When it picked up its pace into a sprint, and then its sprint into a lope, the others waited until it was gone. When their senses no longer picked up its presence, they returned to the body like scavengers to the feed with their teeth, gnashing flesh from bone.

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

It had come from the shadows.

What used to be Sheena's mother in life was now something vaguely resembling her in death. Its skin was gray with dark moons and shadows surrounding its eyes. When it opened its mouth, it did so to an impossibly long length as black honey-thick bile spilled from the lower edges of its lips, the viscous drippings landing and staining the blouse she had been buried in.

It raised a palsied hand in their direction, then splayed its fingers to resemble a Freddy Krueger's hand device, the bony talons now appearing long and keen, and wickedly sharp.

. . . Coooooome tooo meeeeeeeee . . .

Everyone backed away with the exception of Sheena, who hugged the marble stones to her bosom, the ones that read: Lov Mother.

. . . Coooooome- It cut itself off a moment before cocking its head to the side in jerky motions, as if it was trying to read into something it didn't quite understand.

Its hand began to slowly fall to its side.

Sheena stood there as tears welled in her eyes, trying to make sense of this as much as her mother did; two people from two different realms trying to understand their places in the lands of the living and the dead, while sharing the same plain of existence.

"'Mother' is the word 'God' to children," she told it. She then held the broken stones up so that the two words faced it.

Lov Mother "'Mother' is the word 'God' to children," she repeated.

It approached her slowly, its head still cocked to the side, trying to understand.

"Sheena, move away." It was Eriq.

In the background, the pursuing horde was quickly approaching.

"Sheena!"

. . . Moooootheeeeerrrrr . . .

Sheena barked a cry. "That's right."

It stopped in its tracks, its hand completely by its side now. Then: Daaauughterrrrrrr . . .

And Sheena broke completely because her mother had remembered.

. . . Daaauughterrrrrrr . . .

"That's right!"

Then recognition faded from the features of her mother's face as its mouth opened wide and hissed. In a moment considered too fast for the mind to register, it leapt through the air with its claws extended and teeth grinding.

It had every intent to kill.

And it would not be denied.

Chapter Forty.

Skully, Funboy, and Juggler had been directed to a duct system located at the portside of the mausoleum, and had gone uncontested by the undead, a good sign.

What wasn't good was that the vertical shaft was narrow, and there were no rungs to climb, which meant that they would have to shimmy up the walls to get to the next level.

Skully whispered into his lip mic. "Are you kidding me? You expect us to crawl nine levels?"

"Both stairwells are congested with tangos," stated Meade. "Schott says that you only have to go up two levels. There you can exit and take a supply lift to the ninth level. Should get you there in minutes. Thing is, the lift can only support one at a time."

"If it'll get us there uncontested, then I'm for it."

"Yeah, Skully, but it looks like a firefight from nine on up. Those things are everywhere. Let's hope that the president can meet you half way. But something's come up, and you're not going to like it."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The president is still on the thirteenth level, but it looks like they've been stalled by a tango with several more approaching their location. I wish I could be more positive about this, but it's not looking good at all. But in the end, it's still your call."

"We move until I get confirmation that the president is dead. As long as he's alive, so is the mission."

"Copy that."

"Out." Skully lifted his lip mic and pointed to the louvered grate in the wall. "Remove it, and start climbing, people. We're gonna have to shimmy our way twenty, maybe thirty feet."

Funboy looked at him. "It's not like climbing a rope. Shimmying takes time."

"Then we best get started."

After Skully kicked out the metal louvers of the grate to create a hole large enough to enter, he stuck his head inside for a quick analysis. The shaft was narrow, a plus when it came to shimmying up adjacent walls-hand, foot, hand, foot-until they reached the mark of their goal of the fifth level. From there they would take the supply lift to the ninth level.

The plan sounded solid, but like most plans, they never truly worked out to exactness.

"All right, boys. Let's start climbing."

Skully was the first to enter.

Chapter Forty-One.

It vaulted in an amazing arc up and over her daughter, and came down on the other side of her as the horde approached, and stood sentinel with her claws locked and loaded.

