Hoole panted for breath as he ran. “I don’t know. Yet.”
They plunged into the mist.
The zombies were relentless and incredibly strong, but they were slow. Twitching and staggering, they closed in on their two targets. Uncle Hoole and Tash slipped away from them or ducked under their arms. To Tash it seemed like some twisted version of the games of touchball she and Zak had played with their parents at home.
Tash was tall for her age, but she was limber and quick and able to dodge the pursuing creatures. Twice Hoole was grabbed, and twice he shape-shifted out of the zombies’ clutches. But more and more zombies came after them out of the mist, and escape looked impossible until they saw a row of iron bars before them.
“The gates!” Uncle Hoole said. “We’ve made it!”
Tash gasped as a zombie nearly grabbed her by the neck. She slipped away and dashed for the gate, followed closely by her uncle.
The gates were ajar, and they slipped through, slamming the doors behind them. Zombies surged toward the gates, pulling at the iron bars.
Tash and Hoole had escaped the cemetery. They didn’t wait to see if the gate would hold the zombies back. They ran headlong down one of the city’s cobblestoned avenues. Only when they were far from the graveyard did they pause to catch their breath.
Tash’s heart still had not stopped pounding when the noise of a crowd reached her ears. People, many people, were surging toward them from a nearby street. Angry words were shouted in their direction.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Hoole frowned. “That is a mob. And Pylum is leading it.”
The Master of Cerements led the mob right to Hoole and Tash. As they approached, Hoole shouted, “This place isn’t safe! Something terrible is happening at the cemetery. Corpses are coming back to life.”
Pylum scowled and jabbed a bony finger their way. “We know. And it’s all your fault!”
CHAPTER 18
Pylum’s eyes glinted angrily. “The dead are rising all over the city! Corpses walk the streets. People are fleeing in terror. And you caused it!” The angry mob shouted its agreement with Pylum.
“We didn’t do anything!” Tash protested.
The Master of Cerements pointed to the cemetery. “Your brother offended the dead by entering the cemetery, and now you two have followed him. You have brought the Curse of Sycorax down on our heads.”
Hoole shook his head. “There has to be a more reasonable explanation for this than some ancient curse. I’m sure we can find a solution for this problem if we work together.”
“See, see!” Pylum screeched, turning to the mob of Necropolitans. “They ignore our ancient laws! They trample our sacred ground. I warned you that this might happen, and now it has!”
“What can we do?” one of the Necropolitans pleaded. “Pylum, please help us.”
Pylum raised himself up to his full height and proclaimed, “I am the Master of Cerements. I have read the ancient laws. The dead will not be appeased until the offenders have been punished. They must be taken to the Crypt of the Ancients!”
“Wait!” Hoole yelled in a commanding voice. “You can’t possibly believe that we are responsible for this. We must work together!”
But his words were drowned out by the cries of the mob. The Necropolitans swarmed around them, surrounding Tash and grabbing Hoole. For a moment Tash thought the Shi’ido would shape-shift into a Wookiee or some other ferocious being and fight his way to safety, but he did nothing. She added that to the growing list of mysteries that surrounded Hoole.
Pylum led the mob and the two prisoners back to the cemetery. They found that the twisted gates had been wrenched from their settings and tossed to the ground. The zombies were nowhere in sight, but Tash didn’t want to take chances. “You don’t want to go in there,” she said to Pylum, “trust me.”
The Master of Cerements scowled. “You fool. The dead have already risen. They are terrorizing the city. The graveyard is empty.”
It was true. The cemetery had become a wide field of empty holes and mounds of earth. The long rows of headstones had toppled. In most places the soil had been trampled and churned to mud by the passage of the undead. It was eerily quiet.
The angry Necropolitans paused at the bizarre sight of so many upturned graves. Some of them cried out and wept.
“See what the offworlders have caused,” the Master of
Cerements screeched. “Bring them to the crypt!”
Urged on by Pylum, the Necropolitans dragged Hoole and Tash across the field of empty graves, toward the center of the cemetery. There, the massive Crypt of the Ancients still stood as solemn and ominous as ever.