City of the Dead Read online

  from his head. He had the face of a healthy, living human-a very sour-looking

  human face.

  "Uh-oh," Tash whispered.

  Zak looked down at the mummy he'd pushed. The rags had slipped off, and

  beneath them Zak saw a boy his own age, with a big smile on his face.

  Deevee shook his chrome-plated head at Zak. "If you spent more time

  paying attention to my social studies lessons, you might have learned that

  this is a traditional welcome on Necropolis."

  The boy Zak had pushed stood up. "That's right. It's an old tradition. No

  one really remembers why we do it."

  "I remember," said the sour-faced man. "Our ancestors did this to scare

  away the evil spirits that strangers bring. One never knows who might come to

  wake the dead."

  "Wake the dead?" Zak asked. "Are you serious?"

  "That's another one of our old Necropolis superstitions. The old-timers

  believe that if proper respect isn't paid, the dead of Necropolis will rise

  up." The boy shrugged. "Of course no one believes the old legends anymore

  except Pylum here."

  He pointed to the man, who stiffened. "I am the Master of Cerements,

  Kairn. It is my duty to make sure the old ways are kept alive so that the

  ancient Curse of Sycorax does not fall on us."

  "What sort of curse?" Zak queried.

  Kairn rolled his eyes. "Just a tale-teller's story."

  "If you don't believe it, why do you do all this?" Zak asked Kairn.

  "Pylum managed to convince our parents that we should learn about the old

  traditions, so here I am." Kairn shrugged, then flashed a mischievous grin.

  "Besides, it's fun to scare visitors-except when they get violent!"

  Kairn and Zak both laughed.

  Once Pylum had finished his traditional welcome and made sure that no

  "evil spirits" lingered around the visitors, he said they were free to go

  where they pleased in Necropolis.

  "Except the cemetery," the grim man said. "It is sacred ground."

  Hoole told Pylum that they had lost their last star-ship and needed to

  buy a new one. They also needed a place to stay for the night. Pylum suggested

  that they try the local hostel.

  "Come on, I'll take you there," Kairn offered. "Necropolis is a safe

  place, but its streets are old and winding, and it's easy to get lost."

  The streets of Necropolis were dark, but Kairn's personality was bright

  enough to light their way. He laughed and chatted as he guided them through

  the twists and curves of the streets.

  He explained the history of Necropolis's culture as they walked. "The

  legends say that centuries ago, a witch named Sycorax lived in Necropolis. She

  claimed to have the power to bring back the dead. The people accused her of

  being a fake, and they did something horrible. They killed the witch's son and

  told her to bring him back to life."

  "That's awful," Tash said, shivering.

  "Yes, things weren't as peaceful around here in the old days," Kairn

  said.

  "Did it work?" Zak asked. He was very interested in the story. "I mean,

  was she able to bring her son back from the dead?"

  Kairn shook his head. "Instead of bringing her son back, Sycorax died of

  a broken heart. She and her son were buried together."

  "They were what?" Tash asked.

  "They were buried."

  "Buried?" Zak repeated. "You still bury people'?"

  Kairn blinked. "Of course. Don't your people do that?"

  Deevee, always eager to join a conversation about culture, interrupted.

  "Oh, quite a few planets inhabited by humans have abandoned that practice," he

  began cheerily. "They've opted for more efficient methods of body disposal,

  such as cremation or disintegration. In many cultures, Kairn, burial is

  considered a bit old-fashioned."

  "Not here," Kairn sighed. "My people like the old ways. Necropolitans

  have been burying their dead for thousands and thousands of years."

  Zak almost didn't want to ask his next question. "Where... Where do you

  put them all?" He looked down at his feet, imagining what might be underneath

  him at that very moment.

  There was a mischievous gleam in Kairn's eye. "In the cemetery. Maybe

  I'll show you."

  Deevee returned the discussion to its original topic. "You were telling

  us about your culture's legend of the witch Sycorax?"

  "Right. Just before she died, she cursed the entire planet, saying that

  if anyone on Necropolis ever ignored the dead, the dead would rise up to take

  revenge. Ever since then, we Necropolitans have been very careful to keep the

  dead happy. Believe it or not, the Master of Cerements' only job is to make

  sure the old rituals are observed. That's what Pylum does."

  "You sound like you don't believe it," said Tash.

  Kairn snorted. "Those old stories are for little kids. When people die,

  that's it. They don't come back."

  Zak, thinking of his parents, whispered, "I suppose not.

  "Here we are!" Kairn announced cheerfully.

  They had reached the hostel. Like the rest of Necropolis, the outside of

  the building was dark and somber. But light streamed through narrow windows on

  either side of the door, promising warmth inside, and they could hear voices.

