Tortures of the Damned

by Hunter Shea

  “I agree, but I don’t know if Rey would be up for it.”

  “Max could ride with him on the handlebars, just like Rey used to do with Max when he was little.”

  And how she hated watching them do that, her mother’s worry going into overdrive, picturing them both falling headlong off Rey’s bike.

  “If we see one,” Daniel said, “we’ll grab what we can. We’ll also have to find a way to bring our supplies along.”

  “By supplies, you mean firepower?”

  He looked down at the gun in his hand. “Yeah.”

  Elizabeth saw movement by the front steps of the funeral home. She dug her nails into Daniel’s good arm, stopping him. “Look,” she whispered.

  A white, orange, and gray calico nimbly crawled from the scrub beside the funeral home and sat in the middle of the top step, tail twitching, watching them with wide, pale eyes.

  90

  As soon as Buck saw the cat, he planted his feet, aiming the shotgun at the still feline.

  Alexiana whispered, “Don’t. You’ll only attract others.”

  “If there are others,” he said.

  Daniel, Elizabeth, Max, and Rey pulled up behind him, keeping close.

  Circling the wagons, Buck thought with little sense of humor.

  Neither the cat nor the humans moved. Buck didn’t take his eyes from the cat’s, knowing there wasn’t a feline alive that could win a stare-down. The calico didn’t so much as blink.

  “At least it’s not attacking us,” Max said. “Maybe the cats are immune.”

  “Let’s just keep walking,” Buck said. They took a few tentative steps. He kept his eyes on the cat. “Why the hell isn’t it backing down?”

  “What?” Alexiana asked.

  “That cat should have broken its stare by now. It’s like it knows something we don’t.”

  “You’re talking crazy, Buck, and we have enough crazy to go around now.”

  They walked ten more feet. The cat had to swivel its head to follow their progress. Buck looked away for a moment, and that’s when he saw the rest.

  Two metal fences flanked the wide steps leading into the funeral home. Behind each fence was a recessed, vacant lot. At first, Buck thought for sure he was seeing the reflection of the weakening sun as it lit upon broken bottles and other scraps of trash that had collected in the wiring of the fence.

  But he was wrong.

  Dozens upon dozens of sets of eyes peered at them from the lowest links in the fence.

  “Your kids were right,” Buck said. “They’re all watching us right now. Rey, you think you can find one of the grenades? It should be near the top of that bag.”

  Daniel said, “You can’t just lob a grenade at them. They’re cats. The moment they see it coming, they’ll be long gone.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  “So far, they’re just observing. We should keep walking. The old public bathhouse is right down the street. If the cats come after us, we can make it there and bust in the doors. We’ll ride it out inside,” Daniel said.

  A strong breeze kicked up, blowing refuse down the street. It carried a sour odor, with a hint of stomach-churning sweetness. It reminded Buck of hiking through the woods, knowing that a dead animal was near. There were houses and small apartment buildings everywhere. Each potentially was the final resting place of at least one person.

  Thousands of corpses were rotting around them, thankfully unseen. The wind came from the direction of the Hudson River and the most densely populated area of the city. Buck shuddered, contemplating how bad things were going to be ahead of them. And somewhere in the middle of it was Miguel.

  “Fuck these cats,” Buck muttered. “You all go. I’ll guard the rear.”

  Buck pumped the shotgun, hearing the shopping cart’s rickety wheels resume their forward progress. He’d be damned if he let a bunch of cats make him shit his pants.

  The chain fence sang as the cats made their move, climbing the links with ease. They perched atop the fence like a row of hungry vultures, heads hung low, tails whickering.

  His finger tensed on the trigger.

  The calico padded down the steps, slinking to the middle of the street, where it stopped and once again stared back at him.

  The other cats leaped from the fence, landing on the broken sidewalk without a sound.

  91

  Daniel’s core froze when he heard Buck shout, “Here they come!”

  He spun to face the funeral parlor. The street was lined with cats of every size and color, some missing parts of ears and tails, kittens winding around their mother’s stiff legs.

  Unlike the other animals they’d come across, cats were refined land predators. No matter how much man had tried to domesticate them, he couldn’t completely obliterate their natural hunting skills.

  “It’s like we’re deer in the woods,” Daniel said. He moved Max and Rey behind him. “They’re sizing us up, not making any sudden moves so they don’t scare us off.”

  Elizabeth said, “We’re not going to be able to shoot them all.”

  He eyed the bathhouse. It was a long sprint to the heavy entrance doors. There was no way they could outrun the cats if they charged.

  Again the wind picked up, clogging their noses with that horrible stench. It seemed death had them surrounded.

  “We can certainly try,” Daniel said.

  The cats at the head of the pack took a slow, steady step, then another. The rest followed suit.

  “Buck, try to take out the leader,” Daniel said, recalling the rules of the animal kingdom. Did cats follow alpha males? Who the hell knew anymore? They hadn’t hunted people in packs before.

  “You mean the calico?” he replied, his hips and shoulders in a square shooter’s stance.

  “Yes. If you kill it, the others may scatter.”

