by Amy Cross
“Here goes nothing,” she tells herself, walking calmly and mostly steadily to the door. As soon as she leaves her room, however, she comes face to face with Sam.
“Where are you going?” Sam asks.
“Nowhere,” she replies, startled. “Where... Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
They eye each other suspiciously for a moment.
“Probably not the same nowhere,” Anna says eventually. “Not... You're not going to the cafe, are you?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. I mean, yes. I'm just meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“A guy.”
“You're going on a date?” Sam replies, clearly shocked.
“Just a quiet drink,” Anna tells her. “How do I look?”
“You look great. Very... alive.”
“That's the look I was going for. What about you? Where are you off to?”
“A show.”
“Seriously? You're going to a show?” She pauses. “What kind of show could anyone go to in Rippon?”
“You know that big tent in the town square?”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. But it's not really a show, it's more of a... I'm going in the name of science. I want to see what they're up to.”
Another moment of awkward silence.
“Well,” Sam continues. “Good luck with your non-date.”
“Thanks. And good luck with your non-show.” She heads to the door, before remembering one more thing and turning back to Sam. “Oh, and I got those documents from the Undertaker. He's kinda weird, and he told me he wants you to go and see him.”
“When you say weird,” she replies, “what exactly do you mean?”
“See for yourself sometime,” Anna tells her. “I don't know why, but I really got the feeling that he's keen to see you as soon as possible.” She pauses for a moment, keenly aware that Sam seems lost in thought. “I could cancel,” she adds finally. “I mean, if you need me...”
“Why would I need you?”
“Just... to help with stuff?”
“There's nothing you can do to help,” Sam replies distractedly. “I'm the gardener, so I'm the one who has to fix everything.”
“So what am I?” Anna asks. “I know you're the gardener, so am I, like, the assistant gardener?”
“You?” Sam frowns. “You're nothing. I mean, you're not nothing, I guess you're just... a friend who lives here.”
“Well,” Anna continues, trying to hide her sense of disappointment, “I think I'll still think of myself as your assistant. It sounds better than... lodger.”
She waits for a reply, but Sam is staring into space again.
“Okay, then,” Anna adds finally. “I'll be off then. Just call me if you need anything. I'll only be five minutes away.” After waiting a moment longer in case she receives a reply, she sighs and heads for the door.
***
As soon as she reaches the cafe, Anna spots Scott sitting at the bar and her dead hearts seems to judder briefly in her rotten chest. It's the first time she's felt anything from her heart in more than a year, and the sensation is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.
“I can't do this,” she tells herself.
For a moment, she imagines herself in her old body, having a sophisticated evening with a cute guy, and maybe allowing him a peck on the cheek before disappearing into the night. She never got to experience a proper date before she died, but she knows that the opportunity is long gone. Just as she's about to turn and run, however, Scott spots her, and it's clear from the look in his eyes that he's shocked by her appearance.
“Wow,” he says, getting off the stool and hurrying over to her. “You look amazing!”
“Oh, it's nothing,” she replies, already blushing. “You look great too. I just... I figured I might as well dress up a bit. It's not like I get out much.” She pauses as she realizes that she's already said the wrong thing. “It's not that I don't get out much,” she adds, “it's more that I just...”
She pauses, trying to find the right words.
“I'm a Rippon girl,” she adds finally. “To me, a night out means taking the trash to the curb.”
“I know the feeling,” he replies, gesturing for her to join him in one of the booths. “Rippon's not exactly busting with night-life, is it? Sometimes I feel like my parents moved us here because they wanted to shield us from the rest of the world. It was kind of a culture shock to go from London six months ago to a place like this. I mean...” He glances over at Mr. Hale behind the counter for a moment, before lowering his voice a little. “Don't you feel like some of the people around here have kinda got that Walking Dead vibe?”
“You mean like...” Taking a seat, Anna forces herself not to panic. “Like zombies?”
“Totally,” he continues. “Like they're just walking around, fighting the urge to eat everyone's brains. It's like living with the undead.”
“Maybe zombies aren't so bad?” Anna replies.
“What, flesh-crazed monsters with rotting flesh? Yeah, I'm sure they're great fun to be around. So -” He passes her a menu. “What do you want to drink?”
A few minutes later, once Scott has gone to the counter, Anna tries to calm down. She keeps telling herself that running away would be the cowardly thing to do, and that she has to at least stay for one drink. At the same time, she feels as if there's no way she can hide the truth from Scott for much longer, and as he returns with their cocktails, she has to fight the urge to run for the door.
“I love zombie movies,” he says with a grin. “Games too. There's nothing better after a long day than ripping up a load of zombies with a chainsaw. Have you played Zombie Apocalypse?”
“Um... no...”
“World at War?”
“No.”
“Dead Rising?”
“Er...”
“Dead Rising is totally sick,” he continues, clearly filled with enthusiasm. “I think it's the sound effects that make it work. When that chainsaw gets revving, and then you start splattering zombie ass all over the place...” He pauses. “Sorry, I guess I'm getting a bit over the top. I just love games like that. If you want, we could always hook up some time to play a few.”
