Storm Front

by Riley Flynn

  “It’s a lot better than being shot at.” Alex couldn’t bring himself to laugh. “Did you think about going up on the roof? We could do with someone up there looking over anything, especially someone with a good shot.”

  “What?” Nelson screwed up his face in confusion. “Anyone out there’d be a sitting duck. At least give us a wall to hide behind. Something to defend.”

  “Oh, yeah. Hadn’t thought of that. Sorry, I’m rushing around and–”

  “We know. We were just–”

  Reni stopped talking. She looked up to the doorway. Jenna was arriving, a worried look on her face.

  “Did you see what they did?”

  “What?” Alex could hear the concern in the teenager’s voice.

  His nose twitched. A smell. Burning.

  “Come and look.”

  Jenna led all three people into the front room of the house. The room which should have overlooked the porch. On this floor, they had been most zealous with the defenses. Every window and door was nailed shut, some with three layers of wood boards, as well as furniture pushed up against the walls.

  But there were still gaps between it all. Alex waved behind him, motioning for Reni to put out the candle she carried. With light inside, it was harder to look out.

  As the room returned to darkness, Alex approached the window. Peering through the gaps, he was surprised to be able to see. The whole porch should have been shrouded in pitch black. Leaning this way and that, he tried to better his angle tried to position himself to see out.

  “Why’s it so bright?” he asked, mostly to himself.

  “That’s the thing,” said Jenna. “They set a fire. The barn is going up.”

  Alex had been scanning the porch and the courtyard so much, he hadn’t seen across the other side. He bent down and saw it. The thin slither of the building he could see was burning, the flames already licking at the roof from the inside.

  “Well,” he said. “That explains the smell.”

  As he looked away from the window, an explosion roared.

  “And that’ll be the paint,” he continued. “Reckon they checked that? Their fault, I guess.”

  Reni, Nelson, and Jenna laughed nervously. They were lining up to look outside. But there was work to be done.

  “Nelson. Reni. You two were in charge of the water situation here, right?”

  They nodded, their eyes trained on the window behind Alex.

  “Okay. I want you to fetch the barrels of rainwater you had. If there’s any snow you can get as well, get that. I want it all. Anything we can get inside.”

  “What for?” Jenna looked confused but Nelson had figured it out.

  “for the fire.” He started to move. “If they try and burn us out, I mean. Come on, Reni.”

  The brother and sister disappeared into the other end of the house.

  “You really think they’ll do that?”

  Alex looked at the young girl. She might have been a teenager still, but she’d seen more hardship, endured more than Alex had done in his first thirty years in this world.

  “You were with Levine before, right? Before Krol helped you out.”

  “Yeah.” Jenna nodded. “With my boyfriend.”

  He wasn’t here. Alex didn’t need to ask what had happened to him. He was gone.

  “So you know what they’re capable of doing.”

  Alex didn’t need to tell her twice. The steely look which flashed across her face said it all.

  “They’ll do anything to get in here,” she said, walking to the pile of guns in the center of the room. “I’m not going to let them.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Alex almost smiled. “But they’re not coming yet. I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Levine. He’s got a stage here. He’s just arranging the players. He’ll want a big scene.”

  Peering again through the spaces between the wood boards, Alex tried to see out into the courtyard. The flames crawled over the whole barn now, driven higher and higher by the tins of old paint. Occasionally, another would explode. Not a huge boom, but more of a clapping thud. The stage was being set for Levine.

  But trying to spot anyone was impossible. There were shapes moving outside, but the thin slit through which Alex was viewing the world was not enough. There had to be a better way. He had to be able to see more.

  “Alex!”

  The voice came from upstairs. Joan’s room. Timmy’s voice. He started to run.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Alex heard his name being called again. It wasn’t a desperate shout. But it seemed important. Looking at the individual steps, he remembered how tired he was. He remembered how hungry he was. How thirsty. His entire body was running on fumes. With one foot after the other, he began to climb.

