Don't Fear The Reaper

by Lex Sinclair

  ‘Guess so,’ Perkins concurred.

  To make matters worse they passed a pet store that appeared relatively undamaged in comparison to the florist. Perkins couldn’t glimpse the posters that had peeled away from the shop windows of cats and dogs. Their faces reminded him of all the family members with four legs in all the homes around the world who had also lost their lives. The innumerable crushed roses and tulips could never account for all the lives taken in this town. Even their blossoming hues had been caked in dust, ash and other debris.

  Perkins dearly wished he had time to pray for each and every single soul. But he didn’t know if God was listening. He wasn’t sure any more if God had ever listened. It seemed unlikely that He did.

  A surge of warmth and comfort overcame him momentarily. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Sue’s tear-stricken face and her hand upon his shoulder. ‘Just remember,’ she said in a broken voice, ‘you’re not alone. I am here with you.’

  He forced a meek smile and patted her hand. Took a deep breath. ‘C’mon, let’s go. Not much farther now.’

  Again the display window to the gun shop had crumbled, but the security bars that prevented looters from obtaining unlicensed weapons remained steadfast. The top of the bars had bent but remained vertical. The glass-panelled door with bars attached to it hung on its brass frame, ready to fall off.

  Sue followed the reverend inside. Years ago she recalled sitting in the pews on frosty winter mornings waiting for Christmas, listening intently to Perkins’ sermons. The man in front of her sidling past the entrance door hadn’t mentioned God in five years. Now here they were looting for guns and ammo.

  ‘I must confess, I know absolutely nothing about guns,’ she said.

  Perkins didn’t glance back over his shoulder at her when he answered. ‘I don’t really,’ he said. ‘But one of my foster parents – Nadine’s parents – had a couple of Remington 12 gauge shotguns. I went shooting with Nadine’s father one day up in the woods in Brecon. At first I was afraid. I’d seen enough TV even then to know that guns cost people their lives. After half an hour watching my foster dad shooting at targets he nailed to tree trunks and birds and squirrels, I realised it was guns that killed people. Irresponsible people with guns killed people.

  ‘He gave me a pistol that fired pellets. I vocally protested against him shooting at the wildlife, so he stopped. I don’t know if he stopped permanently or just for that day I was with him.

  ‘Anyway, the pellet gun was fun. We lined refuse food tins on a picket fence. I was awful to start with. The weight of the pistol took some getting used to. Then firing the damn thing and getting even remotely close to the target was another matter. But eventually I started to get the hang of it. About an hour later and I was firing right through the red dot at the centre from fifty yards away.’

  ‘When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound all that bad,’ Sue said.

  Perkins threw the latch back and folded the flap over to get behind the oak counter. ‘Still, I believe guns and other weapons and bombs are the worst creations of all kind. People use them for all kinds of things. The least of which is to go up to the woods and fire at a target. Some shoot foxes, birds, or other rodents. That’s bad. Unacceptable. But worse are folks who can obtain a gun over a counter and take out their frustrations on innocent victims and break hearts and ruin families. That’s why they should be banned. If there were no guns or other types of arsenal to begin with crime rate would plummet.

  ‘That’s not what this expedition is for, incidentally,’ Perkins went on. ‘We’re only here to protect what little we’ve got. Just ’cause the world has been destroyed and there is no law enforcement does not excuse firing at anyone or anything ’cause we can.’

  Initially, Sue was against the whole obtaining guns notion. Now however, listening to Perkins’ speech, it reminded her of how he managed to enthral an entire congregation. It wasn’t so much his words but how he said them, elucidating inner emotions inside each and every living creature.

  ‘The weapons we get here today are for life or death circumstances, nothing else. But all it takes is one fool who’s gone mad to see us and we could very well find ourselves hunted beyond reason.’

  That said Perkins bunched his right hand up into a taut fist and struck the glass panel.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ Sue asked, alarm written across her face.

  ‘I used to come here and Jonesy and I (that’s the proprietor) used to go back into the shooting range. I used to give him sermons, or more accurately put, advice. His only day off was a Sunday and he slept in. But he was a member of the congregation nonetheless.’ Perkins removed a bunch of keys and came around the counter. He strode to the rear of the store past the rows of rifles and shotguns to a reinforced timber door.

