"Can't get your head around it, can ya?" there was a smile around Death's words. "Anyway, I suggest that right now you start walking and get us over that hill, ASAP."

"Huh? Why?" Tony started walking all the same.

Death was quiet again for a moment. "Because Tony, you knocked me out. Twice. There's another part of my job I didn't tell you about. One of... guarding."

"Yeah? What?" Tony asked. He was impressed that Death actually called him by name that time.

Death sighed. There wasn't any other way to hide the truth from the Mundane this time. He would find out sooner or later. And Death was under no constraints to hide this particular issue from him. In fact, a part of him looked forward to it.

"Yeah, well, when I bring Mundanes across, some don't want to go. Not many, but some. And they fight. I bring 'em across, of course, but they still fight. And when they are on the other side, they try to come back, to cross over, again. So, I have to keep watch and put them back where they belong. It's not hard to do, and I have the time to do it in between the other tasks I have, but sometimes, if I let my guard down, or I'm distracted, or I'm, say" Death cleared his throat uncomfortably, "knocked unconscious..."

Tony stopped walking. "Oh, Jesus." His mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"They can cross back over." Death finished.

"You mean escape?"

Death paused. "Yeah," he eventually said in a quiet voice.

"People can cross over."

Another pause. "Yes... People... And other things..."

Chapter 52.

The snowdrift trembled once, disturbing the white blanket of silence. Nothing moved for a moment, but then the snow shook for a second time. The forest remained quiet for a few moments more. Crows, overhead in treetops, eyed the white mound. They could feel the ripple of dark energy in the air.

Something was waking up.

Something that should have stayed dead.

Bone ripped its way clear of the snow bank, clawing and swiping its way free of the weight that covered it. Worn claws of about fourteen centimetres in length pushed down on the snow and then heaved upwards. The snowdrift shook again and a huge shape, half dissolved by the elements, emerged from its cold coc.o.o.n. At its shoulders, it stood a thick five feet high. A half rotten snout, as big as a man's thigh, sniffed the air out of instinct. The teeth, exposed in places where the lips had completely rotted away, were shards. Black eye sockets, half filled with white snow, looked ahead. A maw opened wide and tried to scream. Nothing came out.

And even though there were trees and forest debris all around it, the grizzly looked straight ahead, as if it were looking directly at the boatman, who was just a little less than one kilometre away.

Making very little noise in the falling snow, the bear began sniffing at the earth and shambled forward, willing decayed muscle tissue to work.

It moved in a straight line.

Towards Death.

Chapter 53.

Tony was p.i.s.sed off.

"What do you mean other things, man? Why are you being so f.u.c.king-what's the word I want here?"

"Vague? Ambiguous?"

"Yeah, yeah both of those! Just tell me what these things are, why don't you!"

"Don't want you to go crazy, is all." Death said from behind.

"Crazy?" Tony started walking again. He wanted to scream. "I'm carrying f.u.c.king Death on my shoulder just after witnessing four dudes' heads explode! And you're suddenly worried about my G.o.dd.a.m.n sanity?"

The thought made Tony sputter in annoyance. He punched Death.

"You feel that?"

"No," Death said guardedly. "What did you do?"

"I just punched you in the b.a.l.l.s, man."

Death's eyes went wide. "You did not."

"Did too."

"Wow," Death breathed as he stared at the bouncing road below him. "That's some good s.h.i.t. Can't feel a thing."

"Yeah well, it'll probably wear off sometime and when it does, I won't want to be you. Broken legs and smashed t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, you'll be crying for me to kill ya."

"Alright, alright," Death spat out. "I'll stop being like that. Just don't punch me in the b.a.l.l.s, again."

"I ain't promising you anything," Tony said with heat in his face. "G.o.dd.a.m.n secretive f.u.c.ker," he added as an afterthought.

"Alright," Death began, "These things are basically the recently dead. Or not so recent. If they have no body, that ain't so bad. If they have a body and decide to return to it, well, that's the easy thing to do. So they do that."

"They go back to their bodies?" Tony asked as he placed one foot in front of another. "After they're dead? That can't be pretty."

"No, that can be pretty G.o.dd.a.m.n ugly," Death said.

"And what do these things do when they're up?"

"Well, what's the first thing you do after a long sleep?"

Tony made a disgusted face. "They s.h.i.t?"

Death stared at the bobbing ground for a moment before barking his reply. "No, they don't s.h.i.t, you f.u.c.king moron!? Okay, what other thing do you do in the morning?"

Tony's mouth hung open. It came to him at once. "Eat."

The answer was dead on. It made Death smirk.

Oh, s.h.i.t! Tony thought. They eat. Jesus and Mary.

