This Land of Monsters

by Tim Gabrielle

  Melissa opened the freezer to find it stocked completely full of meat and vegetables and the fridge filled with an assortment of fruit and fresh milk.

  “Nothing here feels quite right,” she said as she took out the milk and sniffed it before placing it back. “What’s our plan for today?”

  Nash handed her a fork as the two of them ate the fruit out of the opened can. “I think we should check in on everyone else from the Fort and see how they’re settling in. After that, I guess we should go meet with Fletcher.”

  “Ugh,” she said as she finished the peaches and tossed the can into a wastebasket in the corner of the kitchen. “I hate having Duncan around again.”

  “I know,” said Nash as he placed the two forks in the sink behind him. “He’s close to Fletcher, which makes him more dangerous than he ever was before. It’s not going to be comfortable but I think we need to just roll with the punches around here until we decide our plan of action.”

  Nash closed and locked the front door and jiggled the doorknob before they made their way down the driveway and onto the road. A pickup truck pulled up and two men in overalls stepped out, not taking notice of Nash and Melissa as they closed the doors. They were both rough looking men in their thirties, with long straggly hair and sullen faces. Nash and Melissa watched as they pulled gardening equipment from the back of the truck and made their way up the walkway toward the house, not saying a thing as they began their work.

  “Gardeners?” whispered Melissa as they turned and watched them. One of the men started a lawn mower and pushed it along the edge of the house.

  “Apparently,” he said. “This just gets weirder by the minute.”

  The two of them walked down the street together and listened to the hum of the lawn mower as the cries of the dead continued to cascade over the brick wall. Nash stopped in the middle of the road and walked to the line of trees that ran along the wall.

  “What are you doing?” asked Melissa as she watched Nash climb up one of the trees with lower branches.

  “I want to get a look at the other side,” he said. He didn’t have to climb very high into the tree to get a good vantage point of the carnage outside. Hundreds of howlers and slowpokes stood before him, screaming at him as he stood on a thick branch. They weren’t smart enough to try and scale the wall, or even apply enough pressure to weaken it; they simply screamed in anger as they met his gaze from above.

  “Nash?” said Melissa from the ground. He turned to see that she was looking backward as Dietrich approached from down the street. Nash took a final look at the howlers and climbed down quickly, joining her in the middle of the street.

  “Quite the view, isn’t it?” said Dietrich as he approached them with his hands in his pockets. The month of dirt and grime had been washed away; his facial hair had been trimmed and his mane of dreadlocks were pulled back and tied behind his head. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a plain green t-shirt, with gray boat shoes on his feet.

  “It sure is,” Nash said as he listened to the cries of the dead. “Mel, there’s hundreds out there.”

  “Hundreds?” she asked, shocked by the number. Neither of them had seen anywhere close to that amount.

  “They span the length of the wall, for the most part,” said Dietrich. “Fletcher’s learned how to control them easily enough. They really are manageable.”

  “People don’t leave here often, do they?” asked Nash as they continued to walk down the street.

  “No; no, they don’t. He’s all about power and allegiance. Keeping us all safe in here is his way of guaranteeing those two things.”

  “Do you feel safe?” asked Melissa. Dietrich smiled and looked at the ground for a moment while they walked. She hadn’t noticed it before, under all the grime and mud, but he was quite handsome.

  “Like I told you both yesterday, if you can play his game, you’ll be fine. It’s those that don’t fall in line that have trouble here. I get the feeling the two of you aren’t ones to just fall in line.”

  “I get that same feeling about you,” said Nash as they turned a corner and walked past more homes.

  “I have my reasons for sticking around,” he said.

  “Care to elaborate?” asked Melissa.

  “We all have our reasons for staying here. You’ll find yours in time. Has he asked you to come to the church yet?” asked Dietrich.

  “He came by this morning to give us our bracelets and told us to come by whenever,” said Nash. Dianna stepped out on to her porch at that moment, and Nash felt a surge of relief when he saw her. Melissa ran ahead toward her. “Anything we should know going in?”

  “Dietrich!” yelled Duncan at the end of the street. He looked irritated as he watched Dietrich and Nash talking to each other.

  “Just fall in line,” he said to Nash. “You’ve got friends here.” Dietrich bounded off toward Duncan and the two of them disappeared around the corner. Nash caught up with Dianna and Melissa who were standing on Dianna’s lawn. Nash walked up with a smile, but it faded when he saw their faces.

  “Everything okay?” he asked as he joined them on the grass. Melissa had tears in her eyes.

  “You look nice and clean today, Nash.” Dianna’s voice was deadpan, her face unreadable but still covered in dirt and grime of the Treefort. Nash and Melissa both picked up the smell of alcohol on her breath. “Settling in quick I see. Even making new friends.”

  “Hold on Dianna,” said Nash, holding up his hands in surrender.

  “Don’t you tell me to hold on!” she screamed, tears cascading down her cheeks. “Our group was torn apart yesterday and you know as well as I do that Sullivan was murdered!” Her tears paved clean tracks down her face, and she smudged them away with angry swipes.

