by M. Van
“You really think there is a cure?” I asked, without a clue what else to say.
“That’s just insane. There is no cure,” Ash blurted out. The man frowned at her. I jabbed an elbow in her ribs. She let out a “hey” in protest, but caught the changed in demeanor on the man’s face.
“Listen, young …,” he said. He deepened his frown, and then added, “Person.” Ash’s face twisted in distaste. Father Deacon ignored her and continued in a sermon tone. “With help from God, we know the government is doing everything it can to help us. They will find a way.”
This guy’s preachy vibe was starting to freak me out. I wanted to get out of here. Then, we heard the flatbed’s engine rumble to life.
“Follow me,” Father Deacon said, and from his gesture, I figured he wanted me to move the Edge out of the way. The street wasn’t wide enough for both vehicles.
“Just get the hell out of here,” Ash said. I didn’t know whether the man had heard her, but he tapped a hand on the weapon resting on his shoulder. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but Father Deacon stood a few feet in front of the car. He would have a clear shot. Besides, I didn’t want to run him over. It wasn’t the time to take risks like that, I told myself before I told Ash. I followed the man’s direction and parked on the curb.
A woman with unhealthy curves came hobbling up alongside the truck and stopped to chat with the padre. The women had a thick head of curls that kept moving into her face. The wind had picked up, but in the dark-colored coveralls she wore, she didn’t seem affected by the cold. White light flooded our cabin, forcing me to shield my eyes as the truck crept by. The rest of the congregation walked along to keep an eye on the zombies, who kept themselves busy rattling the cage that sat on the flatbed. The curly-haired woman pointed at us, speaking with large hand gestures while Father Deacon shook his head. Men and women passed us in similar-looking coveralls, giving us curious glances. They looked tired, but determined, in their tasks.
I grabbed the gun from between my knees and slipped it into a pocket of my jacket. Ash did the same. With Father Deacon busy, I was wondering if we should take off, when metal crashing to concrete grabbed my attention. My head swung toward the back window. The door to the cage must have broken and had found its way to the ground. Panic swept across the faces of the men and women in coveralls as they waved their sticks with nooses to keep the zombies inside the cage.
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Father Deacon raced to the truck, the curly-haired woman a few paces behind him.
“Time to go,” I said, reaching for the key in the ignition.
“We can’t just leave them,” Ash said. I turned to her with a hard look.
“You want to die for them?” I asked, harshly. “They brought this on themselves.”
The muscles in her shoulders went rigid. I couldn’t deny the hurt expression on her face. Of course, it was the right thing to do, but I didn’t want to get myself killed over a group of God-fearing, zombie-hugging morons.
“You think they deserve to die because they’re idiots?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it at the hard look on Ash’s face. How the hell did this kid know what I was thinking?
“Right,” I said, “put your seatbelt on.” I’d take dying in a pitiful attempt at heroics over withering away because of a disease any day, and I yanked the Edge into drive to make a U-turn.
The flatbed truck had come to a stop near the playground and the church on the other side of the street. The zombies had overrun the men and women in coveralls, and they now scattered across the street. The men and women headed straight for the church. Zombies poured off the flatbed, their instincts heightened by the smell of fresh human snacks.
A zombie noticed the padre and the curly-haired woman running toward the chaos. It climbed off the bloodied body that still jerked underneath its knees, and then got to its feet and lumbered toward the two. What were they doing? I flicked on the high beams of the car and swerved around Father Deacon and the curly-haired woman to intercept the zombie. Glass cracked as the zombie bounced off the hood into the windshield.
“That’s what you get for helping idiots,” I said under my breath. Ash smacked me in the arm as she yelled out the open window for the padre and the curly-haired woman to get in.
“What have you done?” the curly-haired woman shouted. Then she seemed to change her mind, threw herself at the passenger door, and climbed inside the SUV behind Ash. The incredulous look I shared with Ash would have made me laugh if it weren’t for the fact that people were dying. Father Deacon paused as he watched the scene unfold. He looked locked in his own world. Doors to the old church opened. Help came from inside, although none of them fired their guns.
