by Bonds, Javan
Lidstone cracked a glow stick and dropped it in the center of the room, bathing the entry-level in an eerie green luminescence. Looking to the left, Saunders whispered just audibly, pointing the opposite way. “Ground floor is only conference rooms if this map is correct. Let’s take the path of least resistance first.”
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12
And I’m Sticking To It
“He just broke in out of nowhere and started yelling something about money. I told him I didn’t have any extra...and he got violent. He then pulled out a sword. I used an old iron bar to fight him off. But you can see how well that worked.” He bobbed his left shoulder up and down, bringing attention to his stump.
Brother Brown stuck to his story no matter how many damn times the interrogators questioned him. Sako wanted to extort from him. Got angry when he wasn’t forthcoming; Severed his arm then disappeared. Sounds like bullshit to me!
Sergeant Salzman wasn’t getting anything new. “So, what happened to your arm?”
The preacher was dumbfounded. “Really? I just told you!”
Bitterly, the cop grinned and shook his head. “No Goddammit, I know that much. I mean, where the fuck is it now?”
Oh shit! I hadn’t thought of that.
The supposed temporary replacement for The Man of God pulled on his collar. “Oh... Uh... Ummm...I guess he took it with him. I never saw it after he left, so I never even thought about what happened to it.”
It seems like something you’d think about. You know, your fucking arm. “Why would Sako take your arm?”
Fed up with the persistent queries, the calm and controlled Reverend exploded. “Fuck if I know! Why the hell he’d be coming to my house? And cut my goddamn arm off? Answer me that.” Sarge only took a step back.
The preacher shook himself. “Sorry. Just kind of been a rough time.” Weakly, he made a sorrowful chuckle.
Well...guess that’s a sensitive fucking subject! I can understand that. Don’t know why a former Marine, never accused of anything like that, would suddenly break down someone’s door and start demanding money. Doesn’t sound like the Hirotaro Sako, I know.
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Closing the door behind him, the night duty Sergeant looked out at the burgeoning sunlight shining through the window. My shift’ll be over soon... if it fucking ain’t already. Ain’t going down till Sako turns up, though.
Nobody to go home to anyway. She left years ago and took the kids; never saw much of her or them. After May Day, don’t guess I ever will again. That’s one good thing about being married to the job—no personal fucking attachments.
Entering another room, he spoke as he opened the door. “He’s not breaking. Offering the same bullshit since he came in. We won’t be able to hold him much longer without proof... or him admitting to something... Fucking anything.”
Impotently angry, Hunter only kicked the air. “So you’re just going to let a murder suspect go free?? But he killed Sako!” his eyes started tearing up.
Sarge looked at the boy squarely. Though it wasn’t proven, he wanted him to know he believed him. The investigator wouldn’t have done the things of which the preacher had accused him. There was no way he would’ve turned into a psychopathic gangster. The Staff Sergeant was a fucking hero. No reason for him to even be in that house... Unless he was there to protect the innocent.
What the kid said can’t be fucking right, “You don’t know he’s dead.”
“If he wasn’t, he would be here!” Hunter screamed in response.
Salzman grew somber as he secretly agreed. Nothing would keep that man from reporting the truth. He’d fight evil to his last fucking breath. But he can’t be gone! Could he really have sacrificed himself to save the kid? What the hell do we do now?
Let’s say everything Hunter claimed is 100% true. How do we battle villainy when almost everyone thinks the bad guy is a hero? When the wolf kills the shepherd, who defends the fucking innocent? Wrongdoing can’t succeed. Evil must not prevail. One way or another, things must be rectified, dammit!
Eventually, everything will be put in its rightful place... whether it happens in our time or not. At some damn point, by some hand, justice will be fucking served!
The moment of waxing poetic was over for Shawn Salzman. Policing was what he would be doing until the very end. Tonight... today... Whatever the hell it is... will be no sleep, all investigating. Sako will be found. It might take gallons of fucking coffee, but I’m not leaving until we have fucking something!
“So when you let him go and kids keep disappearing, then what?” Randy posed a genuine question.
“Then we do what we’ve been doing. Now, we just have someone to keep a closer eye on.”
The mayor was stretching his amputated appendage. “When you do find out it’s him, you think the church is just gonna let you take him?”
The cop spoke lower. “When we do bust the asshole, there won’t be much of him left to fucking take.”
Smiling, Mayor Collins readied to reply. As she could see this conversation was headed in a grim direction, his wife broke in. “What are we going to do about Hunter? That wicked man will not be coming anywhere near him!”
“Good point.” The officer switched gears. “I’ll get Judge Burks to order a restraining order. I know it doesn't really mean shit anymore, but not much else we can do officially. My advice would be to keep in mind the fucking Castle doctrine.” He locked eyes with Randy on that final statement.
Though the police had disarmed him before taking him into custody, the mayor smiled. Before he left, his pistol would be returned to him. “Like you had to remind us of that!”
Even Debbie had a featherweight revolver in her purse. Though it wouldn’t be stopping a horde of peevies, she would use it without a thought to defend her loved ones. Hunter just wouldn’t be allowed to go outside alone. At least not until this situation was laid to rest.
