Her eyes widened and she stepped closer to me before exclaiming, “Remember what you promised. We’re staying together, not matter what. I'm going with you.”
I was not going to argue with her.
We approached the gate and I noticed a different person was stationed there. The old man in the golf cart had been replaced with a thin framed woman with dark hair. Instead of a rifle, she carried a machete in a sheath fastened to her waist.
Jennifer approached the fence to get her attention, but the dark haired lady spoke before she could say anything.
“What do you need?”
Her black jeans and leather jacket made me wonder if the motorcycle I had seen earlier in the parking lot belonged to her.
“We just arrived a couple hours ago and we have a dog in our vehicle over there. Could you please open the gate so we can go check on him?” she asked.
“Look,” the woman said firmly. “I know you two are new, but the rule is that no one but patrols go in and out of these gates at night.”
“Can you please make an exception for us?” Jennifer pleaded. “We only need five minutes or so and we will be right back.”
“I'm not allowed to make exceptions,” she responded.
A voice then shot out from behind us.
“Just get a patrol to escort them, Meredith,” the voice said. “Cut them some slack. Stop being a hard butt.”
I turned around and saw a man taking a puff of a cigarette. He looked very weary as he came up to the fence and continued to scold the guard. A couple moments later the guard seemed to have conceded the argument.
The man turned around and looked at us. He took another puff of his cigarette.
“You can go get your critter, but you’ll have to tie it up around here somewhere. It will be safe on this side of the fence,” he told us.
“Thank you very much.” I was very relieved.
“Do you have a weapon on you?” he asked.
“No, I left my revolver in the van. I didn't know if I could bring it inside,” I said.
“Well, no one goes outside without a weapon,” he said. Before I could say a word, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his firearm, and pointed the butt end of a small semi-automatic pistol at me.
“Take this with you when you go out there, but you better damn well get it back to me. Just get your dog, get your gun, and get back here. But when you get back and go inside don't flash your piece around the holy rollers,” he said.
“Thanks,” I responded.
With his pistol in my hand I looked and saw Meredith opening the gate.
“Get to your van and come right back,” she commanded. “I'm not going to get in trouble over this.”
Jennifer and I walked through the gate and headed straight towards our vehicle. Although the van was not far away and I could see patrols in the distance, I felt my guard go up again. We were back in the real world, and I wanted to get this excursion into freak territory over with, fast.
Chapter Two
I tried to stay completely aware of our surroundings as we walked towards the van. Although the area was probably at least relatively safe, I didn’t want a freak sneaking up on us. Part of me felt as if I was being too cautious, but the deaths I had witnessed in the previous days kept me vigilant.
When we reached the van I looked into the passenger side window. I couldn’t see the interior very well through the darkness. After taking a look in all directions to make sure the area surrounding us was still clear of any freaks, I unlocked the van and slowly opened the passenger door. The dog was standing on the seat looking in my direction. In an instant, he jumped up, propped his front paws onto my chest, and proceeded to go wild licking me. I grabbed the dog and took him in my arms. Somehow, fumbling around a bit, I managed to put the keys to the van back in my pocket.
I was barely able to control the dog who had continued to lick me all over my face while I held him.
“You go in the van and get what we need while I keep watch out here,” I said to Jennifer. “Don't forget to get the revolver out of the glove department, and also bring a bag of that dog food we got from the store,”
While she was inside I tried to keep a look out for freaks, control the small dog slobbering on my chin, and keep a secure grip on the borrowed pistol in my hand.
A couple of minutes later she climbed out of the van with her arms full. She put the things on the ground, locked the door, and closed it before leaning down to pick everything back up.
Before she could even get everything back in her arms a gunshot cracked through the night air, making the little dog jump and squirm even harder.
“Drop it, all of it,” I said.
“But . . .”
“Just drop it all so you can take the dog!” I said.
She dropped everything, and I managed to somehow shuffle the dog into her arms.
I scanned the path from the van to the gate that we had walked through, and it seemed to be clear.
“Bang! Bang!” Another two shots thundered, a bit closer.
I looked in the distance and could see two patrols in the distance, near the woods at the rear of the church. That was where the gunshots were coming from.
With more shots echoing I shouted at Jennifer, “Take the dog and run to the social hall as fast as you can. I'll be there soon.”
“I'm not leaving you,” she argued.
“One of us has to get the dog to safety!” I yelled at her. “I need to go help them.”
“Okay, but be careful,” she said worriedly, before taking off for the social hall. I reached down and picked up the revolver that was on the ground. With a gun in each hand, I dashed to follow her part of the way to the gate. She entered the fenced off area safely, and at the same moment a group of men with rifles ran out through the gate towards me.
“Come on!” they shouted at me as they headed in the direction of the gun fire.
I followed them as additional shots rang out. In the distance I could see what they were firing at. A large group of freaks were approaching; they seem to have just wandered out from the wooded area that bordered the very back of the church property.
