Cyrus LongBones and the Curse of the Sea Zombie

LOST

SOMETHING CLUTCHED CYRUS around the ankle and began to pull him into the deep. He panicked and started to kick free. Then he looked below. There he saw Sarah, white as a ghost, clawing and scrambling at his trousers. With the last of his breath, he reached down and grasped her wrist. Sarah’s writhing form became limp in his hand. He kicked and began to pull her back towards the surface. Cyrus swam with all his might, his lungs starved and his chest struggling to inhale. A dark fog began to close in around the edges of his vision.

He broke the surface, sucking air like a whale, and pulled Sarah to his chest. Cyrus wheezed and choked, fighting to keep Sarah’s head above water. He peered about. His eyes swam with stars. The boat! Where was the boat?

“Cyrus, over here, quick,” Edward said.

Cyrus turned and found their craft floating right behind them. He swam closer and rested Sarah’s chest over the nearest pontoon. Then, struggling to catch his breath, he climbed, kicking and clawing, back into the boat. To Cyrus’ relief, Sarah began to cough and hack up lake water, pulling in air in deep gasps. Cyrus hauled her from the pontoon and helped her climb aboard. She fell to the floor, cold and white, her silver hair a mask across her sunken face. Cyrus noticed how her sopping dress clung to her slender body, the subtle swell of her chest. His eyes grew wide, and butterflies filled his belly. He looked away, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Thank you…” she whispered.

Then she passed out in a heap on the floor.

“Is she going to be okay?” Cyrus said.

“We have to get her to shore,” Edward replied, scurrying down the mast.

Cyrus scrambled, sopping wet, to the rear of the craft and began to paddle hard for the cave opening. His back ached from the pace, but still, time seemed to pass unbearably slowly.

When finally they reached the shoreline, they met a group of villagers arriving on a makeshift raft. Cyrus looked to the crow’s nest. Edward was crouched down, a black and yellow dot on the top of the mast.

“Please, you must take Sarah to her father,” Cyrus said to the group, “She nearly drowned and won’t wake up. Dr. Heiler will know what to do.”

The villagers exchanged curious looks and muffled whispers at the sight of Cyrus’ floating contraption.

“She could die,” Cyrus pleaded.

After a moment’s hesitation, the group crowded around and lifted Sarah from the boat. Cyrus wondered if he should warn them about where they were headed. Then again, did it really matter? Either way, the villagers would surely blame him for their being on the forbidden side of the fence.

After several more hours on the lake, Cyrus’ search for Niels was proving fruitless. Day was turning to dusk. Most of the villagers had escaped the pit, paddling towards the cavern on objects such as fence timbers and housing beams. Others clung to swimming donkeys and cows. The moon rose, and the search went on. Cyrus’ hopes wore thin. He tried to stay positive, struggled to stay hopeful, but he found that they were moving in circles, checking the same places repeatedly. Cyrus felt time was running out. He started to curse aloud.

“It’s going to be okay,” Edward said.

“It’s not going to be okay,” Cyrus shouted, kicking the boat, “Where the Angels is he? We’ve searched every last stick in this stupid lake, and we haven’t found a thing. It’s hopeless.”

Edward spindled off the boom and onto Cyrus’ hand.

“Come on, Cyrus. You can’t give up hope.”

“Hope? What hope?”

Cyrus smashed a fist against the wooden hull. Tears formed in his mostly-blue eyes.

“I’m a useless bastard. My stepmom’s right. I can’t help anyone. I couldn’t help Niels out of the pit. I almost left Sarah to drown, and I sure as Angels can’t help Niels now.”

He sighed heavily and sat with his face in his hands, while he and Edward drifted across the water with only the lantern light and cold air for company.

“Cyrus…” hummed a low voice from out of the blackness.

Cyrus was ripped from his self-loathing stupor. He grabbed the lantern from the bow and held it high in the air.

“Niels, is that you?”

Both he and Edward listened for a response.

“Can you see anything, Edward?”

The little spider leaped back onto the mast and climbed to the top.

“Nothing from here,” he whispered.

“Cyrusss…”

This time it was closer. It came from the starboard side of the boat. Cyrus turned the craft and paddled in the direction of the lost voice. He found himself cutting a path through clumps of rubbish and muck.

“You see anything yet?” he asked.

The spider paused, then said, “Over there.”

Cyrus turned towards where Edward was staring. He saw nothing. He looked back at the spider. Edward’s two eyes were fixed. Confused, Cyrus shifted to the front of the boat and shone the lantern high in the air. He searched the water for whatever had captured his friend’s attention. Then he spotted it. There was something, or someone crouched on a floating tree. It was just outside the torch’s glow.

“Niels, is that you?” Cyrus asked.

“I don’t like this,” Edward whispered.

Cyrus motioned him to be quiet.

“Niels, please answer.”

Still, the person did not move. It hunched deathly still on the decaying log.

“Edward, we have to help him.”

The spider scuttled down the ship’s mast and onto Cyrus’ shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s your brother, Cyrus. We should get away from here.”

Cyrus was not going to fail Niels a second time. He steered the ship around a slowly sinking bed and bookshelf and rowed closer to the shape on the log.

“Niels, I’m coming.”

“This is all wrong, Cyrus.”

The figure slid towards them along the trunk. Cyrus stopped paddling immediately. No person moved like that.

“I told you,” Edward hissed, “Get us out of here.”

The creature began to uncoil from its crouch and rise to its full height. The lantern light glanced off its back, exposing its dark, smooth skin. Cyrus could see its spine through its thin flesh. He felt goosebumps rush up his arms. His chest tingled, then grew ice cold. The creature turned its long, slender neck and looked back at the two. Its eyes flashed open and shone a dim blue.

“It’s the demon!” Cyrus gasped, falling back in the boat.

Its body was long and lean and its head slender, but the creature’s facial features were difficult to detect in the darkness. It turned its back on the two, and the light from its eyes fell upon a larger shape at its side. Then the stranger lowered itself into the water and melted into the murk.

“What was that?” Edward asked.

“The blue-eyed phantom, I think…” Cyrus whispered.

“It left something behind.”

A familiar shape lay on the log; a husky, brick-like body. Cyrus stabbed at the water as he paddled closer. The ice in his chest evaporated, becoming acid in his throat. He reached out and turned the body to face him. Cyrus felt as if he was dangling over the edge of a cliff. All the air left his lungs, and his knees buckled.

It was Niels. His face was serene but lacked spirit beneath the flesh. Gently, Cyrus shifted his stiff body down into the boat. With Niels’ head on his lap, Cyrus caressed his icy cheek.

“No,” he half blubbered, half shrieked.

His thoughts became stilted and frozen. He felt trapped in frigid waters, pinned under endless waves. Cyrus wanted to rage, wanted to run away, wanted to smash himself in the face. But all strength abandoned his being and he was left shaking with sorrow.

“I’m so sorry…” Edward whispered.

Like a key in a jammed lock, Cyrus felt something in his heart twist and break off. The tiny fragment began to burrow itself into his soul. He recalled his brother’s terrified face, as he dangled alone at the edge of the dark chasm.

“Why couldn’t I help him?” he asked, through gritted teeth and glassy eyes, “Why?”

He had failed his brother, the only family that had ever cared for him. And he had failed himself. A useless bastard, everyone was right. And he would have to suffer that shame for as long as he lived. Which would not be long at all, he thought, in a moment of morbid hope, for his tiny world of Virkelot was crumbling, and the end was surely near.