The Escape by Joshua Witsaman

When you think of a jail cell you might assume that it was familiar to me, that I might somehow find a jail cell comfortable.  As if dimly lit stone walls were a home-away-from-home for someone like me; just because I happen to be dating a Necromancer.

Yes I am dating a Necromancer, her name is Tabitha.  We’ve been together for two years now.

The thing is, necromancers don’t spend an inordinate amount of time hanging out in crypts.  Everyone always imagines there’s some sort of gothic throne of bone stashed away in an out-of-the-way crypt somewhere, but in reality that’s just not how it is.

I mean the two of us have been known to occasionally rummage through the odd crypt or two on the weekends.

And we’ve definitely had sex in a crypt, a few times.

But the majority of our time hanging out is certainly not spent in old tombs and open graves. 

Frankly that’s kind of a misconception about necromancers and what they do. 

Though I suppose I can understand, I didn’t really know anything about Necromancers before I met Tabitha.

Typically I like to think of myself as a rational thinker.  I’m a chemist after all and someone who is otherwise very scientifically oriented.  In fact I used to say “there are only two things I can’t explain with science; magic and what happens after death” which of course makes dating a necromancer really trying at times.

I remember seeing Tabitha for the first time – she was stoic and aloof.  Ironically we met at a funeral.  They were burying Dr. Gregory Petrov, a mutual friend we weren’t aware we had in common.  He was a chemistry professor I studied under and a longtime mentor of mine.

Apparently Dr. Petrov had been helping Tabitha with her work.  He had been providing her with diamino-maleo-nitrile, a complex chemical compound which happens to be a prerequisite for primordial life as well as a standard ingredient in many of the most important necromantic rituals. 

After awkwardly staring at Tabitha across the crowd of mourners and getting caught doing so, we eventually struck up a conversation afterwards. 

She is an intriguing individual.  Brilliant, cultured, and wise beyond her years.  All of which are a result of her occult practices.  As it turns out you can meet a lot of interesting people as a Necromancer – people from across hundreds of cultures and points in time thousands of years ago.

Even though I still don’t completely understand it all, being with Tabitha and witnessing the things that I have, has given me a tremendously broadened view of the world. 

She is simply on a completely different level. 

Tabitha has a deep and casual understanding of the entire human experience.  I can’t even begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge she’s accumulated over the course of her work.  That type of perspective has definitely left her cold – emotionally as well as physically. 

She maintains an outward stoicism of elevated indifference.  And the mystical practices she engages in have resulted in her having an icy, almost corpse-like touch.  

However she harbors a deep passion. 

There is a fire in those big brown eyes of hers which she stubbornly tries to conceal.  On those occasions when I’m able to pull her away from her alchemy and rituals and am given a chance to stare into those eyes, I can see it there. 

It is that hidden passion of hers which ultimately drew me to her.

At first I only provided the chemical mixtures she required, the ones which Professor Petrov had previously made available.  But when she started requesting specific compounds which were more reactionary and couldn’t be mixed ahead of time I coyly insisted on joining her to combine the chemicals myself, in order to ensure a proper mixture of course.

Christ, the things I have seen! 

You wouldn’t believe it, horrible, terrible things.  The process to bring them back is, well - unsettling is about the easiest way to put it.

But oh, the knowledge gained from the dead – the things she has investigated – the secrets she knows, the centuries of learning she’s accumulated in her brief 33 years of life. 

Don’t get me wrong it’s a dark, disturbing practice and absolutely not for the faint of heart.  I still have trouble watching those things, those people, being reconstructed from small tufts of hair or samples of rotten flesh – expanding into wholly reanimated bodies.

And after witnessing her intensity during the strenuous rituals and her unwavering control of those often monstrous creations she has invoked – well it’s inspiring.  Beyond inspiring, it’s mesmerizing. 

Honestly I’d follow her to the ends of the earth and farther.  I am hers.

I was trying to explain all of this to my lawyer as he sat across from me in the county jail cell. 

His name is Brian – he’s a friend as well as my lawyer.  He seemed completely confused and his tone was unusually impatient.

“Ok, all of that is pretty weird.”  He finally said. “And you and your girlfriend sure seem like you’ve got a really unique relationship, but none of this explains what happened, why you got arrested, and how she was involved!”

He was looking through the papers he’d brought with him into the cell and held them up for me to see.

“The police report mentions some pretty extensive charges here – breaking and entering, burglary, trafficking restricted artifacts, destruction of property, and the list goes on – but the thing is the surveillance cameras show you, her, and a group of at least 20 others in the museum at the time of your arrest but none of the others were anywhere to be seen when the arrest was made. 

Whatever your relationship is like between you and Tabitha it looks like she, and your friends, left you out to dry here.”

He took a deep breath and seemed to gather his thoughts.  

“We can easily work out a better deal in a trial if you help the investigation immediately – and you can start by telling them who the others are and where they might possibly be now.”

He leaned in close to me with a very sincere expression on his tired face.

“It’s pretty clear that these people aren’t your friends.”  He told me.  “You’re sitting in jail and they’re out there running free.”

I’m not someone prone to fits of laughter but I was hit with the king laugh in that moment – I had certainly tried to preface everything as best as I could – but, well here we were, he just didn’t understand. 

How could he?

“No!  They certainly aren’t my friends!”  I said as I continued to laugh like a madman. 

I could hear the laughter escape me as if it were coming from somewhere else – I couldn’t stop. 

“No they are not my friends at all!”  I said  “And trust me, you wouldn’t WANT friends like that, not like them.”