Several people in coveralls who had been fleeing from the flatbed bolted for the doors to seek refuge. A teenager stumbled, pursued by a nose-flaring corpse. I gasped in shock when I realized none of them were going to his aid. If someone just fired a gun, he might make it into the church. The boy screamed in agony from under a pile of zombie limbs as teeth sank into his arms and legs. Anger replaced shock at the thought that these people cared more about their zombie relatives than about the ones who were still alive.
A young woman came running at Father Deacon, calling out his name. She wore the same dark-colored coveralls as the others. Her hair was braided and shaped to resemble a Mohawk on her head. Her face strained when she yelled, “We have to take them ou—”
Father Deacon didn’t even flinch when a zombie lurking behind a car knocked her off her feet. Quick to act, the woman rolled onto her back to keep the gaping mouth from sinking into her flesh. As the woman struggled, Father Deacon just stood there watching, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Without thinking, I stepped out of the car and ran to the woman, who was fighting off the zombie. Ash shouted something that I couldn’t make out. As I reached the Mohawk woman, I noticed a familiar hesitation in the zombie. It stuck its nose in the air and shuddered as if it didn’t like the smell. The Mohawk woman must be like Ash and me. Not taking a chance, I struck the zombie’s head with my boot. The body disentangled itself from the Mohawk woman. I stole a glance when the woman looked at me with wide eyes and then moved to the sprawling body. I raised my boot over the zombie as it lay on its stomach, and I crashed my heel down on its skull. Bone crunched against the asphalt. Blood the color of night oozed out of its mouth and eye sockets. I raised my boot for another blow to put the thing out of its misery when hands grabbed me around the waist and forced me to move away from the corpse.
Before they could drag me, I broke free from their grips and whirled around to see Father Deacon staring at me. Dumbstruck, I glanced around to check that Ash was okay in the SUV. The commotion at the church had died down. Survivors had retreated inside. About four or five zombies had found their way to the church doors and stood pounding on the old wood. Five of them had spotted us and made their way along the road, two of them freshly turned men in dark-colored coveralls. The rest scattered around. All I could think was that these people were insane.
Ash called out for me to hurry. I answered with a wave and went to help the Mohawk woman to her feet. “You okay?” I asked.
“Just peachy,” she said. “And thank you.” I turned to the car and saw Ash staring at us, open-mouthed. She wasn’t staring at me as much as at the Mohawk woman behind me. I turned to face her again and just caught the woman making a kill gesture with a flat hand to her throat. When my gaze returned to Ash, her mouth had closed, but she wasn’t able to hide the delight on her face. I had no idea what that had been about.
“Come on, let’s go,” Ash shouted as the approaching zombies closed in. With the Mohawk woman in tow, I jogged to the Edge.
“Get the fuck in the car,” I said, pointing at Father Deacon, “or don’t. See if I care.”
He looked at me in dismay, but he could do whatever he wanted as far as I was concerned. He turned to the church but must have seen the raised noses coming hi
s way, because, within seconds, he sat in the seat behind me, beside the two women, and I put the Edge in reverse.
The only sound was the hum of the engine as we drove around the block, turning onto what seemed to be a nice suburban street. The American flag swayed in the breeze in front of several front doors. As with the areas we had driven through previously, there didn’t seem to be any electricity here. The whole area looked deserted. My hands gripped the steering wheel, and I took deep breaths to calm the fury boiling inside me. What had that idiot been thinking? If this was the way he tended his flock, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to stay. Not if you could go to a safe zone.
At my side, Ash fidgeted with her fingers and kept glancing over her shoulder. It was starting to make me nervous. In the rearview mirror, I noticed the Mohawk woman, who sat in the middle, throw a hard glance at Ash with a slight shake of her head. Did they know each other? I was about to say something when the curly-haired woman sitting behind Ash spoke up.
“We have to get back.”
“I’m going around the block,” I said under my breath. “They might have wandered off by now. We’ll see if we can come in from the other side.”
“You do not dictate what happens. You turn around, now.”
