Chapter 6: Dem Bones
“Aim for the head!” Spike yelled, as he hurled both his knives at the slavering abomination. One glanced off the zombie's left front leg, doing nothing more than scratching it, but the other struck home, burying itself in the empty eye socket. Dislodged maggots fell to the floor, along with greenish-brown ichor that sprayed from the impact. The creature's shuffle toward the group was not hindered, however. It continued its slow stagger toward them, its jaw hanging wide open in a long moan.
Big Macintosh gave it a powerful blow with his ironshod left hoof, but the monster clearly was much more resilient than the giant snails. It didn't seem to feel pain at all. Instead, the zombie retaliated with its own strike. Much to everyone's surprise, it did not attack with a bite. Instead, it raised a hoof, which they now noticed had a rusty, serrated blade mounted on the tip, and brought it down in a long slash. The stallion grunted in pain as his leg was lacerated by the jagged edge. Blood trickled down from the ragged wound below his knee, his lightly-colored fetlock stained to match his coat.
Triumphantly groaning what could be best interpreted as a battle cry, the zombie struck out again, its blade shining red from the fresh coating of blood. However, the second blow landed on the stallion's spiked helmet, the rusted metal bouncing harmlessly off the hard steel. The weight behind the blow caused the creature to stumble for a moment. Big Mac took advantage of the vulnerability. The stallion lowered his head and charged forward. The row of long spines sunk deep into the zombie's emaciated abdomen. Big Macintosh deftly flicked his head back, the spikes ripping right through the creature's rotten flesh.
He stepped back as the creature stood, shocked, as the large slash from navel to chest dripped copious amounts of greenish-brown fluid. The zombie's remaining eye rolled back into its head as its guts spilled out, flooding the room with the putrid stench of a mostly decayed mass of what had once been a digestive tract. It fell down to the ground, dead.
Twilight retched at the vile odor, emptying her stomach of snail meat. The others turned away in disgust, however, Iron Will, began poking at the corpse with his cudgel.
“Hmmm.... nope... ah ha!” he said as he tore open the stomach with the tip of his rock hammer. “No flesh in here! It's completely empty.”
“Before I ask what in the wide wide world of Equestria you're doin' maybe we should get out of here? I don't want to be around that stinkin' mess for another second,” Big Macintosh said to the minotaur.
They all nodded in agreement. The rusty blade the beast carried wasn't worth sifting though all that filth. However, before passing, Twilight levitated out Spike's throwing knives and returned them to him.
As they carefully moved around the carcass and walked down the corridor to the right, Twilight was the first to speak up. “So, Iron Will, you were saying that the stomach was empty?”
“Yep. Nothing at all inside.”
“But maybe it just hadn't eaten in a while, and we were the first fresh meat it had seen in a long time?” Twilight asked.
Spike spoke up. This topic was his area of expertise. “Zombies don't digest their food, Twilight. It just sits in their stomach and rots. None of their organs work except their eyes, ears, and some of their nervous system. Possibly smell, too, but it's not confirmed.”
“Even entertaining idea that zombies actually exist, you're saying this one doesn't eat flesh?” Twilight guessed.
“Exactly,” Iron Will confirmed. “Which also means you won't turn into one if you get bitten. It also didn't need to have its head destroyed to die, which indicates it isn't really a zombie at all, at least as the media portrays them.”
“Maybe some form of necromancy?” Twilight suggested.
The others just stared blankly at her horn.
“Oh, right...” she muttered, getting the hint. “Magic performed on the dead. In this case, reanimation.” Silently, she wondered why it would be such a bother to them to learn just a little about magic. Just because they couldn't do it...
“But why would anypony want to create something so disgustin' and dangerous?” Big Macintosh asked.
“Reanimated dead aren't dangerous on their own. They blindly obey the orders of the one who resurrected them. Since it was armed, I would guess that it was put here to guard Mt. Grimrock.”
The four prisoners arrived at the locked gate. Twilight levitated out the rusty iron key and slid it into the adjacent lock, turning it clockwise. The iron grate raised with a loud clanking. To her surprise, she was unable to remove the key from the lock. It seemed to be stuck, as if the mechanism was designed so that the key could only be used once.
The four walked through the doorway. It was dark beyond the gate. The illumination from Twilight's horn gave them a little island of light in the thick blackness. They came upon another grate. A chain hung from the right side. Iron Will grabbed it in his right hand and yanked hard. The gate raised obediently. However, as they stepped through, they heard the familiar groan of a stone wall sliding open behind them. They turned around to see three zombies stepping out of the walls and heading right at them!
Thinking quickly, Iron Will pulled the chain on the other side of the open gate. It snapped closed. The rotten monsters gathered against the gate, but could not open it. The four were safe.
“Good job!” Twilight said.
“Thanks,” Iron Will replied.
The four kept walking. They approached the stairs to the next floor. They went down the steps into the unknown depths below.