“That sounds great,” Sam replies, taking a sip of her cocktail. “Tastes good,” she adds, forcing a smile. “What -” Before she can finish, however, she feels something wet on the side her neck. Reaching up, she realizes that part of the cocktail has begun to spill out through a new hole.
“You okay?” Scott asks.
“Spiffing,” she replies. “I mean... great!”
“Have you read World War Z?” he continues. “Man, that book is -”
“Can we not talk about zombies?” she asks. “Sorry, I just...”
“Not the kind of thing to talk about on a date, huh?” he replies. “My bad. So tell me about yourself. How come I've never seen you around town?”
“I work a lot,” she tells him. “All day every day, just... working in that cemetery.”
“Must be a cool job,” he says with a smile. “Do you actually live in that little house?”
“Me and Sam,” she replies, “yeah.”
“And you don't get scared?”
“Of what?”
“I hate to say it again, but... zombies? Or ghosts?”
“It's mostly pretty quiet,” she replies. “It's been a while since the dead last rose up and broke through the windows.”
“I bet, man,” he continues. “I just...” Pausing, he stares at his drink for a moment. “I guess the reason I'm being like this is that, well, soon my sister's gonna be in that cemetery, you know? Like, buried underground and all that stuff. So if there is gonna be a zombie apocalypse some day, she might be part of it and...”
His voice trails off.
“You miss her?” Anna asks.
He nods.
“The thing is, though,” he says after a moment, “this is gonna sound weird, but
I feel like she's still close by. Almost like she's sat at this table with us.”
Anna looks down at her – or rather, Ruth's – hands.
“I guess you think I'm insane,” Scott continues.
“Not really. Maybe she really is here. I mean, in some way.”
“I'd like to think so,” he replies. “It's weird, but I can almost, like, sense her. Or maybe even smell her. I swear I'm not the kind of person who gets into all that supernatural stuff, but over the past few days I've been wondering if there's any way she might still be around. Like...” He pauses. “I can almost smell her perfume.”
“You can?” Anna asks, surreptitiously sniffing her hand. She added some perfume of her own before leaving, but she can't help worrying that something might still be on Ruth Havershot's skin, perhaps on her legs.
“Anyway,” Scott replies, “I'm sorry. I'm bringing the mood down again. Damn it, you must think I'm a total idiot, just sitting here constantly talking about zombies and my dead sister. Plus, I tried to pick you up just after Ruth died. I swear I'm not usually like this. I'm really pretty normal!”
“It's fine,” Anna tells him. “Come on, isn't there anything we can do that might cheer you up?”
“It's good just being out with you,” he continues. “Seriously, I was worried you wouldn't show up. I mean, you must get loads of guys asking you to have a drink with them.”
“Not these days,” Anna mutters.
“I've got an idea,” he adds, with a sparkle in his eye. “Look, you're really not seeing me at my best here, so why don't we get out of here? My parents are out for the evening, so we could go back to my place and play some serious zombie-busting games. What do you say?” Reaching out to her, he takes her hands in his. “Seriously. I promise you'll enjoy it!”
Sam opens her mouth to turn him down, but the look in his eyes makes her realize that he genuinely wants to just hang out with her.
“Sure,” she says finally, against all her instincts. “That sounds like... fun...”
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh God,” Sam mutters darkly as soon as she reaches the town square. “People.”
The large tent is lit up by several huge lights, and scores of people are milling about, waiting for the main door to be opened. Having expected nothing more than a few mildly interested locals, Sam wanders through the shadows, trying to work out if she has the nerve to go through with the visit. Stopping next to the mayor's office, she notices her own shadow against a nearby wall, complete with the knife hilt sticking out of her head.
“What happened to you?” she imagines everyone asking over and over again. A year after the incident with Fenroc, she has mostly managed to keep out of sight, but tonight Rippon seems to have burst into life.
“Fine,” she whispers, figuring that she has no choice. “Let's get this over with.”
Making her way across the town square, she finds herself almost blinded by the arc lights. The Raven Revivals sign is now lit up with a set of multi-colored bulbs, while a powerful searchlight is slowly turning nearby, lighting up the sky. All around the area, excited locals are chatting to one another, while speakers are pumping modern gospel music into the street. It's one of the most surreal sights Sam has ever witnessed, and she feels dazed as she wanders through the crowd.
“What happened to you?” asks Walter Simpkin, the town's mayor, as he passes. “Are you hurt, girl?”
“I'm fine,” Sam mutters.
“What happened to you?” calls out another voice.
Turning, Sam doesn't even see who the voice belonged to.
“So you came, did you?” asks yet another voice.
Turning, Sam finds herself face to face with Mrs. Muirfield, the librarian.
“Yeah,” she replies. “And so did you, apparently.”
“Well, I was going to spend the evening at home, watching television,” she says with a faint smile, “but then I turned the internet back on and read up about this place, and I realized that everyone has to get out and live from time to time. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?”