  After rummaging through the set of keys Perkins found the one he sought and turned it in the hole. The audible click, clack announced the door was now unlocked.

  The strong stale waft hit Perkins as though it was something physical. Then a fresher smell that he smelled before drifted pleasantly to him. The pinewood walls crept upon him on either side and gave way to shatter-proof glass partitions farther down. At the end of the corridor was another door. Perkins fumbled through the set of keys and selected a small silver one. Sue followed without a word.

  The first thing they saw upon entering the shooting range was a black metallic rack filled top-to-bottom with all kinds of weapons. Handguns, rifles, shotguns, Uzi’s, stood upright in their place.

  ‘If your friend ever wanted to rob a bank who would have stopped him, huh?’ Sue said.

  Perkins offered her a crooked smile. ‘Yeah, Jonesy sure liked his guns. But to him they were just elaborate toys. He lived quite a humble life. This was where he got to let off steam. Me, I read a lot and went for walks. Jonesy liked to come down here and fire his weapons at targets.’

  He beckoned Sue to enter the room. Then put an arm around her. ‘We’re not gonna take all these weapons. That’d be asking for trouble. What we are gonna take are two .45’s, two .38’s, three Remington double-barrel shotguns and a shit load of ammo. I suggest you have a little practice here with the handguns. If you ever do need to use it then at least you’ll have some idea what you’re doing. Is that okay?’

  Sue shrugged. ‘Sounds pretty sensible.’

  Another door led onto the shooting range. Perkins pushed the door open and entered. The far wall was more than a hundred yards away from the firing booths. He then brought a .45, a .38 and shotgun with him.

  ‘Drop the shit and I won’t blow your fuckin’ head off!’ a gravelly voice said.

  Perkins and Sue recoiled simultaneously. Perkins cried out, clutching the left side of his chest. Sue screamed.

  ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ Perkins yelled, covering his head with his hands.

  ‘Who the fuck is that?’ the voice asked, perplexed.

  Perkins cowered down to his knees. Sue had dropped to lie face down, quivering violently. ‘I’m j-just a f-f-friend of the guy who owns this p-place, is all,’ Perkins said.

  ‘Reverend?’

  ‘Don’t shoot! Please! Just let us leave and we’ll be on our way,’ Perkins rambled. ‘We didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Reverend!’ the voice snapped.

  Tentatively, Perkins raised his head and gazed in the direction the voice emanated from. ‘Is that…’

  ‘Yeah ya dumb fuck,’ Jonesy barked. ‘Look at the fuckin state of you. Better not ’ave pissed your pants on my clean floor you God-gobbling worthless piece of crap.’

  In the far corner of the room under the two upholstery chairs leaning against the wall was a familiar face. Jonesy was resting with a black and grey blanket draped over him. Snickers and Mars bar wrappers littered the floor. Perkins also realised right then his friend – whom he believed to have died – was pointing an Uzi 9mm automatic at him.

  ‘Jonesy?’

  ‘I can’t believe what a pussy you are,’ Jone
sy said, genuinely shocked. ‘And you’ve got a piece with you too.’

  Perkins assumed he meant piece of weapon. However, in the next moment it dawned on him that Jonesy was referring to Sue.

  ‘Where the fuck are your balls, for God sake? Did they drop off during the holocaust?’

  Perkins stared at the linoleum inches from his face. The floor was covered in droplets of his perspiration. ‘Jonesy, you scared me witless,’ he breathed out.

  ‘Shitless more like it. You followed through or what?’

  Perkins managed a nervous laugh. ‘I assure you I haven’t shit myself. Close though.’

  With that Jonesy put the Uzi down and pulled the blanket off him. He crossed the floor to Perkins and proffered a sturdy hand. Perkins gladly took it. Then both men approached Sue, who still didn’t dare look up.

  ‘Sue, it’s okay,’ Perkins said, the rosy hue in his cheeks fading. ‘This is Jonesy. The guy I was telling you about. He’s okay. We just frightened each other.’

  Perkins helped Sue to her feet. She looked bemused and disorientated.

