The music stopped mid-track and the DJ’s voice wafted through the microphone. “Uh-oh, looks like someone’s gonna have to make a speech!” he declared, in a voice so cheesy it could’ve curdled the very room.
The cry of “speech!” echoed around the packed bar as tipsy guests demanded a turn from the birthday girl. Tessa feigned reluctance, then skipped onto the stage and plucked the mic from the DJ’s podgy hands. Lucy’s mom was wearing a cowboy hat and a checkered shirt, with the center tied in a knot to show off her slender midriff.
“Thank y’all soooo much for coming,” Tessa gushed, before taking a moment to giggle, and pick out several faces in the crowd. “Any of y’all that said I wouldn’t make it to thirty? Y’all owe me five bucks,” she said, to the crowd’s delight.
Lucy felt two hands scoop her up. Now she was sat on her dad’s shoulders, with full view of the room.
“There’s my baby! What would I do without you and my boo? Y’all are my superstars and I love ya,” gushed Tessa, waving at them. Lucy waved back, grinning goonishly.
“Don’t tell me they get all your love,” added the DJ, playfully, having found a second mic.
A few wolf whistles from the crowd, to which Tessa feigned outrage, declaring publically her undying affections for her family.
A cake appeared from the far side of the room and the crowd launched into a rowdy rendition of Happy Birthday, as a giant, iced three and zero, studded in candles, processed to the front. Tessa blew them out to the crowd’s applause, and the music resumed. She jumped down from the stage and launched into some energetic dancing.
Lucy’s father steered Lucy away and left her to play with the other children. A neighbor brought them all some cake a while later. The icing was sickly sweet. Lucy wolfed down two fat slices in quick succession. They made her thirsty, but she didn’t care for the kids’ table orange aid – she wanted cream soda.
She squeezed her way through the forest of adult legs once again. She weaved across the train station platform and marched to the front of the bar. The bartender was busy this time, rushing from end to end, grabbing bottles off the shelves and up-ending them, pouring splashes into glasses then adding ice and sodas. She waved, but he wouldn’t make eye contact.
“There you are baby!” cried Tessa.
Her mom drew her into a fierce embrace, shielding Lucy from the rushing wind as a freight train sped by. Tessa propped Lucy against her hip in a koala grip and gave her daughter a beaming smile, as she swayed to the bar’s music. Lucy’s face lit up and the two of them giggled at each other.
“Sweetie, I’ve been looking for you alllll night, where’s my baby been?” cooed her mom.
“Playing,” giggled Lucy, pulling a breathing mask over her mouth.
“Playing, huh? Wish I could be playing. I gotta talk to all these boring adult people. You wanna swap?” whispered her mom, conspiratorially.
“No,” giggled Lucy, behind the mask.
“What you doing up here anyways? Is someone rooting for another cream soda?” said her mom, with a wink.
Lucy nodded, grinning.
“Cream soda for my baby, and a JD coke for her momma,” declared Tessa, tapping the bar with her knuckles. “You are just my world, you know that honey? You’re my world.” Tessa nuzzled Lucy’s neck with her nose. It tickled, making Lucy giggle further, as she bathed in the scent of her mother’s perfume.
***
Lucy awoke sharply. There was a voice outside the window. Daylight shone through the crack in the curtains.
“Son of a bitch, I knew I should’ve come sooner. Check it – someone’s broke in.”
The voice outside belonged to a woman.
Lucy leapt up from the sofa. The blanket and her mother’s diary fell off her as she dashed to the far side of the room, grabbing her pistol as she moved. She crept to the lounge door and waited behind it. The stranger shoved the front door open, dislodging Lucy’s improvised door-stopper in the process. Footsteps marched across the hallway and towards the lounge.
“Don’t move,” said Lucy, levelling the pistol at the woman’s head as she entered the room.
The stranger was around twenty years old. She raised her arms in immediate surrender, her eyes wide with fear.
“Please don’t kill me,” the young woman begged. Then her mouth slackened, and her arms faltered. She stared at Lucy in disbelief. “Oh my god – it’s you. You’re… you’re Lucy,” said the woman.