By the time we arrived, the first wave of freaks had been taken out, but another wave was coming.
“Take the left flank,” a man in a bright orange safety vest yelled at me. “We can't let them reach the church!”
In the distance, I could see a small group of freaks coming towards the church from another direction. I ran towards them, parallel to the tree line, until I was close enough to them to get a decent shot.
I lifted the pistol in my right hand and fired at the closest freak which was about twenty yards away. I missed its head, with the shot going through its chest with little effect. Three other freaks now started lumbering towards me. I lifted the pistol again, took an extra moment to aim, and took out the first with a shot going straight through its forehead. Before I could aim again, a shot was fired from behind me that took out another freak. I quickly took the pistol, and eliminated the remaining two freaks which were now very close.
Turning around, I could see that the patrols were having to slowly back up towards the church from their original positions because of the large number of freaks approaching them. The rifleman that had fired from behind me was already running towards them to assist. I started to run towards them as well when I heard a woman's scream from the direction of the church. For a moment I froze in place, filled with indecision and confusion.
Should I stay and fight here, or go back to the social hall to find out what was happening and defend the church from there?
I realized that if there were freaks at the fenced perimeter, everyone could go inside the church and lock the doors. Once we took out these freaks in the field we could go back and clear the area.
“Go! Go! Go! Stop wasting time!” I said out loud and once again turned towards the hoard of freaks approaching the patrols. Their snarls and growls were clearly audible by the time I began
to fire at them
“These freaks needed to be sent back to hell where they came from!” I shouted.
While continuing to fire, I walked slowly towards the mob of freaks until a number of them turned and started staggering my way. I stopped advancing, and decided to simply try and hold my ground as several of their flailing arms were now directed at me. An especially large freak was now the closest to me; it hissed like a snake as her eyes locked on me like radar. I aimed at her head and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. I pulled the trigger once more as her decaying face grew closer. Once again, a shot didn’t fire. The gun was jammed – stove piped as my father used to call it. I then raised my jam-proof revolver with my left hand, and fired. The bullet grazed the side of her head, but only made her pause for a moment.
I started walking backwards to put some distance between the freak and myself when I heard a growl from behind me. In the span of a heartbeat, I turned around and had just enough time to jump out of the way of another freak in a bloodstained white gown that was crawling on the ground towards me from behind trying to bite my leg. I screamed at it and fired directly at its head. I the pulled up the revolver and blew the brains out of the large freak that I had previously only grazed.
With my heart racing I ran towards the line of gunmen that had now been forced to retreat even further towards the church.
I realized I must be getting low on ammo. Putting the jammed pistol in my pocket as I continued moving, I checked the cylinder of the revolver and realized I had just three shots remaining. Once I had used up those shots I would be defenseless; I didn’t have a knife or any other kind of weapon on me.
Before I could think about the situation any more, I could hear a group of people running towards the battle. A couple of them joined the gunman, and a couple others ran right into the group of freaks and started slashing into them. One man was using an axe as a weapon and I saw him split a freak’s head in two with it. Meredith, who had been at the gate, was now slashing the heads off the creatures with her machete. Although it was more dangerous to take them out at close range, their weaponry seemed equally as effective as the gunfire.
Upon reaching the line of gunmen, I carefully fired off my last three rounds. I tried to make each round count, but only managed to take out one freak. The gunmen continued to fire at the freaks while being careful to avoid hitting their comrades hacking away at them. Thankfully, I noticed that no more freaks were coming out from among the trees. I watched as the conflict seemed to be coming to a close; not a single freak was still standing. I decided that I was useless there now, so I turned headed back running to check on Jennifer.
As I ran back towards the church social hall I noticed a few dispatched freaks along the way. Near the gate I saw another on the ground, completely decapitated. They had made it close to the church, too close.
There were no guards anywhere near the fenced off area, so I tried to open the gate myself. It rattled, but it didn’t open. It had been locked securely. I awkwardly climbed over the fence and ended up falling over the top of it, landing with a thud, knocking the air right out of me.
I spent a moment on the ground trying to catch my breath before getting back on my feet. The area inside the fenced off area was totally deserted. I made my way to the door of the social hall, hoping that Jennifer – as well as the dog – was safe and secure inside.
I wasn’t surprised to find that the door was locked, so I knocked on it sharply.
“The battle is over. The freaks are all dead. I think we won. Please open the door and let me inside,” I shouted.
I heard a voice from behind the door. It was Deacon Cooper.
“Are you sure the conflict is over?” he asked.
“I was just over there and we had taken out all the freaks. I'm pretty sure it is over,” I answered, still trying to fully catch my breath after my fall. “Listen for yourself; there's no more gunfire.”
He opened the door and stepped outside.
“Where are the patrols,” he asked. “Where is everyone?”
“It took just about everything and everyone we had to take out the freaks. There were so many of them,” I said. “They’re probably trying to make sure the perimeter is totally secure and there are no stragglers roaming around.”
