Purdy said, “My father was a doctor, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined something like this. It’s worse than polycephaly or even elephantiasis.”
Tanner didn’t bother asking about either. Whatever they were, they sounded bad.
“What are these things?” he said, nudging one with his boot.
“What indeed.” Purdy pushed the pallet back in place, as if so repulsed by their sight that he couldn’t bear to look at them a moment longer. “As close as I can figure, one of two things has happened. Either the pandemic has caused a terrible mutation, or God is cursing us with some kind of new plague.”
“We’ve seen our fair share of mutations, some of them equally as bad as this.”
“Perhaps, but you don’t yet know the worst of it.”
Tanner turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“These are not unfortunate souls in need of our love and mercy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Once again, it’s best if I show you.” He turned and started for the main entrance to the building.
Tanner turned and whistled for Samantha. When she looked over, he waved for her to join them.
Purdy warned, “A child shouldn’t see this.”
“Sam can handle anything you can.”
“Perhaps, but some things can’t be unseen.”
“Believe me. We’re way past that.”
Samantha and Tyler both hurried over. Peter remained by the driveway, petting Major.
“What is it?” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Remember crab-man?”
“It was twenty minutes ago. Of course, I remember him.”
“It appears they have similar troubles.”
“Humans with heads and arms poking out in weird places?”
Tanner nodded. “You wanna come see?”
Her brow furrowed as if offended by the question.
“Of course, I do.”
“You sure? The reverend here thinks you might be too much of a namby-pamby.”
She giggled. “You always make up such funny words.”
“I’m well read, that’s all.”
“Says the guy who took a nap in the library.”
“So, you good?”
She nodded. “I’m good.”
Reverend Purdy nodded his acceptance and grabbed the handle to the front door.
“All right then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
While the outside of Voice of God Recordings looked like a typical megachurch, the inside resembled an office building. Rooms were filled with computers, printers, copy machines, and recording booths—all of which were pretty useless without electricity. While the technology sat idle, Reverend Purdy’s followers did not. People hurried about, preparing food and tending to the many duties of daily life. Despite their hardships, there was a sense of progress and hope filling the air.
Samantha stopped to peek into a classroom. A dozen children sat at small desks, listening as a woman spoke about the importance of never questioning God’s divine plan. It reminded her of their school back in Boone, and she couldn’t help but wonder what Annie, Flynn, and the other students were up to. No doubt Father Paul had them practicing penmanship. He seemed to have a particularly keen interest in the subject, so much so, that Samantha suspected he was trying to train the next generation of monastic scribes.
She turned and hurried to catch up to Purdy, Tanner, and Tyler, none of whom seemed to have noticed her brief absence.
“What exactly did Voice of God Recordings do?” she asked.
“VGR was an inter-denominational ministry that helped spread the word of God through books, tablets, DVDs, and videos,” answered Purdy.
“And were you the one in charge?”
“In fact, I had nothing to do with it at all.”
“Really? But you’re a reverend.”
“My title is simply proof of the old adage that there are no atheists in foxholes. Up until the pandemic, I was a…” he searched for the word, “let’s call me an opportunist.”
“What’s that?”
“A con man,” muttered Tanner.
“That’s not far off the mark,” said Purdy. “I looked for opportunities to grow my wealth, often at the expense of other people. I was a man who lived only for himself. Even after finding God, I suppose I’ll always be that man to some degree.”
Samantha studied him. “You don’t seem like a con man.”
He smiled. “Dear, that’s what makes a good con man.”
Her eyes turned to Tanner. “Now, Tanner, he seems like a con man. No offense.”
“None taken.”
She turned back to Purdy. “How did you end up becoming a reverend?”
“I’m afraid the story is a little cliché. As millions of people lay dying all over the world, I got down on my knees and asked God what it all meant.”
“Did he answer?”
“In a sense, he did. While I was asking for guidance, he sent two young missionaries to my door.”
“Really? They came right when you were praying?”
Purdy nodded. “They said that they wanted to share God’s word at a time when the world was coming to an end.”
“What word?”
“That I needed to accept His love before it was too late.”
“That’s not really a word, but okay. Then what happened?”
“Like many before me, I turned to the bible, looking for wisdom.”
Her brow furrowed. “Reading the bible made you a reverend?”
“No, but it helped me to become one of God’s followers. In turn, I began sharing His word with others. Somewhere along the way, people began calling me Reverend.” He shrugged. “It just felt right, so I never corrected them.”
“I once tried to get Tanner to call me ‘Your Highness,’ but it didn’t stick.”
Tyler chuckled, and Samantha cast him a warm smile. At least someone appreciated her sense of humor.
“Anyway, after the dying was finally over,” continued Purdy, “I was fortunate enough to find my calling in helping others. In time, a small community developed, and we ended up settling here by happenstance, as much as anything else.”
“But you’re the leader, right?”
