“Your leaders, John and Alice, have graciously accepted my offer to feed and shelter you for the night. The egregious theft of your food supplies at the hands of your brothers is truly unfortunate and I can only hope that my humble offer to help will assist you all on your journey to the coast. It will be long and hard, no doubt, but God willing you will manage.
“Please allow us to provide your earthly bodies sustenance and a good night’s rest before you continue onward.” He paused, dropping his head. “Let us pray.”
As Enoch launched into a mumbling prayer, Ed glanced around the room at the survivors from the truck. Most had their heads bowed, but he noticed Terry Wilkinson was not a part of this group. Instead, Ed’s most recent red-bearded acquaintance looked around the room, catching Ed’s eye and nodding in acknowledgment.
As Enoch continued his prayer, Ed glanced toward the back of the room. The men lined up along the back wall had their heads bowed as well. All except the two who’d accompanied Enoch in the jeep. With their heads held high, they scanned the room, inspecting the new arrivals in the pews. One of the men caught Ed’s eye and paused just for a moment before moving on to the others. But the pause was just long enough to set Ed on edge.
Enoch uttered “amen” and raised his head, smiling at his audience. “Brothers and Sisters, let us break bread.”
He exited the pulpit and walked toward a side door, disappearing through it. Behind him the bodyguards from the truck followed. Robed men led those in the pews toward the door, motioning them through. Ed didn’t notice any of the women originally spotted outside upon the trucks’ arrival in attendance.
Ed rose with the others, ensuring the boys remained in tow as they made their way up the aisle and out through the chapel door. Once through, Enoch’s men led them all down a long hallway. The smell of baking bread and cooking meat greeted them. Despite his concerns, Ed felt his stomach grumble.
Enoch led the group of two dozen to a doorway leading to a set of descending steps and stopped. “Our kitchen is downstairs,” he said, motioning toward the open door. “We break bread there as a group each day.”
“Where do you get the food?” one of the Kevins asked. Ed couldn’t remember which one was which.
“We have a stockpile, collected by our brave men over the past couple of years,” Enoch answered. “God has smiled upon us and we are blessed with enough to make do. We’re happy to share His blessings with you, our new friends.”
“Why would you help us?” a short man with long, curly hair asked.
“How can we trust you?” a stout woman asked.
Enoch smiled. “When two travelers asked Lot for simple hospitality, did he refuse them? Of course he did not. As a matter of fact, when the angry mob demanded they be handed over so the devils could know them intimately, Lot refused.”
Terry spoke up. “Yeah, he offered up his virgin daughters for gang rape in their place.”
Enoch smiled. If he was affected by Terry’s bible lesson he didn’t overtly show it. “All the more illustrative of my point,” he replied, the smile hanging on his lips, but just barely. “The time has come for eating and fellowship. Please, will you join me?”
Enoch descended the steps with John and Alice in tow. The rest of the group followed suit.
Jasper shrugged. “I guess we’re doing this then,” he said as he walked toward the doorway.
“Do you think it’ll be okay?” Trish asked Ed.
“Well, we still have our guns,” Jasper replied. “Doesn’t even look like they’re packing.”
“Should we go then?” Trish asked.
“Not sure if we have much choice,” Ed replied. “We’re in this with everybody else now.”
Trish nodded. She took Ed’s hand as they joined the rest of the group in the church’s basement kitchen.
Chapter Fourteen
Chloe allowed it, so Lester walked with the two teenagers, making sure not to say anything that might spook the already suspicious girl.
Sam had already bought in, so no challenge there. But Lester wasn’t interested in Sam. He wanted Chloe.
Normally he didn’t like them so young. Kids were pushovers, too easy to manipulate. No challenge. Besides, in the end they never really put up much of a fight. The older they were the more fight they had in them and all the more satisfying when he finally put them down.
Chloe was tough. Jaded. Suspicious, despite her young age.
Exactly the kind of challenge Lester lived for.
So Lester walked. He helped the two carry their loads. He let Chloe look through his backpack, revealing only clothes and innocuous supplies. (He did not reveal the knife stowed in the bag’s hidden pocket, of course.) He talked of his psychology practice, regurgitating anecdotes that were as much fiction as fact. He elaborated on his fictitious family, reciting stories about his two imaginary sons and a wife who’d had the terrible misfortune of not surviving the viral outbreak that ended civilization. Conveniently constructed stories sure to be pity-inspiring.
Sam relayed his own losses, including that of his mother, to which Lester made puppy dog eyes before placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Lester couldn’t have given a fuck less about some random cunt, but the mask of empathy he wore had been carefully crafted over many years of practice.
Chloe didn’t share. Surely the girl had her own stories, but she kept them to herself. Lester could hardly reign in his excitement at finding such a tough nut to crack. A delicate, sweet dessert to be savored thoroughly when the time was right. He could almost see her hanging upside down, her face flushed red with blood, her eyes brimming with tears. When he opened her up the blood would flow a bright, dazzling red.
He whipped himself back into reality. Hold your shit together, he told himself. Take your time. Savor this.
