My eyes snap open. The moon is glowing in the skies, accompanied by once more distant stars. I'm cold, and my body is rocking gently, drifting in the water. On my chest I can see the silhouette of something small, twitching around, sitting up on its haunches.

The rat has made it as well, and for some odd reason that makes me glad. I raise my dripping arm from the water and tickle the animal behind its ear. It chirps cheerfully and scuttles about, its little paws scritching over my vest.

About to work out where I actually am, my bum scrapes over the sand. Since I had somehow imagined myself far at sea, I don't expect that. I tilt over and the rat gets chucked into the drink.

The animal squeals in protest, but rats seem to be excellent swimmers. In any case, the critter makes it onto the beach where it sits down and enjoys a thorough wash.

I sit up and drag myself onto the sand close to my rodent pal, where I collapse on the seaweed.

Not a ghost in sight.

Apart from myself, that is. Whereby, technically I'm a zombie.

Which means I couldn't drown, simply because I was already dead.

Duh, should have remembered that.

Where the heck have Amelie and Candice got to? Wet and cold all over, I push myself up from the sand and scan the beach for my partners.

Nothing. But they would never leave me alone, which means—

"Sandra." Amelie steps out from the bushes further down the beach. "Girl, I'm so glad to see you."

I rush up, stumbling twice over things half-submerged in the sludgy sand. One of them is a blaster, the second a body, the third I don't know what. I don't care either; I've got my partner back.

We sink into a squelching hug, since Amelie is no drier than I am.

"Where's Candice?"

My partner straightens. "I have no idea. Actually, I was hoping she would be with you. Had quite the ride, I tell you. At one point I thought I would drown until I worked out I didn't need to breathe. Zombies have their advantages, you know? Pretty resilient too."

"Which begs the question, what could have happened to poor Candice?"

We stare out at sea. I sense a weight on my sodden leg and look down. Lo-and-behold, here's the rat again, clambering up my trousers and onto my shoulder. Most likely, the pocket is too wet for my new pal.

From somewhere come motoring noises, the sound of heavy machinery. Headlights slice through the shrubbery on the other end of the bay.

We look at each other.

"Uh, oh," Amelie says. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Me neither. If that's the army, we'd better not be around. Zombies and military just don't get on."

"Could be a rescue team."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No. Let's scupper. We're of no help to Candice if we're dead."

That's a stupid comment, but I sort of get what she means.

"Where to? The hospital?" No sooner the words are out does the answer pop up: The hospital will be their first port of call.

Amelie must have come to the same conclusion. She swings away from me and stares at the long strip of beach veiled by a soft haze that could be anything—dampness, the weather turning, or the leftovers of the ghosts.

Here and there objects are visible in the mist, a shoe, a weapon, and...things that might once have been people, colleagues that didn't make it. I'm surprised we can see them, though. Yes, dawn is fingering the horizon in a pearly glow, but surely there isn't enough light to make out so much detail. Looks like my eyesight has improved in a hurry.

Unless the effect is caused by the gazillion of headlights now flickering through the trees, torches that slice from left to right and nova-style spotlights that turn the night into day. The rumbling of many vehicles is sending shock waves shuddering through the ground.

"The old lighthouse." Amelie nods to herself and, without further ado, she is off.

Since I don't have a better suggestion, I follow along the muddy beach, jumping over heaps of sea weed and the things that lie strewn about. Amelie seems sure of her bearings, so I leave her to it, content to just jump and run and dodge the low-hanging branches once we enter the coastal forest. That doesn't last long, we're out in the open already dashing along a piece of longish headland that extends into the troubled sea like a rocky finger. At the tip of it sits a conical tower with a rounded roof, the lighthouse Amelie promised.

My bare feet slap-slap up the metal treads, drawing a hollow echo from inside the tower, filled with the chillness of winters past and the acid reek of urine.

"Ugh, This place seems to be an open house."

"Used to come here as a kid." Amelie is running up the steps. In life, she never was that fast. "Wasn't that bad before, sorry."

"Don't worry, it'll give us a quick overview, and then we can decide what to do."

We wind our way up the staircase, up and up towards an odd glow at the top.

"Amelie, wait a moment."

"Huh? We don't have much time. Once they've secured the hospital, they will come here."

I point at the glow. "Don't you see that?"

She raises her head and sniffs like a terrier. "Didn't see that. Since I don't want to run around with a broken neck, I kept my eyes on the steps."

For somebody who has just re-possessed her dead body, she has funny notions on her mind, but I kick the thought aside.

I brush past Amelie and slip up to the doorway from where that odd light oozes, amber-coloured, heavy like frozen oxygen.

Something shifts and shuffles inside the room.

The rat dives into my pocket.

"You made so much noise coming up, do you honestly think I don't know you're there? Come on in, I've got a surprise for you."

The voice, thin and reedy, I have heard before. My stomach responds to the pull of gravity.

Rats. The ghost who killed us is still hanging around.

Wordcount 19.354

The music starts spooky, but it is super-beautiful, so please don't worry too much. If this ever were to become a film, I'd love it as the theme music. 

This chapter is dedicated to fellow Scribbler's Societist (sic!) and ONC participant and just general awesome person EaComiskey. She writes the most wonderful stories and has not only one, but two in the ONC. Long may you write!