  Besides, it’s high time we made the first move, he thought, striding over next to Buck.

  Buck said, “Here goes.”

  The blast was deafening. The calico and four other cats near it flipped into the air, spraying blood and viscera down on the pack.

  The cats scampered away from the calico’s shredded body, shoulders hunched, most tails puffed out in terror.

  Daniel couldn’t fight the grin from spreading on his face. “I thought that would stop them.”

  Buck shook his head.

  “Yeah, but they haven’t run for the hills. Let’s just back away. Give them time to consider how bad it would be for them if they step past that calico.”

  Daniel was about to agree when the pack exploded as a single ferocious unit.

  He instead shouted, “Run!”

  Elizabeth, Rey, Max, Gabby, and Alexiana didn’t need further prodding. Gabby wobbled on her bike, ditched it, and ran. They moved as fast as they could, keeping to the left of the row of stalled cars, their only clear route of escape.

  Buck fired again and more cats broke into ragged pieces. Daniel fired into the undulating mass of bodies, not sure if he’d even hit any.

  The cats advanced, jumping on cars, slinking under others, and running between the vacant spaces.

  Daniel caught a gray tabby under the chin when it leapt off the roof of an SUV, headed for him. The dead cat twirled like a baton, rotating off the hood of an old Chevy like a rogue helicopter blade and dipping out of view.

  Buck grabbed his bad arm. Daniel saw the edges of his vision go fuzzy. “Run and get to your family. I’m going to try something.”

  The cats had begun to yowl, a bloodcurdling cry that carried one simple note—rage.

  His neighbor pushed him away, shouting, “Come on, you homeless fuckers! Come on!”

  92

  Alexiana turned to see Buck standing his ground, shouting at the cats. Daniel was in a dead sprint, moving away from the swarming cats.

  “You have to get Buck,” she said, the sting of salty tears hurting her eyes.

  “He said he has a plan,” Daniel replied, breathless. His skin had gone waxen
. She had to remind herself that he’d just been shot and lost a lot of blood. It was a miracle he was able to stand, much less run. He was functioning solely on adrenaline and painkillers. What would happen when there was no more left in his system?

  She watched in horror as two cats jumped, latching on to Buck’s shoulders. He twisted back and forth, trying to dislodge them.

  “Buck!”

  Alexiana ran to him, taking aim at the cats but quickly realizing she would only shoot Buck. Maybe she could smack them off with the grip of her Beretta.

  She felt a sharp pain in her ankle. A black cat with a white ring around one eye darted out from under a car and swiped at her, its claw etching a deep gulley in her flesh. Alexiana brought her foot up and smashed down as hard as she could. The cat was too quick, dashing under the car before she could connect.

  Buck’s shotgun roared, followed by a dull, metallic thud.

  Another cat ran atop an unmarked delivery truck. It sailed in the air, landing on her face, claws out. She was lucky to get her hands up, catching the cat and flinging it aside, but not before its pistoning claws shredded her forearms.

  Elizabeth shouted behind her, but she kept moving forward, to Buck.

  Cats had fastened themselves to his legs, trying to bite through the fabric.

  Ignoring them, he raised the shotgun and fired again.

  This time, a tremendous fireball singed the eyebrows and eyelashes from Alexiana’s face. A blue Toyota reared up as the flames shot out from its punctured gas tank. Untold cats screamed in agony as they were doused in fire.

  She stared in mute horror as flitting fireballs ran in every direction.

  Her ears popped, then all sound was lost as another car exploded.

  93

  Max had just bashed a pair of gray and white cats with his bat when the first explosion rocked the blacktop and sent waves of searing heat their way. He instinctively ducked low, feeling as if a blowtorch’s flame was hovering just over his head.

  The few cats that had made it to them scattered, their lust for violence overrun by blind panic.

  He stood back up in time for the second blast. This one sent him on his ass. He collided with his brother, who spun to the left, landing hard on his side.

  Next thing he knew, his mother and father were helping him to his feet.

  “Are you all right?” his mother asked.

  He wished he’d started counting how many times those same words had been said since the day they left the shelter. He gave her a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m not hurt.”

  Gabby touched a sore spot on his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

  He looked down at it. “Just a scratch.”

  His little sister seemed so stoic. She was normally the crybaby of the family. There was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’d put some distance between herself and their predicament. Either that or she was in shock.

  Rey was wobbly but managed to stay upright by holding on to the cart.

  “Where are Buck and Alexiana?” Max said.

  The entire street was choked with thick black smoke. The billowing cloud pushed steadily toward them.

  “I don’t know,” his father said. “But we have to get away from that smoke.”

  Max saw flashes of flames within the smoke. It smelled like gasoline, burning tires, and plastic. The smell made his lungs seize and he thought he was going to gag.

  His mother looped her arm around his. “Come on, Max. We have to go.”

  They walked as fast as they could without losing Rey, the toxic fog right on their heels. It rose high in the air, the flames crackling as they consumed everything in their reach.

  “Over there,” his mother said, pointing at a sandstone church ahead. It was just off the direct path of the smoke. His father lifted Rey and placed him atop the supply-filled cart. Now they could really run.