  "Great!" Zak said. "Let's get out of the gloom."

  "Wait, Zak," Tash warned. "Remember what happened last time we strolled

  into a strange building. We had blasters pointed at our heads."

  Hoole studied Tash with sudden seriousness. "Is this one of your

  feelings, Tash?" the Shi'ido asked.

  On D'vouran, Tash had felt a sudden sense of dread come over her. No one

  had paid attention-not even Tash herself - - until it was almost too late. She

  didn't know how these feelings worked, or what caused them, but obviously

  Hoole was starting to take them seriously.

  "I'm not sure."

  "That was then and this is now," Zak said lightly. "It couldn't happen

  again."

  He stepped up to the front door, which opened automatically to reveal a

  warmly lit room, where a crowd of Necropolitans sat in small groups. Light

  from a dozen glowpanels shone on delicately carved tables and polished wood

  floors.

  It also gleamed on the barrel of a blaster held in the steady hand of a

  bounty hunter. It was pointed directly at them.

  "My name," the bounty hunter said through an armored helmet, "is Boba

  Fett."

  Tash recognized the name. She'd read about Boba Fett on the intergalactic

  information service known as the HoloNet. Boba Fett was said to be the

  greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy. They said he could bring anyone in dead

  or alive, and he had proved it a hundred times. He had tracked down wanted

  criminals from one end of the galaxy to the other. Once he accepted a job, no

  one could escape him.

  Boba Fett was covered head to toe in armor and weapons. His face was

  hidden behind a gleaming metal helmet. His belt and pack bristled with

  weaponry that included a blaster rifle, deadly wrist rockets, and a nearly

  unbreakable capture cable. But the most terrifying thing about him was his

  low, menacing voice, which made Zak think of sliding gravel. Boba Fett spoke

  to the crowd.

  "Where is Dr. Ev
azan?"

  No one spoke. No one moved. Boba Fett was known throughout the galaxy as

  a deadly shot, and no one wanted his blaster pointed their way.

  "What do we do?" Zak whispered.

  "Nothing," Uncle Hoole said calmly. But Zak could see that Hoole was

  intrigued by the bounty hunter's presence. "This is not our concern."

  Boba Fett spoke so low that his voice was almost a whisper. "I will say

  it once more. I tracked a wanted criminal named N'haz Mit to this planet and

  killed him. A week later I heard N'haz was walking the streets of Necropolis.

  I had to come back and kill him again. I find that strange."

  "Maybe he just got the wrong guy the first time," Tash whispered to Zak.

  "Maybe," Zak replied, "but do you want to tell him that?"

  Boba Fett continued. "My information suggests that Dr. Evazan-the man

  they call Dr. Death-is somehow responsible."

  Fett held up a small holodisk. When he pressed the button, a nearly life-

  size image appeared next to him.

  Dr. Evazan was frightening to behold. Half his face was scarred and

  mangled, and the other half was turned up in an arrogant sneer. As the

  hologram hummed, a recorded voice recited: "Name: Evazan. Also known as Dr.

  Death. Wanted for murder, medical malpractice, practicing medicine without a

  license, torture, and assault. Posing as a medical doctor, Evazan uses

  patients as subjects for unauthorized and often fatal experiments. Currently

  has the death sentence on twelve systems, including-"

  "Enough." Boba Fett switched off the holodisk, and the gruesome image of

  Dr. Evazan vanished. "I want him. Now."

  Boba Fett waited.

  At first no one spoke. Finally it was Pylum who answered. "You are

  mistaken, bounty hunter," he said in a defiant voice. "No scientist is

  responsible for this mystery. If you saw a dead man walking, it is not because

  this Dr. Evazan is on our planet. It is because the people have forgotten the

  old customs. They have abandoned our traditions. They no longer honor those

  who have passed away." Pylum glared at the crowd. "And because of that, the

  dead are rising!"

  CHAPTER 3

  "Ridiculous."

  That was all Boba Fett said in response to Pylum's declaration.

  The other Necropolitans didn't seem to believe Pylum either. A few of

  them even hooted and jeered at the Master of Cerements, despite the presence

  of the bounty hunter. But Pylum continued.

  "You'll see," he said, sweeping his fiery gaze across the crowd in the

  hostel. "The dead are angry, and they will have their revenge."

  The armored bounty hunter waited, but no one volunteered any information

  about Dr. Evazan. Hidden behind his helmet, it was impossible to tell if he

  was angry, frustrated, or unconcerned. When no one answered his demand, he

  turned and stalked out of the hostel.

  "So that was Boba Fett," Zak breathed. "Prime."

  Hoole excused himself to begin his search for their new ship.

