Low moans escaped from the adults as a young child from the center of the group laughed musically. Xavier closed his eyes, raised his head and smiled. He cleared his throat.
Behind Jack, a woman screamed, startling her. “Teach it! Tell it!” The baby in the woman’s arms gave a long, warbling cry.
“I lived in New York,” he said. “I’ve been a fiddler and a poet, a disappointment, a rebel against all things and I have become a faithful servant of the Lord. Our enemies used microbes against us and then — I saw the fruits of their labors myself — they filled a ship with a new version of Sutr that makes people into monsters. I saw them up close! I saw them do terrible things. The Lord saved me from the Fall of Man! And do you know why?”
“Why?” a man yelled out of the darkness.
“For you. God made the terrorists his instruments…God allowed the horrible to happen…for you! He saved me for you! How else could I have escaped the zombie conflagration, the ghoulish storm of destruction? God gave me the power to walk through fire, but not for me! For you!”
The group replied with three fast claps.
“I know it sounds crazy. But in this new world, what isn’t crazy? We’ve all seen crazy. Crazy is the new normal! Crazy isn’t crazy anymore! What’s a baby dying?”
“Crazy!” the crowd answered.
“What about many children dying in their dead mothers’ arms?”
“Crazy!”
“And what about the prospect of you dying and the universe going on without you?”
“Crazy!” the crowd replied again.
Jack and Anna exchanged a look. Jack guessed what her daughter was thinking. Jack eyed the distance from her seat in the grass to the tent flap. If they ran and left Mrs. Bendham behind, they might make it outside before the guards stopped them. They’d certainly never make it as far as the van.
About Who Knows What
At 7 a.m., Chris Evans sat on an orange, coffee-stained couch in an alcove in a second floor corridor at Marion County General. It wasn’t that the taste of sweet, hot coffee was so good, but he missed the calming morning ritual. His breakfast was an old, misshapen apple and a bottle of Evian water. He’d been up since dawn, watching the sky change. Since the death of television, he noticed lots of survivors turned to the clouds. People were paying attention again or maybe just relieved the dead night’s terrors had receded.
Chris slept better knowing others were nearby. Life was different, but life continued. At dawn, he’d heard the telltale sounds of lovemaking. Somewhere down the corridor, a pair coupled. There was hope in that. It cheered Chris to think someone still had the gumption. Maybe those biological imperatives could actually be spurred on by so much death.
Chris shifted on the couch uncomfortably. His hip wasn’t limbered up yet. He could pop a pill, but he’d begun to worry that he’d had too many too close together lately.
And what about next week or next month when the worry was not too many pills, but too few? The pharmacies were stripped clean, so that meant searching the houses of the dead. He didn’t relish that idea. And how nasty would the hip get once all the medication expired and lost its punch?
He’d put new notches in his belt, but sometime today, between runs, he’d slip into the WalMart on South Western Avenue and pick out new pants. Without the belt, the pants he wore would puddle around his ankles. Maybe he’d find some meds someone had skipped, too. Or maybe the looters had missed the veterinary clinic. The vet’s office might have painkillers he could store away for a rainy night.
Some night soon, he thought, when the pain gets so bad the dawn won’t be worth the wait, I’ll knock back all the pills I have left and join the ghost parade.
Chris glanced around the waiting area. Magazines lay about, filled with details of dead concerns. The remaining nurses called this the bereavement area or, among themselves, “the nook”.
When the news from surgery was bad, Chris imagined families had gathered here to meet with the surgeon. The doctor would appear through wide double doors, blood still on his surgical booties. He’d describe how the procedure had gone right until the patient’s body had gone wrong. The doctor would make sure to use the word “dead” to be certain the family got the finality of the message. Then he or she would slink back through those big doors. The family would turn and a social worker and a chaplain would be waiting.
There was talk of downloading our consciousness into robots, Chris thought. Now there’s not a surgeon left to sew my finger back on if I slip with an ax chopping wood.
When Chris glanced out the window again, he saw the Alphas coming. They did something he hadn’t seen anyone do for a long time. They ran.
People told outlandish rumors of what happened in Europe and the Indianapolis Speedway. Rumors of sieges, atrocities, cures and possible rescue spread through the survivors faster than the plague. Chris hadn’t believed the stories about monsters could be true. Not until he saw them coming fast in a swarm.
* * *
There was no checkpoint outside the hospital. No machine gun nest guarded the entrance and so the vampires were undeterred. They’d been driving on buses and trucks through the night. Their hunger and thirst was so strong, their stomachs felt like clenched fists.
The hospital’s generator still worked. The automatic doors would have slid aside if the Alphas had waited. Instead, they burst through the glass on either side of the entrance.
Two homeless men who’d been talking quietly together shrieked in unison. They’d never seen people like this. The attackers were pale and naked or nearly naked. They moved with a smooth grace uncommon except among the greatest dancers, athletes and jungle cats. The attackers pulled the two men down, going for their throats before they could shriek again.
Other humans down the corridor took up with their own screams. A nurse was caught by her hair and thrown backward into the Alpha pack.
