The Sword of Saint Michael

by D C P Fox

  There was no point in arguing with them, so Jize dropped the subject.

  “Jize,” Vin said, “do you want to get one of those sandbags from inside the store? I’ll hold the door open for you.”

  They went about the work of building the fire structure—dry sand forming a pit, newspaper and kindling on the bottom, with the driest firewood they had on the top. When they finished, the sheriff handed Jize a lighter gun.

  “You wish to do the honors?”

  Jize stared at the lighter gun in his gloved hands.

  “What’s got into you?”

  “These gloves won’t protect me from a burn.”

  “Take ‘em off,” Vin said. “They’re only likely to make it worse.”

  Jize shook his head. “I’m sorry. I cannot do this. I must protect my hands.”

  “For what?” Vin scoffed. “For playing the piano? Man, you are living in a fantasy world—your piano-playing days are over. This—” He made a large circle with his hand above his head. “—is your world now. Get used to it and light the god-damned fire.”

  His piano-playing days were over. No, he refused to believe that.

  “Vin,” the sheriff said. “There’s no need to be cruel.”

  “Cruel? I’m doing this guy a favor.”

  “One day we will leave this place,” Jize said. “Maybe not now, maybe not today, but one day we will leave this place, and I will find a piano—”

  Vin shook his head and snatched the lighter gun out of Jize’s hands.

  Day Four

  Janice woke up hearing Emily’s distressed moaning, followed by a loud “help” over and over.

  Janice groped for Emily in the darkness and found her body twitching. She shook Emily a little but to no effect; she was getting louder. Janice vigorously shook her until she sat up screaming.

  Janice hugged her, telling her repeatedly that everything would be all right, that it was just a dream.

  But as Janice was consoling Emily, she realized that she was lying. Everything would not be all right. She changed her words to “you’re safe now,” and after that, Emily relaxed, but she still whimpered, “where am I? I can’t see.”

  “Does someone have the lantern?” Janice called out at conversational volume. Whoever held the lantern was awake because it came on right away.

  Janice could see everyone stirring—Emily’s nightmare had awakened them.

  Emily remembered her nightmare this time, and Janice persuaded Emily to share her nightmare with the group. Emily recounted a horrible story about how the zombie attacks on her brother, and her parents, had interrupted her tea party, and how she managed to break away and get rescued by Vin.

  When Emily had finished, Alexander asked, “Emily, that was a dream, but did this all happen for real?”

  Emily nodded, crying and looking down as Janice still held her.

  “Emily,” he continued. “Do you understand what a zombie is?”

  Janice gave Alexander a look that meant to convey anger. “Don’t,” she said. “Do not go there.”

  “Why not?” Alexander asked. “She deserves the truth.”

  Emily stopped crying and looked up at Janice. “What’s the truth?”

  Janice continued to stare at Alexander. “The truth is your parents are in Heaven now. Isn’t that right, Alexander?”

  Alexander was about to open his mouth when Vin interrupted him, announcing that he would use the restroom.

  The sheriff yawned. “Vin, I have a lot of respect for you. A lesser man would have fled the danger rather than try to rescue the girl. And I’ve known plenty of lesser men.”

  Vin scowled. “And did you think I was a lesser man before this?”

  The sheriff smiled. “Of course not. I’m just paying you a compliment. You deserve praise after your heroic actions.”

  Janice saw a hint of a blush on Vin’s face. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done.”

  The sheriff raised his eyebrow. “I am an officer of the law. I have responsibilities. You have none. I thank you for your selfless actions.”

  “Um . . . er . . . you’re welcome.”

  “Emily,” the sheriff said, “I have a daughter in Heaven, who was your age, maybe a bit older. A son, too.”

  “What about your parents?” Emily asked. “Are they in Heaven, too?”

  “They may be. I don’t know for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . . well . . . because the same type of people that killed your parents, and your brother, may have killed them, too, but I don’t know for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what? Why did they kill them, or why don’t I know for sure?”

  Emily looked up at Janice. “I don’t know.”

  “Sheriff, why don’t you tell Emily about your daughter.”

  “Ah, my daughter. Well, she was a smart and brave little girl like you, Emily.” Tears fell down the sheriff’s cheeks.

  “I think the sheriff should give you a hug,” Janice said. “Would you like a hug from the sheriff?”

  Emily looked at the sheriff and paused a few seconds.

  “If the sheriff doesn’t mind, of course.” Janice realized too late she may have put the sheriff in a bind.

  But he smiled despite his tears, despite the pain he must feel inside. Janice realized how lucky she was that she had no one close that was now dead or a zombie.

  Most likely zombies. They hadn’t come across any dead bodies yet.

  “Not at all,” the sheriff said. “Emily, would you like a hug?”

  Emily nodded, and in their embrace, the sheriff broke down in sobs. Janice recalled how the sheriff hadn’t been coy about having shot his own wife and daughter.

  For no apparent reason, it occurred to Janice that this might be the rapture as prophesied in Revelations. She had sworn off religion though, after her husband died, but she never truly stopped believing. She just stopped caring.

