by catt dahman
They ate quietly and drank plenty of water.
Chris said he saw a church not far away and said they should make that the next stop. He hated that they weren’t able to bring or use the Molotov cocktails with them, but they were lost when the bombs went off. “We need a safe place to lie low and let the radiation, if there is any, settle. I think the best bet is to try the church; it is well built and might have items we need.”
“Can’t hurt to pray, either,” Lena added, “is he going?” She motioned to the clown.
“I can hear you, but no, I am not going. I like being on my own. They’ll eat you guys but not me, so I’m fine alone,” he said.
“Can’t run in clown shoes?” Ric asked.
They mentally prepared themselves, and Chris looked outside. “It’s clear. Stay very quiet.”
They ran quietly down the sidewalk and across, then down a street to the church. They were seen half way there, and the ghouls began moaning, calling others to the hunt.
Chris knocked on the doors, but he thought he made a mistake. Then, the door opened, and a man dressed in black invited them in the church.
“Thanks,” Chris said as they slipped in.
“You are almost too late,” the man said, “call me Michael.”
“Late?”
“We’re about to have a service. You don’t have to participate any more than you wish, but we hope you will pray, have a silent moment with us, and join in our communion.”
“I’d be glad to,” Chris said.
Lena and Trish nodded.
“I really don’t believe, but I can do a silent moment,” Mike said.
Marian said she would. Faira nodded.
As they walked into the church and down the aisle, they looked at the vestibule where candles gave some light. People sat quietly in the pews or lay on them, resting.
Chris frowned as he noticed a few had bandages that were wet with blood, and he didn’t know if they were injured or bitten, but it made him nervous. Another group of people lay together in another section, slumped and unmoving. They were dead.
“Early service,” Michael explained.
Chris didn’t know what that meant.
Michael spoke a while, softly, about demons and men being tested, which scared the people, but he also said they were safe as they gathered to defy Satan and more along those lines that Chris tuned out.
He sat with his eyes closed, just resting. A few children and young people went to gather about Michael and then went back to their parents. Michael brought more paper cups filled with some liquid and passed it around, saying it was communion.
Chris took his cup and met the eyes of the people who traveled with him. Faira looked terrified.
“We can’t win against demons, we can put it off, we can hide like rats in the ruins of the former world, we can suffer with man, or we can let go, make peace, and join God, without having to taste the bowels of hell. To be bitten and to change is the worst sort of hell,” Michael told them.
“I don’t like this,” Marian whispered.
Michael smiled warmly. “It’s up to you. You can stay out there and fight…hide…but those things will find you, and they will have no pity or humanity. They will attack. You will be eaten alive or infected. Simple. That is our fate. But if you choose to go on, then drink of the blood of Christ, and join Him.”
To Chris’ shock, people drank the contents of the cups. Some gasped and shuddered violently, but they did it, sharing with those who were lying injured or helping the children. The sight sent chills up his spine. While he supported that people held varied beliefs, suicide and hopelessness were not his belief.
Ric stood and motioned Chris to get up. Trish slumped to the side; she swallowed the liquid and was gone.
“We’re going,” said Chris as he moved to the side, joined by Ric and then Faira and Marian. Lena was sprawled on the ground, an empty paper cup over turned beside her hand.
Mike knocked a woman back as he tried to get to the rest, but she was one who was injured, and when she drank the liquid and ended her regular life, the infection surged in her brain, and she sat up, ferociously hungry and centered on biting anyone near her.
“No,” Michael admonished Mike as he kicked her in her face, knocking her back into some of the still forms, but he was clearly confused.
“She was already infected,” Mike snarled “…and now she is one of them; it didn’t save her.”
“But….” He tried to sort that in his mind while the woman got back to her feet, hissing and snarling as she tried to decide which to go after first.
Mike, like the rest, left his weapon in the church entry when they came in. He launched another kick that kept the woman from leaping at Michael, but he shrieked when a child sank its teeth into his ankle, grinding against the bones.
In pure rage, he yanked away, leaving flesh in its mouth, jumped up, and landed on the thing’s neck. Before he could figure out what to do next, Chris was there, swinging a heavy pipe at the child until its head was crushed to pulp.
“Gimme that,” Mike said as he took the pipe and swung at the woman, who almost pinned Michael. Teeth flew out of her mouth.
“Not here…not here,” Michael moaned, and maybe he meant that the infection should not be on holy soil, or maybe he meant that Mike shouldn’t be killing one of them in a church.
Faira ran up and dripped water on the woman as Mike finished pulping her skull.
“What the hell? Are you…what was that?” Mike asked.
“I dunno; I had this image that she would sizzle.”
“Oh,” Mike frowned as he said, “she didn’t.”
“Nope.”
“Guys,” Chris began. At least three more were up, and more were stirring.
Michael looked into a paper cup as if the answer to this problem might be in there. He didn’t know if he should check out now or run. This was supposed to be calming and provide dignity to those suffering, but he didn’t think it through, and now he had many doubts. Did the evil behind all this lie to him and trick him?
