Sanctuary

by Pauline Creeden

  The streets of Warwick Boulevard were clear of the puzzle of cars he’d mazed through on Mercury Boulevard. It was nearly a straight shot, and he could see the white steeple of the church ahead through the naked trees. Part of him wanted to pick up a jog— he felt almost free. He’d not been out of doors for three days, and his imprisonment had finally come to a close. He was cold anyway and decided that maybe the jog would get his blood flowing and heat himself up. So, he picked up a steady run.

  Jennie

  JENNIE PRESSED HER CHEEK AGAINST the scuffed white tiles that smelled of shoes and mud. She could feel grains of sand as dirt stuck to her face, but she needed to reach under the store shelving unit to get the last can. Her fingers touched the lip of the dented can and caused it to roll away. She took a deep breath and barely stopped the curse that surfaced. She rose to her knees.

  “Did you get it?” Mickey’s question echoed through the cold, empty grocery store.

  Jennie almost made a smart remark: Does it look like I got it? But when she looked into her five-year-old brother’s shadowed face, as he hugged the other three cans to his chest, she couldn’t consider it.

  “I’ve got to go around to the other side to get it. Stay here.”

  She stood up and brushed off the front of her jacket and jeans. It disheartened her to look at the empty shelves, but she still felt relief in finding those last four cans under the shelving unit. Following her lead, Mickey stood.

  “I’m scared. Can’t I come with you?” He shivered inside the drafty store. The windows at the front of the building added almost nothing in the way of a windbreak now that many were empty panes of broken glass strewn on the floor.

  “Of course you can, Sam. I just thought you’d be happier here, dear.”

  Mickey giggled. Jennie used his love of Dr. Seuss-type rhymes to chase away his fears.

  She walked to the other side of the high shelf unit, still on the look-out for other edible possibilities. Her brother’s tennis shoes squeaked on the floor behind her.

  When she got to about the middle of the shelving unit, Jennie knelt down again. She shifted herself the other way and reached back under the shelf with her left hand. The gravel and dirt on the icy floor brushed her cheek like sandpaper when a smile came to her lips. Her fingers easily wrapped around the prize. She pulled it through the dust bunnies and cobwebs, feeling an odd a sense of triumph.

  “What is it? I hope it’s ravioli!” Mickey almost squealed.

  Jennie used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the grime covering the label. Her heart sank. “Hominy.”

  “I dunno what that is.” Mickey’s face pinched up, as he added, “But you must not like it very much.”

  From her brother, she took the three cans of succotash and breathed a deep sigh. “Well, at least it’s something different, right? God answered our prayer. We found something other than succotash.”

  She felt the vibration, and her heart froze in her chest. Jennie swallowed hard, her eyes growing wider. Her heart resumed pounding in her ears, so that she could hear almost nothing else. The white noise of the vibration the aliens made was rising in crescendo. They were just entering the parking lot from the west.

  The Shisa were coming, and Jennie knew she needed to run. Hiding was no good – they would sniff them out without even trying. Somehow her joints felt stuck in place.

  “What’s that noise?” Her little brother’s voice unlocked her joints, and she grabbed his small cold hand.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” she whispered, and they started to run in a crouched position through the broken glass door and past the abandoned cars in the grocery store parking lot. The wind blew from behind, and she sighed a thanks that they would be downwind.

  As they passed the last of the cars in the lot, she felt the need for speed. Maybe I should pick Mickey up. But if I do, I might drop the armload of cans.

  “Run faster,” Jennie whispered to him, knowing better than to ask. The growling made by the aliens remained far enough away that she doubted they had a visual yet.

  “I caaaaannn’t,” Mickey whined.

  Jennie winced. There was no way the Shisa didn’t hear his high pitch. She wanted to kick herself for rushing him. Even though she didn’t look, she knew he was on the verge of tears.

  She took a risk and stopped. She unzipped the top of Mickey’s jacket and stuffed the cans of food into the front.