  ‘’scuse the bad language, ma’am,’ Jonesy said.

  Sue waved him off and tottered into Perkins.

  ‘We’ve had a rough day,’ Perkins said, hoping to explain Sue’s staggering.

  ‘Fuck me. we’ve had a rough few years if ya ask me.’ Jonesy raised his hand. ‘My bad,’ he said, referring to the f-word.

  ‘No offence taken.’

  Jonesy gave small chuckle. Then he turned to Perkins. ‘I like your girlfriend, reverend.’

  ‘I’m not his girlfriend,’ Sue said. ‘At least not in the way you’re thinking.’

  Jonesy feigned mock offence. ‘Could do a fuck sight worse than that,’ he said, pointing to Perkins.

  Perkins deliberately stood between them. ‘Are there any more survivors?’

  ‘Nah, I checked. Pubs and clubs are full of dead bodies though. It looks like an apocalyptic theme park out there. I keep expecting a ghost train full of fuckin’ zombies to run through the rubble.’

  Perkins opened his arms wide. ‘Could do with a hug, old friend.’

  Jonesy embraced him. ‘How ’bout you, miss?’ he said, wanting Sue to hug him.

  ‘Whoever you are, it’s nice to see you, but just a handshake will do for now.’

  This time Jonesy was slightly offended. He nodded and shook Sue’s clammy hand. Then he faced Perkins again. ‘So, you’re here helping yourself to some of my stock, I see.’

  Perkins explained what he told Sue earlier.

  ‘This reverend here is a dark horse, ma’am,’ Jonesy told Sue. ‘Watch him. He’s like Black Beauty.’ He nodded approval of Perkins’ decision. ‘Yeah, fuck aye. Gotta be prepared. No good some crazy ass mother comin’ at you wielding a machete and the only weapon you’ve got is your dick in your hands. Even I’d call you a fuckin’ prick for being so fuckin’ careless.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Sue bit her lip, doing her utmost not to laugh at Perkins’ embarrassment.

  ‘I’ll go get some target sheets,’ Jonesy said. ‘Give…’

  ‘Sue,’ Sue said.

  ‘…Sue a chance to get acquainted with my faithful bitches. Perkins here has got his Bible. I got my Uzi 9mm. It all boils down to the same thing. Your belief in something greater than yourself that’ll protect you from harm.’

  Sue and Perkins watched Jonesy amble out of the shooting gallery.

  ‘Seems like a nice fella,’ Sue said. ‘You forgot to mention the constant cussing though. Was that on purpose or not?’

  ‘He’s a lump of sugar once you get to know him,’ Perkins mumbled.

  Sue shook her head, repressing her mirth.

  *

  Sue stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, knees bent, arms straight. The headphones protected her hearing from the gunshots. The handguns were a lot more powerful than she first anticipated. The recoil had sent body-quaking jolts through her limbs rocking her torso. As she’d not expected this sensation and loathed guns in general, she’d put the .38 down and removed her headphones. She told the two men regretfully that it just wasn’t in her to be able to fire a weapon here in the gallery, never mind outside.

  However, Perkins and Jonesy insisted that she persevered.

  Sue had shaken her head and kindly said no. But when both men persisted, she reluctantly tried again, to avoid argument.

  Now, after twenty minutes of correcting her posture and listening to Jonesy’s instructions, she found herself getting the hang of it.

  She squinted at the black silhouette on the white target sheet and fired five shots in quick succession. The first one scraped the bottom corner, but the other four shots punctured holes into the make-believe assassin.

  When Jonesy hit the switch for the conveyor belt to return the target sheet, he was impressed. One made a hole at the centre of the forehead, one in the neck and two in the heart.

  He nodded approval. ‘Efficient.’

  Perkins offered her a thumbs’ up gesture. ‘Bit of a G.I. Jane on the quiet, isn’t she?’

  Jonesy concurred. Then added: ‘See what a little perseverance does for you?’

  ‘Makes a big difference,’ Sue said.

  ‘Damn straight.’

  They had a break for food, which consisted of cooked steaks Jonesy had kept frozen since the beginning of the end. They took a while to cook. Yet they discussed in more detail their back stories of how what they’d been doing to survive up until the present.