Thinking longer about those ‘friends’ quickly evaporated the laughter.

“I’ll tell you where they are Brian – they’re on their way here and she’s with them.”

He thought I was insane – I could see it in his eyes. 

You can tell so very much from a person’s eyes.  Like I knew so much about Tabitha – my cold, dark, Tabitha.  I knew she was coming for me.

I then went on to quickly tell him everything else he wanted to hear – at least the parts I thought he’d understand.

I explained that Tabitha and I had been robbing museums and private collections, seeking out specific artifacts she might be able to use in her research.  Items that held a specific meaningful association with their long dead owners or pieces that might contain trace elements of DNA from a bygone era. 

These things were not only important for raising the dead but also as trading materials among the network of other necromancers across the globe.  It was of course a tremendously small network of individuals, and widely dispersed worldwide, but this league of Necromancers was impressively connected and eagerly shared materials amongst themselves. 

It is a secretive and horrific fraternity but incredibly enthusiastic about their work and very encouraging regarding each other’s progress.

But that wasn’t the extent it. 

Tabitha of course stole things, utilizing her nearly limitless stock of thrall zombies to assist her.

The thralls were just random undead – the average dead, she called them - and only partially reanimated.  They were the most hideous – the malformed –still rotten yet they lived. 

The thralls could provide distractions, smash down particularly stubborn doors, throw off motion sensors, defy heat sensors, and do the heavy lifting. 

Without Tabitha nearby the thralls could quickly become confused, angry, and even dangerous.

Thankfully she’s cautious and an expert – there have never been any such incidents.  They’re all quickly put down after their usefulness is at an end.

Once Tabitha has liberated the artifacts required for her rituals and she has learned the things she’s been yearning to understand she carefully collects any remaining organic materials in order to trade amongst her fellow necromancers - for even the most prized reanimated individuals such as scholars, kings, and explorers of the ancient world must also be put down when their usefulness is at an end. 

Even though these individuals are completely reconstituted and often allowed to reside with her over the course of several days – they too can present their own dangers in other ways.

But there are always plenty of leftovers – to use later and to dole out amongst her friends.

As for the artifacts themselves – well that is one of Tabitha’s most noble pursuits, and might be what solidified my devotion to her – when she’s done with the artifacts, she returns them. 

Oh not to the museums of course!  Nothing ever goes back to those “display cases of imperialism” as she calls them.

Whenever possible Tabitha returns the artifacts herself – smuggling them across borders and across long journeys – using her powers and other trickery to conceal them from the authorities.  She always does so personally, returning the long-looted pieces to the ancient graves and forgotten tombs which have been revealed to her through her consultations with the dead. 

Africa, South America, India, Burma –these treks often take weeks.  She does so in order to ensure that at least some small debt is repaid for her manipulations of the dead and the knowledge she has acquired.

I could see that Brian had further questions, I couldn’t blame him.

“But if you and her are so skilled at this – if you’ve been doing this for this long why did you get caught now?  What went wrong, besides her wanting to get you out of the picture?  I still don’t see what exactly you contribute to this operation?”

“Operation” the word made me chuckle.  He still wanted to think of this as some sort of criminal cartel.  

How could I explain to him that I would do anything for Tabitha? 

That I was so enamored with not only her powers and demeanor but her integrity – her noble pursuit of knowledge and understanding of the world and humanity as a whole – the darkness and horror she practices is only a tool to achieve knowledge. 

A perspective beyond anything science can hope to achieve. 

How could I make him realize that I was her living thrall – serving her every whim – voluntarily in her service, not because I understood how she did these things but rather because I understood the immensity of which she could achieve?

I thought about trying to explain all this to him but it was too late – they were here.

I heard the crash within the office of the jailhouse out front – the officer there releasing a short scream.  I hope they didn’t kill him, I’d feel bad about that.

Then the clawing could be heard on the other side of the heavy security door at the end of the hallway. 

Tabitha must have been in a hurry because they didn’t bother with the door long, instead they simply clawed and bashed their undead fists through the cinder blocks on either side.

The door fell inward to the floor with a steel thunk - dust and debris spilling out behind it.

My lawyer friend backed away to the other end of the hall and the empty cells further down.

Standing up I watched the thralls approach – they never got any easier to look at.  Rotten flesh hanging from bones.  Ragged clothing and ragged muscles draped side by side. 

And those dead eyes, slack jaws, and bile stained teeth. 

They’re just a lot.

They started to move past my cell intent on following Brian to the other end of the hallway.

“He’s a friend!”  I yelled above their groans and hisses.  “He’s my lawyer!”  I added, as if the zombies cared.

Then I heard her voice – “Get him out of there!” Tabitha said, cooly commanding the dozen or so fiends at her disposal.  And without hesitation they turned to the bars of my cell.

The slew of dead hands clung to the front of the cell and began pulling and tearing wildly – they were like crazed primates seeking escape from a zoo.  They tugged and convulsed with such force that several of the zombies literally tore themselves apart in the process. 

Their efforts loosened the hinges of the cell door enough that the hinges were able to be shaken free from the crumbling masonry of the ceiling.  Tearing the door free they threw it aside into the hall.

The thralls were motionless then moving only to part along either side of the door, making way for their mistress.

“My love.”  Tabitha whispered. “I’m sorry.”  She said nothing else but moved quickly.  She embraced me for a moment wrapping her cold limbs around me before bodily lifting me and scooping me up in her embrace.

I threw my arms around her neck as she turned back to the hallway.  With the zombies leading the way we escaped into the comforting inkiness of the night.