  “Hold on to these tight, okay?”

  His nose was red from the cold. Snot ran over his upper lip, and tears glistened on his cheeks. His nylon jacket shooshed as Jennie picked him up and held him tightly to her chest. The cans poked her. She ran faster. The most direct route to the church was through Huntington Park, so she slipped inside the gate and followed the tall, chain link fence.

  The tops of her thighs burned with every step, but she knew she couldn’t slow down. She had to make it, or they’d die. She didn’t want to end up like her father. She used to love her father more than anyone in the whole world, but now she hoped she’d never see him again.

  They drew closer to the “big ditch,” and the pungent odor of decay struck Jennie. Looking straight ahead, she could see the white church on the other side. Her vision dropped down the concrete slope created by the ditch, and she took a ragged breath, praying, “Oh Jesus, please help us.”

  The angled concrete wall tilted toward the middle of the drainage area at an angle about as steep as the roof of her house and almost as far to the bottom. The water below should have just been rainwater, but it collected the putrid remains of run-off from the town’s streets and smelled awful. She could see a lump half covered with rainwater, and it arrested her. Oh please, don’t let that be a dead body.

  A howl came from behind. Jennie knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t help it. Turning, she saw that the howl came from four Shisa loping tirelessly toward her, their gaze fixed on Jennie.

  She weighed her options. To her right stood the tall chain-link fence that kept people out of the park from the street. To her left, the drainage area didn’t shallow for about a quarter mile. She had no choice but to go straight down.

  She feared the angle might be too steep to try and run, especially with Mickey in her arms. She couldn’t afford a fall. Normally, Jennie would have gone the quarter mile to the shallows and crossed, but they’d never make it before the aliens came.

  “Can I go down the slide?” Mickey asked.

  “What?”

  “The slide.” Mickey pointed at the steep concrete wall.

  It struck her like a slap. “Sure, Mickey, we’ll go down the slide together.”

  Jennie sat on the grass at the edge of the concrete and let herself down slowly, using her feet as brakes. She slid on the smooth, orange, river rocks a little at a time, afraid to go too fast, but wanting to get away from the edge before the Shisa made it there.

  They had only reached the bottom when the aliens came to the top edge. The Shisa watched them. Thirty feet below, Jennie could see the wildness in the eyes of the leader. Blood ran from the top of its head, and one of its ears was missing. It seemed that perhaps the military was fighting back and causing some return damage on the invading threat.

  The aliens took no time choosing what they would do. Immediately, they turned left. Jennie knew she didn’t have much time. They needed to climb fast before the aliens made it around to the other side.

  Hunger forced them to stop at the grocery store on the way. Now, they were stuck at the bottom of an open drain. Jennie struggled to her feet, still holding Mickey. She trudged through ankle-deep muck, Mickey's nails digging into her back.

  Oh Lord it is a body! Jennie’s mind screamed, and a squeal escaped her.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She tried not to look down again. Jennie needed to step over a bloated body, and she thought she’d vomit. She held her breath, glad she still carried her brother in her arms. He buried his head in her shoulder.

  As she stepped over the body,
she heard a moan. A wailer. She quickened her pace. Jennie felt Mickey’s head pop up as he looked at the body over her shoulder.

  Her voice shook as she tried to keep it light, “No worries, mate. Keep your head down. We won’t be late.”

  Mickey put his head down and whimpered.

  When they reached the other side of the ditch, she put him down so his feet were on the angle of the orange concrete wall. She turned him facing the church, so he wouldn’t stare at the body behind them.

  “You’ll have to crawl up on your own, okay?”

  “What about these?” Mickey’s hands still cradled the four cans of food in his jacket.

  Jennie didn’t know what to do. Her jacket pockets were full. She felt the corner of the picture frame from the outside of her jacket and knew there was no room. They needed the cans.

  “Give them to me.”

