Z.E.D.S. Series (Book 2): Z.E.D.S. Wayward Son

by Botts, Bradley

  The Reverend raised his hands in the air and shouted, “For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the lord will come like a thief in the night! Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go naked and be seen exposed!” He lowered his hands to his chest and with a calm voice he said, “Thessalonians 5:2 and Revelations 16:15. Are you familiar with The Bible Atlas?”

  “I’m not fluent, but I do know some,” I replied.

  “Not everyone is fluent as they should be. It’s okay though. There’s a lot to memorize,” The Reverend said as he turned and walked towards me.

  The suns beam was blocked by the top of his head with his combed grey tinted hair. His voice echoed with a hint of Dixie. His groomed salt and pepper goatee overshadowed the broad stature he presented while gliding across the mahogany floor.

  “Those scriptures were written to inform us of the second coming of our lord Jesus Christ. But I also believe that there is a hidden message of a chosen messiah that can deliver us from dark times without the world burning to ash. Many interpretations of the holy words have been thrown around like a whore in a cat house. People see and believe what they want to believe, but it is only the pure of hearts that truly know what the scriptures mean. Are you pure of heart Atlas?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that. From the Hell that I have seen, there is no pure heart anymore,” I quickly responded in terms of being vague.

  The Reverend turned away and strolled around me while shouting. “Evil is out there, and it influences choices amongst all mankind! Our actions depict what our heart wants! It tells us our desires of the flesh, of the contraband in which we would take without guilt. It would show us our true intentions as if looking into a mirror to only see the demon from inside. Are you following me Atlas,” The Reverend asked as he quickly turned and pointed at me. “We know nothing of the pure and innocent because we were not born in it. This world has only known mayhem since Jesus was sent by his father to die on the cross. Our world is being burned out of existence because of the transgressions in which man has willingly placed in their own hands and showcased for the world to see. It isn’t that we know who is pure and who isn’t. That sanction will always be hidden from our soul. It is the ones who don’t truly know that aren’t deceitful. They are not the followers of the Anti-Christ from when he busted through the Gates of Hell and reigned supreme.”

  Sweat began dripping from my forehead and the gut-wrenching sickness I felt at the statue returned.

  “I’m not understanding,” I said.

  “You may think you don’t, but you gave me the right answer. You said you don’t know if you are of pure heart. That is exactly the answer. The ones who say they are can only ensure deceit because how can they truly establish their intentions when it comes to surviving? Liars, cheaters, fornicators, and all-around minions of the devil will tell people they are pure just to sneak in and destroy the goodness in people. You don’t know of all your demons, but you don’t know of all your goodness. That is what a true child of the lord is,” The Reverend said.

  “I’m not understanding what you’re trying to tell me here,” I said.

  “Walk with me to my office Atlas, and I will show you the message in which is hidden,” The Reverend demanded as he extended his arm towards another room.

  As the Reverend walked towards another door, I gripped the silver candlestick holder from his desk and shielded it behind my back. We stepped into an illuminated room with schemes of Amarillo were portrayed by the sun’s rays. A painting of The Last Supper was showcased above a glass box resting on a small table.

  “I’m preaching to you about the second coming because Jesus has already come and went,” The Reverend said in a high tone. “He took the innocent with him and unfortunately, I wasn’t part of his flock. I had hatred in my heart when my wife passed. I wished death on the ones responsible for her death. I didn’t get right with God before the reckoning. But there is still time for that because you are here. He sent you to us for salvation and prosperity. With you, we can save this world from its demise.”

  “I am not a second coming. I’m just a person trying to survive this apocalypse,” I said as I secretly placed the chrome laced candlestick holder behind the charcoal high backed chair.

