by Kip Nelson
The morning sun still was warm as they moved into the twilight of the summer, but its golden glow wasn't the least bit comforting. It all seemed worthless. There were so many dead, so many eyes that never would spark with life again. And it wasn't just people he knew either. Enemies were lying next to his own people, no longer separated, no longer fighting, just lying there, still. The bodies of the enemies outnumbered those of his own people, but that only reminded him of what he was told at the end of the battle, that there were still more to come. He didn't think it was possible. They already had fought off hundreds. How could there have been more? When he had been in their camp he hadn't had a chance to get a headcount, but the mall was certainly big enough to house them all, and some of them could have been elsewhere, raiding another unfortunate group of people. There was a leader, too, someone guiding their actions. A vile person they must have been to cause such wanton destruction without any end result.
People still were picking themselves up from the ground and dusting themselves off. As Mack moved through the settlement he helped people up. Many of them dared not look him in the eye, still haunted by what they had done through the night. Others were too preoccupied with those they had lost, seeing their friends and loved ones around them, or people who they always had intended to acquaint themselves with, and now never would get the chance. So many candles had been snuffed out, and although it was a bright morning, a dark cloud of sorrow hung over the settlement.
Everyone was subdued. Few words were spoken, but there were many sobs as the emotions caught up with everyone. Mack encouraged everyone to open up and let them out. Although he had tried to prepare people for this as best he could, they weren't trained for this situation. They had survived the apocalypse so far, but surviving was a different thing than facing down the enemy with a gun in your hand. Indeed, many of them still clutched their guns tightly, their knuckles white, unable to let them go because the weapons had been a part of themselves.
The smell of death filled the air. When Mack closed his eyes, he could well imagine himself back in the Middle East, standing in a desert after an attack by insurgents. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. His square, unshaven jaw was set into a grim look, and wherever he turned there was nothing to lighten his mood. They already had suffered so much, how could this community deal with another attack? He was afraid this enemy had too many people to fight off. For all his strategic thinking and tactical awareness, there was only so much he could do. Sadly, more often than not, might prove right.
It was with a heavy heart that he walked around the settlement, wondering how much time they all had before another attack. Gazing out to the horizon he knew the enemy had gone to lick their wounds, but they would return before too long. Even if the community could fight them back a second time, there was every chance the enemy would return a third time, and keep coming and coming until there was nothing left but a pile of ash.
When he had arrived in the settlement he had been impressed by how organized it had been. Unlike the rest of the city it was clear the people inside its barriers had taken pride in the look of the place, and for the most part it had been cleaned up. That was no longer the case, however. More buildings were charred, debris was scattered everywhere, and it looked as it must have in the first few days of the apocalypse. But not everyone who was lying on the ground had died. Many were crying out in agony, gasping for sweet relief. Everyone was pitching in and helping carry the wounded to the makeshift infirmary located in the church. Even Bob, sweat pouring from his face, was helping. Mack walked up to him.
“Gotta say, I'm surprised we don't have to carry you away. What you did there was amazing; reckless and stupid, but amazing,” Mack said, referring to Bob striding out, wielding two guns, going on a one-man rampage to thin the enemy lines.
“It's not fair that I should live while all these young people have died. I thought that was going to be my moment; thought that was going to be my parting gift to the world. Guess the universe still has other plans for me,” he said, scowling.
Mack understood the man's attitude. There were many times in the past when Mack had questioned why he had been chosen to survive while others, especially young men and women who had so much to live for, had not. There was no simple answer to the question, and he simply had to acquiesce to the chaotic whims of fate. Bob spoke of a plan, but Mack could see no plan here, only destruction and violence. If there was a plan, then it was a depraved, sick mind who had made it up. Mack curled his fists, wishing he could give them a piece of his mind.
Over the course of the next couple of hours, as people roved through the settlement to make sure they didn't miss anyone who still needed assistance, Mack spoke with a few other people. They exchanged few words, as most did not have the wherewithal to speak. Even when he tried giving them advice, he found his words hollow. For what could he say that would ease the anguish of their souls? The one thing in common among them all was a sense of disbelief at those who had died. All of them had gone into the battle with the knowledge that not all of them were going to make it out alive, but there was a strong difference between knowing that and seeing the reality of dead loved ones and friends. Mack wished he had known them better, wished he had more time to get to know those who had died, so he could cherish memories and tell stories, and through that they could live again. But to many of the survivors, he still was a stranger, still a newcomer. The fact they had trusted him to lead them filled Mack with pride, but it also weighed heavily on his heart. He wasn't sure there was a way out for them all to remain alive, not when the threat to them was so determined to submit to evil.