“Hey, lady,” Ash said as she shifted in her seat to face the woman behind her. “If you wanna leave, I’ll be happy to hold the door for you.” I gave her a sideways grin when she shifted back with a roll of her eyes. The retort calmed my nerves, and I loosened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Sir, we have to get back, check on the situation, and contain the flock before they wander off,” the curly-haired woman said. I raised an eyebrow at Ash. That didn’t sound like a parishioner addressing her pastor.
“There, there, Hannah,” Father Deacon said. “These ladies are just being cautious. We’ll retrieve the rest of the flock soon enough.”
Ash pulled a face mouthing the word insane. I bit my lip to fight a laugh.
“But, si-” Hannah stopped midsentence, and in the rearview mirror, I could see Father Deacon give her a hard glare.
“We are grateful for your assistance, ladies,” Father Deacon said.
The Mohawk woman in the middle, with some strange connection to Ash, still hadn’t said a word. She kept her eyes on the rearview mirror and, therefore, on me. This was starting to unnerve me, and I glanced at Ash. Was she keeping things from me? All I wanted to do was get rid of these people and head back to our place.
We approached the church from the opposite direction on the same street that Ash and I had come down before. I noticed light coming from the windows of the church that I hadn’t seen earlier. The fenced-in playground came up on our right. Packed with the moaning zombies, it looked disturbingly the same. From this angle, I got a better look at the church. Its arched windows and the crosses on the side of the building kind of betrayed its purpose. Hannah explained the building had a school attached, which they had turned into their base of operations. Hannah spoke as if she ran a military operation. Father Deacon, however, along with the other woman who hadn’t disclosed her name yet, sat quietly and observed the scene.
Four zombies stood along the fence of the playground, as if they hadn’t noticed they were on the other side of the fence. Like the movies and books had foretold, zombies seemed to be pack animals. Strength in numbers, I guessed. Maybe they weren’t as dumb as their blank, milky stares led us to believe.
I nodded to Ash, and she leaned out her window. I maneuvered the Edge around the corner and stopped it in the middle of the street. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that it left my knuckles white.
“What are you planning?” Father Deacon asked. His words had barely left his mouth when a shot rang out so loudly I was afraid my eardrums had burst. With care, Ash aimed again and fired another shot.
A zombie’s head split open, raining brain matter all over his friends. Then its legs went limp. It fell on top of the one who had gone down before.
“What are you doing?” Hannah’s scream startled me, but Ash didn’t seem fazed. She took aim at the final two, who had swung their heads around in confusion. Their noses sniffed the air, but they didn’t seem to be able to pinpoint our position. From the back of the car, Hannah roared, reached to the front, and struck Ash in the arm.
“What the hell,” Ash said when she lost the gun. It clattered to the ground. I shifted in my seat to reach for Hannah in the back, but she was already out the door. Father Deacon sighed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“What?” I said, amazed. “We are trying—”
The passenger door swung open, and Hannah’s bulky figure filled the opening. Ash yelped when hands reached inside the Edge. Before I could grab her, Hannah pulled Ash out of her seat.
“What the hell?” I said. Father Deacon had also stepped out of the vehicle. This was going too fast for me. When I reached for the door handle, the Mohawk woman, who I had almost forgotten about, grabbed my arm.
“Don’t let them find out about you,” she said in low voice, “both of you.”
“What?” I said, glaring at her. Ignoring me, she stepped out of the car. Unable to make sense of anything, I scrambled out of the car. Hannah dropped Ash to the street, where she vanished from my sight behind the Edge. From the corner of my eye, I saw the church door standing wide open. Footsteps sounded on the pavement. To my other side, the two remaining zombies had finally found what they had been sniffing for as they made their way to Hannah, who must smell like an oversized Happy Meal.
Hannah stared briefly at the ground with a stunned expression, at what I figured was a pissed-off Ash. I couldn’t see Father Deacon anymore as I made my way around the SUV. Hannah disappeared from my vision, ducking behind the car. Ash reappeared in Hannah’s clutches. Hannah lifted Ash by her jacket as if she were a rag doll. Like a football player, Hannah stormed at the two zombies, carrying Ash as a shield in front of her. Ash cried out and unleashed fists onto Hannah’s head. No time to make sense of whatever this was, I raced after them and slammed my body into Hannah. She stumbled and, grunting, we crashed into the fence. Limbs flew all over the place.