Tony began to walk faster on the icy road, looking this way and that. His increase in speed did not go unnoticed. Death smiled from where he hung, his arms flopping. If he had known that information would make the Mundane walk faster, he would have imparted it earlier. One of their oldest fears, spanning the ages in fact, was the fear of being consumed; being eaten, dead or alive, by something magical or simply savage. Mundanes were terrified by the prospect of being devoured. They might scoff, joke or say otherwise in conversation, but when faced with the reality...

They all p.i.s.sed themselves.

They found the new road just over the rise in the highway. Just next to it, a single white post rose up from the snowdrifts, but the sign was missing. The road itself was covered in drifts of snow. The trees rose up and formed an icy arch overhead. It looked like a collapsed snow tunnel to Tony, but it was a road and that interested him. Roads led to places.

"Could be a cabin in there," Tony grunted to Death's b.u.t.t.

"Turn to the side," Death told him. "I can't see."

Tony did so, and Death studied the new road for a moment.

"Probably goes nowhere," Death said.

"Listen," Tony began, " I have no idea what time it is or who's on this roadif anyone isbut one thing is for sure: it's gonna get dark soon. I feel better holing up in a cabin somewhere for the night than staying out here and freezing, man."

Death mulled it over. "I don't think it's cold," he said.

"Man, you can't feel your own nuts right now."

Death supposed that was true. "Alright," he spoke after a moment. "You're going to walk in there anyway. Not much I can say about it."

"You have a say in this," Tony informed him.

"No, I don't," Death retorted.

"Sure, you do."

"Alright, I think we should stick to the road."

"f.u.c.k that," Tony said and started walking onto the new road. "If we're lucky, there'll be a cabin nearby and you, me, and ol' Jack can have a party."

"Who's ol' Jack?"

"There was a bottle of Jack Daniels in the trunk of the car."

"You have a bottle of Jack on you?"

"In my pocket," Tony informed him. Instantly, he felt Death's hands pawing at him. "f.u.c.k off!" Tony barked. "Save it for later when we find someplace to stay."

"That's a forty ouncer!" Death was excited.

"And I found it, and it's mine, and f.u.c.k you if you think you're getting any," Tony fired at him. "Gay leprechaun, my a.s.s."

From where he bounced along on Tony's back, Death shook his head in sullen silence. "I f.u.c.kin hate you guys," he declared to Tony's posterior.

Tony had nothing to say that. He was marching along a deserted road which quite possibly led to nowhere. It was winter. He was freezing. The undead were potentially stalking him. He had Death slung over his shoulder.

And Death hated him.

Hunching over a bit more and ignoring the growing pain in his shoulder and legs, Tony slogged onwards through the snow. He did not say another word.

Neither did Death.

They marched for about an hour, and Frank kept his mouth shut for the entire time. He was in a p.i.s.sy mood. He wished he were back in Paradise. There were women there. Hot women. There were no women in the wilds of British Columbia. There was only Tony. And Tony was getting tired. They would have to find a place soon, if not, Tony would freeze. He'd freeze, too, he supposed. But he wasn't ready to go back just yet. He didn't want to go back just yet. Not just yet.

"Hey, I see a house!" came Tony's excited voice. "I see a f.u.c.kin' house!"

"What?" Death turned his head to the side. All he could see were trees and a roadside draped in white. "Where?"

In answer, Tony pivoted his hips to the right and swung Death's dead weight with it, allowing him to see.

"Oh, wow!" Death said.

There, in a small clearing that seemed to be crowned by white tree lines on either side of the road, were two cabins. Except, they were a little more than simply cabins to Tony. They were the size of regular houses where he came from. The house on the left was two storeys high and peaked with a steep church-like roof. The other house was perhaps twenty meters further up the road and on the right. It had only one floor, but had a long summer deck before its front door. Both houses were deep in snow. If there were owners around, they had not been here in a while. And if the snow kept up, the houses would eventually disappear.

Tony made his way for the first house on the left, swinging Death back and ignoring his curses. He plodded his way through knee-deep snow, over what he figured was a front lawn in the summertime. He stepped up to the front door, leaned to the right to peer into a dark looking window. It was curtained from the inside.

"Well?" Death inquired.

Tony tried the door. "Locked."

"Well, of course it's locked. Kick it in."

A heavy breath left Tony. It had to be done. He eased Death down and leaned him against the side of the house. He took a step back and then kicked out his right leg. It connected hard with the door but did not break it.

Tony kicked again.

The door did not budge.

"What the fu" Tony muttered in disgust.

Death merely sat and watched, not saying a word. His gaze went from the door to Tony and back to the door, again. On the third kick, Tony realized what was wrong. The door opened outwards. Creatively cursing to himself, Tony bunched his fist up into his coat sleeve and put it through the checked window. He cleared the lower right square of gla.s.s and reached in. A moment later, he had the door open, and a chagrined Tony stood looking inside with arms hanging at his sides.

"Say a f.u.c.king word, and you can drag your a.s.s in there," Tony warned Death.

Death did not.