The Sergeant put his hand on the shoulder of the interim mayor of Guntersville. “Just go home. Get some fucking sleep, though you won’t be doing what we’re doing, you’ll have shit to deal with for the next while. Your boy’s the one that accused the preacher of doing what he did. His assholes ain’t gonna be fucking happy with you. Until we can prove it, you need to start getting ready to move your ass.”
Randy took in a breath, about to speak before Salzman raised his hands. “And no! I’m not fucking saying you need to leave the damn city, but downtown might no longer be fucking safe for you or your family.”
Where should we go? If the religious fanatics at the church would burn the courthouse down, why does this cop think we’d be safe anywhere on the island? Even if we stayed at the airport with Benji, that’s not really much of a distance. I guess everything works out, just like it’s ‘post to be,’ right?
As they walked to the door, Mrs. Collins spoke to the blonde boy. “Just wait until we talk to Eugene tonight. I know he’ll be glad to hear you’re safe!”
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13
Two-Faced Preacher
Opening the door to the second floor of The Loews, the team wasn't greeted with an overpowering stench of soiled adult diapers after Senior Day at Taco Bell. Even more terrifying than if they had come across a nursery full of breast-feeding peevies. But their olfactory systems were assaulted by a formerly familiar tang. After a few deep sniffs, they all understood what it was; Air freshener.
At the end of the hall, they could see a large eating area. People were sitting around the tables, loudly fellowshipping as if there had been no zompocalypse. They were barking and hooting, showing no fear. The workers had a million questions on their tongues, but could only stare blankly at a party that looked like it hadn't been interrupted since April 30.
"What the bloody hell?" Paul was incredulous.
Before any of them could decide to move, the door they just passed through opened behind them. A woman wearing an ashen robe stretching to the floor walked out, leading a handful of malnourished-lo
oking, naked young females. At first, she didn't realize the people before her were newcomers, obviously accustomed to seeing her fellow humans. The subjects of The Hand turned to take in the group, who likewise stopped to study them.
Disbelieving, Paul cocked his head. "But... aren't there, peevies?"
Chortling at the strange moniker, she realized the reference was directed to The Protectors. The woman crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. "My name is Miss Cassandra Machemer. We are aware, fools! Their purpose is keeping us safe. They are not our enemies… as they are yours." The way she said they was unnerving.
Lynn had to laugh. "You do know they are downstairs, right?"
Hands-on hips, the woman clearly in charge smiled condescendingly. "Of course we know where they are. Where do you think we came from?" She gestured to the group behind her.
Karen's mind was racing. Where are these girls' clothes? Why is she dressed like a druid? It finally struck her the reason one garbed as a religionist would be leading young, unclothed women to or from a place of evil. That's sickening!
Rushing forward, Barker stood before Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. "Why the feck are they naked?" The women looked ashamed and terrified.
As if to say, "You already know," Machemer only smiled crookedly. Karen lifted her rebar spear, sharpened point hovering just below the other's lower jaw.
So furious, the Brit asked incredulously. "Did you really?"
The robed figure chuckled. "No, I didn't do anything. These faithful servants gave of themselves willingly to satisfy The Protectors!"
So shocked, the wielder of the weapon couldn't react in time. Cassandra backed away and began running and shouting to the gathering at the end of the hall. "The true enemy is upon us. Show them the fury of those that walk through the valley of the shadow of death!"
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14
Very Confusels
“Children... Your Shepherd has returned!” Wild cheers nearly shook the sanctuary building.
For the second time of the day, Brother Mike Brown spoke to a packed gallery of fanatical sheep. Somehow, in the time it took him to walk from the doors of the county jail to the entrance of the Nondenominational Worship Center of Guntersville, almost every city dweller crammed themselves into the auditorium to hear the God-sent minister give his homecoming message. Their messianic man of the cloth had been taken from them. Now, God, in all His supreme wisdom, saw fit to bring their blessed reverend back to them. Those demonic forces which attempted to rip the body of Christ to shreds would no longer be tolerated!
Though the Lord chose to return him to guide the flock, someone would pay for causing upset in the church. No one came between the faithful and their leader! Those that spread lies about a holy man would be severely punished.
The pastor formed air quotes. “‘Government officials’, they may call themselves, but the children of God are not blind. I know you can plainly see those that claim to be community leaders are nothing more than charlatans. Den of thieves. House of robbers. Disgraceful reprobates. I will no longer tolerate them... and because of that, neither will you! God is not going to put up with these sacrilegious barbarians anymore. It’s time for us to make a stand!” The congregation exploded with uproarious chanting.
God-fucking-damn! I wasn’t sure how they’d react, but they’re more than happy to start a fucking war with the government on my say-so. I’m so ready to be in control. Before you know it, these people will be setting their own kids in line for the firing squad because they want me to fucking eat them.
Now what? I got these goddamn lunatics ready to firebomb the fucking courthouse because my speech sounds biblical. Should I just go ahead and start an all-out crusade? Shit almost forgot!