Hannah bucked like a wild horse, attempting to crush me against the fence with her enormous body. The zombies behind me became frantic. They tried to grab hold of me, but my jacket was tight and my hair too short for their bony fingers to grab. When our bodies disentangled, I scrambled from the fence on hands and knees, trying to get my bearings and a fix on Ash and that mad rhino, Hannah. When I spotted them, my heart stopped.
To my right, two men had gotten hold of the remaining zombies with their nooses and sticks. In front of me, Hannah had an arm draped around Ash’s torso, holding her at chest level. Beside her stood the padre with his hands laced behind his back. Others had joined us, some in coveralls, and some in plain clothes. All of them were armed. None of the guns was trained on me yet, so that was something. Behind me, zombies rattled the fence. We were trapped.
Ash squirmed in Hannah’s grip, but the woman was relentless.
“Yes, right, I’m sorry about that,” Father Deacon said. “I know you think you’re helping, but we can’t have you hurt our flock.” I sat on my butt and brushed the dirt from my hands. I was fresh out of sane things to say. Of course, Ash wasn’t.
“Are you insane? All those things will do is eat you alive, there is nothing to tend.” Some curse words followed under her breath.
“We have our reasons, and I think it’s time for you to go now.”
“No argument from us,” I said and climbed to my feet.
“Sir, sir!” a young man shouted as he came running at us from inside the church. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, he ran barefoot. Panting, he handed Father Deacon a note. Then he shot me a grim look. Warily, I stepped closer to Ash. I wanted to take her from Hannah.
Within the crowd, I spotted the Mohawk woman who had been with us in the car. Her words were still fresh in my mind. She hit me w
ith a concerned look. The padre scrutinized the piece of paper, and then he handed it back to the young man. Before I could react, he grabbed me by the collar and shoved me against the Edge. Ash protested. Hell, I protested. Within seconds, he had my jacket open, and I heard my shirt rip. All kinds of crazy things ran through my mind, including the three hillbillies we had encountered in Bergen Beach.
Father Deacon shouted, “You’re one of them!”
Shock ran through me when he revealed the healed, yet clearly visible, set of teeth marks on my shoulder. I felt the blood drain from my face as my eyes ran over the onlookers, their faces aghast.
“I can explain that—” I said, but Hannah cut me off.
“You best shut up now. Subjects do not talk.”
“Subjects? What—” I started to say, but I was cut off again. Father Deacon jerked me from the car. I stumbled over the curb and landed with my back pinned to the fence.
“Why won’t you turn? What makes you so special?” His eyes widened with hate as he held me. The fence rattled behind me as he shook me by the shoulders. Decomposing fingers scraped my neck and head, but none of the zombies seemed to want a taste. This might have something to do with the fear that seeped from my pores.
Something shifted inside the padre. His thick brows lowered. When he looked up, his eyes were glassy. He released my jacket, and I slumped to the ground. My shoulder ached where it had, twice now, hit the fence. I watched Deacon hover over me for a moment.
“My entire family, every single one,” he muttered under his breath, “but you will save them. You have to.” His eyes widened, craziness inside them when he turned away. “Secure them and get them ready for transport to the lab.”
When I heard the word, all kinds of alarm bells went off inside my head.
“Get them all ready,” Father Deacon added. “It’s time to make the good doctor deliver on his promise and cure our families.” It set the onlookers in motion. Two men approached me. I struggled to get up and tripped over my own feet. My butt planted on the ground, I grabbed the gun from my jacket and aimed. The men stopped. I caught a glimpse of the Mohawk woman from before. She was shaking her head at me. Why was she shaking her head? I aimed the gun at the padre. With his beard and thick brows, he looked like a bear, ready to pounce on me. I stole a glance at Ash. She had stopped her struggle and hung limply in Hannah’s bulky arms. She gave me a slight nod, her jaw set tight. I hoped it was a sign of approval, although I had no idea what I was doing. Weapons clicked and numerous barrels trained on me. It ignited the panic that brewed in my gut, but I kept my gun steady.
