Free Zombie Ever After by Carl S. Plumer Page B

mouth hung open. He wanted to stand, to run to her. To take her back, take her away. But he couldn’t move.
    “So you witness it for yourself now. Good. Unfortunately, however,” Egesa said, “it means nothing. Or everything. We just don’t know yet.”
    “What—what can I do?” Donovan asked.
    “Simple,” Egesa said. “You can help us help her. Just tell us everything you know. Everything you witnessed in the last couple of days, yes? It’s critical you do this. It may be the only way we can save her.”  
    “Save her from what?” Donovan asked, turning his gaze at last from Cathren back to Egesa.
    “Herself.”

Chapter 30

    Back in his cell, Donovan slumped against the wall. He now grasped the situation better than Egesa thought. These people were not looking for a way to save Cathren; they wanted to examine her, to rip her apart, to destroy her. Despite whatever crap Egesa was trying to sell him, these weren’t the good guys. Donovan had to get out. More importantly, he had to get Cathren out. Something told him if he didn’t, they would both be dead before long.
    Fortunately, Donovan’s cell was more like a guest room than a prison. He was, apparently, free to go as he pleased. So he did. He crept down the hall to the room that housed Cathren.
    He studied her through the small, Plexiglas window in the door. Was she dead or alive? Was he just dreaming all this? Cathren’s eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep. Every couple of seconds she’d scream or groan or shudder. Donovan cautiously opened the door and went in.
    “Cathren,” Donovan whispered as he approached her. “It’s me.”  
    Cathren stopped her monster noises abruptly, like a snoring sleeper who’d been interrupted. Donovan touched her hand. He didn’t know what to expect. More screaming? More struggling?
    She opened her eyes and looked at him. Donovan wanted to believe he saw love in those eyes. He brushed his hand gently on her cheek, and she smiled weakly.
    “Gotta get you out of here,” he said softly. “Do you think you can walk?”  
    She didn’t try to talk. Maybe in her condition she couldn’t. But she nodded slowly.
    Donovan had tears in his eyes, he wasn’t sure why. Joy, that had to be it. Only it didn’t feel like joy. She was here, his, looking at him. It was Cathren, but it wasn’t Cathren.
    “Okay, good. Now, let me see,” he said, examining the tube in her arm, puzzling over the setup. A small needle in her arm, held with tape. That was all. He undid the tape carefully.  
    “Okay. I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff,” he said. “So, this could hurt a bit.” He pulled the needle out of her arm; it bled a tiny bit where the needle had been.  
    Blood! She’s bleeding blood. That has to be a good sign, I think. I mean, can cadavers bleed? Maybe they can, I don’t know...
    Donovan looked around, but didn’t spot any bandages. “I’ll get you all fixed up as soon as we get the hell out of here,” he said.  
    He helped her to her feet and she slowly raised herself to her full height. Donovan could tell she was in a lot of pain. He glanced at her bandages and wondered if they had been changed since she’d “died.”
    Then, suddenly, there was no time for him to take care of her or worry about her anymore. Something more worrisome had arrived: Burkhart Egesa and his minions. Three bodyguards, built like small mountains.
    “This is unfortunate,” Egesa grimaced. “Very unfortunate. You need to realize that we are her last, best hope. Oh, well.” He snapped his fingers dramatically over his head. “Take them now,” he said. “Kill him if you must. The girl, we still need.”
    The thugs rushed toward them, one at Donovan and one at Cathren. The third stood guard at the door. One lout punched Donovan in the stomach. This, conveniently, bent him over directly into a right cross. Donovan fell down, twisted like a pretzel and bleeding. He struggled to stand up, but was met by a