Lucy’s jaw dropped, but she kept the pistol raised.
“I’m Shona,” said the woman, lowering her hands further. “I’m your sister.”
SIX
Blood
___________________________
Lucy lowered the pistol. “I don’t have a… How do you…?”
“I’m your half-sister. Mom showed me pictures of you,” said Shona.
“When?” said Lucy.
“Before she – before the virus,” said Shona.
“So she’s dead?” said Lucy.
Shona nodded. Lucy lowered the pistol and slumped into the armchair.
“May I?” said Shona, gesturing to the couch.
“Of course,” said Lucy, waving her through, and setting the pistol down on the coffee table. “Sorry about the gun. Life’s – you know. What happened to mom?”
“She died in the first week. It was the virus that got her. I buried her properly. We can visit the grave if you want. I’m so sorry – you’ve come all this way, this must be so awful. How did you even make it here from Louisiana?” said Shona.
“I’m from San Francisco,” said Lucy, matter-of-factly.
“Oh, sorry. Mom said Clinton,” said Shona.
“Clinton’s where she left us,” said Lucy, staring at the coffee table.
“Are you on your own?” said Shona.
Lucy laughed once, bitterly. “Yeah Shona, I’m on my own,” she replied.
“It’s not safe to be alone in this city. Please, come back with us – we have food, and hot water, and so much to talk about I don’t even know where to begin,” said Shona.
“We?” said Lucy.
“Hey Troy, come say hi,” called Shona, leaning into the hallway.
A car door slammed outside and footsteps approached the building, crossing the threshold, and the short hall.
“Troy, you’re not gonna believe this – it’s some kinda miracle – this is my sister, Lucy,” said Shona, beaming.
A tall, well-fed man entered the room, with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. He wore a sweeping robe of brilliant white. A bronze medallion hung from his neck by a crimson cord. Lucy gasped.
“Lucy, this is my partner, Troy – though most people call him Preacher,” said Shona.
“That your pistol, ma’am?” said Troy, to Lucy, aiming the shotgun at her.
“Uh, yeah,” said Lucy, gulping, her eyes flitting to her discarded pistol on the coffee table.
“Shona sweetie, would you pick it up for me?” said Troy, his voice stern.
“Troy, this is so rude, she’s my sister!” said Shona, fetching the pistol.
Troy pocketed the pistol, and slung the shotgun over his shoulder, giving Lucy a smile of genuine warmth.
“Sorry about the hostility, Lucy, but times have changed. I’m hoping they’ll change back. It’s an honor to meet you. If you’ve got half your sister’s genes, then that makes you half perfect. I wanna be clear – you’re family, and that means you’ll always have a place at our table. Break bread with us and shelter with us as long as you need,” he said, with a gracious bow.
“Uh, thank you,” said Lucy, her stomach churning. She looked nervously at Shona, who was smiling, proudly.
“Did you find the photos, honey?” said the Preacher.
“Gosh, I totally forgot, lemme grab them,” said Shona, rootling through the cupboards.
“We got a limited number of vehicles, so I keep trips like this on the DL – otherwise folk get jealous, you know? And fairness is a big thing, now,” s
aid Troy.
“Oh, sure,” said Lucy, watching as Shona scooped up all the photos in the room. She knew exactly which drawers to check.
“That’s all of them,” said Shona.
“OK sweetie, let’s make a move. Lucy, how did you get here – you got a car?” said Troy.
“Uh, it broke down south of the city. I walked here,” she said, swallowing nervously.
“She started in San Francisco,” added Shona.
“That’s a long way. To make a journey like that, in times like these? That’s real love. I think it makes you something of a pilgrim, Lucy. Come on now, let’s get home – this calls for a celebratory lunch. We shall mark the pilgrim’s arrival,” said Troy, warmly.
***
As they drove across town it became clear they were entering the Faithful’s territory. Many of buildings they passed had long black sheets billowing from the uppermost windows, trailing down several floors. They’d even reached two skyscrapers. At ground level, gone were the black painted crosses on street corners – there were no infected streets here. In their place was a new emblem: a painted white ring with a horizontal line through the middle.