  “Alex!” Timmy called again as Alex entered the room.

  “I’m here, I’m here. What is it? What’s so important?”

  “I think you need to come and see this, man.”

  “What is it?” Alex looked from Timmy to Joan. Neither of them said a word.

  “Just come and look.”

  Alex approached the window. Looking one last time at his friends, receiving nothing from them, he leaned in and looked through the gap between the boards. The courtyard was down below. A wide, empty expanse covered in snow. Trails of footsteps snaked across the surface, tying themselves in knots, heading this way and that. There was movement.

  The sound of the barn burning set the score. It lit the stage, the light reflecting up off the settled snow. From the shadows, entering from the right, came a noise. Hoofbeats. Alex looked and leaned. Then, he could see.

  Levine.

  The preacher rode into the courtyard on his pale horse. Behind him came a caravan of believers formed into two columns. Levine flicked the reigns and the horse sped up, forging a circle around in front of the burning barn before stopping.

  “My children!” The words reverberated off every surface. Levine’s voice was soft and sickly, even this loud. “My children, the night is upon us!”

  He’s performing. He knows I’m listening. Alex didn’t want to give the man what he wanted but he couldn’t look away.

  Back beside the rows of his believers, Levine drew his horse to a halt. With his square jaw and flowing hair, he looked up to the farmhouse.

  “What’s he doing?” Joan asked, lurking in the depths of the room. Everyone else was watching at the window, begging her for quiet. They had to listen.

  Levine was dressed in his finest robes. The same he’d been wearing for the baptism. But the explosion seemed to have scorched the edges, ruffled the lines of the cloth. It only added to the drama. The man himself seemed unscathed. The look of a man who could walk through a thunderstorm without getting wet.

  The rows of believers ignored their leader. They marched, silently, into the courtyard. From up in the bedroom, it seemed as though they were dragging something. But Alex couldn’t make his angle work. He couldn’t see between them.

  “They’ve got something,” he whispered to the others. They didn’t reply. They were too hooked.

  “My children,” Levine continued. “Tonight, we make the Lord’s words work. Tonight, we absolve ourselves and earn – tonight we earn! – our right to march through the gates of heaven, heads held high.”

  It was a sermon but not for the believers. It was meant for the people in the house, Alex could tell.

  “My children, there is so much sin in the world. So very much. What are we, but those who sit aside and allow it to occur? Tonight, I say enough. This must end. Tonight, we will not allow sin to delay the glorious coming of God by one more single second. No. Tonight, we begin to make the world right.”

  The believers had moved into a circle. There was something between them. They’d dragged it all the way inside. Now, a few of them bent down and began to attend to whatever they’d brought with them. The rest lined up facing the house, like Romans forming up beneath city walls.

 
“Not a soul will escape tonight without our blessing. The Lord looks down on us and loves what we do. His is the word. His is the truth. The way.”

  The believers began to sing. Hymns.

  “They’re singing ‘Crown Him’.” Jenna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “We used to sing that.”

  No one replied. They couldn’t stop watching Levine.

  The preacher began to move again, encouraging his horse up and down the ranks, shouting as he went.

  “But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief. Ye are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. Therefore, let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober.”

  Levine came to a stop right below the bedroom window.

  “For God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ.”

  How does he know we’re up here? Alex thought. Because this is where he would be. The best seats in the house.

  “Look,” said Reni. “They’ve unfurling something.”

  She was right. The small crowd of believers, the ones who had dragged something into the center of the courtyard, had huddled together. They were pulling apart strips of white fabric.

  “What are they doing?” Timmy asked.

  “What is that?” Nelson sounded worried.

  “What’s going on?” Joan was still at the back of the room, rocking the baby. Finn whined and his claws scratched at the wooden floorboards. Alex turned to see his friend trying to fashion a carrier from a double-folded strip of bed sheeting. She’d tied it twice around herself, fastening the child to her chest.