  “Even a true messiah does not know of his destiny until he is shown. Come to the case and I’ll show you,” The Reverend requested. “Months after it started, me and my daughter were lost with no path. We scavenged for food, water, could barely find shelter at night and came close to starvation. We came across bandits, heathens, and worst of all satanic followers. They raped, killed, and skinned everyone and not even in that order. On the brink of death, following down an old cracked road with nothing behind us but disappointment and death. We were close to giving up until a strong wind blew passed us carrying a sign of redemption and protection. At my feet laid a book. A book in which gripped my attention as it rested in the dirt.” The Reverend opened the glass case and gripped the book inside of it. “This book is a token of salvation for us.”

  Crimson and turquoise outlined the book. In bold white print the faded letters read ROAD ATLAS: KENTUCKY. A pink strip of paper was lodged in between two pages.

  “Go ahead. Turn to it,” The Reverend said.

  I flipped open the book and a bright red circle surrounded one small town, Gamaliel.

  “When I opened this book, I didn’t mark anything inside. It was already drawn in. I knew that this was where I had to go. I had to bring my daughter here for salvation. It was a sign from the heavens above. And yet, as I thought this was the only sign God had sent to me, years later just two days ago, people ranted about how Karmen brought back a man beaten and broken but breathing. Once your name was realized they began putting pieces together. Each of them has seen this book. The poetic symbolism of survival. They called your name around the community.” The Reverend cupped his hands around his mouth. “Atlas. Atlas.” His hands rested on my shoulders. “He is here they chanted. Not only was my destination outlined in full circle, but the name of this book was also placed upon a man that my darling daughter had saved. Coincidences are not part of our lives here. We believe in miracles, prophecies, the teachings, and symbols from God. It was no accident that Karmen had found you Atlas. It was God’s will.”

  The Reverend grabbed the book and placed it back in the glass case.

  “No coincidences. The grand plan,” I whispered.

  “What was that son,” The Reverend asked.

  “I am just a normal guy trying to survive this world sir. I’m no prophet. I was just lucky your daughter was there when I fell,” I explained.

  “Doubt is anticipated from you. I understand it. Soon you will see that you are a part of God’s plan on saving us Atlas. We may not know how or why, but my faith says you are here for a reason and that reason will be displayed soon enough,” The Reverend said as he walked to a cigar box resting on a side table. He gripped two cigars from the box and proceeded to hand one to me. “Now, we have a lot to do Atlas. We must get you prepared for the new world,” The Reverend said as he cut the end of his cigar.

  The lighter he pulled from his pocket was charred but noticeable with the emblem and faint patterned blood splatter. The biohazard symbol was rusted but still contained its defiant symbol. The Reverend noticed it grabbed my attention.

  “Are you admiring this lighter,” he asked as he struck it to light my cigar. “Karmen found it during our travels. It was just on the outside of this community. I had to replace the striker in it from being burnt, but it has served me well.” He placed the lighter into my hand. “It shall serve you as well. You must get some rest before night fall. Tonight, is a special night for we make your presence here more welcoming. We will discuss further of our plans tomorrow.”

  He patted my shoulder as he turned and walked away. My eyes wandered around the room one last time before looking at the lighter. It couldn’t be. There is no way. The
lighter The Reverend handed me was the same lighter I had tossed towards a convoy surrounded by zombies after the rescue of my family. The lighter should have burned. I placed the lighter into my pocket as I turned to leave.

  As I approached the door the Reverend’s voice echoed, “Please tell Michelle to see that my candle holder is placed back on my desk.” My legs halted, my heart raced while a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead and extinguished the flame on my cigar. “I acknowledge you were only preparing for worst case scenario meeting with me. That is why I do not blame your defensive tactic. It only makes me excited about what more you are capable of in times of sudden change.”

  A cloud of smoke broadcasted a shadow that surrounded him as the sun began to set. I stepped passed the double door where Michelle was eagerly listening.

  “So, you’re staying with us Mr. Atlas,” she asked as I began walking down the stairs.

  I nodded my head, handed her the candle stick and continued walking without muttering a word.