Smiling, Sam watches as Mrs. Muirfield disappears into the crowd, just as the entrance to the tent is pulled open. Everyone starts filing inside, while Sam holds back a little and watches. Unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong, she looks around at the locals and tries to work out why they seem so fascinated by the tent; she's tempted to believe that some kind of mind control is being employed, but from the various expressions of curiosity and excitement, she's convinced that the locals have simply woken from a collective slumber.
“Coming in?” asks an American voice nearby.
Turning, she sees that the man from earlier is smiling at her.
“Andy,” he continues. “Come on, we can't hold back for just one person, not even...” He pauses. “Well, anyway, in you come. I took the liberty of reserving a seat for you right at the front. Wouldn't want you to miss anything.”
Feeling distinctly under the spotlight, Sam smiles politely and enters the tent. Inside, she finds rows of wooden seats facing a makeshift stage, with a large crucifix on the main wall. The locals are all finding their seats, and there's an atmosphere of hushed excitement. As Sam makes her way to the front, she watches a man hurry over to the microphone and give it a tap, while a nervous-looking woman peers out from behind a curtain at the back of the stage.
“This is so exciting,” says a man sitting nearby. “I've never seen such a thing in Rippon, not in all my years.”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Andy calls out as he climbs up onto the stage. “First of all, I'd like to welcome you all to the very first Raven Revivals show ever staged in the United Kingdom!”
As the crowd applauds, Sam claps cautiously and frowns.
“In a moment,” Andy continues, “the great Charles Raven is going to come up here and introduce you to a whole new world, but first I must caution you all. Everything you see on this stage tonight is real. There are no tricks, no illusions, no sleight of hand, no magic... Everything is the product of one man's extraordinary powers, powers that are rooted in a gift that was bestowed upon him at birth. Mr. Raven himself is far too modest to say such a thing himself, but I'm telling you, he has been blessed by God. He has been given these powers so that he might move among us all, exhibiting the signs of faith and spreading the Lord's word far and wide. He is, in many ways, an agent of the Lord God.”
“Modest,” Sam mutters under her breath. “Yeah, this whole thing just seems so modest.”
“It is possible,” Andy adds, “that tonight's gathering will be targeted by the forces of Satan. The Dark Lord loves nothing more than to disrupt peaceful prayer, and you can bet your bottom dollar that he knows we're here. I want you all to be assured, however, that Mr. Charles Raven will keep everyone safe. Why, he would even throw himself into the fires of Hell if it meant he could save innocent souls such as those that have gathered here tonight. So if you feel Satan tugging at the edges of your mind, or slipping his hand into yours, do not be afraid. Trust in Mr. Raven. And now, I would ask you all to bow your heads as I lead you in an introductory prayer.”
Sam stares at him as everyone else in the crowd does as they're told.
“That includes you,” Andy hisses at her, with a faint smile.
Sighing, Sam looks down at her lap, but she keeps her eyes open.
Silence.
And then -
“I will take over from here, thank you,” says a deep, calm voice from the stage.
Sam looks up just in time to see that another man has arrived at the microphone, ushering Andy away. This new man has tall and sturdy, wearing a slightly faded linen suit, and with the kind of craggy, middle-aged good looks of an old-time movie star. It's his eyes, however, that truly attract Sam's attention; deep and large and as blue as the ocean, those eyes stare straight at her for a moment before the man looks out across the whole of the crowd. He has an expression of true wonder in his eyes.
“Dear Lord,”
he continues, “we ask that you look upon your followers today and take note of their faith. We ask that you protect them all from evil. Most of all, we ask that you open their minds so that they can recognize and accept the miracles that are to be performed for them tonight. Amen.”
“Amen,” mutter the members of the crowd.
Except Sam.
“I would like to thank you,” Charles Raven continues, “from the bottom of my heart, for coming out to see us tonight. I know you folks have a lot to do, so I appreciate that you're willing to give us just a couple of hours of your time. In return, I promise to use that time wisely, and to make you all see the world a little differently. The power that I possess, and that I am going to share with all of you tonight, is not a toy. It is a very serious thing, something that once seen, cannot be unseen. Now, some of you might only be changed a little, and that's fine. But I guarantee that one or two of you in this room -”
At this point, he glances at Sam again.
“- will have their worldviews permanently transformed. I will lead you on a journey through the fields of faith, until we arrive at the point that I imagine most of your folks are here for. Tonight, I will raise the dead back to life, and I will heal the sick, and I will do all of this right in front of you in a manner that leaves no doubt. There will be not a single trick involved. Of that, you have my word. And now, without further ago, I – Charles Raven – would like to invite you all on a journey into faith. It's a journey that begins right here, in the hearts of every person in the room.”
“It's not a room,” Sam whispers to herself. “It's a tent.”
***
“But you feel it, don't you?” Charles Raven asks a little while later, as he kneels before an elderly woman's wheelchair and places his hands on her knees. “Tell me, Valerie, that you can feel the spirit of the Lord moving through your body.”