  Jennie tried out for softball in high school. She sucked. She couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a softball. But she took the four cans and held them in the crook of her left arm. She tossed one up, trying to get it over the side. Immediately it came rolling back down. She sidestepped to her right to keep it from landing in the muck and picked it back up.

  “Come on. You can do better than that.” Mickey turned to encourage her.

  Jennie was concentrating too hard to rhyme, “No, don’t turn—look straight ahead.”

  She tried again. This time it landed in the grass and rolled away. She took the second one and threw it too high, causing it to go almost straight up. The can hit the side of the wall and slid back down to her caterwaul, dented in the part she would need to open.

  Her forehead dripped sweat in spite of the brisk wind. This was taking too much time. She needed to concentrate on her throw. She tossed the dented can again and had it roll off toward the church, just like the first. The third can barely made it over the edge, and she threw the final can, relieved to see it land just over the lip as well.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Mickey crawled on all fours directly in front of her. Jennie felt like they were in a 60’s Batman and Robin skit. Climbing the slanted wall was easier than sliding down had been. The rough surface between the smooth round stones gave them plenty of traction.

  As they reached the top, the aliens were just making it through the shallow area. The pack split up. The leader ran down the ditch area along the bottom, while the other three ran toward them.

  “We have to hurry.” She yanked Mickey to his feet.

  “Ow,” he complained, tears glistening in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” she offered, sincerely. “Hurry up and go. I’ll get the cans.”

  He started toward the church while she bent down to gather up the four cans of food. They were spread about, but she dove for them one at a time and snatched them up.

  Not much time passed before she followed Mickey. She chanced a glance and saw their pursuers were not far away. She ran toward the door of the church yelling at the top of her lungs.

  “Help! Is anybody in there? The aliens are coming! Someone please open the door!”

  Mickey made it to the first step, and Jennie followed several feet behind when she saw her dad come around the corner of the church and head for her brother. Because of the rumbling from the Shisa, she hadn’t heard his wailing until now.

  How did he know to come here? Did the infected wailers have some sort of memory function? If he did, how could he attack her brother now?

  Her father had the bloody bare patches on his head where he had been pulling out his own hair, a tell-tale symptom of infection. Red and swollen, his face hardly looked like her father’s any more. Drool frothed on the sides of his mouth, and his bloodshot eyes no longer looked grey.

  “No!” Jennie’s scream distracted her father and made him hesitate on the way to her brother. She gripped one of the cans tightly in her right hand, and without a second thought, she threw it.

  It hit her father squarely in the forehead with a sickening crunch. He fell backwards, his knees folding in an odd fashion. Her mouth dropped open in shock. How did she not miss?

  She gripped another can so tightly that the tips of her fingers felt numb. She silently prayed her thanks and asked that she wouldn’t need to attempt another throw. Her father didn’t move.

  She sidestepped past her father. Her brother stood, wailing and bawling on the church step when the big door of the church creaked open. To Jennie’s relief, Mrs. Crawford stepped out and picked up her brother. She tried to soothe him and gestured toward Jennie.

  “Hurry. Hurry, the Shisa are still coming.”

  She had forgotten them. Jennie turned and saw them starting around the corner of the church. She ran up the steps and into the door. Mrs. Crawford shut it behind her and replaced the latches.

  Jennie could hear them snarling and growling near the body of her father. Instead of relief, grief and guilt struck her.

  “Did I just kill my father?” She looked up at Mrs. Crawford with tear-filled eyes and choked down a sob.

  “No, honey, he was dead already. Your daddy’s in heaven now. Don’t let what happened today worry you none.” She took Jennie’s whimpering brother and walked toward the group huddled at the front pew.

  Jennie nodded, keeping her back to the door. Sinking down to the floor, she hugged her knees and listened to the rumble outside. Jennie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prayed.

  ONCE HER EYES ADJUSTED TO the darkened interior of the church, Jennie took in the small crowd gathered at the front of the sanctuary. The rumbling of the Shisa outside subsided and drifted away to the steady hum that had become easily ignored over the past few days. A wailing had risen again, and she could only assume that her father had somehow survived the mishap with the can of hominy. Survived? Would that be the right word?

