front yard, he felt relief when he saw Grampa at the head of the stairs, kicking body parts off the porch.
Sig bent with hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. Grampa looked over and said, "OK, now we chop them up some more to make sure they can't move. Do you have axes?" Sig started to walk until Grampa said "Go, go" and then he broke into a jog toward the woodshed behind the house. He returned with two axes.
Grampa took a double bladed ax and walked through the litter of bodies, chopping dismembered corpses into smaller pieces. Sig reluctantly followed his lead with the other ax.
Meredith walked out of the house, "That's all in back. I don't see any others."
Sig looked up just as a zombie followed her out of the house. "Mom! Behind you!"
She ducked and ran forward down the steps. Sig raised the axe and hurled it at the zombie. The blade thumped into its chest and knocked it backward onto the porch. The tip of the blade sticking out of its back pinned it to the porch floor.
Grampa hollered, "Good throw."
Sig looked over at him. "I practiced throwing with Dad. That's the first time I've done it since…" He picked up the sword from where it leaned against the porch and walked over to chop the zombie on the porch into manageable pieces before it could free itself from the axe pinning it.
Meredith had a disgusted look as she stood watch with her reloaded shotgun while Sig and Grampa continued dismembering barely mobile corpses.
Sig looked around and said, "Are we done? There are even more here than I thought worked across the road. Over a dozen. Maybe fifteen or twenty." It was weird, bodies chopped up, but no blood on the snow.
"Count the feet and divide by two to figure out how many," Grampa said.
Sig looked over at him, shook his head, and collapsed to sit on the porch steps.
Grampa walked over, plopped down next to Sig, and said, "What's wrong? We just saved our bacon and wiped out more than a dozen zombies. You should be happy, not despondent."
"I always wanted to have magic. Now this." He waved at the body parts littering the yard. "This is terrible. It makes me feel like I've fallen into a septic tank. I'm glad I don't have magic." Sig looked at him. "But you have magic don't you? You made Bjørn speak and you made the zombies visible."
Grampa sighed. "There's magic and there's magic." He nodded toward the zombies. "That's black magic, evil magic… Necromancy. No, you don't want that kind of magic. We fight that kind of magic."
He gave Sig a measured look. "Yes, I have magic. I planned to let you know in a less dramatic fashion when I talked to you about your magic."
Sig said. "I told you I don't have any magic."
Grampa clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's check the inside of house before we clean up this mess out here. We can talk about it later." He put a finger to his lips. "Don't mention my magic to your mother yet."
Sig drove the pickup truck with the hydraulic dump bed into the yard while Grampa piled body parts together with the pitchfork. Mom watched from the porch as Sig then pulled the front–loader out of the equipment barn. He scooped up the piles of zombie parts, and poured them into the dump bed of the pickup.
While he did that, Grampa spoke with Meredith. She went inside and Grampa hobbled over with a pitchfork and flipped the few leftover parts into the dump bed. "Is Mom going to call the police?" Sig asked.
"I clean up my own messes. Besides, chopped up zombies would ruin the police routine in this nice little town. I don't want to put them through that."
"What are we going to do with all these body parts? Drop them in the dumpster out back?"
"Isn't this the land of 10,000 lakes?"
"Yeah, and all the lakes are frozen. They started thawing but this freeze hardened them again. Were you planning on dumping them on the ice and take bets on when they fall through, like we do with old beater cars?"
Grampa got into the passenger seat of the dumper truck. "Take me to a good
Sig bent with hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. Grampa looked over and said, "OK, now we chop them up some more to make sure they can't move. Do you have axes?" Sig started to walk until Grampa said "Go, go" and then he broke into a jog toward the woodshed behind the house. He returned with two axes.
Grampa took a double bladed ax and walked through the litter of bodies, chopping dismembered corpses into smaller pieces. Sig reluctantly followed his lead with the other ax.
Meredith walked out of the house, "That's all in back. I don't see any others."
Sig looked up just as a zombie followed her out of the house. "Mom! Behind you!"
She ducked and ran forward down the steps. Sig raised the axe and hurled it at the zombie. The blade thumped into its chest and knocked it backward onto the porch. The tip of the blade sticking out of its back pinned it to the porch floor.
Grampa hollered, "Good throw."
Sig looked over at him. "I practiced throwing with Dad. That's the first time I've done it since…" He picked up the sword from where it leaned against the porch and walked over to chop the zombie on the porch into manageable pieces before it could free itself from the axe pinning it.
Meredith had a disgusted look as she stood watch with her reloaded shotgun while Sig and Grampa continued dismembering barely mobile corpses.
Sig looked around and said, "Are we done? There are even more here than I thought worked across the road. Over a dozen. Maybe fifteen or twenty." It was weird, bodies chopped up, but no blood on the snow.
"Count the feet and divide by two to figure out how many," Grampa said.
Sig looked over at him, shook his head, and collapsed to sit on the porch steps.
Grampa walked over, plopped down next to Sig, and said, "What's wrong? We just saved our bacon and wiped out more than a dozen zombies. You should be happy, not despondent."
"I always wanted to have magic. Now this." He waved at the body parts littering the yard. "This is terrible. It makes me feel like I've fallen into a septic tank. I'm glad I don't have magic." Sig looked at him. "But you have magic don't you? You made Bjørn speak and you made the zombies visible."
Grampa sighed. "There's magic and there's magic." He nodded toward the zombies. "That's black magic, evil magic… Necromancy. No, you don't want that kind of magic. We fight that kind of magic."
He gave Sig a measured look. "Yes, I have magic. I planned to let you know in a less dramatic fashion when I talked to you about your magic."
Sig said. "I told you I don't have any magic."
Grampa clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's check the inside of house before we clean up this mess out here. We can talk about it later." He put a finger to his lips. "Don't mention my magic to your mother yet."
Sig drove the pickup truck with the hydraulic dump bed into the yard while Grampa piled body parts together with the pitchfork. Mom watched from the porch as Sig then pulled the front–loader out of the equipment barn. He scooped up the piles of zombie parts, and poured them into the dump bed of the pickup.
While he did that, Grampa spoke with Meredith. She went inside and Grampa hobbled over with a pitchfork and flipped the few leftover parts into the dump bed. "Is Mom going to call the police?" Sig asked.
"I clean up my own messes. Besides, chopped up zombies would ruin the police routine in this nice little town. I don't want to put them through that."
"What are we going to do with all these body parts? Drop them in the dumpster out back?"
"Isn't this the land of 10,000 lakes?"
"Yeah, and all the lakes are frozen. They started thawing but this freeze hardened them again. Were you planning on dumping them on the ice and take bets on when they fall through, like we do with old beater cars?"
Grampa got into the passenger seat of the dumper truck. "Take me to a good
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