Besides, the guy at the piano had a pretty good voice. He was no Elvis, but he wasn’t half-bad.
She looked up at him, but he was bent low over the keys, his eyes squeezed shut and his face drawn in a long expression of emotion––something between joy and sorrow––as he sang. She decided to let him finish. There were worse ways to spend the time.
The man’s voice rolled through the hymn, swelling with each chorus and falling to a reverent hush with each verse. He finished with a prolonged note, his vibrato perfect, and the piano fell still, ringing out one final note before leaving the church and the clearing in silence.
Holly opened her eyes at the sudden absence of sound, realizing for the first time just how loud the man and his song had been. Wasn’t he afraid of the dead hearing him? That kind of racket could probably draw the walkers from more than a mile in any direction.
Maybe the dead had left the area, decided to head toward someplace more urban.
Or maybe this asshole didn’t have a single goddamn lick of sense.
The man spun around on his bench, swinging his legs behind him. He stuck out his hand, his lips spreading into a wide, jubilant smile.
“Hi there! Name’s Toby. Brother Toby, I guess. It’s a great pleasure to see somebody come along this Sunday.”
Holly reached up, took the man’s hand. She was amazed at how soft the skin of his palm and fingers felt. It didn’t seem to match his rough appearance.
“Is it Sunday?” she asked. She really didn’t know.
“To the best of my knowledge. It’s not like the TV Guide shows up every Monday anymore. I just marked the days off on an old calendar. Once we reached a year, I started marking ‘em again. This isn’t a leap year, is it? That would’ve thrown me off.”
Holly shook her head, a little dumbfounded by the man’s rapid speech.
“That’s great! I’ve been worried about that for months. Don’t want to go calling to worship on a Saturday, right? It’s not like we’re Catholics here.”
She shook her head again. Her mouth tried to form words, but only a light click escaped her lips.
Brother Toby dropped her hand, and it fell back into her lap. She hadn’t even realized they were still shaking. Something about Toby confused her, seemed to sap her intelligence and will. Maybe it was his rapid and boisterous method of speech. Maybe it was that smile that seemed to grow wider and wider with each passing moment.
Maybe she had just grown paranoid over the past year. Billy Hudson’s assassination attempt would have had that effect on anybody. It was possible that there were still good people in the world. Hell, until a few minutes ago, she hadn’t been sure there were people of any kind left.
She took a deep breath and decided to give Toby the benefit of the doubt. At least he was still alive.
“So, sister. What should I call you?”
She blinked, hoping she hadn’t been silent so long it was noticeable. Time had been slipping away for her so much over the past few months, and she’d spent the last day or so wondering if she’d ever have a conversation with anyone other than herself again.
“Holly,” she said, and she gave him something she hoped looked like a smile.
“Sister Holly! It is a real pleasure.”
“Please, Holly is fine. I was never anybody’s sister.”
Toby shrugged. “We’re all brothers and sister to one degree or another. The Lord says so.”
“He does?”
“Sure, he does. It’s right there in the bible.”
Holly wasn’t about to argue with him. She was a lot of things, but a bible scholar had never been one of them. If Toby said it was in there she was willing to take his word for it. It sounded biblical, at least.
She decided to change the subject.
“How long have you been here, Toby?”
A shadow crossed his face. “Since shortly after… well, I’m sure you know. I came from near Friendship.”
“Really? I’m from Millwood.”
“Millwood? That’s marvelous! I’ve been through Millwood a time or two. Nice little place. What brings you my way?”
“Long story. We tried to get out. We didn’t make it. I guess that’s the short version.”
One of Toby’s eyebrows arched upward.
“We?”
“There were others. A busload, as a matter of fact. There was a wreck, though, and the dead got everybody else. I managed to escape and hide in the woods. Later on, I started walking.”
He nodded. His face was a map of concern.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay.” It was a lie, but she didn’t feel like being the brunt of his condolences right now. She just didn’t have the strength.
“So where were you headed? Were you just wandering, like Moses in the desert, or did you have a destination in mind?”
Moses? she thought. The guy was a little over the top. She’d thought the evangelicals and such stayed farther south. Was she going to hear about a plague of frogs next, or did he plan to jump right to the Second Coming?
“I’m headed toward the Jefferson Proving Ground,” she said. “Thought it might be safe there.”
He nodded, then shrugged. “Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Jefferson’s a ways off, and I’m afraid I just can’t tell you one way or the other.”
She’d figured as much. The lines of communication had unraveled since the dead had risen. Even Millwood had only received news whenever a fresh crop of refugees arrived, and that hadn’t happened in more than four months.
“Am I headed in the right direction at least?” she asked.
“I think so. You’ll have to cut east eventually, but that shouldn’t be so bad. You’ll hit Route 62 if you keep along this road, and that’ll take you to 421. It might not be the easiest path, though. I’d recommend you stay away.”
