Cemetery Dance

"The walls are still unlike the stonework in the video," said Pendergast, sotto voce. "This is schist, not granite, and not cut the same way."

"It's like a maze down here."

Pendergast nodded toward a low archway. "Let's try that passage."

They ducked into the low tu

They continued down the tu

They approached a junction in which three cross — tu

As they reached the junction, D'Agosta felt, rather than saw, a rapid movement above him. He dropped and rolled to one side just as something — the zombii — creature — dropped down, the tatters of ancient finery whipping and rustling over his knotted limbs like ruined sails in a strong breeze. D'Agosta squeezed off a shot, but the man — thing was ready, and it moved so unexpectedly that his shot went wide. It raced across his field of view, flashing through the beam of his flashlight, and as D'Agosta dropped to the ground to escape the charge a momentary, terrifying impression burned into his retinas: the single lolling eye; the whorls and curlicues ofvévé painted or pasted on his skin; the wet lips quivering in a grin of desperate hilarity. And yet there was nothing vague or hilarious in its movements — it came after them with single — minded, horrifying purpose.

Chapter 65

D'Agosta fired again, but it was a gratuitous shot: the thing had flitted back into the darkness and disappeared. He lay on the ground, shining the light around, this way and that, gun at the ready.

"Pendergast?"

The special agent stepped out of the darkness of a doorway, crouching, his Colt drawn and held in front of him with both hands.

Silence fell, broken only by the sound of dripping water.

"He's still out there," murmured D'Agosta, rising to a half crouch and making a three — hundred — sixty — degree turn with his gun. He strained to see into the darkness.

"Indeed. I don't think he will leave until we are dead — or he is."

The seconds dragged on into minutes.

Finally, D'Agosta straightened up, lowering the Glock. "There's no time for a waiting game, Pendergast. We've got to—"

The zombii came like a dull flash from the side, going straight for his light, slashing at it with a spidery hand and sending it spi

The passageway was plunged into profound darkness — and almost immediately afterward, he heard the sounds of a desperate struggle.

He lunged toward the noise, holstering the Glock and pulling his knife, better for close — in work in the dark and less likely to hit Pendergast, who was now apparently locked in a life — or — death battle with the creature. He collided with the zombii's sinewed form and immediately slashed at it with the knife, but for all its shuffling movements it was dreadfully strong and quick, turning and clawing at D'Agosta like a panther, enveloping him in a suffocating stench. The knife was torn from his hands, and he went at the man — thing with his fists, pummeling it, seeking the soft gut, the head, all the while fending off the wiry hands that clawed and raked at him. In the dark, enveloped in a robe, he was at a disadvantage; the ragged creature, on the other hand, seemed to be in its element: no matter how D'Agosta twisted and struggled, it kept the advantage of position, aided by the slickness of its body, coated with sweat and blood and oil.

What the hell had happened to Pendergast?

An arm fastened around his neck, suddenly constricting like a steel cable. D'Agosta wrenched sideways, gasping and choking, trying to throw off his attacker while simultaneously feeling for his gun. But the slippery man — thing had muscles as hard as teak: no matter how D'Agosta struggled, one hand maintained its grip, constricting his airway, while the other pi

Flashes of white sparkled in his field of vision. He knew he had only moments left. With a last explosive effort he wrenched his right arm free, pulling out the gun and firing, the flash — boom illuminating the sepulchral tu

Eeeeee! the zombii screamed, and D'Agosta immediately felt a sharp blow to the head. More stars exploded before his eyes. The thing had pi

Twisting and turning, slamming at the zombii with his good arm, D'Agosta tried to break free — but he could feel the remains of his vitality ebbing fast.

"Pendergast!" he choked.

The steel fingers tightened further. D'Agosta heaved and bucked, but without oxygen it was a losing battle. A strange tingling stole over him, accompanied by a buzzing sound. His hand reached out, clawing the floor, looking for the knife. Instead, it closed around a large fragment of brick; he clutched it, swung it around with all his might, and slammed it into the zombii's head.

Eeeeaaaaaaahhh! it squealed in pain, tumbling back. He gasped, drawing in air, swinging the brick back, striking the creature again. Another shrill screech and it leapt off him.

Coughing, sucking in air, D'Agosta staggered to his feet and ran wildly in the dark. After a moment, he could hear the man — thing scurrying after him, bare feet slapping the slimy stone floor.

Chapter 66

From his vantage point at a wide tear in the chain — link fence, Rich Plock sca