To one of those stirring, he spoke softly. He didn’t know exactly how an exorcism might work for one of these, but he had faith, and he believed his faith gave him a power over evil forces. He might have been right, but this wasn’t evil; it was a bio-engineered infection, no more and no less.
The young boy he spoke to didn’t give up his demon possession, but it did bite Michael’s hand, jerking away the flesh in the webbing between his forefinger and thumb. Michael howled with pain.
Chris grabbed Mike, and Ric helped him as Marian, Faira, and the rest retreated through a door and down a hallway. The old building had a few windows, but the people hiding there boarded them over for safety from outside, not dreaming the threat would be inside. It would take a lot of work and tools to remove the secure boards, and they had neither.
Faira held up a cast iron frying pan. “Now, this is a weapon,” she said and smiled weakly.
“Guess this will do,” Marian replied and held up a large, heavy serving fork and took another skillet for her other hand.
Chris grabbed sharp, dangerous-looking knives and handed some to Mike and Ric. “This isn’t right; the idea is to crush the head.”
Michael wrapped his hand securely with a dishtowel. Then, he helped Mike bandage his ankle, which was already red and puffy with infection beginning, and purple bruises crept up his leg. “Guess I’m not gonna have an easy way out, huh?” he remarked.
“There is always hope.”
“Too bad Faira’s holy water plan didn’t work….” Mike shrugged.
“It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way,” Michael said.
“Well, without sacrifice and pain, you wouldn’t have your faith,” Chris pointed out, “you need to consider this your greatest calling. How will you define your faith, Padre?” Chris asked.
He grabbed a knife and said, “This way, maybe they haven’t blocked off the hall, so we can get to the classrooms.”
“One of the kids, he dealt drugs, but he was good at heart. I think so anyway; he concocted something that works fast and is dependable.”
“Did he drink it?”
“Injected it,” Michael grimaced, “all those people…the biggest fear is being eaten alive. It’s slow and painful, horrifying to be eaten; they didn’t have a chance against those things. They are abominations, really. I can’t imagine how they can exist,” he remarked and stared blankly at his injured hand, watching the blood darken the cloth. He didn’t know how to prevent turning into one of the monsters and dreaded that more than anything.
Chris motioned for them to be quiet as he opened the other doorway. A few shamblers were already there: waiting, beginning to moan, and calling the rest.
He poked with his knife, but using a blade seemed more dangerous than kicking them to the ground. He didn’t want his hand so close to their teeth. Mike, screaming in pain as a man bit into his shoulder, fell back against several, knocking them down. Faira and Marian bashed at those who fell.
Chris yelled for them to run. Faira kicked at a man who had her leg, and while his head was beaten sideways and his features were a ruin, he had a mouthful of her blood and flesh from her calf. Ric heaved her to her feet, and although she limped and howled, she followed them down the hallway. At a T in the hall, they paused.
“Go right,” Michael yelled. Zombies came at them from the other two sides; they had no chance. Michael caught Chris’ eyes for a second, and a look of peace passed over the man’s face as he prepared himself for the ultimate sacrifice. In a flash, he flung himself to the left to stab and flail at the monsters who came from that direction, effectively causing them to stumble and fall.
Ric hesitated but followed Chris and Marian. Faira stood in the same spot as her blood pooled. Michael was bitten, but he fought violently against the creatures, buying the others some time. She wished she could take the liquid and die.
The other three ran down the left corridor, but Faira turned to help Michael as he fought the biting and scratching; she vomited as a woman gnawed at her arm, too weak from blood loss and infection to do much more. Michael stopped fighting, and Faira thought maybe he was praying as she closed her eyes.
Ric, Chris, and Marian ran, pausing a second to figure out where they were in the maze of halls and rooms. Another right and the door would lead them back to where they started, and the left would, presumably, lead to classrooms. They took a left.
Marian screeched as she ran right into a man who reeked of rot and infection. She kicked and fought back as Ric and Chris hit the man, but he managed to snag her arm, getting a tiny bite. Chris finished the thing off by popping its eye open and jiggling the brains until it stopped moving. Greyish goo dripped out of the eye socket, causing both men to gag.
“I’m so tired,” Marian said, wiping at the bit of blood on her arm, “I can’t keep going; is this how it’s always gonna be? There’s no safe place, just running and hiding, like the preacher said.”
Hands beat at the door as the moaning increased. They wondered if Michael and Faira hammered at the door, too. Chris knew that even while Marian’s bite was small and she claimed the bite hardly hurt, she was also infected. With no food or water, they couldn’t stay in the classroom either. Outside the only window, several ghouls shambled, attracted by the sounds inside the building.
“Chris, look, is something in my eye?” Ric asked, rubbing at it.
Blood streaked the man’s face. Chris looked closely. The pupil was
milky-like, covered with a cataract, and yellow pus dripped from the corner. The eyelid and all around were bruised purple as well as yellow-streaked. “Where is the blood from?”
“One of those bastards…when I smacked it, I got sprayed,” he chuckled dryly, “but none got in my mouth.”