  And despite everyone’s obvious grief and pain, Janice fell into melancholy because she had no one to grieve about.

  Day Five

  “You want me to take apart my gun and put it back together,” Jize said while all the adults gathered around a table in the break room. Emily was asleep on the filthy couch. “With these hands.” He looked at his delicate hands once more, turning them over and back, as if looking for the slightest blemish.

  Alexander thought Jize absurd.

  “Those hands have a lot of dexterity,” Alexander pointed out. “This shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  “I do not refer to my ability, but I cannot afford to harm my hands.”

  “Oh, not this again,” Vin said.

  “Here. I’ll show you,” Alexander said, taking off the clip of his handgun. “It’s easy once you’ve practiced it.”

  “Do I look like an idiot?”

  Yes. Yes, you do.

  “I’m sure I can learn, but my hands are valuable. They’re insured for millions.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes. “And what insurance company will pay out?”

  “China. They are in China. The zombie attacks may not have been so bad there. Maybe one day we can get there—”

  Unbelievable. We have the eternal optimist.

  “And how are you going to get to China? Through Denver International Airport? A cargo ship?”

  “Yes, we should consider all of those things.”

  Alexander brought his eyes up to the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, then back down to Jize’s eyes. He shook his head. “You won’t get anywhere if you can’t care for and use your gun safely.”

  “But if I meet the right people—”

  “You won’t meet the right people,” Alexander explained. What is this guy, an almost seventy-year-old child? “Not unless you’re incredibly lucky; no one will tolerate anyone who doesn’t know how to use a gun.”

  “Like you will not tolerate me.”

  “Yes. I won’t tolerate you until you learn how to use that thing safely.” A
lexander realized he should take advantage of the moment. “That goes for you, too, Janice. I have a concealed carry permit; I know how to use a handgun. And then Vin and the sheriff are willing to teach us how to use their shotguns. They are being very generous—“

  “Ha!—” Janice interrupted.

  “You think this is funny?” Alexander asked.

  “I think you should cut the crap,” Janice said. “You want us to learn so that when you leave us, you won’t feel so guilty.”

  “Excuse me?” the sheriff said.

  Janice looked sheepish. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress. We’re all under a lot of stress. Thank you for instructing us on using these guns. Jize?”

  “Yes,” Jize said. “Thank you. It’s just . . .” He looked once more at his hands and continued to study them as he said, “Thank you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Day Six

  “What are you reading?” Alexander asked Janice the next day. Janice was off by herself, sitting alone in a chair in the canned food aisle. Alexander was there to get himself some chicken soup when he bumped into her. It occurred to him that she shouldn’t be off by herself like that, but she was an adult, although maybe a stupid one.

  “A Western.” Janice did not look up and continued to read the book.

  “You’re at an earlier page than I saw you at before. Have you read this multiple times?”

  Janice sighed, put down the book, and took off her reading glasses, placing them next to her distance eyeglasses in her lap. Alexander was grateful for his progressive lenses, though he remembered seeing a rack of reading glasses near the pharmacy. He was even more grateful that he had chosen the professorial look of eyeglasses as opposed to contact lenses.

  “This is my third time through,” Janice answered.

  “But there are other books here. There must be at least a dozen on that rack over there.”

  She shrugged. “I like Westerns. I suppose when I get bored with this, I’ll move on to Nora Roberts. Why aren’t you reading?”

  “Novels bore me to tears.”

  “And you’re not bored now?”

  “Sure I am, but look at what I’ve got.”

  “A deck of cards,” Janice observed. “I suppose you want me to play Rummy or something like that?”

  “Poker. Do you know how to play?”

  “No.”

  “Great! I can teach you, and anyone else who wants to play.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Hey Vin!” Alexander called out. Vin wasn’t in sight.

  “Yeah?” Vin’s voice was off in the distance.

  “Want to play poker?”

  “Sure.” Vin’s voice became louder as he moved toward Alexander. “Texas Hold ‘Em?”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Vin arrived.

  “I’ve got Janice here,” Alexander said. “She wants to play.”

  “Now wait—” Janice said.

  Day Seven

  It was the second day of play, and Jize found it difficult to keep looking at his cards while Emily squirmed in his lap.

  “I want to play Tea Party,” she whined.

  “In a little while,” Jize said. “We’ve been playing Tea Party a lot. Right now, the adults are playing Poker.”

  “I want to play Poker,” Emily said.

  “Poker is a grown-up game.”

  “What does the black card with the Q mean?”

  “Ah, Jeez,” Alexander said.

  At least Emily hadn’t revealed he had two Queens, but with one already on the table . . .

  “C’mon Alexander,” Janice said. “It is just a game.”

  “But now we know he at least has a pair of Queens.” Alexander threw his hand down in disgust. “I’m out.”

  “Now simmer down,” the sheriff said. “This here money is not worth anything anymore. Let’s take back our money, and we’ll start over with another hand.”

  Jize sighed. “I’m tired of Poker. I will play Tea Party with Emily.”

  “Yay!” Emily leaped out of Jize’s lap. “I’ll go set the table.” She ran off to another table and started laying it all out with plastic cups and plates.