  To his surprise, the church doors weren’t locked. He pushed them open so his father could wheel the cart inside, slamming them closed once his mother and Gabby were inside.

  He looked up in time to see the shadow of the oily fog pass over one of the ornate stained-glass windows. It smelled mercifully like candle wax and incense inside the cavernous church. That and something else he couldn’t identify.

  Max joined his parents and siblings at the head of the aisle.

  What he saw made him rub his eyes in disbelief.

  94

  It had only been a few years since Gabby had made her First Communion, and she was still enthralled by the ceremony and mysteries of the Church. Jesus nailed to an enormous crucifix loomed over the altar. She made the sign of the cross and bowed her head.

  The pews were filled with people.

  She scanned the backs of their heads. No one turned to look at the visitors. Even the priest in his white robe remained in supplication at the marble stairs leading to the altar.

  “Oh my,” her mother said, placing a protective arm around Gabby.

  “What, Mom?” she asked, for the first time in weeks feeling some small measure of comfort. When she was in school, she couldn’t wait to make her Confirmation. Prep would begin the next year. She already had her Confirmation name picked out—Genevieve, a patron saint of Paris.

  “Stay here with your mother,” her father said, walking down the aisle.

  “No, I want to go with you,” she said, breaking free from her mother’s grip.

  She looked at the row next to her, expecting to see families in silent prayer or maybe welcoming smiles.

  They were dead.

  All of them.

  Sick people must have come here, seeking God’s help, passing away in the one place they felt safe.

  “I told you to stay with Mom,” her dad said.

  She was frozen, afraid to look anywhere but the floor.

  “It’s all right,” a voice called out, echoing throughout the church walls. “There’s nothing to be frightened of. We can’t shield our children from the truth. Not anymore.”

  The priest had gotten up and was now walking toward them.

  “These people,” he continued, “died in peace and filled with hope. They knew there was nothing left of this world to cling to, so they accepted their future, a much brighter one at that.”

  Gabby shifted behind her father. The priest was tall and thin with skin the color of paper. What little hair he had was over his ears, and his bald skull was dotted with brown spots.

  “I’m Father Bodak. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  He carried a smoking pot on the end of a long, gold chain. White, acrid smoke wafted in the air.

  “Are you the only one alive?” her father asked.

  The priest smiled. “Not at the moment. Now there’s you and your family. I keep incense burning for obvious reasons. I’m afraid I might have to lock the doors someday soon. The church will be unsafe for anyone who already isn’t afflicted.”

  “How is it that you’re not sick?”

  “There’s a sub-basement under the parish house. I spent the first few days down there, at least until I needed water and food. Truth be told, I’m not well, but the disease in me has yet to win out. How are you and your family? I heard the explosion. Is anyone hurt?”

  Gabby thought of Buck and Alexiana, wondering what had happened to them. Were they like the people in the pews?

  “We’re not sure,” her father replied. “We have friends who were with us. They were near the blast. We couldn’t see them through the smoke.”

  Father Bodak spread his arms wide. “Come, we can talk in the narthex. This is perhaps not the best place for your daughter at the moment.”

  95

  Father Bodak introduced himself and Elizabeth said, “I’m Elizabeth Padilla, you’ve met my husband, Daniel, and daughter, Gabriela. These are my sons Max and Rey.”

  She saw the flash of pity in his eyes when he looked to Rey. He’d been surrounded by the sick and dying for weeks and knew the signs. The thought of losing Rey, on top of her pressing ne
ed to find Miguel, was almost too much for her heart to bear.

  “We won’t stay long,” she said. “Just until the smoke clears. We have to find my youngest son.”

  “Were you separated during the explosion?” Father Bodak asked, lines of concern deepening at the corners of his mouth.

  She couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes. “No. He was taken from us.”

  Daniel said, “Father, have you heard of a gang called the Nine Judges?”

  The priest nodded gravely.

  “Of all the good and wonderful people that God has taken, they are still in abundance. They came to the church a few days ago. I hid in the confessional and watched them steal everything they could carry. Senseless.”

  “Do you know where they are?” Elizabeth asked, hoping that somehow divine guidance had led them here to provide the answers they desperately needed.

  Her stomach turned to lead when he said, “I’m afraid not. I only know that they had been a growing concern in the neighborhood for quite some time.”

  “What about people in charge?” Daniel said. “Have you or any of your parishioners, before they passed on, heard official word of what happened? I can’t believe that our government would just leave us to ourselves. No one could wipe out an entire country in an afternoon.”

  The priest placed the smoking censer on the floor and folded his arms. “No one knows what happened. At least no one who has come to me. Everyone I’ve met has been sick and frightened. Before I became a priest, I spent three years in the army, stationed at Fort Hood. I find it just as hard to believe that there hasn’t been any kind of military response, especially in the way of aid. With no ability to communicate, it’s impossible to know what’s going on beyond the immediate area. They could be in the next city over, and we’ll never know unless we speak to someone who has seen them with their own eyes. Whoever did this knew our darkest fears and brought them to life.”