It wasn't long before a few people had come up to Mack and expressed a concern; they wanted to be respectful to the dead, but there were so many bodies there simply wasn't enough room or manpower to bury them all. Mack realized then that traditional funeral rites were another thing that had to change in this new world. It simply wasn't possible to give a dignified burial to such a large number of people. He thought on it for a few moments, and then decided they were going to build a funeral pyre, and burn the bodies in a great blaze. It wasn't ideal, but soon enough word spread, and people carried the bodies of loved ones and friends to the pyre, while others used pieces of wood and other materials to build a huge bonfire. Soon the pile of bodies were almost like a mountain. It was a sad thing to see so many deceased grouped together, but it only reminded Mack how futile the violence of the world was. The members of the settlement and the enemy had ended up in the same place. Looking at them now, there was no difference between them. Mack was saddened by this, and the fact he hadn't managed to come to peaceful terms with the enemy.
With each body that was carried to the pyre his soul became a little heavier. Was there a limit to how much he could endure? Would there come a time when he would have to turn his back on the world and go live the life of a hermit, if there was such a safe space left? It wasn't in his character to shy away from challenges, or to turn away from people in need, but already he could feel the toll it was taking on his mind. It wasn't possible for anyone to fight forever. Soon enough, everyone who could had gathered around to stare at the mountain of corpses. Mack looked at his friends and saw the sorrow etched into their faces. The only ones not present were Freddie and Luis. Freddie was tending to the wounded, while Luis was recuperating after sustaining heavy wounds. Hank came up to Mack.
“Would you mind if I said a few words?” he asked.
“Of course,” Mack said.
Hank looked the freshest out of all of them, but the violence had taken its toll on him, too. Mack retreated into the crowd to listen to the words of the preacher. As he did so, he looked at the dead, trying to separate their faces, but they had morphed into one amalgamated mass. They had sacrificed their individual identities and were now just the same. All of them were the same. Hank stood in front of the unlit pyre. His words were heavy, and his voice sounded weary.
“This is a difficult time for all of
us. We are tired. We are hungry. We have been attacked. And even though we have emerged victorious, it came at a great cost. What you see behind you is the price of living in this world. I am humbled standing here behind all these people who gave their lives to defend this settlement. It is now that we must remember them and remind ourselves that they gave themselves willingly to the cause, and that, if it is required from us, we shall do the same.
“I prayed a lot last night and it pains me that God saw fit to call back so many of His flock, but we who are left here need to remember why they died. They died because of love; because they loved this place. They loved everyone around them, and they loved life. They wanted to protect it, to cherish it, and they were willing to put themselves in danger. But it's also important to remember that our friends are not the only people placed upon this pyre. Our enemies are there, too, and it is just as important that we mourn them and remember the lessons of kindness and compassion that Jesus taught us. Every loss of life is a tragedy, so let us bow our heads and say goodbye to all those who lost their lives last night.”
As he spoke there were muttering in the crowd from those who disagreed with Hank, but nobody outright said it. Saul mentioned to Mack that he had come to care a great deal about these people, as he picked up a stick and went to help light the pyre. A few people walked up and lit the pyre in different places. Everyone stared reverentially as the flames took hold of the bodies, spreading and consuming them until dark, thick smoke rose through the air.
Some people stayed there for the entire day, but for most of the others there still was much work to be done. Mack quickly rounded up the main group to talk about their plans. He mentioned how it would be hard, but there still were threats outside the settlement. Not only would this other group attack, but there still were the Lost Children to think about. However, all of them were tired and not in the right state of mind to talk about tactics. Hank and Freddie were preoccupied with talking to people and wanting to help them grieve, while Grace was anxious to get back to Luis' side. Mack let them go, but warned there still were troubled times ahead. Before they all left, Mack pulled Maggie aside. During the ceremony, Mack noticed Tristan toward the back, standing together with a blonde girl who he remembered from the Lost Children.
“I noticed, too,” Maggie said, with more than a hint of worry in her voice.
“Do you think you could talk to him and see what's going on there?”
“I'll try, but you know what boys are like talking to their mothers about these things,” she said. She was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but both of them were too tired to find any humor in the current climate.
With that he left her, with much on his mind. If Tristan managed to escape the Lost Children, then it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that another could have done the same thing. But given how tight-knit the group had been, and how difficult it had been for Tristan to break away, Mack found it suspicious that another Lost Child found their way to him. Not least because he remembered the way this girl had acted during his time being held captive. It filled him with uneasiness to know she had made her way into this settlement. It made him wonder if the Lost Children were closer than he thought, because the last thing the community needed was to be fighting on two fronts. With a heavy sigh, he turned away, and walked toward the pyre. Many people remained, paying their respects. Mack felt the heat against his face. He heard the crackling of the wood and smelled the burning flesh, but before either Hank or Freddie could come over to talk to him he had moved away, remaining in his solitude.