A moment later a golf cart zoomed towards the gate. Deacon Cooper walked towards it and began to talk with the driver. I took the opportunity to rush inside and look for Jennifer. The social hall was very dimly lit and only a few people occupied it.
“Does anyone here know where my friend Jennifer went to? She came in here earlier with a small dog,” I asked.
An old, white haired woman with cane stood up from a metal folding chair and walked up to me.
“Son, your girlfriend went down the hall. She may be in the sanctuary. It is right down the hall way to the right,” she answered, her aged finger towards a door.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No, thank you. God Bless you, son,” she replied with a genuine sense of gratitude.
Still breathing heavy, I paused for a moment.
“Thank you for what all of you’re doing out there,” she continued. “We have been praying for all of you.”
I watched her slowly retreat back to the corner of the room. An old man stood up and helped her back to her seat. She picked up a book that looked like a Bible, and she started quietly reading with a group of elderly people.
I felt a surge of sympathy for this woman. If a freak was after her there would be no way that she could outrun it.
I opened the door and saw a long, dimly lit hallway. Only a few of the florescent ceiling lights were working. I realized that the church was probably trying to save power. Even a couple dozen solar panels wouldn’t produce enough juice to meet the power consumption of a building this large, and at night they would be running on batteries that had been charged during the daytime. I guessed that they had unscrewed several of the light bulbs to keep them from draining the power down to nothing.
Many of the doors to the rooms on each side of the hallway were open. Peeking in I could make out cots along with blankets and other bedding on the floors. I could also see people's bags and other belongings. However, it seemed none of the residents of these rooms were anywhere to be found. Although everyone could be in the sanctuary, including Jennifer, I started to feel nervous. I pulled the chrome plated pistol out of my pocket and started trying to clear the jam. I kept a lookout as I managed to clear the chamber.
I slowly placed the pistol between my pants and my belt where I could get at it quickly, if need be. Although I wanted to keep it in my hand, I also wanted to abide by the cigarette smoking man's warning not to flash the pistol around inside. As I continued walking down the hall, I came to an intersection. On the right was a door with large letters spelling, “SANCTUARY.” To the left, was another hallway that seemed to extend as far as the one I had just walked along. Looking down it, I saw a light coming from the gap under the door to a room. It was the first light I had seen turned on in any of the rooms so far.
For some reason, I felt a spark of curiosity to take a look inside of the room. Maybe there was someone who could tell me for sure where everyone had gone. Walking closer to the room I could hear voices from inside. They sounded like chanting or maybe prayers. I turned my head and pressed my ear to door and listened.
“Uum labba saki haja,” I heard someone say.
“Yakki saja yomo. Fal mi elo labba,” another voice cried out.
“What the heck,” I thought at first as I continued to listen to the gibberish.
Then it dawned on me. The seemingly random, made up words were not gibberish, or at least not to these people. They were speaking in tongues – something I had heard before when visiting a Pentecostal church a friend of mine attended. Apparently, the ability to speak in tongues was a gift of the Holy Ghost. It was supposed to the language of heaven and the angels.
A moment later, I heard a voice quietly speak up in a languag
e I could understand.
“Can you interpret for us, Ms. Teresa,” I heard a voice say.
“Yes, Reverend Sikes, I can,” a voice responded.
I then heard the woman's voice slightly change as she provided an interpretation. As she started to speak, I remembered that according to some evangelical denominations, an interpreter was always supposed to be present to translate.
“The Lord God Jehovah, the Holy of Holies, won’t forsake his children. Though the trials and tribulations his power will be with you. The gifts of the spirit of God will protect you as the long days continue,” she stated.
Then I heard another person speak in tongues.
“Ubba we doss low saki wii lo,” the male voice spoke.
In an instant, the woman seemed to once again translated the crazy sounding words.
“Accept the power I offer and share it with others as my spirit commands,” she stated. “Above all, love each other as I have loved you.”
By that time I had cracked the door open, very slightly, and was watching the individuals inside. Reverend Sikes stood up from kneeling on the ground and looked at me. The short man looked weak and frail; his appearance made him look almost ill – like a cancer patient. I remembered what we had been told, that he’d been praying and fasting in his office for some time.
“Come in,” he stated. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Hank Harper,” I answered. I started to explain how Deacon Cooper had invited Jennifer and me to come inside to share a meal when Ms. Teresa approached.
She looked at me intently and suddenly reached up and touched my forehead. Before I could step back, I felt an electric sensation flow through my body. My legs went limp and I collapsed to the ground. Still barely conscience, I could see her kneeing and praying over me.
“Let this man be your vessel,” she prayed. “Bless him and protect him with your power. Let him be your servant. A warrior to protect your people.”
She took her Bible and held it to my chest, and another surge of what felt like electrical current pulsed through my body.
I then blacked out.
Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4 Page 10