Three women and two men spotted the danger and ran for the doors to the X-ray department. The door had an electronic lock and one of the women thought to seal the door behind her. When the lead Alpha hit the door, it almost burst off its hinges.
“Run!” one of the others said.
Then two more Alphas joined the first and the big doors exploded inward. The trio brought one man and one woman to the floor, killing quickly and feeding gleefully.
Two nurses ran upstairs toward the nursery and daycare. Their intent to save children’s lives was pure, but instead they led the vampires to easy prey.
Panic spread through the hospital as more humans ran from the invaders. They were too focused on running and evading the cannibals to risk screaming. The fastest runners escaped the first wave of the attack. Their sneakers squeaked and squealed on the hospital’s green tile as they turned down the east wing, sprinting for the exit.
That’s where they ran into the teeth of the second wave of the attack on Marion County General.
A long, lanky fellow hit the exit door cursing. Misericordia’s laughter boomed down the hospital corridor as he clotheslined the escapee.
Misericordia slammed the human into the ground, knocking the breath from him. The man’s body blocked the door so the Alpha leader ran forward, leaving the prey for lesser Alphas.
Running down the corridor reminded Misericordia of his rugby days. He slammed two burly men into walls as he raced down the corridor. This feeling was like winning a match, if he were on PCP as a teenager.
By the time he got to the stairs, he already smelled the blood. The tantalizing, metallic smell made him hungrier.
His hunger turned to fury as he hit the top of the stairs. Two of Misericordia’s vampires had broken a commandment. The Alphas had targeted children, after all.
The Alpha leader launched himself at the traitors. For the first time, but not the last, Misericordia fed on his own kind.
While crazy prophets gain outrageous profits
“Of course the universe can’t do without you. Or…�
� Xavier smiled slyly, “so you think. But God let this plague come down on us for one reason. He’s teaching — and He is a male, ladies, for a female God would be more forgiving and give us more chances —”
A few women clapped their approval but Xavier waved for them to be quiet. “He’s teaching us about his perspective on the human race,” Xavier continued. “There are billions of galaxies and we’ve been awfully self-centered about our tiny dot of a blue planet. We thought we controlled everything. We thought that once we developed vaccines, we’d won that war and we could go on to new wars. We’re good at starting wars but we sure suck at ending ’em!”
Three fast claps of approval came again. It reminded Jack of a refrain in Salsa music.
“You know those nasty little bugs, those microbes, those germs? You know what they did? They kept on mutating and fighting long after we gave up and relaxed our vigilance. Now our enemies have used the nasty little buggers and we were so silly, they took us by surprise.
“A few months ago, I was on a street corner down by the Guggenheim — I used to spend a lot of time hanging out at the museum until the cops chased me away. If I were standing on my corner doing a bit of busking and telling you about the end of the world, you’d have called me crazy. Would you call me crazy now?”
The crowd answered no in a ragged chorus.
Lights flashed outside, throwing bright red, blue and white on one tent wall. The crowd looked left, curious. Jack dared to hope there might be some kind of regular authority asserting itself. In the old world, this cult would be ordered to disperse because they hadn’t filed a municipal permit. Jack never thought she’d miss such mundane bureaucracy.
Xavier, sensing the crowd’s distraction, spoke louder and threw his arms out again dramatically. “But you know what? I was a fiddler with a marionette. Society put me in a box. Heck, I put myself in a box. You ever see those mimes, struggling to get out of their invisible boxes? You’ve been in an invisible box, too. Don’t feel bad. We were all trapped in boxes! We were all deceived, but now we have to break the box! Strangle our inner mimes!
“You bought the lies the TV and movies and the Internet sold you. You accepted what the government taught you. You believed they cared about you, that your taxes went to good causes, that they listened to what you had to say! They didn’t do those things! They went their own way. They killed innocents. They deformed babies with depleted uranium. They robbed you and, until the plague, you didn’t care enough to change. They made themselves rich! They gave themselves power! They told us to be grateful for crumbs! We were all living out our lives as if we had tomorrows to spare! Does anybody want to live the old way anymore? Do you want to just accept what you’re given?”
“No! No! No!” the crowd answered.
“I was running from monsters, and then God got my attention. God said, ‘Xavier! Xavier! Xavier! Pay attention! Let go of your brain ego! To hear the message, God said, you have to listen with your heart!’ What did God say?”
“Xavier! Xavier! Xavier!” the crowd chanted.
Xavier’s voice boomed through the tent. “God was saying, ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” the crowd answered.
“Strangle that mime!” Xavier rallied them.
“Strangle that mime!”
“Yes, you know it, don’t you? I’m here to wake you up and lead you to the Promised Land. If you listen to your heart, you’ll hear His truth in my words! Don’t listen to the street fiddler with a puppet! He’s not talking to you right now. God’s just using the little, bald fiddler’s mouth!”
The crowd answered with three claps of approval.
“New folks, you can see this isn’t our first rodeo.” Titters rose up from the crowd. “We’ve been on the road a short time, traveling north to the new Promised Land, expanding our circle as we go.”
“The worse things are, the easier it is to get a mob together,” Anna whispered.