  Chapter 24

  Debra escorted me to a two-story house that The Reverend deemed as mine. The bricks were weathered down by constant rain and windstorms but held strong with its maroon color remaining. The charcoal colored shutters were beaten and battered, and the sunflowers bloomed all around it. Inside was a stained carpet. The furniture presented an old use but was protected by a plastic covering. I could hear children’s laughter within the walls as ghosts of former occupancy. Maybe this was a home of an elderly couple whose grandkids would come stay with them on the weekends.

  I journeyed through the living area and into the kitchen. Ivory laminate floors with floral wallpaper surrounded the kitchen appliances. A red stain unveiling itself from underneath a brown and red patterned rug in a small area underneath the kitchen table was attempted to be hidden. Its story contained violence, heartbreak, and tears. As I explored, I could tell the stain was from blood and not food or drink.

  The sliding bay doors gave way to an underappreciated yard where a polluted bird bath was overrun by mother nature’s creation of rich greenery. A swing set placed at the corner of the broken fence line depressed any childhood. One chain hung on its own with the seat dangling by the other. A turtle bowl swing was lost within someone else’s memory. Only the plastic head remained stuck on a pike next to an overrun Weeping Willow tree.

  The deck attached to the house kept its red wood stained color but not its structure. The wood was splintered, and the ground had given in to a slanted porch. Wasps had made nest to the shadowed corners of the rails but were long deserted as the nests had turned crusted and ashy.

  After all the dead undertaking, I still saw a beauty in it. The “what if” of the place. Aurora and I would be sitting in cushioned patio chairs, sipping on some coffee as Kiere would be swinging on the turtle bowl while eating honey suckle. A laugh would appear from her randomly as she would remember something funny from a previous joke told days before. My fingers would be interlocked with Aurora’s as we leaned in to kiss one another. The sun would be kissing our face with the Weeping Willow swaying in the breeze.

  “Kiere would have loved this place,” I whispered as I shut the door.

  A staircase with brown carpeting attached to each single stair led to the second floor. They seem to talk when I applied pressure. A painful screech exited between each step. The first room I approached was decorated in 1990’s cartoon characters. Bugs bunny was chasing Daffy. Road Runner had painted a tunnel that Wiley Coyote had smashed into. Elmer Fudd had apparently decided to lose his legs as they seem to be ripped off the wall. A Marvin the Martian plush toy had been ripped to shreds with cotton spread across the violet carpet. A single twin size bed rested in the corner with covers in shambles. The pink roses cloaked on the comforter couldn’t mask the sight of an aged puddle of blood soaked into the mattress.

  As I left the room, I closed the door behind me. Attached to the door was a piece of paper taped to the wood.

  Please Do Not Enter. Room Isn’t Ready. Our Apologies.

  “A little too late for that,” I said as I crumbled the note and tossed it down the stairs.

  The bathroom was located at the end of the cauliflower blue hallway. It wasn’t anything special. A stand-up shower with a removable head and glass sliding doors took up most of the space. The porcelain his and her sinks glistened under the vanity light. A mirror showcased my bruised face. With it an attached beard that exceeded to my chest and swelling to the right side of my face. I placed my hand onto the mirror and pressed slightly to see it open. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor, shaving cream, and deodorant were all placed behind it.

  I lifted my arm and smelled underneath it.

  “Well, that was a big hint,” I said as the musky scent crowded my nose.

  I gripped the deodorant stick and pulled the lid to unveil a clear coating of what was named Cool Summer Meadow. Not very manly if someone were to ask me, but I wasn’t picky now. I do miss the Axe body spray.

  The lid slipped from my grip and bounced across the floor. A sliver of paper fell from the lid as it landed. Gripping it and holding it close to my eyes I read, Check the shaving cream.

  Nesting on the mirror shelf was the can of Barbasol shaving cream. It was cold to the touch. I pressed the nozzle, but nothing came out. A banging sound appeared as I shook the can. As I examined the canister, I noticed the bottom wasn’t completely attached. It twisted open and with a careful separation I saw a full 9mm magazine hidden inside the cannister. Taped alongside the magazine was another note read TANK.

