Harrogate was wrapped in the cloth like a ham in in butcher paper, lifted on a throne with the chains around his wrists and securing him down on the chair.

“Oh boy.” He said. “Oh boy, oh boy.”

The crowd around him lifted their hands up, their palms grabbing and pushing the feet of the chair further down the wide mass. A room filled to the brim with the smiling, crazed faces. They all wore the same white gown, the one with gold tipped threading at the end. A full crowd of people, in a room so claustrophobic that the very air was heavy. Each breath was a struggle, fighting tired him twice as fast. He pulled his arm out, the chain dug into his skin.

“Cecile!” He shouted. “Where are you?”

His head turned, she was beyond in the back and chasing down Turnus with her left sandal in her hand.

They sat him finally at the front, the Priest before them.

“We’re all here to celebrate the one that was promised, the sun bearer Cecile.” He said. The applause came sharp. “And how were we to expect she’d bring us two gifts yesterday?”

They clapped.

“This is a sign, yes. A sign by Jenba himself that the promised times are coming.” He said. “That we will rise up as the new people, the great people, to the kingdom that is promised.”

“Man, this got out of hand didn’t it?” Harrogate said. He looked down from his high-raised seating on the altar. The gown came down, nearly five feet off the floor. His head looked across the expanse of people.

“But we should not expect the greatness of Jenba to come freely. We should not expect him to do all the work. Because what is faith without sacrifice, and loyalty without the price paid?” Out from the Priest’s backside, the knife came out with a wild shchling and gleam of the sun.

“Oh boy.” The sweat poured down his face.

“All debts will be paid here.” The priest said. “For Jenba.”

“For Jenba!” The group yelled.

“Cecil! For the love of the five gods, come over here and help me!” Harrogate said.

He turned his head and saw her behind one of the pillars, Turnus in her headlock with the shoe still up in the air and the red marks across the young apprentices face. She looked at Harrogate, at the priest, at the guy in her arms. Then the door opened. It slammed open. They all turned. All armed and unarmed, all roaring and silent; all of them towards those two twin doors at the end side of the room.

Outside the room and streets were dark and in the shadows of that other room, they couldn’t see much but the sound of movement. They reared their heads closer. Harrogate shimmied in place (no one was looking…no one). He went underneath the chains around his waist and turned the chair left and right.

“Where are you going?” The priest turned. But Harrogate had fallen to the floor, the wooden chair shattered and he ran out with his small legs, pulling at his own cloak. Out, out into the sidelines towards Cecile. The priest started to chase but then the noises came from that other, dark room.

The moaning, biting, sloppy noises of the otherworldly.

A zombie came through, rotting at the flesh with the jewelry around his neck and fingers. His finger pointed to Cecile, one long bony finger. The priest walked through parting crowds, towards this fiend. His head shifted between Cecile and the zombie. He walked up to him, looked him up and down.

“Oh my…” He said.

The crowd looked, half-disgusted and half shocked. Then the priest prostrated.

He brought his head up.

“I can’t believe it, Jenba has come to us! He’s resurrected!” His hands were high risen to the air.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Harrogate said, chair arms hanging by the chains around his wrist. “Cecile, let’s get out before this gets worse.”

“I think it’s already worse, Harry.” She let go of Turnus who didn’t move much. Rather they all looked at the priest, center of the mass with the zombie moaning behind him.

“He’s here. Our Savior, he’s here!” The priest stood, hands widespanned. The zombie stepped up once, tilted its head and moaned.

“Yes. Yes, Jenba. What do you have to say? Speak your wisdom, please father.” The priest said. He held the zombie by the shoulders. The zombie eyed him. Sniffed. He drew his head back and…

“Oh gosh.” Cecile said.

“Oh my.” Harrogate said.

“Oh fuck.” Turnus said.

One chomp. Right down the shoulder, the priest screamed out. The blood squirted across the crowd, the crowd scrambled and screamed. The zombies flooded through the twin doors. The priest flailed his arms. Harrogate and Cecile tripped over the crowd. Cecile grabbed her ax. Turnus ran for the shards of wood, he picked up a stake. Arms trembling.

“Get a-away.” He said. “Get away Jenba!”

Bam. Right through the zombie, killing it immediately. The priest bled on the floor, eyes widening.

Turnus looked at the scene. At all the people dying and the zombies crashing through the windows, he stretched the skin on his face out.

“I killed Jenba.” Turnus said. “He’s dead. Again!”