“As much as there is one. I head a small council of elders, no different than many other churches. Together, we decide on things important to the community.”
“Like who gets to stay here?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“How many of you are there?” Tanner said, eyeing the crowded hallways.
“Nearly two hundred now.” He glanced back at Tyler. “All sinners, but all willing to work together for the common good.”
When Tyler spoke, he did so with a sense of reverence.
“Reverend Purdy helped us to understand that God didn’t leave us behind as punishment.”
“Why did he leave us behind?” asked Samantha.
Tyler looked to Purdy. “Reverend?”
Purdy smiled. “God left us behind to see if we can keep our faith at a time when only pain and suffering abound.”
She gave a little hmph, quietly muttering, “Seems like there would have been an easier way than killing off the entire world.”
Purdy stopped at a door with a manila folder taped over the glass for privacy. The word “Infirmary” was printed on a sign tacked to the wood.
He turned to Tanner and said, “Last chance. Are you sure that your daughter wouldn’t be more comfortable playing with some of the other children?”
Tanner looked over at Sam. “What do you say, kiddo? No shame in bowing out.”
“It can’t be any worse than what we’ve already seen. It can’t, right?”
Tanner thought of the hundreds, if not thousands, of corpses they had seen over the past year, as well as the horrific creatures they had encountered in dark holes and abandoned buildings.
“I don’t see how.”
“Okay then, I’ll co
me.”
Purdy led them inside, and much to Samantha’s surprise, the room wasn’t filled with decaying bodies. In fact, there wasn’t so much as a dead mouse. Instead, medicine cabinets lined the walls, with gurneys and examination tables filling the rest of the space. The air held a peculiar mix of body odor and antiseptic that seemed to periodically alternate in their intensities. A pregnant woman wearing a hospital gown lay on one of the tables, moaning as she clutched her stomach. A nurse sat on a stool near her feet, checking to see if she had sufficiently dilated to begin pushing.
“Not yet, Liza,” she coaxed, “but you’re close, real close.”
The woman pressed her eyes shut, her breath coming out as short, whistling huffs as she struggled to manage the pain.
Tanner stood for a moment, awkwardly watching the woman, his mind going to Issa. A sudden heaviness came over him as he questioned whether or not fate would allow him to return to her in time to see their child being born.
“Please, this way,” Purdy said, ushering him and Samantha to a curtained off corner of the room.
As they pushed past the curtain, they saw a boy, perhaps eight years of age, lying prone on a table. His shirt had been cut away, but his pants and shoes both remained. He lay completely still, eyes closed, his breathing slow and deep.
Pressed tightly against his back was a creature that, much like a hermaphrodite, shared body parts from both sexes. Its upper body was clearly that of a woman, with a smooth hairless face, slender shoulders, and voluptuous bare breasts. Its lower half, however, sported legs that were thick and hairy, as well as male genitalia that would have left John Holmes speechless. The creature also lay motionless, but the underlying cause of its condition was easier to discern—a single gunshot wound to the temple.
“What the hell is this?” Tanner muttered as he instinctively reached to pull the sleeping boy away from the grotesque creature.
“It won’t help,” Purdy said, intercepting him. “They’re stuck together.”
Unwilling to take his word for it, Tanner attempted to separate them.
No luck. The creature’s chest and the boy’s back had somehow become fused.
Samantha leaned closer, studying the connection.
“Look Tanner,” she said, pointing, “it’s glued itself to him using that yellow paste we saw earlier.”
“They secrete a bonding agent to trap their prey,” explained Purdy.
“They?” said Tanner. “Just how many of these beasties have you seen?”
“Dozens. We kill the ones we can, but others escape, dragging our children or other loved ones away while they sleep.”
“Why isn’t he awake?” Samantha said, studying the boy.
“Close as we can figure, the yellow paste has some type of sedative in it. The creatures sneak up on someone who is asleep, and slowly bond with them, much like a constrictor would its prey. Once attached, we have yet to figure out how to separate them without causing serious injury to the victim.”
“What do the creatures do with them?” Samantha was pretty sure they ate them. Monsters always ate their victims. Still, it felt only right to ask.
“At first we thought they were taking them as food. But—” He paused.
“But what?” said Tanner.
“But the woman you see here, the one attached to the boy…”
“Yeah?”
“We know her.”
“What? How?”
“She disappeared from our community nearly three months ago.”
“Taken like this boy?”
Purdy nodded. “Somehow…” He seemed at a loss for words.
Tanner finished his sentence. “Somehow, she became half man, half woman, and all ugly.”
Purdy closed his eyes and let out a painful sigh.
“We find ourselves in a situation where we’re being forced to kill our own loved ones, or at least what’s left of them. It’s unimaginable.”
Samantha turned to Tanner. “How does someone become two different people?”
“No clue.” He turned to Purdy. “Any of your folks know?”