“Really?”
“Sure. What place is safer than a house of the Lord?”
Holly fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Toby. I’m just not sure I believe that anyplace is safe nowadays.”
“Belief is usually the problem.”
She looked up. Toby’s face had grown solemn, the lines in his dark skin deep and shadowed. He didn’t look angry, though, just sad.
He shook it off.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to freak you out or preach to you, okay? I’m just trying to offer some kind of… I don’t know… stability in this big clusterfuck we’ve got going on now.
“I found this church about a year ago. The preacher and his wife were dead, so I got rid of them and set up shop. I’m not really a holy man or anything. I’m just feeling my way as I go. I pulled the piano out here, and I play every Sunday. Every now and then somebody hears it and wanders along. Most of the time they don’t. I’m just trying to make a difference Sis––Holly, give a little comfort to anybody who might happen by. I don’t mean to creep anybody out.”
Holly stared at the worn wooden steps for a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just, well, you know what’s happened to the world. We all do, right? We’ve all got to be careful, and I guess I’m trying to be a little more cautious than most. Like I said, I’m sorry.”
Toby dismissed her with a wave. “It’s not a problem. I won’t have you pretend that it is, okay? You stay if you want, or you go along your way when you feel you’re ready. In the meantime, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
The offer made Holly’s throat burn, and she realized she had been without water for at least a day. She tried to swallow, but a scratchy dryness prevented it, and she almost coughed out a few rough notes before she managed to recover.
“You got any water?” she asked, and her voice sounded raspy, like old newspaper tumbling across hot concrete. She rubbed her throat with one hand, wincing at the pain the sentence had caused.
Toby’s fingers leapt from the keyboard. He st
ood almost as quickly. “Water? Sure! I always keep a few jugs handy. It’s not cold, of course, but it should help your thirst a little bit, regardless.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped to the church’s double door and motioned for Holly to stand. “C’mon in, Holly. It’ll do you good to get out of the hot sun, anyway.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Even this early in the morning the heat and humidity seemed to press down on her from all sides. A few minutes inside, where she would at least be in the shade, would probably do wonders.
She grunted and pushed herself to her feet. She dusted her jeans off with her hands. “Sounds good, Toby. Lead the way.”
Toby opened one of the doors wide. He gestured with a flourish. “After you.”
She gave him a playful curtsy. His smiled turned into a chuckle. She laughed, as well, and then she stepped through the door and into the small church.
The smell hit her at once.
The dark church reeked of death. The rotting, clinging smell squeezed the air from every direction, forcing its way past Holly’s nostrils and down her throat. She gagged, bending in half as her stomach fought to expel its meager contents. She bit the urge back, but her body convulsed once, twice, and then she fell to her knees, vomiting all over the church’s carpet.
“Yeah,” Toby said behind her, “I never really got used to the smell either.”
She looked back over her shoulder, straining to see Toby through the darkness and her own tears. She saw his fist cock back and she tried to move, but he was too fast. The hand struck her just behind the ear and she collapsed into unconsciousness.
~
“Wake up, Sister Holly. Time to rise and shine!”
Something wet and cool splashed against her face, and Holly sputtered. She tried to blink the liquid––she hoped it was only water––from her eyes. She tried to wipe her face off, but her arms wouldn’t budge. An instant later, she awoke enough to feel the ropes cutting into her wrists.
Toby had tricked her. She’d let down her guard for a single moment and the bastard had gotten the drop on her. Now she was trapped in an isolated church in a world where nobody would hear her scream for help.
Helluva a mind you got there, Holly. You’re a step ahead of everybody, a real thinker.
She let the thought die and concentrated on her current problem. She was tied to a chair, and Toby stood over her. He grinned down at her, his face smug and frightening at the same time. A gleam that could only be considered malevolent blazed in his eyes.
She couldn’t see much of the church. It was too dark, and Toby stood too close. She guessed she was at the front, near the altar, or whatever you called it. She could catch a glimpse of sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, bursting through in solid rays where the glass was broken. That clinging aroma of death and rot filled the room, and she could make out the rattling of chains somewhere beneath the ringing in her ears.
She glared up at Toby, wishing she could burn him with her hate.
“What the fuck is this, you piece of shit?”
“This?” he asked, spreading his arms wide and looking around. “This is my church.” He pointed toward the door.
“Back there is the steeple.”
He crouched in front of her, his face filling her vision.
“I brought you inside…”
He whirled away.
“…so you could see all the people!”
Molly screamed.
The pews were full of the dead, their rotting bodies writhing and shaking. There were men and women, adults and children. They wore clothes of every type: suits and sundresses and t-shirts and shorts. Some had been dead longer than others––their flesh hung from bones in dried strands and clumps––while others were fresh, their skin moist while it decayed.