  “I’ll join you,” Janice said.

  “You don’t have to. This one is on me,” Jize said.

  “I’m tired of Poker, I’m tired of my Western. We’ll play Tea Party, and then maybe I’ll tackle that Stephen King novel.”

  “I thought you said Nora Roberts?” Alexander asked.

  Janice sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Alexander.”

  “Let’s all take a break,” Vin announced. “Alexander, you’re with me to go siphon more gas for the generator. It’s your turn.”

  “You want me to put gasoline in my mouth,” Alexander said.

  “It’s your turn.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes. “Let’s get it over with.”

  The sheriff joined Jize, Janice, and Emily for their tea party.

  Jize believed if they all talked about their families, they would all bond together better. So far, they had been cooped up in this supermarket for almost a week now, yet he felt unfamiliar with them.

  But he needed to be careful with Janice, because she said she had no one. Maybe in her past . . .

  “Janice, was there ever a man in your life? Or . . . or a woman?”

  Janice laughed. “I’m not gay. That’s not why I’m alone.”

  “I’m sorry. A man, perhaps?”

  Janice sighed and looked downwards. “I had a husband. He died of pancreatic cancer one year, four months, and fifteen days after we got married.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” was all Jize could think to say. Then he realized a slight change in subject would be in order. “You said you used to be a nurse. Why did you give it up?”

  Janice sighed again. “Same reason. When Rob was diagnosed, I transferred to the cancer ward so I could help him more. There, death was all around me. It seemed we lost a patient every week. And the way they were wasting away, and Rob along with them . . .”— She shuddered. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’ve always been some kind of empath, if you believe in such things. After Rob died, I tried to go back to regular nursing, not in the cancer ward, but I guess . . . all I can say is I think the damage was done. When I would care for patients, my mind would always turn to Rob and the other emaciated cancer patients. I guess I just had to get out of health care entirely.”

  “Sorry to hear about that, ma’am,” the sheriff said.

  Janice looked at the sheriff with genuine concern on her face as she “drank” from an empty tea cup. “It’s nothing compared to what happened to you.”

  The sheriff nodded. “I suppose you’re right, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Janice.”

  The sheriff nodded again.

  Janice took a deep breath. “So, to cut a long story short, Rob was a high-powered attorney, so with our nest egg and the insurance money, I moved out of Chicago to here where we had gone skiing the winter before he was diagnosed. I paid cash for the house, but the savings kept dwindling, especially with the rise in property taxes, so I took a job as a cashier so I could tread water money-wise.”

  “It must be hard, ma’am . . . uh, Janice . . . it must have been hard to help me the way you did. Or Alexander, his wrist seems healed now.”

  “It is, mostly. It only causes him minor pain when he uses it too much. I keep telling him not to, but he’s a stubborn one. Anyway, yes, it was hard, but you all have been through so much, you all have lost family members to this plague, this zombie apocalypse, or whatever we choose to call it . . . It’s hard, but I figure it’s the least I can do to contribute.”

  “Thank you,” Jize said. “We are all in your debt.” He thought that came out as awkward, and perhaps insincere, because it was so cliché, but he found a new respect for Janice. He realized that deep down, he had been angry at her for not allowing him to save his family, but all he would have done was
get himself killed.

  And the bigger point was she had saved his life, and though he thought about adding that onto his thank you, he saved it for later when she needed it most. Besides, she knew he was grateful for her saving his life, right?

  “Do you take sugar, Mr. Chen?” Emily asked.

  Jize nodded and accepted two pretend lumps into this cup.

  “What about you?” Janice asked. “I’m sorry, but I already know you lost your wife recently. What was she like?”

  “Sally? The day we met was the best day of my life, and the day she died the worst. This apocalypse wasn’t worse than the day she died.”

  “Did she do anything for a living?” the sheriff asked.

  He shook his head. “She went to Juilliard with me, before we were married, but once we had Julia, she decided to be a stay-at-home mom. And then when John left, she started touring with me. We had twelve years with her on the road with me, and it was pure bliss.”

  This was what Jize wanted, to build up his relationship with the others. “How about your wife, sheriff?”

  “You can call me Marty. You too, ma’am . . . uh, Janice, sorry. Anyway, my wife is dead. I killed her. And that’s all I want to say about it.”

  Jize vowed to find another way to connect with Marty.

  Day Eight

  The next morning, Marty and Alexander were on guard duty in the front of the store when Alexander pointed at the parking lot. Marty looked in that direction, then grabbed his shotgun and leaped out of his chair. There he was—the first person they had seen in over a week—nonchalantly walking down the road.

  “Hello!” Marty called, thinking this was too good to be true. The person didn’t acknowledge the greeting. Maybe the person was too far away to hear him.

  “Come with me,” Marty said. “We should check this guy out.”

  “But we just can’t abandon our post. Vin will think—”

  It’s time I took charge of things. I am the sheriff. Vin should do whatever I want. “Vin thinks a lot of things, some of which is pure nonsense. Let’s hurry so we don’t have to go so far to catch up to him.”