  "I will return shortly," he said. "Do not leave the hostel grounds."

  Then, mysterious as always, the Shi'ido slipped out the door.

  Zak and Tash spent the rest of the evening at the hostel with their new

  friend, Kairn. He and Zak took to each other immediately-they had the same

  sense of mischief and humor. Kairn, it turned out, liked to skimboard as much

  as Zak did, and they took turns on the hoverboard that Zak kept with him.

  Kairn even joined them for dinner at the hostel. When the food was

  served, the young Necropolitan scooped some of his dinner into a small bowl

  and put it off to the side without eating it.

  "Saving some for later?" Zak joked. He had wolfed down his own food and

  was about to ask for seconds.

  Kairn laughed. "No. It's another old custom. We set aside a portion of

  every meal in honor of the dead. For most of us, it's more of a tradition now

  than anything we really believe."

  While they ate, Kairn told them more stories about Necropolis and its

  dark past.

  "Lots of legends have built up around the Curse of Sycorax over the

  centuries. Pylum says that if you visit the graveyard at midnight, you can ask

  the witch to bring your loved ones back." Kairn chuckled. "Everyone laughs at

  those stories in the daytime, but I know a few people who more than half

  believe it, and some who've even tried it."

  "Does it only work on buried people?" Zak asked. Tash, beside him, raised

  an eyebrow, but Zak ignored her and went on. "I mean, does the legend only

  work on bodies, or could it work on someone who was disintegrated?"

  "I don't know. But Pylum says the power of the curse knows no boundaries.

  "

  Pylum suddenly loomed over them. His eyes were filled with eager light.

  "Our ancestors were fools not to believe in the power of Sycorax. We must

  believe in the curse of the dead if we are to avoid their mistakes." Pylum

  glared at them for so long that Zak started to become uncomfortable. Then,

  without a word, the Master of Cerements turned away.

  Tash whispered, "He certainly believes what he's saying, doesn't he?"

  Kairn smiled nervously. "He's a fanatic. That's why they made him Master

  of Cerements."

  After dinner Kairn said he had to get home, but he gave Zak a quick wink

  and whispered, "My friends and I have something fun planned for later. I'll

  see if I can include you."

  Zak grinned. He was always ready for fun and adventure.

  "So what do you think?" Zak asked Tash after Kairn had gone.

  "Think about what?" she replied.

  "About these Necropolitans and their beliefs. You know, that the dead

  come back."

  Tash put down her datapad. "Are you kidding? Zak, that's just a legend.

  Even the Necropolitans don't believe it. Don't tell me you do."

  Zak looked down at his shoes. "Um, of course not. But wouldn't it be

  prime if people really did come back? I mean, if you could see the people

  again who-"

  "Zak." Tash made her voice as gentle as she could manage. When their

  parents died, she'd been devastated and hid herself away in her room. But Zak

  had pulled her out of her misery. Now she wondered if he was finally feeling

  their loss as much as she had. "Zak, I miss Mom and Dad as much as you do. But

  you can't think that just because of an old superstition, they might actually

  come back. I know it's hard to think about, but they're gone."

  "How do we know?" Zak retorted. Tash could be frustrating. "We weren't

  there. I didn't tell you my whole dream last night," he confessed. "When I

  saw-When I saw mom, she also asked me something.

  She asked, 'Why did you leave us behind?' Tash, it was like we abandoned

  them!"

  "Stop it, Zak! We didn't abandon them. They were killed by the Empire.

  The whole planet was. And as much we hate it, we have to accept that Morn and

  Dad are gone. They're not coming back."

  But they did come back. That night. As soon as Zak drifted off to sleep.

  Zak again found himself in his bed in his room on Alderaan. He turned his

  head, and looking out the window, he saw the darkness of space, dotted with

  stars.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  He heard the sound of someone rapping at th
e transparisteel window.

  Zak tried to sit up but couldn't. A great weight pressed down on his

  chest, pinning him in place.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  A pale figure floated into the window's view. It was his mother again.

  Behind her another figure floated: his father, his short hair bobbing in the

  vacuum of space. Their dead skin hung from their lifeless bones, but their

  mouths moved in a slow, haunting drawl.

  "Zak, why did you leave us behind?"

  "I didn't," he said hoarsely, "I thought you were dead!"

  "You left us behind!"

  Tap! Tap!

  Their arms banged against the windowpane until it shattered inward with a

  crash.

  The two ghostly images floated through the opening. Zak struggled to

  rise, but he was paralyzed. As they approached, Zak's nostrils filled with the

  smell of slowly decaying flesh. The corpses' skin was wrinkled and cracked

  from exposure to the icy cold of space. Their eyes were no more than black