  ‘My sister – my adoptive parents’ daughter – Nadine, had a baby right before the comets ripped the sky,’ Perkins said.

  ‘What happened to them?’

  Perkins took a deep breath and explained the complications during birth and how Nadine had lost her life, but the baby boy had miraculously survived.

  Jonesy sat dissecting his slab of medium-rare steak, shaking his head. ‘That sucks big fuckin’ time. I’m really sorry, man.’ He stopped cutting all of a sudden, looking around. ‘Where is the little fella? Haven’t left him in the van have you?’

  ‘No. He’s back at the vicarage with Natalie,’ Sue said.

  ‘Who the fuck is Natalie?’

  Perkins chewed around his steak and explained who she was and the loss of Bishop John Hayes.

  ‘You’d better eat this and get back there,’ Jonesy said. ‘Poor woman will be going fuckin’ spare. Probably thinks the longer you’re away that you’ve met with foul play. Know what I mean?’

  Sue and Perkins knew only too well.

  *

  They finished their steaks and Cokes. They didn’t rush, but they didn’t loiter either. Perkins washed down the last mouthful of steak with the dregs of his can, crushed it and rose.

  ‘What’s it like out there, anyway?’ Jonesy asked. ‘It’s been awhile since I went out. Every time I went out there and went trekking the amount of death and carnage made me want to do myself in before any more misery came my way.’

  Perkins wiped his mouth clean of the juices with the sleeve of his coat. ‘I won’t lie to you; it’s not good. And when I say not good, what I really mean is awful. We couldn’t even drive down the street there was so much rubble. You know the four-storey apartment suites just off Alfred Street where the One Stop shop and the gym BodyTalk used to be?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘The building has toppled over and T-boned into the terraced shop buildings. From a distance it looks like a dilapidated footbridge. But as you get closer and you see what it really is it’s jaw-dropping. And I’m not using fancy phrases for effect.’

  ‘Why did you come here that way? There’s a long bridge running off the roundabout to here. You could have avoided all of that if you’d come that way.’

  Perkins shook his head. ‘I wish it was that easy, mate. The road is gridlocked. Cars and all other types of vehicles bumper-to-bumper. Only there are no noises of traffic. No blaring horns of impatient drivers. No angry shouts. No turn signals flashing on and off. You can hear mouse far
ts. If mice still lived here that is.

  ‘But you wanna know the worst thing about seeing that apartment block teetering over the road, held only in place by the bottom half of the apartment complex and the crushed turreted roof?’

  Jonesy shook his head. He didn’t have a clue. His imagination conjured up a gruesome image and that was bad enough.

  ‘The closer we drove down that side street,’ Perkins went on, ‘it was then I saw the carcass of a man half hanging out of his window, squashed in the window frame, upside down, arms hanging loosely. Bit like an acrobat’s version of a Mexican wave…

  ‘There are things I have seen that my mind will never be able to erase out there. That’s why we need your weapons more than ever.’

  Jonesy got to his feet, grim-faced. ‘Yeah, man. Anything you want just name it.’

  ‘Would also be nice if you came with us.’

  Jonesy glanced around the shooting gallery at the back of his store. His flat on the first floor had been flattened on the street side of the room. Yet it was still home. It was familiar. And he’d never had any aspirations of leaving his shabby but comfortable life, not once. Also, he’d survived for so long both physically and mentally due to the regularity of his surroundings. He told this to Perkins and Sue.

  ‘I appreciate what you’re saying, Jonesy,’ Sue said, ‘but can I ask you – what’ll you do when you run out of food and drink?’ She left the pertinent question hang in the silence. Then spoke again after a minute had passed. ‘At some point you’ll have to fly the nest in order to go on surviving. Surviving doesn’t mean hiding away and hoping it’ll all go back to normal again real soon. I wish it would, but let’s face reality. And I know what I’m saying sounds harsh, but you helped me with using a gun. I just want to help you.’

  Jonesy’s unaffected visage quivered and crumbled. He caressed his temples with his fingers. ‘I never had much of a life. But this place – these people – have been good to me. They didn’t deserve this. I…’ he trailed off.