Cyrus LongBones and the Curse of the Sea Zombie
Chapter 28

KLAPPEN

CYRUS’ HEART BEGAN TO POUND like a battle drum. Klappen? Llysa was right? The old ghost stories about the blood-sucking monsters were real? Cyrus’ knees started to quiver. He followed the froskman through the underwood towards a small marsh. The forest shadows reached far with the coming evening. They stopped at the edge of a muddy puddle. Cyrus listened for danger. All he could hear was his panicked gasps.

“What are we doing?” Edward hissed, hurrying across Cyrus’ back.

“Klappen are daylight sensitive,” Fibian replied, using his webbed fingers to spread puddle mud across Cyrus’ face, “We must make the boat before nightfall. Stay low to the ground and conceal your movements. Klappen have poor eyesight. They hunt mostly through scent and sound.”

“What exactly are they?” Cyrus asked, rushing to camouflage his clothes in the earthy smelling muck.

“Minions of Rorroh’s,” Fibian whispered, “Keep to the shadows and follow me.”

The trio hunched low and crept from tree to hulking tree. Fibian peered over his shoulder. Cyrus followed his gaze up into the forest canopy. The klappen were climbers, Cyrus guessed. He and Fibian moved with stealth as best they could, crawling through small ditches and along fallen logs, avoiding open clearings whenever possible.

Fibian stopped and fell flat to the earth. Cyrus followed. His heavy breath rattled the fallen leaves. Edward crawled to Cyrus’ shoulder, closest to the froskman.

“What is it?” the spider asked, his two eyes searching.

Fibian pointed to the trees above. At first, Cyrus saw nothing, just thick branches and dwindling daylight. Then he noticed something twist ever so slightly and sniff the air. Cyrus’ skin bristled. The creature was brown as a rat, with red, rodent eyes, yet it wore the tattered trousers of a man. It leaped from its perch. With arms much longer than a man’s, it half fell, half glided to the next tree. Ripped membranes of translucent skin stretched from elbow to waist and slowed its descent. It seized the branch with long, clawed hands and let out a muted shriek. It looked starved and diseased and infectious to the touch.

Fibian motioned for the bow and arrows. Cyrus gladly handed them over. The froskman signaled them forward. They crawled away from the klappen and continued along the forest floor. Muffled cries sounded throughout the woods. Branches snapped and cracked overhead. The evening grew darker. More shapes crossed high above. The klappen were on the move, but unable to detect their prey.

Cyrus and company reached a deep ravine, far too wide to jump. Fibian took the rope from over his shoulder and tied a lasso. Then, spying for danger, he threw the lasso across. The loop snared a tree branch.

“You and Edward go first,” Fibian whispered, handing Cyrus the rope, “I will follow.”

Cyrus took the rope in both hands. The fibers were coarse and biting. He tested his grip. Strong enough, he figured. The branches above crackled.

“Cyrus,” Edward gasped, crouched on his shoulder.

Cyrus almost screamed. He looked overhead. A dark form stooped in the tree limbs and tasted the night. Had it seen them? The sky was growing dark. What was Cyrus supposed to do? If he stayed, more klappen would come. If he swung across, the creature would surely sense them. Cyrus froze, his hands shaking.

Quickly and silently, Fibian drew an arrow and fired. The klappen clutched its ribs and attempted to scream. The shaft had pierced its lungs. It toppled from the tree and hit the ground dead, rolling into the ravine.

“Go,” Fibian whispered.

Cyrus swung across the bog with Edward clinging to his collar. He struck the far side of the gully hard and had to scramble up the steep bank. The trees above quivered with the swish and rattle of newcomers. More klappen! Cyrus’ thoughts became erratic. He scurried to the base of a large tree trunk and wedged himself between thick roots. His side ached, and his back was slick with sweat. Shining eyes peered down at him, then the shadows came alive with panting and wheezing.

Fibian’s bow thrummed four times from across the ravine. Four klappen dropped to the ground, unable to shriek. The branches grew still. Cyrus stuffed his muddy hair under his cap and exhaled a long-held breath. Things were getting too close. He wanted Fibian here now so they could get to the boat. The rope! Fibian needed the rope passed back to him if he was to cross.

Cyrus pushed to his feet. He caught the sudden smell of excrement and urine. He looked to his left. There, sniffing the very tree he hid behind, was a fifth klappen. Holy Sea Zombie! The creature did not blink, just drooled and bared its rotted fangs as it hunted its prey with all its senses.

“Cyrus, do something,” Edward whispered, as he crawled up his collar.

Cyrus remembered his blade and drew it. The creature perked up at the sound of steel against leather. It began to narrow in on them. Remembering Fibian’s training, Cyrus focused on the klappen’s emaciated neck. The fiend drew closer. Cyrus backed a foot away. The creature became desperate at the sound. Its nostrils flared, and its hands groped the tree. Cyrus fixed his grip on the knife, as Fibian had shown him, ready to strike.

“Watch out!” Edward cried.

The creature pounced cat-like, driving Cyrus to the ground. Cyrus lost his weapon. The klappen shrieked and snapped at his neck. Cyrus, fighting to get both hands on the villain’s boney chest, forced it back. The klappen doubled its efforts. Cyrus’ arms began to shake. He switched tactics and began to drive his thumbs into the creature’s windpipe. The fiend choked, its breath putrid and noxious. Cyrus got both feet on the klappen’s hips. He kicked it away. The villain sprawled backward. Cyrus found his knife and scrambled to his feet. The klappen did the same. Instinct and rage clouded Cyrus’ terror. Now he was the aggressor. He thrust at the fiend, slashing at its hands and stabbing at its face. The klappen snarled and clawed, backing itself into a tree. Realizing it was cornered, Cyrus saw the creature grow frantic. Cyrus hesitated. The villain lunged forward all teeth and claws. Cyrus heard something hiss on his shoulder. It was Edward! A ridge of yellow fur spiked across the arachnid’s back. The klappen froze, wide-eyed.

This was Cyrus’ chance. He targeted the klappen’s neck. Fibian’s bow rang. An arrow punched the creature in the chest. It stumbled and shrieked. Its cry was cut short as Cyrus’ blade found its mark, nearly taking the klappen’s head off. Brown blood sprayed across Cyrus’ face and leather jacket, mixing with the dirt and mud. The klappen fell to the ground, thrashing and attempting to scream. Cyrus stood stunned. Had he just killed? Had he won a fight? Fibian’s sleek silhouette appeared out of the brush, dripping bog mud. He stood over top of the struggling klappen and loosed a final arrow into its skull. The creature grew peaceful and struggled no more.

“The sun is down,” Fibian hissed, “The time for stealth is over.”

From across the ravine, the forest came alive with frenzied cries. The klappen knew where they were, and they were coming.