They were in the historic quarter of the city. Centuries-old stone buildings stood nestled among their taller, glass descendants. At every checkpoint they passed, the guards would pay their respects to Troy with great sincerity. He would offer them a blessing – words of encouragement and love – and introduce Lucy, ‘their newest pilgrim’.
Finally, they came to a stop. One McKinley Square read the inscription above a stately building. The square was bustling with people moving between buildings, ferrying carts of water, bread, laundry, books, wood, tools. Everyone seemed to have a clear purpose. Only a handful of patrolling men and women with guns wore black robes. But the guns were holstered, or slung over shoulders, and the guards engaged in convivial conversation with their non-uniformed peers.
Lucy climbed out of the car, with the others. She could smell the sea. She took in the tall, imposing stone building opposite. Mariott’s Custom House read the inscription. The front featured broad, neo-classical stone pillars several stories high, adorned by a temple-like triangular pediment. Out of this rose a stone tower easily two dozen stories high. It was clad in billowing black sheets bearing the white emblem.
“This way,” said Shona, taking Lucy by the arm and steering her towards the first stately building. It was seven stories high, and had a dozen windows spanning the width of the building. Each was inset among wide stone walls, with decorative touches of masonry. A band of stone cornicing wrapped around the upper floors of the building, culminating in an elliptical archway that drew the eye towards the center of the building.
Shona led the way inside. Much of the ground floor office space had been converted into a canteen, where the three of them took a seat. The Preacher was immediately beset with questions from fellow workers, so Shona took Lucy to the buffet, where they each received a portion of hot, smoked fish and corn bread. Shona took a portion for the Preacher, too.
They retook their seats. Troy invited Shona to say grace.
“My Preacher, my brothers and sisters, for this gift we thank you, and by the grace of the Almighty, we will prevail,” she said, scrunching up her eyes in concentration as she delivered each syllable with sincerity.
“Together,” said the Preacher, raising his cup of water.
“Together,” said Shona, smiling. She raised hers, and intimated to Lucy to copy. The three clinked glasses and ate.
The Preacher was keen to know details of Lucy’s journey so far. She gave an honest account of the creatures, and the train, her loss of Dan, and her struggle to survive the winter alone. She told them of the military, and the Queen in NYC, but stopped short of any mention of the white powder disease. The Preacher listened intently, and pressed her for details about the D4 creatures that were plaguing the rest of the country.
“From your accounts, Lucy, I believe spring will bring us these creatures, and they will be our greatest test yet. I must humbly ask you to help us prepare for this. With your knowledge, and the Lord’s wisdom, we can protect my people from this threat,” he said, solemnly.
Shona nodded eagerly in approval, and looked to Lucy, expectantly. Lucy muttered an awkward pledge to help in any way she could.
“We’re being punished for our arrogance,” continued Troy.
“Amen,” said Shona, nodding further.
“First God sent us the virus. Those who repented, and those whom She chose, survived. Then came Her winter, and with it the justice of nature. Nature exists to teach us humility, Lucy. With the first thaw, God sent Her messengers to me, who told of the state of the city. I knew I could not sit idly by and allow such barbarism to persist. I looked into my heart and I felt the love of the Lord and I answered Her call. We eradicated the unspeakables, Lucy. We saved this city from its descent into savagery, and the gravest of carnal sins. But there is work yet to be done. There is a new scourge in this city, and we must punish the sinners. We will track them down, one by one, and cleanse their souls in the name of the Lord. But our work will not end there, Lucy. Spring is coming, and with it, there will be a day of reckoning for those who have abandoned their fellow human. For the police, holed in up in their prison fortress, and for the dispassionate, hiding behind their walls. Justice will come to them, Lucy, the Lord’s justice. And the weak, the vulnerable, those who kept their faith, and those who have found it, they will become the strong. Theirs is the future, Lucy. And so it will be done,” said Troy.
***
“Are you ready?” said Shona, knocking on the door.