The horde of the undead held back because they sensed something wasn't quite right, their senses telling them to approach with a great measure of prudence.

They cocked their heads in jerky motions, trying to understand. Why was it acting as a savior rather than a predator? Then it dawned on one that this was all about a one-time human trait. That of greed and selfishness, the act of not sharing the bounty.

So it held its hand out to it. "Shaaaaaareeee."

And then the others acted as a collective by raising their hands imploring so.

"Shaaaaaareeee."

What used to be Sheena's mother swiped her hands at them menacingly as a deterrent, but this only raised their ire.

"Shaaaaaareeee."

The whispers were the beginning tones of an uprising.

"You Shaaaaaareeee."

But this wasn't about sharing the bounty. This was about providing salvation.

"Yooooooou Shaaaaaareeee."

And the thing that used to be Sheena's mother held them at bay with its fingers extended and ready to do battle. Then it turned to Sheena and gave her an inquisitive look, as recognition began to fade as its features started to waver between recollection and vagueness. Whatever measurements of humanity was left inside it, they were beginning to slip away.

Sheena began to sob. "'Mother' is the word 'God' to children," she told it.

And then the spark of recognition returned, a sudden enlightenment as to who this living being used to be in its life. It recalled snippets of shared hugs and kisses throughout a lifetime, a time of closeness and camaraderie, and then it concluded that this being was something of great importance to it.

Then it turned against its own kind and splayed its fingers wide, then hissed.

"Yooooooou Shaaaaaareeee."

Eriq slowly crept up behind Sheena, grabbed her by the arm, and without saying a word, began to usher her away.

Her mother was giving them time to run.

"Momma-"

"We have to go," Eriq whispered in her ear.

This time she did not fight against his pull because she had seen the warring looks in her mother's face and recognized the fact she was losing her battle to hang on to remembrances and human benevolence. So, whatever pieces of her mother still existed, they were beginning to fade away forever.

Momma!

"Yooooooou Shaaaaaareeee."

As soon as the living dead started to advance, Sheena's mother began to swipe her talons at them in a furry of blows too fast to be seen with the naked eye, the arcs and sweeps moving so fast that the limbs of the undead fell from their bodies before their minds could register the act.

"Let's go," said Eriq, quickly leading everyone away to draw distance.

But the wave of the dead would not be denied. They converged on Sheena's mother with their own brand of ripping and clawing, as sharped-tipped fingertips ripped through the flesh of its abdomen and opened wounds so great that the ropes of its intestines threatened to spill out in coils. But Sheena's mother resisted as the power of motherhood exceeded the power of savagery.

In its efforts it was tireless, if not relentless, by keeping the horde at bay by swinging and slashing its claws, cutting and tearing, giving hope to the living as they drew measurable distance from the mayhem.

Then all movement ceased as their olfactory senses picked up the approach of something dominant.

"It Coooooomessss."

Sheena's mother stood its ground, the tips of its fingers dripping with black fluid.

"It Coooooomessss."

The whispers ran throughout the horde from front to back, like the movement of a wave.

"It Coooooomessss."

And then they began to part in the middle, cutting a path for the behemoth who was once a titan of a man. It was head and shoulders above the others as it made its way forward with cold eyes drawing a bead on Sheena's mother, and when it stood its ground before her, she contested it with a look of icy defiance.

In a movement that was as strikingly fast, the behemoth lashed out with its hand, grabbed the woman by the throat, and raised her off its feet as she pedaled wildly for the purchase of the ground.

With its other hand it grabbed the woman by the shoulder, and began to pull downward while the hand upon the throat pulled upward in an attempt to separate her head from her body. The bones inside the neck began to weaken and crack, and then her neck began to lengthen until the connecting tissue began to pull apart like rubber bands until they finally gave and snapped away.

When the behemoth freed the head from her body, it dropped it callously to the floor and ground the skull beneath its foot until it was a gelatinous mass of black gore.

After discarding the body by tossing it aside as if it had little weight to it, it pointed down the depths of the corridor in the direction where the living had run in search of refuge.

It hissed.

Then it moaned.

And then the horde began to give chase.

. . . Coooooome tooo meeeeeeeee . . .

Chapter Forty-Two.