  There was only one tank in that bathroom which was attached to the toilet. I placed the can on the sink, went to the toilet and lifted the tank lid. Inside the rusted shell was a zip loc bag containing a Smith and Wesson MP9 with an extra full magazine and a folded piece of paper.

  The plastic bag kept the contents from being fully submersed in water. I opened the folded piece of paper and read the handwritten note.

  Atlas,

  Tell this to no one. Load it and keep it hidden on you at all times. You will need it. Talk soon.

  I wondered why the need to hide a gun for me and who hid the gun for me to find. I knew something was wrong with this place when I came to and someone here knew it also. I just needed to find out who. I placed the magazine into the handle, loaded the chamber and placed it inside my waist band. As I placed the other full magazine into my pocket, I put the shaving cream cannister back behind the mirror and walked out of the bathroom into the master bedroom.

  A king size bed was parked in the furthest distance of the room surrounded by hazel walls and old knock off Davinci paintings. A closet mirror was located on the opened closet door next to the bed with a pressed lip print placed on the glass. A pile of folded clothes rested at the foot of the bed. A navy blue and grey flannel shirt with bronze cargo pants, black shin high socks and a pair of multicolored underwear were gifted to me. I unfolded the pants to ensure the size and a Polaroid slap picture fell from the pocket. On the back it said Welcome to Gamaliel. As I turned it over to see the picture, the photograph displayed Gretchen and all her naked glory laying on the bed in this room while within the reflection of the mirror, Serenity was in the same unclothed attire making an inappropriate gesture.

  I placed the pants on the bed and sat down next to them. “I’m either going to die, get raped or die from being raped,” I said before tearing the picture into tiny pieces, walking to the window, and throwing them out into the yard. “I ain’t never in my life seen this kind of reluctancy. I need a cold shower.”

  Chapter 25

  The stars were hidden amongst the bonfire in the middle of the cemetery. Tombstones were plowed over amongst the ground and thrown across the gated community. Their reasoning behind this was the residents of Gamaliel said it is a past that needs to be forgotten. The dead no longer live there. I thought I would never see the day when people desecrate memorial grounds to display a future sense of survival.

  As I walked the streets of Gamaliel
, some of the locals followed me, asking questions about assuming I had special abilities, if I was an arc angel and what my plans were for them when they got to Heaven. I tried to tell them that I wasn’t anything they are imagining, but due to the Reverend’s outspoken revelations, the questions just kept forming. It began to get overwhelming to where my anger was overpowering my sensibility until Lyle came and forced them away from me.

  “Sorry about the crazed locals. None of them even knew about this town before the apocalypse. They are just guided sheep with no thoughts of their own,” Lyle said as he walked next to me.

  “I appreciate the back up,” I said while shaking his hand.

  “Not all of them are like that. Some are just more susceptible to a fantasy land or a what do you call it? Mirage so to speak,” Lyle explained.

  “No worries. I just don’t see why they are so focused with me. The random guy bunking in their community.”

  “It is all about the word said amongst the people and the leader who says it. You and I are like wolves. We can excel in a pack, but if needed we advance alone,” Lyle said behind a smile.

  Flaming barrels surrounded the border of the graveyard. A group of the natives were dancing to music that seemed more tribunal than modern. Other natives were sitting on the logs placed around the fire passing around a bowl.

  “Lyle,” a young woman yelled as she ran into his arms.

  “Hey baby,” he said as they planted a hard kiss on each other.

  “Atlas this is Alison. Alison, this is Atlas,” Lyle introduced.

  “So, you’re the chosen one everyone is talking about,” Alison said.

  I stuck out my hand to shake hers. “That is what I keep hearing.”

  “You better live up to the hype because people are expecting miracles from you. Me personally, I just came her because of the walls. I don’t believe what the Reverend is preaching. I’m a free thinker,” Alison said.