  Jennie stood and dusted herself off. She felt a bit dizzy and held the back of a dark wood pew. The small church smelled of lemon-scented furniture polish, old books, and dust. The light let in by the high frosted windows had been dimmed by the cloud cover outside. A bright flash lit up the room, causing everyone to jump a little. When it was followed by a frightening rumble that shook the room, it took a moment for Jennie to calm down and console herself that it was only thunder.

  “Hey, I’m glad to see you’re all right.” A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

  She looked into the man’s brown eyes and had a vague moment of déjà vu. With a hard blink, she tried to determine where she’d seen him before but couldn’t. She nodded, and the man rubbed a hand through his short curly hair. It made her look harder. Was he scratching?

  The man’s unshaven face gave him a rough exterior. He wore a white t-shirt and grey oversized sweatpants and a pair of white high-top Converse sneakers. She stared for a moment at his shoes. They seemed both odd and old; they were tied at the foot so the sides of the tops flopped over like dog ears. The rain began to beat upon the roof in such a manner that the man had to raise his voice to continue. “I’m Hugh. I saw you trying to get away from those three blind infected people earlier. I came to help. It surprised me that I got here first.”

  Jennie looked at him and shook her head slightly, not knowing what he meant. Her mind was so focused on the alien attack and the situation with her father, she’d forgotten about the three wailers that had followed her before she made it to the grocery store. She looked up into his kind eyes, and he gave her a wide smile. She remembered. He’d stood in the glass front doors of the tower when she passed. She’d locked gazes with him just like this for only a moment, but there was something else.

  “Thanks for trying. We stopped to get my brother something to eat at the grocery store.” She remembered the cans she’d let drop to the floor and bent to retrieve them. When she had the three cans in her arms, she looked at him with a half-smile and said, “We don’t even have a can-opener.”

  The man chuckled with a short snort and took the cans from her. “I’m sure they’ve got something in the back
,” and he started to head that way.

  Jennie glanced over to her brother and the Crawfords. There were two other men sitting to the side of the sanctuary and four women beside Mrs. Crawford. Two children clung to one of the women. It seemed they were both older than Mickey, but their wide eyes showed an innocent terror that betrayed their age. Somehow, her feet continued to follow after the strangely familiar man.

  When they reached the utilitarian kitchen, his Converse sneakers squeaked on the beige linoleum tiles. He picked up a plate and passed it to her. “These are really good, by the way. Do you want one?”

  She stared at the chocolate chip cookies and wanted to cry. Why on earth did she feel like she needed to go to the grocery store when there was food already here? Could she have avoided the aliens and her dad if she’d come straight away? She knew the reason. She couldn’t stand the thought of being a burden to anyone and didn’t like the idea of mooching what didn’t belong to her. She was already burdening herself on the Crawfords with her presence. How could she keep taking and taking without giving anything in return? A lump swelled in her throat again. Without a word, she left the kitchen and headed back to her brother with the plate. The cookies weren’t warm, yet they made her mouth water anyway.

  “Hey, kiddo, want a cookie?”

  Mickey’s bright blue eyes were wide and still glistened as the lights in the sanctuary came on. “Cookies?” he asked.

  “Yep,” she said. Golden-brown chocolate chip cookies lay on the light green plate.

  Her brother took one gingerly and met her eyes with an unspoken question. When she nodded, he took two. Jennie snagged one for herself and took a bite. Together they smiled and chewed. It amazed her that something so simple could temporarily relieve the horror she’d experienced with her little brother.

  Brad

  BRAD WATCHED THE YOUNG GIRL and her brother sharing the cookies with a strange fascination. Who was this girl, and what was she to Hugh? Over her shoulder, Brad’s brother stood with his hands in his pockets and a strange smirk on his unshaven face. What was with the sweats anyway? The whole situation just seemed weird.