“Yeh? That’s good,” Chris said, “dunno. Maybe you scratched it wiping blood away. It’s fine,” he lied. What good would it do to tell Ric that the blood infected him, which entered his eye. That meant Chris was essentially alone with two people who were infected and would turn. He was exhausted, faced with zombies in all directions, and not one idea came to him. When he smelled smoke, he first felt panic and then smiled to himself; of course, the whole place was burning down. Wasn’t that perfect?
Something was satisfying about knowing all the ghouls were burning up.
Chris let his eyes flutter closed; he was too tired to keep them open. He was unaware when the smoke found him and he died; it would have been comforting to know his death was most peaceful and that he wouldn’t come back.
10
Chase
Over the next few weeks, many people stayed inside in self-made bunkers, mostly, knowing that radiation was dangerous but not sure how much radiation the bombs carried. It was also wise to stay hidden from the awakening Reds and those they infected. There were deaths: a man accidentally caused a fire that burned his home, taking his family and him; there were suicides; a child fell down the stairs and broke her neck; a few people in cars were less careful and crashed them; there were even a few murders and rapes.
A brother and sister, Sarah and Jake, made their way to the local big hunting/fishing/sports business and picked their intended weapons a few hours before a group of men stripped the place. If the men were there earlier, Sarah and Jake would have been tortured and killed by them.
“Look,” Sarah showed Jake a helmet.
“Naw, too heavy,” he said. They were now in a leather and motorcycle shop, searching for clothing. Both found black leather pants and sturdy boots. Sarah clipped and strapped knives onto the outside of her high boots. Above her boots, she knotted red bandanas. “Gotta have a color if we are gonna be super heroes,” she explained.
Jake found a buckskin, black shirt with laces, which he pulled tightly at the chest and neckline. To make his sister happy, he clamped on blue leather wristbands and found fingerless gloves.
Sarah considered a low cut, tight bodice that would look fantastic, but thinking of the biting Zeds, she instead went with a skin tight, thin jacket of leather that was also sexy but protective. Using red nail polish, she painted designs on the jacket and accented it. Jake admitted it was a badass look. A belt with extra clips, holsters, and a rifle slung across her back were almost her finishing touches.
Using a mirror, she meticulously braided her dark hair off her face and then coated some of the braids with the red nail polish, lacquering them. She snipped off some braids and then bound a thin bit of red bandana to the ends; if grabbed by a zed, the bandana would pull away; the look was totally cool to her. Her other touches were goggles for a steam punk look, a pocket watch on her hip, and a black, light backpack, filled with a few supplies.
“Okay, you totally look like a super hero,” Jake told her, “help me fix mine.”
Sarah looked him over and nodded. He almost protested but then allowed her to paint his bitten nails the same bright blue as his bandanas. Using the polish, she made a line under each of his eyes like a football player might have. Then, she used another three full bottles in three shades of blue to make what looked like flames across his thighs.
After shearing off most of his hair, she left one lock long and used the nail polish to spike it so it hung like a dagger over his ear. She made a few alterations to his gun belt and backpack, and then she was almost done. He didn’t get why she upended two bottles of red lacquer onto his boot toes and upper areas in splashes and drips, but she begged him to wait and see.
She made him cover his eyes and go to the full-length mirror. “Okay, now look; your boots are like you kicked the shit out of a zom, and it is looks like blood.”
He surveyed himself. He didn’t look much like a comic book/video/computer
Geek anymore, but more like some type of warrior. He was a little Gothic, a little futuristic, and a lot cool. “Damn. I like it, Sarah.”
She smiled and said, “I knew you would. We look like we a
re about to kick ass and take names on those zoms.”
“You think we can?”
“Sure. And we’ll look awesome doing it.”
“Go slow on the motorcycles until we know how to ride,” he warned her.
They color coordinated the bikes to their outfits.
She didn’t know much about bikes, just how to ride. Hers was a Harley
Super Glide, a slightly lighter model, candy apple red, and it would have cost her over fifteen thousand dollars.
Jake went with a Harley Wide Glide in blue that was even more expensive and heavier. For over a week, Jake made them wear normal clothing and practice riding the bikes around in the country parts so they would have a better feel for traveling that way.
When they finally dressed again and got on their bikes, they saw their own
reflections in the store window; they looked just like super heroes out of a comic book. Sarah squealed with delight before she realized that was very un-super hero-ish.
During this time, they met a boy named Josh whom they liked. He was
cute but too young for Sarah. Although they invited him to stay, he wanted to move deeper into a neighborhood.
Once in a while, they had nightmares that they fearfully talked about. In the dreams, a child with a withered face and only one eye was frightening, skeletons were dancing around him, and someone, not seen, screamed in pain. Another person, not quite visible because of a bright light was there, and wolves ran around him as he giggled with delight. That they had the same dreams was frightening, and no one understood what it meant, but they decided it was safer not to go near the Texas and Arkansas border or to the north.
For a time, they traveled with some people who packed their cars full of
supplies. The traveling was slow going, but the people were very nice. Henry, the leader, said they were going to take shelter in one of the schools, large, old, and well built of stone, and that was their best plan for the time being. They were exhausted and needed shelter before going on.
Sarah looked carefully at a large house, which was surrounded by a strong
