Restless Dead

Rebecca was growing fond of Atlantis. Not because of the impressive architecture, or the well-oiled machine of monkeys, oviraptors, euoplos, and iguanodons, all with their place in society—certainly not because she respected Queen Rhys. No, it was because Atlantis was full of so much stuff.

Flowerbeds to uproot! Fancy vases to topple over! Mirrors to shatter! So much to sink her teeth into!

Her younger siblings weren’t as an enthusiastic especially Roxanne. But they always went along with what their big sister wanted, and that was good enough for her. She was having fun.

Plus, the buildings in less-than-ideal conditions were perfect for sleeping in unnoticed. Randolph was especially good at sniffing them out. Usually, when they arrived, Rebecca could tell why they were abandoned. They were collapsing, full of dangerous equipment, or almost entirely overgrown by wild foliage.

This time, though… It looked completely ordinary. A huge, sprawling manor, built of solid oak wood. Ivy crept up the sides, a window or two were shattered, but other than that, it was perfectly intact. The stairs were hardly worn. The only sign that anyone had ever been inside recently was the door hanging open, the frame in splinters from when taller dinosaurs had entered.

“What’s wrong with this one, Randolph?” Roxanne asked.

He waved his tail in a shrug. “How should I know? I didn’t ask. But I scouted this place out yesterday, and the whole time I never saw anyone else get close. No one will bother us here.”

“Huh.” Roxanne tilted her head, studying the building, her curiosity unsatisfied. But the explanation was good enough for Rebecca. By this late in the day—artificial as they were down in Atlantis—she was tired after a productive bout of trouble-making, and she didn’t want a single thing interrupting her while she got some sleep. She pushed past the old door and into the foyer. To avoid prying eyes and unwelcome drafts, she ventured deeper. Her siblings followed her.

Artificial orange sunlight filtered in through the windows, a sharp contrast to the natural darkness of the interior. Nothing about it looked out of the ordinary, yet there was something about… the smell…

“Like something died but never rotted,” Roxanne murmured.

“Oh, good, I thought I was imagining it,” Randolph said.

“Is that a good thing? That means that something else is in here with us.”

“And whatever it is,” Rebecca said, “it needs a bath.”

Despite her complaining, Rebecca really didn’t care. She could handle a little stench. She wasn’t a wimp, unlike-

As she rounded a corner, she froze in her tracks. A shadow fell at the end of the hall. The imposing shadow of an iguanodon.

“I thought you said no one came in here,” she hissed to Randolph, who along with Roxanne was peeking around her.

“I never saw anyone going in or out. But someone could be living here…”

Rebecca was not in the mood to put up with anyone. She wanted to take her damn nap.

“Hey, plant-eater!” she shouted, taking bold steps towards the shadow. “This is our turf now, so get lost!”

Roxanne held her breath as her elder sister stared the specter down… But nothing happened. The iguanodon didn’t shout back, didn’t charge them, didn’t even dismissively turn away. It just… stood there.

Fine! If they wanted to be that way, Rebecca would play along! With a roar—and ignoring Roxanne’s pleas—she whipped around the corner and pounced, sinking her fangs into the iguanodon’s neck and scratching its feathered hide with her claws.

She backed off immediately. The taste was… wrong! All wrong! She spat out the flesh she’d torn off. It almost looked like cotton, but what kind of iguanodon was made out of cotton?

“Gross! What is this stuff?” Randolph walked up, no longer fearing the iguanodon, and poked at the strange, fluffy flesh.

“Oh, I’m going to be sick.” Roxanne gagged.

Rebecca was unable to get the horrible, stale taste out of her mouth. She looked up at the iguanodon. It still hadn’t moved an inch, even as its white flesh hung limply from its wounds, marring its sleek, black feathers. Its eyes were lifeless and glossy. Dead, but not rotting.

“What’s wrong with it?” Roxanne wondered aloud, turning her back to the corpse. “Was it sick with something? A parasite? Mushrooms?”

“The last thing this place needs is parasitic mushrooms.” Randolph backed away, not taking his eyes off of the fuzz on the carpet. “I think we need to get out of here.”

Normally, Rebecca wouldn’t care if her siblings protested. They all knew that, in the end, she was their leader, and she knew best. Randolph and Roxanne could be overly cautious, too scared of every shadow.

But there was something wretched, forsaken, indescribably wrong about this place. Rebecca couldn’t stand it; she didn’t even want to tear up the diseased iguanodon. She just wanted to get far, far away from it, and hope she wouldn’t be tasting its cotton guts forever.

“Let’s go,” she said, and her siblings were all too eager to follow her out of the haunted house.