  “We don’t know that,” Melissa started, her hand hovering near Dianna as if afraid to touch her.

  “Oh, yes we do, my dear,” she said with a sneer. “While you two were having a nap yesterday in your fancy house, his team came back and confirmed it. Everyone who stayed behind was killed. Imagine my surprise when I see you two strolling down the street today, all done up nicely with that vile man.” Dianna’s chest was heaving, her anger barely checked — hate and hurt bubbling up from her soul.

  “Let’s go inside and talk about this,” said Nash as he motioned toward the door.

  “You can both go to hell for all I care,” Dianna shouted. She spun on her heel and left the two of them on the lawn, slamming the door behind her. Nash and Melissa stood staring at the house, dumbstruck.

  “I knew it was the case but it’s hard hearing it,” she said as she sobbed softly.

  “I know,” he whispered to her. “She’ll come around. She’s just in mourning. I’ll try and talk with her later.”

  “She was supposed to lead us,” said Melissa. “She was supposed to keep us safe here without Sullivan.”

  “She will,” said Nash as he took her by the hand and stepped back onto the road. “She’s grieving, give her time. She’ll come around, but for now, we’ll have to depend on ourselves.”

  The two of them walked together to the center of the Mansion where the church was located. In front of the church was a large green space, dotted with benches and a jogging path that wound its way throughout. A stern, athletic looking couple jogged past them on the track as gardeners worked diligently on the grounds around them. A few children from the Treefort played carelessly on a playground as their nervous parents watched nearby, still wary of their new surroundings.

  “Don’t worry about Dianna said. She’ll understand eventually.”

  “I know.”

  The church felt out of place inside the walls of the Mansion; it was a smaller building with a large double-door archway and a tall bell-tower in the front. Judging by the newer construction on most of the homes, it almost seemed to Nash like the community had been built around it. Standing in front of the large double doors were two sharply dressed men who held rifles in their hands.

  “We’re he
re to see Fletcher,” said Nash, Melissa at his side.

  “Mr. Crawford is inside,” one of the men sneered. He opened the door and allowed them to enter.

  The inside of the church was warm and inviting, the smell of apples and cinnamon floating through the air. The walls were decorated with stained glass windows, which made the inside seem like a colorful mirage. Each side of the aisle was lined with hardwood pews, upholstered with a soft cushion on the seat and back. If there had ever been a podium or lectern at the front of the church it had been removed and replaced with the large ornate chair in which Fletcher sat.

  “Nash! Melissa!” he cooed as the door was closed behind them. “Thank you for coming. Please, come up here and let’s talk!”

  The first three pews were filled with dead women, sitting shoulder to shoulder with their hair done as if they were ready to be escorted to prom. Fletcher smiled as Nash and Melissa nervously made their way to him and tried their hardest to hide their confusion and fear.

  “Don’t mind them,” he said as he acknowledged the women between them.

  Nash slowed his approach. The women sat motionless with makeup painted perfectly on their faces. Each wore the same red sundress and looked forward with a smile on their face.

  “Dead women tell no tales,” said Fletcher with a slight grin as he gauged Nash and Melissa’s reaction.

  “You asked us to come by,” said Nash as he sharply changed the subject, forcing himself to look at the man and not the empty eyes of the women behind.

  “Yes, yes I did,” he said. His demeanor began to change as they moved forward in their conversation. “I’ve met with a few of your people today. Lovely people, really, every one of them. They’ve been relatively responsive to the way I run things around here, which I was pleased to find out.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Nash.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering how exactly I do run things around here,” he said while he tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  “A little bit, yes,” said Nash, as one of the women sitting in the pews let out a soft moan from behind them.

  “Communion,” he said, unwavering from his postured stance in his chair.

  “I don’t see any wafers or wine,” said Nash.

  “Well no, you wouldn’t. What I have to offer isn’t nearly as archaic,” he said, not breaking eye contact with Nash. “It’s much more gratifying for everyone involved.”

  Melissa stared intently at the women who sat on each side of them. They continued to smile, sitting still with their hands folded on their laps. As she watched, one of them slowly turned her head and made eye contact with her, which sent a vibrant chill down her spine.

  “Please, don’t be scared,” said Fletcher. “It’s quite simple, actually. Everyone living here is loyal to me, to a fault. They have their jobs and they do them well, and in return, they’re allowed to partake in my communion.”

  “I’m not understanding,” said Nash.

  “We live in a world of tension, Nash, and people long for the comforts of old. Alcohol, narcotics, authority, sex. People’s vices come back full force when given the opportunity. Even yourselves, there has to be something you miss from the past.”

  “So you’re just creating a community of addicts to follow you?” said Melissa.

  “Our people will have none of it,” said Nash.

  “Is that so? The first three pews were filled this morning,” he said as he motioned to the women in front of him. There were five spots that were empty.

  “These women are being used for sex,” said Melissa, almost to herself but coming out for them all to hear.

  “Yes, my dear, they are. By your people, no less. I told you yesterday that you’re part of my family, so it’s time to stop thinking of yourselves as different groups before you find yourself filling one of these spots.”