  Before Alex could say anything, the preacher’s voice boomed up from below.

  “Tonight, my children.” Levine was beginning to dismount his horse. “Tonight, we bless this world. We come to our friends, heathens though they are, and we try to make the world right. We bring the Lord to them. And they will thank us, in this life or in the next.”

  The preacher reached into his robes, pulled out an object. A bottle of water, Alex could see. Levine began to unscrew the cap.

  “There are many evils in the world,” Levine told his congregation. “Allowing a baby to live without the light of the Lord is one. It is an evil we will correct tonight. We will make it good. For such a noble cause, we will gladly give ourselves. Like Peter, hung upside down, will dedicate our bodies in the name of the Almighty. We will bless every single one. We will not stand for ungodliness.”

  “He’s insane. Completely insane.” Joan’s voice, coming from the back of the room.

  Wetting his hand from the bottle, Levine began to slash at the air, flinging drops of water all around. The believers began to walk backwards, revealing what they had been doing.

  “Oh my God.” Reni’s words stumbled. “Oh my…”

  “That can’t be.” Nelson’s voice cracked. “They wouldn’t…”

  “Christ.” Timmy only had one word. “Christ.”

  Alex could feel his blood freezing in his veins. There was no way he could watch but nothing in the world could have made him turn away. His eyeswere fixed on Levine, the holy water dripping from his fingers, the baptism sermon echoing from his mouth. In the middle of the courtyard, Cam’s body waited to be blessed.

  “Give me my rifle.” Alex delivered the order as though he expected it to be obeyed. “Now.”

  Joan just looked up at him, the baby pressed up against her body, a pistol locked and loaded in one hand. She wasn’t going to give up either. Not with a madman outside. But she hadn’t seen what was happening.

  “Alex, what is it?”

  “Give it to me. Where is it?”

  He looked around the room for the rifle. He’d left it here somewhere. It was so dark, he could barely see.

  “Alex, what is it?” Joan asked again.

  “Don’t do it, man. He’s provoking you. Making you react.”

  “Where’s my gun?”

  It must be on the bed. Alex laid down his hands and began to search beneath the blankets.

  “What is it? Timmy, what’s going on?”

  “Alex, stop. Man, come on. Don’t do it.”

  Reni, Jenna, and Nelson huddled by the window. Joan looked up at them.

  “One of you, tell me. What’s going on?”

  “They’ve got his body. Cam’s body. Levine’s baptizing it.”

  “Cam…? But… I thought you buried him?”

  “I did.” Nelson said, his eyes still peeking through the window. “He’s not buried anymore.”

  Timmy jumped on Alex’s back, wrapping his arms around his friend’s shoulders.

  “Get off, Timmy. Get off. I need my gun. I’m going to stop him.”

  “Don’t, man. You won’t hit him. He’s playing you.”

  Twisting, Alex threw Timmy to the floor. He felt around again, this time at the foot of the bed. There it was, the Savage. Taking the rifle in his hand, he returned to the window and balanced the gun through the slat.

  “Alex, don’t do it. C’mon, man. C’mon. We need to focus. We need to keep our heads. Fire that shot and he knows he’s got you. Stop playing his game, man.”

  The scope scoured the courtyard, searching for the preacher. Levine was back up on his horse, trotting around. For a moment, he paused above the body, struck a match, and dropped it. Cam’s corpse burst into flames. It had all been arranged. The preacher began to move again. The believers sang.

  The range was too short. Alex couldn’t make the rifle sit. He flicked around, trying to trace Levine. Every few seconds, the horse would pass by the burning body. Alex would get angrier. But the shot wouldn’t sit still.

  “Alex, stop!” Timmy was shouting.

  “Alex, listen to us!” Joan joined in, backed by a chorus from the others in the room.