“We have a retired biology teacher in our fold. Her best guess is that they undergo a process of mitosis and recombination, but she assures us that nothing like this has ever been seen before in nature.”
Samantha leaned closer and studied the creature, paying particular attention to a patch of scar tissue that ringed its waist.
“This must be where they joined,” she said, pointing to the thick pink scar. “I just wonder what happened to the woman’s legs? Or the man’s head for that matter?”
“My guess,” said Purdy, “is that they separated and combined with parts from other people, mitosis and recombination,” he said, repeating the theory.
“You’re saying there could be an opposite person walking around, someone with this woman’s legs and this man’s upper body?”
“In theory, yes. Or perhaps, they were absorbed into other creatures, small parts transferred to many. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to how they’re assembled.”
Tanner leaned the boy away from the creature. The skin on the boy’s back pulled taut, a thick line of dry yellow paste holding them together.
“Have you tried to dissolve the adhesive?”
“We tried everything we could think of, paint remover, industrial solvent, even gasoline. Nothing works. The only way we can get them apart is to surgically cut the flesh away, but even that has complications.”
“Such as?”
“The residue left behind on the victim’s skin causes infection and rot.” He closed his eyes. “In many ways, it’s worse than when they’re attached together.”
“I wonder…” Tanner said, rubbing his chin.
“What?” asked Samantha.
He handed her the Mare’s Leg.
“Hold this.”
“Why?”
“Just stay put. I’ll be right back.” He turned and pushed the curtain aside with Tyler following after him.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“To get a match.”
Chapter 8
Staring out at Highway 10, Mason took a moment to consider the task at hand. Based on Caruso’s story and the lettering on the door of the truck, it seemed a good bet that the men who snatched Brooke were working for Laroche. That meant they were likely taking her to the regional jail, and while it didn’t mean that she could be easily rescued, it did at least provide a location.
“Well?” asked Beebie. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to the jail to see if I can negotiate her release.”
“Negotiate? As in shoot them to hell and back?”
“I’m hoping that words will suffice.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will. Just go in and explain why they should let a beautiful woman go free because you gave your word that you’d keep her safe. I’m certain that’ll go just the way you want.”
“It sounded better in my head,” Mason said with a grin. “Besides, even if they don’t cooperate, it’ll give me a chance to size things up.”
“Assuming they don’t just shoot you dead.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, “assuming that.”
Beebie paused. “I’ll tag along to see how wrong you are if nothing else.”
Mason glanced over at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course, I don’t. My actions are my own.”
“Then why put yourself in harm’s way?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily bored. Besides,” he said, looking away, “I figure I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything. You could have shot me off that tower, and you didn’t.”
“Only because I wanted to strangle the life out of you.” He crossed his massive arms. “Take my help. You’ll need me on this one.”
Declining his offer seemed unwise. Not only was Beebie a proud man who might feel offended, he was also a capable fighter whose help might make the difference bet
ween walking out in one piece or being buried in a shallow grave.
“All right,” said Mason. “I don’t suppose you know where we can get a set of wheels and a map.”
Beebie shook his head. “Everything I had is on the other side of the river.”
“Then it looks like we walk for now.” Mason whistled for Bowie. The dog had just curled up for an afternoon nap, but at the sound, sat up and looked in Mason’s direction. “Sleep later. We’ve got work to do.”
As if understanding Mason perfectly, Bowie stood up and started down the driveway. Mason and Beebie both took one last look at the house before following after him.
“It’s almost like old times,” said Beebie, “minus Dix and the others, of course.”
“Speaking of Dix, how is he?”
“Alive. That’s about the extent of it. Gone back to work, I think.”
“Next time you see him, maybe you could explain about Brooke. I hate things ending the way they did.”
Beebie shook his head. “It won’t matter. Dix has sworn to get even with you. Nothing I say or do is going to change that.”
“Even if he finds out he was duped?”
“Even then. After bushwhacking him the way you did, I suspect you’d have to save his life to make things right. Short of that, and it’s only a matter of time before the two of you face a reckoning.”
“Shame. I have no desire to kill him.”
“Unfortunately, he doesn’t share the sentiment.”
Bowie had arrived at the end of the drive and stopped to look in both directions. To the south lay the town of Suffolk, and to the north, Smithfield.
“This way, boy,” Mason said, turning south and starting in the direction the truck had traveled.
“Any idea how far?” asked Beebie. “My feet are already tired from tracking you for the past two days.”
“Downtown Suffolk is about three miles, but which side the jail is on is anyone’s guess. Our best bet is to find someone willing to provide directions.”
Beebie turned his gaze to the desolate highway, first one way and then the other.
“Not exactly brimming with locals.”
“Someone will come along.”
“Even if they do, I’ve found there are two kinds of folks these days. Those who run, and those who chase. I’m not sure either are going to be very amenable to strangers in need of directions.”
The Survivalist (Solemn Duty) Page 9