Lucy’s apartment was beautiful. It had been a hell of a climb to reach the fifteenth floor of the Mariott’s tower, but the view of the city was incredible. She had luxurious bedding, a candle to read by, and a choice of books from the hotel library.
“Just a minute,” said Lucy, as she changed out of her work clothes. The smell of fish lingered in them after an afternoon of gutting, de-boning, and smoking that day’s haul. She froze as she caught sight of her back in the mirror. A fresh lesion had appeared between her shoulder blades. It looked raw, and was already the width of her fist.
A church bell sounded three times.
“We don’t want to be late,” said Shona, tapping at the door again.
“Nearly there,” called Lucy, as she tugged on her shirt, firmly, along with a jumper and woolly hat.
“How do I look?” she said, opening the door to Shona.
“They fit you so well!” cheered Shona, who had lent her the clothes so that she’d have a non-work set.
Lucy’s face fell. Shona was wearing a black robe.
“Wow, you’ve got one of those huh?” said Lucy, trying to contain her disgust.
“And now so do you!” chimed Shona, proudly whipping out a spare robe from behind her back.
“This is for me?” said Lucy, holding the garment at arm’s length.
“You’ll need it, you’re not allowed in church without one. We actually don’t have enough right now, but there are lots of masses every day, so people share them. I pulled a few strings – got you a good one,” said Shona, with a playful nudge.
“Uh, thanks,” said Lucy.
The bell sounded again: three chimes at one-second intervals.
“Quick, put it on,” said Shona, helping Lucy into it. “It totally suits you! Let’s go – we don’t wanna be stuck in the back row,” she added, setting off excitedly.
As they descended the staircase, they joined a growing trickle of robe-clad residents, all heading to the central conference room in the building across the square. At the door, every resident was patted down by the ushers.
“No weapons allowed inside the church,” whispered Shona, explaining.
Lucy winced as the usher patted her lesion. She followed Shona inside the crowded room. The first two rows were full already, but Shona squeezed them into the third.
“I know what you’re thinki
ng,” whispered Shona.
Lucy raised an eyebrow.
“How comes the Preacher’s partner doesn’t get a front row seat? We’re all equal in the eyes of the Lord, Lucy,” said Shona, with a chuckle.
Within five minutes the conference room was packed. There was an excited murmuring across the hundred or so robe-clad residents, but with the sounding of a gong, they all fell silent and rose to their feet. Lucy copied, and watched as Troy strode onto the stage, his white robe glimmering in the candlelight.
“Sisters, brothers, friends, a blessed evening to you all,” he boomed.
“And to you, oh Preacher,” replied the crowd.
“Be seated, please. Tonight, I have joyous news. The Lord, in Her infinite wisdom, has delivered unto us a lesson,” declared Troy.
“Hallelujah!” cried Shona, with dozens of others from the crowd, all on the edges of their seats.
“We know that the Lord is true to us. She guides us, and we will follow. For those who follow prosper!” said Troy.
More cries of confirmation from the crowd.
“We have been chosen by the Lord. Chosen to survive, chosen to take Her message to the others; to Her children who have strayed from the path of righteousness. She chose us to survive the virus, She chose us to survive the winter, She chose us to defeat the unspeakables,” shouted Troy.
“Amen, amen, amen!” cheered the crowd.
“But now, my faithful children, the Lord has tasked us once again. She has marked out those who have forsaken her, those who have sinned and continue to sin. She has put upon them a plague, a sickliness, to punish their arrogance and their folly. It is on us, as Her instruments on this Earth, to complete this work She has so wisely begun. Will you let the Lord guide your spirit? Will you open your heart to Her wisdom? Will you be a vessel for Her work?” cried Troy.
“We will!” replied the crowd, in forceful unison.
“My brothers and sisters, some of you have seen this curse first hand. Others of you have heard me speak of it. The scourge. The plague. The sickness. It is the Lord’s work. She has marked out those whom we must cleanse, and cleanse them we shall. But there is a second, more heinous group of sinners we must also address. Those who chose to deny the Lord’s will!” declared Troy.
Convulsive Box Set Page 46