Chapter Twenty-Two
While she was happy to have been called to the meeting by Mack, Grace's mind was on Luis the whole time, and she found it difficult to focus on what Mack was saying. She thought it was too soon to start thinking about the next challenge, and wondered why they just couldn't have a moment to breathe? As soon as the meeting was over, she tried wiping the tiredness from her eyes and made her way back to the infirmary. On the way, she paused for a moment as she saw the pyre. The flames were licking at the bodies, and the soulless eyes were staring at her as they were consumed by the flames. She found the smell sickening and tried breathing through her mouth, but that only meant that she could taste the madness of the night on her tongue, and nausea swam within her.
She closed her eyes and tried composing herself, tried forgetting about the chaos of the long night. There were points at which it seemed as though it never would end. She, Luis, and Saul had held their ground, though. They had turned away the attackers, but at a great cost. She remembered that moment when Saul had gone to check on Lily, but had become distracted, then a grenade had gone off. The explosion had been ringing in her ears as she heard a scream. Before she knew it, Luis was running away to help, and in that moment, she felt proud that he was the type of man who would run into danger to help people rather than running away, but she also felt fear, and pain, and those feelings were still with her now.
She had turned to watch him running toward the building, through the smoke and carnage. But she couldn't keep her eyes on him because she had a job to do, firing back at the enemies who still were overrunning the settlement. When she could, she turned her head. Things seemed to move in slow motion. She saw him go into the building, then turned back and recoiled as her gun fired. She turned around again and saw him emerge from the building, supporting Lily, but this time when she turned around the gunshot she heard wasn't from her own gun.
She looked down at the weapon she was holding, her face twisted in confusion. She almost dared not turn around, somehow feeling in her gut what had happened. Her body twisted and her eyes fell on the new scene, Luis, fallen to the ground, clutching his body, a look of sheer agony on his face. Standing over him with his gun in her hands was Lily, the prisoner who Grace had wanted to believe, and had wanted to help and give a new chance at life. But all of that went away. Any compassion Grace had felt for her was tossed aside, replaced with a burning need for vengeance, to lash out with everything she had. It was a cold fury, and almost before she realized she had done it, Lily was dead on the ground, and Grace's finger was on the trigger.
For a long time, she had agonized over the morality of killing in this world. Grace always had considered herself to be a pacifist, but she recognized the need to adapt to survive. Yet, it still was difficult to come to terms with the idea of taking another person's life. However, after all she had been through, and especially after seeing those closest to her suffer at the hands of others, she was at peace with it. She knew that as long as she stayed true to herself, and her actions were borne from love for those around her, the Lord would protect her and still bless her.
As she walked through the settlement, she felt an odd sense of calm. Somehow, she knew that everything would be alright, and although many people would have seen all the dead bodies and questioned what kind of God would let that happen, it only strengthened her newly found faith. She saw it as a test, and that those who died were in a better place now. However, she wasn't yet ready to let Luis journey to that place of divine nectar. She wanted his feet to stay firmly planted on this Earth for a long time yet.
Turning away from the great pyre, she trudged toward the infirmary and greeted those there with a solemn nod. Anyone who had the slightest bit of medical training was helping out, led by Freddie and Mindy. It was a sad sight to see so many people wounded. Some of them had injuries that really needed to be treated in a hospital. Grace hated to see so many people in pain. They were writhing and crying out for sweet relief, and Grace wished she could give it to them, but she was powerless. She walked through the rows of people toward the back, where it was a little quieter, where the more serious cases were. Her pace slowed as she approached Luis. His face was pale and drawn. He was lying in bed, his body limp, his eyes barely open. She knelt on the floor beside him and took his hand, then pressed her cheek to it. His flesh was cold. She kissed it, wishing that things were as simple as being solved by a kiss. As he felt her presence, he
stirred. He was still groggy and weak, but she felt his hand squeeze hers back and her heart jumped.
Seeing him like this made Grace realize how much Luis meant to her. It had been difficult for her to process her feelings as they were entirely new to her. After all, the only person for whom she had had any semblance of romantic feelings was a fellow hacker, and they never had met face to face. What she had with Luis was entirely new, and entirely wonderful, but also so fragile, and she realized this now. Now that she was sitting before his wounded, vulnerable body she realized how much he meant to her, and was so filled with emotion that she was on the verge of tears.
“I apologize for my appearance,” he said. His voice was weathered and it seemed to take a great deal of energy to utter even a single word. Grace smiled, though, and brushed the hair away from her face.
“You've never looked more handsome,” she said, and meant every word. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time, seeing him through this vision of love, seeing him with her heart just as much as she was seeing him with her eyes.
“How is everything out there?” he asked. Grace shrugged.
“Pretty typical. Everyone is working hard to try getting the place back together. Mack still is worried about what's coming. He's afraid they're going to attack again, and there still are the Lost Children deal with. I just wish he would let us take a moment to reflect on what's happened.”