A leather collar wrapped around the neck of each, a chain securing them to the pew. Their arms had been removed, the stumps raw and black and running. They hissed through their teeth, snapped their jaws, straining against their binds. The pews were heavy, though, made of sturdy wood, and they never even budged as the dead fought their trappings.
Holly stared in wonder, her mouth open and her voice dying to a rasp. The dead leaned toward her, their remaining teeth clacking uselessly as they ached for a meal. Holly shook her head violently, then looked to Toby with frantic eyes.
She could see now how insane he was. It was so obvious.
He patted her head.
“Okay. Maybe I wanted to freak you out a little.”
She looked back out at the living corpses that filled the pews. There were at least two-dozen, maybe three. How long had they been here? How long had Toby been keeping them, and why?
As if in answer, Toby slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“I know. It’s hard to understand. I get that; believe me. I wasn’t lying to you before, Sister Holly. I did live in Friendship. Lived there my whole life, as a matter of fact. Hell, I was there, sitting in my living room, when the first reports came over the tube.
“Like just about everybody, I guess, I watched the first week or so on television, wondering what to make of the whole thing. I mean, c’mon! Dead people were returning to life, eating the living people, and turning them into walking dead folk. That’s not something you see everyday!
“So, I sat there, and I watched, and I searched my mind for an answer. There had to be one out there, some way to make sense of all of it. I just had to sit and ruminate on it long enough. Sooner or later, it was going to dawn on me.
“And it did.”
Holly watched him, holding her breath.
He leaned in close and whispered to her. “Angels.”
He took a step toward the first row of pews, swinging a single arm wide.
“Angels, Sister Holly! What else is going to make the dead rise from the grave? What else could possibly stop death in its very tracks and transform it into life? The angels have come down from heaven and taken root in the only form available to them, that of the dead and rotting.
“I realized they’re trying to tell us something, Sister Holly, something important. All we have to do as a species is prove ourselves worthy of God’s love. Once we’ve done that, the angels will deliver their message, and a new era of peace will greet the Earth!”
Holly let his words settle for a minute, then she replied, her eyes never leaving Toby’s. “You’re fucking crazy.”
His fist struck hard and fast, jolting her head back like a speedbag. She let out a single groan and tried to shake the cobwebs loose.
“You think I’m crazy? Who the fuck are you, Sister? Miserable little shit, got her whole town massacred and ran away from it! You aren’t holy, bitch; you’re a Goddamned heathen! You just want to feed off the Earth, suck it dry! I want to learn, Sister Holly! I want God to bestow his blessings onto me so that I can heal this sick world!”
“By killing these people? You killed them, didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “I did no such thing. I made vessels ready for the coming angels, and if I take good enough care of them––if I can prove myself worthy and ready––they’ll deliver God’s lesson.”
“Take care of them? Is that what lobbing their fucking arms off is for?”
He frowned. “I’m not a fucking retard.
“Truth of the matter is, The Lord works in mysterious ways. These angels, they’re one of those ways.” He walked down the center aisle, and the dead on either side snapped at him, their chains keeping them at bay.
He patted one on the shoulder, snatching his hand away when the zombie tried to bite him. “See? They kill us, but they want to save us. It’s all very Old Testament; I don’t expect you to understand.”
“So what do you expect me to do, Toby? You going to kill me, make me another member of your little flock?”
A hurt expression flashed across his face. He placed a hand to his heart, leaning back. “What? Why, no, Sister Holly! I have enough angels. Now, I just need to
take care of them, bestow blessing unto them until they feel the desire to bestow their blessing unto me.”
A chill raced down Holly’s spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them. She had an idea what was coming next.
When Toby drew the knife out of his waistband, she realized she was right.
He approached her slowly, letting her get a good look at the blade. When he drew close enough, her grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“It appears it’s communion day!”
The knife sawed through her hair, yanking the roots from her scalp. She screamed, then bit down and rode out the pain.
The pressure suddenly eased, and Toby stepped away with a handful of her hair, the hair that she hadn’t even realized had been growing so long.
He stepped toward a zombie seated directly across from her in the first pew. It wore a filth-smeared suit that might have once been a lighter shade of blue.
“This used to be the preacher here,” Toby said. “I believe he told me his name was Michael, but I can’t be too sure. It was a pretty long time ago.”
He pulled a few strands of hair from the fistful he carried with him, dangled them over the dead man’s head. The former preacher leaned back, his jaw opening and closing, black tongue flopping out like a dying fish.
“That’s right, Padre. Little appetizer for ya.” Toby lowered the hair into the corpse’s mouth, and the preacher sucked it in like pasta, chewed it for a long moment.
Best New Zombie Tales Trilogy (Volume 1, 2 & 3) Page 72