Xavier shot a look her way and Anna sat straight. “It came to me in a dream. An angel said to me, ‘Run north.’ There’s a safe spot by a lake that’s been picked out for us. All through California, they’re dying of thirst, but for us? A beautiful lake awaits! There’ll be pure water and game and we’re all going to be disease-free.”
Xavier paced back and forth at the front of the stage, his head down. “We’re going back to the way God intended, before power-hungry governments and money-hungry men screwed up the planet.”
Scattered cheers of “Amen!” rose up.
“If I offered you a million dollars right now, could you eat it? No one’s money-hungry any more. We’re hungry for food! We’re going to be hunter-gatherers again! You’re going to be hunter-gatherers again! When we see the place reserved for us, we’ll know it! On that day, as we find our way through green trees, our souls will be fed. We’ll be safe.”
“Yes!” a man cried.
“And that’s where we’ll do what?” Xavier asked the crowd.
“Begin anew!” the crowd answered.
“We’ll do what?”
“Begin anew!” the crowd answered louder.
“So it is said, so it shall be done!” Xavier exalted. He raised his arms and flashed the peace sign with both hands.
Anna leaned close to whisper in her mother’s ear. “What do you think, Mom?”
“I think this guy doesn’t know who Richard Nixon is.”
“Who?” Anna asked.
Jack glanced at her daughter and sighed.
The elderly man who had spoken before stood. His tone was defiant. “What do you propose exactly, Mr. X?”
Xavier looked at the old man, nonplussed. He tugged an earlobe and the second spotlight turned to focus its beam on the new people at the front of the crowd.
“What’s in it for me to go with you to this utopia?” the old man demanded.
Xavier pointed at the man. “What marvelous narcissism! I love this guy! This guy gets it! He’s asking the question no one asks if he’s living inside the box. If more boys had asked that question, they wouldn’t have died in a foreign desert. Can I get an amen?”
“Amen!” the crowd answered.
“Amen, amen. Since you’ve asked such a wonderful question — the only question that really matters — I’ll tell you, my new best friend. You get all of the benefits of being one of us without the taxes. We don’t tax, we share. You’ll have the protection of the group. There’s some ugly stuff going on out on these highways. Some of you have already seen the worst, most criminal behavior you could ever imagine on those roads. What’s in it for me, he asks. That’s so wise. Thank you, friend. You so get it!”
The crowd clapped three times in approval.
However, the old man wasn’t done. “I have an even better question.”
“Oh? Okay, quickly,” Xavier said. “We have to get some sleep soon. There are little ones in the crowd who are up way past their bedtime.”
The old man’s mouth twisted. “What’s in it for you?”
Xavier laughed and the crowd soon joined in. It sounded forced. The large man with the huge biceps stepped out from the shadows and put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. He sat.
“What you people don’t seem to understand is, a great evil has risen. Sometimes I see them coming for us in my dreams. They were once human, but not anymore. I’m reminded of movies about werewolves.”
“Great,” Anna murmured. “Advantage: werewolves and religious nuts.”
It was as if Xavier had heard her. He turned her way and seemed to address his words solely to Anna. “Some of the monsters are smart and others aren’t, but all they want to do is eat every single, last one of you. I think the ones I saw in New York were the dumb ones, but they were scary enough. Those things…that’s what I’m trying to protect you from. Maybe I was dreaming, but I do know the vision was real.”
Xavier stepped off the riser to stand in front of Anna. “The angel came to me and told me to do the ri
ght thing, to stay as pure as I can so I can see the Promised Land. The messenger told me to take no lives, no matter who I met, as long as they were still human.” The spotlight on the crowd was extinguished.
“In the messenger’s eyes,” Xavier added, “I saw my reflection. I saw what I was and what I could become if I disobeyed. I was afraid.”
His voice shook when he talked about the messenger. Some of the newcomers doubted Xavier, but the story of the angel with mirror eyes? Xavier clearly believed that part of his spiel.
When Anna dared to sleep, sometimes she felt an angel’s presence, too, following their progress, nearby and always watching.
Delivering kicks to your thin wallet and empty guts
As children ran screaming from the hospital’s daycare, Misericordia stood and wiped the blood from his chin with his forearm.
Two Alphas lay at his feet, one atop the other. He didn’t know these tribe mates well. He’d given the male the name Razor and he’d christened the female Cutter. Traitors to the code, he took their names back, along with their lives.
Misericordia felt the traitors’ blood pulsing through his system. He’d bitten many humans, but this was the first time he’d killed a turned vampire. He felt a new, more powerful rush through his brain. His chest felt lighter. He felt like he might levitate. Human blood was a strong drug. This was much better. This was the highest high, meth and cocaine and utter triumph packaged in sacks of meat and blood and bone.
A human appeared at a nearby doorway. He was the first human Misericordia had seen in days who had not run from him. The Alpha leader watched as the man held a door open, urging the children to run and escape the slaughter. Screams of terror echoed up the stairwells. The vampires were feeding.
After the last child fled through the door, the human stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, blocking the way. The man held a red fire ax. He stared at the naked vampire.
This Plague of Days (Omnibus): Seasons 1-3 Page 56