There is that little Peacock girl. The fair-skinned kid with the tight blonde curls. Oh, God...I’ve got to get a taste of that! After that, then there can be fighting in the streets. My perverted hunger comes first. Then every single one of these fucktards can commit goddamn suicide for me!
“Today...God has shown me how corrupted our worldly leadership has become. You have all witnessed the strange behavior of our non-democratically elected Mayor Collins. I saw him there at the jail, undoubtedly working with the local police force to target young children to kidnap! He has debased any trustworthiness of all of those that supposedly serve. We cannot abide by his wickedness or barbarism any longer!” The growing anger from the collective was so thick; you could almost reach out and touch it.
With a calming gesture, Brother Brown pushed the anger of the assembled down. “Hold on, brothers and sisters. Before we attack with the hand of God, we need to take a step back.” He made a small chuckle. “At least, we should fellowship and enjoy one another’s company in the presence of Christ while we are still able. Tomorrow, after the weekly service, I feel the call to lead a group of my fellow Christians on another scavenging mission. We’ll be looking for sweets!” The congregation joined him in a light chuckle.
“After that, of course, I hope you’re ready for some of that chowder I promised!” Screams and cries came from the assemblage as if the preacher was the leader of a boy band.
“That means, the day after tomorrow, two days from now, we shall start the battle with Satan and his minions. There will, I guarantee you, be trials and tribulations. We will see losses in one way or another. But fear not, God is with us! He will see us through to the end. His arms are open for you, children. And if you enter His embrace, you will be forever blessed.” Several shouts of agreement could be heard.
What the fuck does this shit even mean? I’m not even trying to make sense anymore. It’s just bullshit thrown together, and they eat it up like its fucking candy! It’s going to be fun as hell to walk these goddamn idiots to the edge of a cliff, tell them to jump and watch them dive, screaming my name.
“The Bible tells us to come together in his name. Let us worship as one. The noise we make will definitely be joyful. Our fellowship will help us prepare to fight the invaders and bring about the kingdom of heaven! Our Almighty father is directing me to make this happen. Things are falling into place so that his reign will be permanent. The agents of evil will no longer be able to hold any kind of sway over the fold. The power of God will finally be evident to all, and the tricksters shall be cast out!” Once more, the audience vigorously applauded.
Christ on a fucking cracker! I don’t even need Kool-Aid... These Jesus freaks would put the barrel in their mouths and pull the fucking trigger if I told them to! I’ll get what I want tomorrow. When it’s hanging up in my basement, then the Molotov cocktails can start flying!
Scanning the congregation and finding his target, he made sure to give a definite nod to the father of his next chosen delicious meal. “I know everyone here is aware of the stories about the former honeybee farm just across the water.” A smirk came across his face. “And everyone still has a sweet tooth. Tomorrow, we’ll find out if it’s only a myth. God willing, we’ll return with more than enough of what we seek for everyone!” The cheering was nearly deafening.
I promised them something they’ll enjoy. Of course, they’ll slurp up whatever their goddamn personal Jesus offers! I’m not even going to make ridiculous demands as trade. All I want is a small piece of meat. Bet your ass they’ll be giving it to me, whether they know it or not!
Replacing a sinister cackle with a fatherly grin, The Wolf joked with the sheep. “There’s a rumbley in my tumbley!” He gave a wink to The Alpha. Maybe we’ll be having honey glazed ham!
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15
When The Saints Go
Marching In
Thirsty for blood, the insane crowd picked up folding chairs, drinking glasses, eating utensils, or whatever they could get their hands on before charging down the hall. With reckless abandon, they assaulted the survivors, screaming incomprehensibly. Not bothering with any of the locked doors and seeing the futility of trying to escape back down the stairs, the five chose to make a stand
where they were. An unstoppable force was about to discover it took a little bit of effort to move this object. Some lubrication would be required. Blood made everything slide easier.
Paul and Elliott would meet the stampeding mass first. Lidstone moved to hold position between the two, fireman's tool bared. Both Lynn and Karen stood ready, just behind their comrades. In preparation for the coming surge, they all tensed. There would be no retreating. Melee was rapidly approaching.
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The first lunatic to clash with Rawlings, Catharine Kelly, swung a folding chair at the intruder. Only to defend himself, the Brit raised his own bat to parry the thin layers of cedar. They literally exploded against aluminum. A cloud of nearly microscopic splinters encircled both combatants.
When the haze of wood dissipated, Kelly was left holding a broken chair leg in each hand. As she tried to stab the interloper, Paul brought his bat down to break the other's right forearm, just behind the wrist. Wailing in insurmountable agony, the fervent follower of Miss Cassandra fought past the pain and tried to stab up into Rawlings's chin with the other hand.
Bringing the bat over, he broke several of the small bones in the young woman's hand. Radius, phalanx, and several other digits were shattered or smashed. It seemed the battle was now over for the crazed disciple. Seeing only red, she let out a strange war cry and hurled herself at the man before her.
With both hands unable to hold anything, she started swinging them into Paul, doing anything to cause damage. Not because he wanted to, when she started kicking, he brought the bat down to destroy the right kneecap. Still, she continued fighting. This takes some blind loyalty!
