he wondered if the batty doctor might be able to shed some light on
his decrepit appearance.
    “Now, if your meagre brain was working and your
combinatorial neuronal network was fully functional, I imagine right now that
you’d be wondering how I’m going to determine how you died.  Would you agree?”
    Doctor Sykes paused, as if waiting for an answer.
    "Yes, I thought so," he continued.
"Look, I’ll get straight to the point and tell you in layman’s terms so
that you’ll comprehend what I’m saying.  To begin with, I'll slice you open... 
That's the worst part, especially if you've been dead a while.  The stench can
be quite overpowering at times and it's even worse if I get a squirt of foul
smelling fluid.  It doesn't taste too pleasant either.  I can certainly vouch
for that.”
    Doctor Sykes chuckled and leaned forward.  Olligh felt
his breath on his face.
    "Next, I'll cut you into little chunks and no
doubt spend a fair amount of time studying your body organs; if autolysis
hasn’t already devoured them, that is.”
    Olligh nearly spluttered but managed to compose
himself.  The doctor didn't appear to notice any change in his appearance,
probably assuming any unusual facial distortion was the result of trapped wind.
    “You’ve haven’t had a good life, have you?  I believe
you’ve more than likely grown up without a close family.  I imagine you’ve also
lived in squalor for the most part and probably survived on a diet consisting
of diseased, bloated rats.  Hmm, where are my gloves?”
    The room remained quiet for a moment and Olligh
wondered what he was doing.
    “Yes, my apotheosis must be correct.  As a physician,
you tend to glean disturbingly accurate information from your patients.  It
makes my job ever so much more worthwhile and rewarding.”
    Olligh continued to listen, curious as to where the
conversation was leading.
    “You see, quite frankly, you’re hideous. There’s no
way someone as revolting as you could ever make a substantial contribution to
society.”
    Olligh didn’t want to hear any more.  He sat up
straight. “I beg your pardon!”
    Doctor Sykes’ jaw dropped and he clutched the side of
the table tightly. His face looked rather flushed and he felt faint.
    “Do you even know what you’re talking about?” Olligh
asked.
    The doctor