He walked on, affecting meekness while delicious visions of blood danced throughout his head.
* * *
Open farmland became forest as the day pressed on. Lester relieved the two of them, carrying the broomstick and pillow case contraptions to help share the load. Currently he wore Sam’s.
Chloe watched carefully as Lester and Sam talked freely about end-of-the-world theories involving the government, the army, the Russians and Chinese, even space aliens. Sam appeared to get along fine with this new stranger, a man they’d met only hours ago. But Sam could get along with just about anybody because he was still in many ways just a kid. He didn’t have the kind of jaded cynicism that Chloe possessed.
When it came down to it, she didn’t think she liked Lester much. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. What exactly that was she couldn’t seem to put her finger on though. Something about him seemed too perfect. Too agreeable. Too safe. As if he were trying too hard to convince her and Sam how harmless he was. It sounded crazy even to herself, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her otherwise. The problem was translating that message to English and getting Sam to see it as well.
“I need to pee,” Chloe said, suddenly stopping in her tracks. She lowered the broomstick and pillow cases full of supplies to the ground. Her muscles felt the glorious relief of no longer bearing that weight and she instantly dreaded having to carry it for even another yard. “Sam, can you come with me?” she said, motioning toward the surrounding woods with a nod of her head.
Sam blushed. “You want me to come with you?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Just to be safe. I expect you not to look.”
“We’ll be right back, Lester,” Sam said. “I want to hear more about your germ warfare theory.”
“Sure thing, Sam.”
Chloe grasped Sam’s hand. “Come on. I gotta go.” They left the road and headed into the overgrown shoulder, walking through a carpet of thick weeds before stepping into the trees. They disappeared behind a wall of foliage, but Chloe led Sam further still, just to ensure they remained out of earshot.
“Chloe, this is weird,” Sam said. “You never asked me to come with you before.”
/> “Shut up,” she said, immediately wishing she hadn’t sounded so rough. “Just come with me,” she continued, her voice softer now. Another two dozen feet and she stopped. She turned to Sam, glancing back at the road without noticing she’d done it.
“Chloe, what gives?”
“Quiet,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He might hear.”
“Who, Lester?”
“Yes, Lester.”
“So what?”
“So I don’t want him to, that’s what.”
“Um, okay,” he said a perplexed look on his face. “I’m not sure why you care.”
“I don’t trust him,” she said, not dancing around the subject. She hadn’t the time to waste.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “What’s not to trust? He’s a good guy.”
“Something’s off with him.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t say exactly. But something’s not right with him.”
“You’re making a big deal over nothing.”
“I’m not. I swear I’m not. I’m older than you. I can tell these kinds of things,” Chloe said, straightaway wishing she’d phrased it differently.
“You’re not that much older than me,” Sam said, indignant. “I’m not a kid, you know.”
She was losing him, she could tell. “Let’s just go right now,” she said. “Just keep walking, into the woods.”
“I don’t want to,” Sam argued. “Besides, all of our stuff is back there.”
“We’ll get more. It’s just stuff.”
“It’s not just stuff and you know it. Food and other supplies are hard to get these days. There’s nothing out here but woods and abandoned farms. Those farmhouses all got picked over years ago and you know it. We’ll starve without that food.”
“Sam, please.” Now she was begging and she hated the sound of it.
“Lester’s cool, Chloe. He hasn’t done anything bad. He’s smart, college degree and everything. And in case you hadn’t noticed we don’t have any adults with us now.”
“We don’t need any.”
“I think maybe we do.”
“Speak for yourself,” Chloe said, glaring. She could feel the anger building inside her as he continually refuted her arguments.
Sam took a deep breath. “Look. I just lost my mom and I’m not even thirteen yet.”
“Don’t talk to me about losing a parent,” Chloe said. “Like you’re the only one in the world who has.”
Sam’s mouth turned into a frown. Now he was upset…and mad. Chloe could see any chance of convincing him to leave dwindling right before her eyes and yet she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out. She loved him and hated him at the same time.
“What are we going to do when we need an adult around?” Sam said, his eyes hard and cold. “Lester is a good guy and you haven’t proved he’s not. Some kind of weird feeling isn’t enough to leave everything behind and run away.”
Chloe felt hot tears of frustration begin to well up. There was no way she would let him see her cry. Obviously he was bound and determined to stick with Lester, regardless of anything she had to say and leaving without Sam was out of the question. Even as stupid and bull-headed as he could be.
“What if he tries something?” Chloe said.
“We got the guns, remember?”
“What if it happens when we’re asleep?”
“We’ll sleep in shifts. One of us will be awake with him, just to make sure.” He looked at her earnestly. This was Sam’s attempt at a compromise and Chloe knew that she wouldn’t get any better deal than that. She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath and admitted defeat. “Whatever then,” she said.
Sam’s face lit up. “Good! Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Chloe frowned. “Go on. I have to pee.”
“I though you wanted me to stay with you.”
“That was just an excuse to talk in private, you dummy.”
“Oh,” Sam replied sheepishly.