  The threat echoed in Nash’s mind as the color drained from Melissa’s face. She stood dumbstruck in front of Fletcher as Nash silently took her hand.

  “I’m sorry, that came out very aggressive. Please accept my apology.”

  Nash nodded at Fletcher, Melissa’s hand crushing his with fear.

  “Take your time and think it over,” said Fletcher as he smiled at the women in front of him. “You do need to know that communion is not an option here in the Mansion. You will work for me and you will take part in how we do things. You’ve seen outside the walls and I’m sure you’re not interested in braving the beasts. Let me assure you though, it can be just as dangerous inside these walls for those who do not comply, rules are there to keep everyone safe.”

  Fletcher reached to the side of his chair and grabbed onto an elaborately decorated scepter. He pounded it three times on the floor as the front door of the church opened. Taking that as their dismissal Nash and Melissa turned and retreated down the aisle, leaving Fletcher to sit alone at his throne with the dead women around him. The guard who had opened the door closed it as they walked through and quickly made their way down the front steps, trying not to show their haste. More joggers had joined the track since they had went into the church, but for the most part the Mansion seemed deserted.

  “I see why Dianna acted the way she did this morning,” said Melissa as the two of them sat together on a bench near the playground. “Nobody really knows this but before the dead started biting, she was an alcoholic. She would’ve died a drunk if Sullivan hadn’t found her when he did.”

  “I knew I smelled alcohol on Dianna this morning. He must have already gotten to her last night when they call met. Damn it.”

  “We’re in over our heads,” said Melissa. “If Dianna is already doing this communion thing, we’re screwed.”

  “It’s not just her either, if he’s to be believed.”

  The two of them sat on the bench in silence, watching while the gardeners worked together in beautifying the grounds around them. The joggers continued their rounds, passing by the playground that was now completely empty.

  “Where are all the other people?” asked Melissa as they sat on a bench that overlooked the well-manicured park space.

  “He made it pretty clear he’s surrounded himself with addicts. This place is pretty quiet so my guess is everyone’s in their homes, strung out on whatever drug he is giving them.”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about our group,” said Melissa as she watched a familiar face from the Fort walk rounds on the jogging track.

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Nash while he looked at her tanned face as she stared over the park. “Did you really know any of them before coming to the Fort? Addiction is a driving force for a lot of people and it seems like he already got a few people to take him up on his offer.”

  Nash thought back to the women who sat in the pews as the two of them watched the gardeners continue their work. Fletcher had seemingly handpicked the women he used for his communion brothel and chose only beautiful women to sit in his shrine. He thought about the empty seats and cringed at the thought of Fletcher’s threat.

  “Who from our group gave in already?” she asked as she thought about the empty seats.

  “I’d rather not think about it. I’m only concerned with you and me, Mel. Everyone else can do as they please.”

  “What about Dianna?”

  “She’s a grown woman, Mel. I know it sounds harsh but there’s not much we can do for her right now. You saw her.”

  “I think you should at least limit the time you spend with Dietrich,” she said abruptly. “We don’t know if we can trust him and it just looks bad to everyone.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “I do feel like he’s someone who could help us though.”

  “He could have helped us at the Fort,” she said with an angry twinge in her voice as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “He could have warned us all. We could have prepared for Fletcher’s group. Instead, he let him kidnap us and kill Sullivan and the others.”

  “I know,” he said as he placed his hand in hers and i
ntertwined their fingers. “That fact doesn’t fall from me, don’t worry, but the way he carries himself and how he talks about Fletcher, I get the sense he’s an ally. Or at the very least, an enemy of Fletcher. And isn’t the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

  A figure stood across the park, bathed in shade as it leaned against a tall tree. Nash squinted slightly and confirmed what he already suspected; it was Duncan. He couldn’t see from where they were sitting, but he knew that Duncan was watching them with that sinister grin on his face. A spray of ashes illuminated for a moment as he flicked a half-smoked cigar away from him.

  “Let’s go,” said Nash as he got up without letting go of her hand and walked briskly away. She’d learned enough about him to know when he was moving with purpose so she followed easily and without hesitation. “This place isn’t safe, especially for the two of us. Please keep by my side.”

  “I know,” she said and clenched his hand as she looked back to see that Duncan still leaned against the tree.

  As they walked, they observed a group of people from the Treefort outside the church, being let in one by one to speak with Fletcher about their communion. Others from the Fort were outside, roaming the streets while they explored the area. Dianna’s door was still shut with the curtains drawn, hiding her inside from the world.

  “Should we go talk to her?” asked Melissa as they slowly walked past the road that led to her house.

  “I don’t want to talk to her until I’ve talked to Dietrich. I can’t approach her without a solid explanation of what is going on under the surface around here.”

  Nash looked up into a window of a home as they passed and made eye contact with a familiar face from the Treefort. The curtains had all been drawn in the rest of the home and he was about to close the last set when he saw Nash. Standing behind him was a woman, with a blank look on her face as she stared at him from behind. The disappointment flowed from Nash’s eyes as the man pulled the curtains closed hard.