  The rifle played across the courtyard, Alex pleaded for a shot. He wasn’t listening. The rage had broken free. For too long, every molecule in his body had been burning with anger, desperate to do anything. He’d wanted to shout and scream and fight the world. But he’d held it back, driven the beast back inside, back into the darkness.

  Not anymore. Now, Alex allowed the fury to course through his body, feeling it humming in his veins and his lungs, fizzing up and down his spine. Only now, he didn’t want to shout and scream. He didn’t want to lash out at the world. The veil had settled down over his thoughts and all the outside noises faded into the background. His friends calling out to him, pleading.

  “Please, Alex!”

  “Please!”

  Their voices became part of the ether, a distant distraction from his true purpose. Rage. The sight of Cam’s burning body. The grin plastered across the preacher’s face. The baby who’d been stolen, the sacrifice from Krol. It all bubbled up and boiled, the energy flowing into Alex’s finger as it rested on the trigger. He felt so helpless. So alone. So angry, at last.

  The crosshairs danced. Alex squeezed. A pocket of white snow burst from the ground and floated down. The horse kept moving. Levine didn’t even flinch. Protected by God.

  “To hell with it.” Alex shouted and turned to the rest of the room. He threw the rifle on to the bed. He didn’t care. “To hell with it all.”

  Slap. The world spun, Alex’s eyes danced, his ears ringing.

  He rubbed his face. Joan slapped him again.

  Looking up, he saw her standing in front of him. Joan wasn’t holding the baby anymore.

  “Alex Early.” He knew the voice so well. “Listen to me. That man out there is playing you for a fool. We’re probably going to die tonight. Probably. But if we have any chance, it’s made better with you having a grip on yourself, you understand me?”

  The whole room was watching. Alex did understand. His cheek stung. She was right. Emotion was taking over. He was being manipulated. If they were going to make it through the night, it had to stop.

  Joan raised her hand, about to deliver another blow.

&n
bsp; “No,” Alex pushed away her arm. “Don’t. You’re right. Sorry. I let him get to me.”

  This wasn’t a time for emotion. From the deep recesses of his memory, Krol’s words floated to the top. It was time to be a leader. To look after his friends. Their lives were in his hands.

  Alex knew he had to take a hold on the situation. Take control. He was in charge. He was the leader.

  This wasn’t a time for dying.

  From outside, Levine gave a shout. Alex darted back to the window. He saw the horse rearing up on its hind legs. From its back, the preacher pointed at the house.

  The believers began to attack.

  31

  Downstairs, fists began to hammer against the doors, the whole house shaking as the believers shouted and yelled.

  Alex felt a stab of fear right in his gut. He took one long, last look at those around him. If they didn’t defend the house, this might be the last time he saw them alive.

  “Come on!” he shouted. “Let’s go!”

  Timmy was first to move, running to the door and down the stairs. The others weren’t far behind. Only Joan remained, holding her baby.

  The sense of fear was subsiding.

  “You stay here,” Alex told Joan. “Close the windows. Keep them out.”

  As the sounds of fighting echoed up from below, Joan nodded her head.

  “Go,” she whispered. “They need you.”

  The heaviness of the words hit home. They needed him. Alex knew he was in charge now. Checking his rifle, he knew she was right. He whistled and Finn’s ears picked up. The dog had been sitting, guarding mother and child determinedly.

  “Come on, boy. We’re going to make it count.” Alex heard the dog following him as he ran for the stairs.

  Noises came from all around. Shouts. Gunshots. Screams. The sound of horse hooves beating against the snow.

  Alex jerked his neck in every direction, not knowing where to go first. There were too many rooms. Too many fronts. Trying to defend everything at once seemed impossible. But he had to try.

  “Timmy!” Alex shouted out to his friend, who had his shoulder pressed against the front door. “Take the back hallway.”

  Without a word, Timmy ran to the back of the house, where a collection of bedrooms was arranged along a single hallway. It was the best defended part of the house. Tiny windows and beds already nailed into place over every entrance.