Chloe shook her head. Sometimes Sam really was just a kid. “Go on. I’ll be right there.”
She watched him walk away, back to the road and to Lester, her stomach a roiling pit. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. For a split-second she considered just walking away, deep into the forest. Let Sam have creepy old Lester. They could be best friends. And if something bad happened then that was Sam’s own fault.
That was the kid in her talking. She knew it and she shut that voice up. She had no time to be childish, especially now. Now they needed to be the adults they didn’t have, despite what Sam said about having Lester around. They had to be their own guardians, make their own decisions.
As she stood in a nondescript patch of woods along a crumbling road, Chloe wondered to her herself if the boy she liked so much would end up being the death of her. Frustrated, she headed back toward the road, hoping like hell she was wrong about Lester.
Chapter Fifteen
It happened so fast that Ed could barely register it. Only moments after descending the steps, the door at the top slammed shut behind them. Startled, Ed turned around. Behind him stood two men in robes, their beards wiry and unkempt, their eyes dark and cold.
In their hands they held pistols.
A man yelled from somewhere within the basement kitchen. A woman screamed. Ed reached for his pistol, but received a fist to the face for his efforts. The blow caught him by surprise and he went down hard, slamming his chin off the concrete floor, but maintaining his grip on the gun. Stars swirled along with patchy black spots, clouding his vision. Somewhere in the distance he heard Jeremy cry out; a moment later his son’s voice went silent.
More yelling echoed throughout the basement now. A gunshot rang out, followed by two more in quick succession. Men yelled. Someone cursed. Movement flashed near Ed as he struggled to get to his feet. He made it to his hands and knees before lifting his pistol, searching for anyone in a robe as a target. Another flash of movement and the gun flew from his hand, smacking the floor and sliding away. Strong hands gripped him from behind, wrenching his arms backward until he thought his shoulder joints might pop out of place.
“Dad!” Zach called out amidst the confusion. Ed watched helplessly as more men in robes wrestled his son to the floor, piling on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back.
Fueled with rage, Ed lunged forward, calling out his son’s name. He broke free for only a moment before another blow struck him across the temple, causing the room to spin. He spun along with it and went down hard, his head slamming against the unyielding concrete floor.
Then Ed Brady knew nothing but darkness.
* * *
Ed opened his eyes. The world drifted in and out of focus as the smell of sweat and human excrement wafted through on a warm breeze. He blinked hard, forcing the world into focus. Above him a crosshatched ceiling of old wood held together by rusty nails looked down oppressively upon him. He felt nausea flood in and for a moment he thought he might vomit.
When the feeling dissipated he sat up slowly, feeling the hardness of the wooden floor beneath him in every muscle of his back. As his eyes adjusted to the light he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. Quickly it came back to him; the truck and the church, the men in the robes. The basement. They’d been attacked and then…he remembered nothing.
He looked around for his family. He was in a cell, with a section of chainlink fence now serving a new purpose as prison bars. He scanned the room more quickly now, his head pounding from the sudden movement. A handful of people sat nearby, none of them speaking.
“What the hell happened?” he said, not realizing he’d spoken out loud.
“Ed!” Trish cried out, rising up from the group sitting on the floor. “You’re awake!”
“What happened?” Ed asked again. “Where are the boys?”
“They attacked us in the basement,” Trish replied. “Then they locked us up in here.”
“Where are the boys?” Ed repeated.
Trish pointed behind him. “In the other cell,” she said.
Ed followed her finger to find only a wooden wall. He returned a confused look.
“On the other side of the wall,” she said.
“Are they…?”
“They’re okay.”
“Zach! Jeremy!” Ed called out.
“We’re here, Dad,” Zach replied.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy answered.
Ed stood, stumbling as he did. Trish steadied him until he regained his balance. “You took a bad bump on the head. You should take it easy.”
Ed barely heard her. “How did I let this happen?” he said. Fear gripped him tightly as the reality of their situation began to set in. “We never should have stopped. Not for anybody.”
Jasper appeared beside Trish. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said.
Ed shook his head. “No, it was. We should have run, but I hesitated. I knew this was wrong, all of it.” He brought his hands to his face. “Why did we ever stop here?”
“If you’re looking for somebody to blame, how about starting with that bitch in the other cell,” Terry Wilkinson said, his baritone voice resonating off the walls. He pointed to the wall dividing them from other cell. “You can thank Alice for all this.”
Ed felt his chest constrict as his breathing quickened. This was it. The end. They’d run out of luck. Who knew what Enoch and his band of true believers had planned for them? His mind ran through dozens of scenarios, each one worse than the one before it.
“I have to think,” he mumbled to himself, “figure a way out of this.” The walls seemed to close in on him as he paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. “This is bad. Really bad.”
John and Alice. They’d stopped when they shouldn’t have. They didn’t follow the plan. They were supposed to, but they didn’t.
“They didn’t follow the plan,” Ed said out loud, hardly aware of himself. He turned toward the group. They stared back at him, their faces weary and beaten.
Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands Page 6
