A Zombie Christmas Carol

A Zombie Christmas Carol

By Michael G. Thomas

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as observing this condition, and giving him time to recover.

But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

“Ghost of the Future!” he exclaimed, “O fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?”

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.

“Lead on!” said Scrooge. “Lead on!” The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along.

They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to spring up about them, and compass them of its own act.

Bob Marley as a Dead Man walking. Photo by Elena.

There was something sinister and somewhat terrible about the place though. London was never the greatest jewel in terms of beauty but today it was a changed place. As he swept past the places he knew well he noticed the differences. Some of the houses were gone, entire streets in places razed to the ground as though a great storm had blown them down. Carts moved slowly through the winding alleys, some carried goods but most carried corpses, presumably off to burial. A sullen, bitter mood filtered through the alleys and roads from a miserable and much depleted population.

As they slowed, Scrooge noticed a scream and a group of young men ran in the direction of the noise.

“She's been bitten, quickly, do it!” cried one of them.

A woodsman rushed forward, lifting, his light axe he brought it down without hesitation. As the despoiled corpse dropped down the men simply dragged it to one side and heaped it onto one of waiting carts. Scrooge tried to stop to see what was happening, but the Spirit whisked him forwards and past the incident.

A short distance further on and they approached the better, more civilized parts of the city. There were still sections burnt or pulled down but unlike in the slums they were being rebuilt. Small groups of militia rode past, ever on the lookout for the terrible evil that seemed to linger on every street corner. They slowed to a halt as they reached the damaged but still functioning Stock Exchange.

There they were, in the heart of it; on “Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrooge had seen then often.