by Brian Parker
Clearly, the dead were walking, but that was supposed to happen after the Christians were called home to the New Jerusalem. She'd cried and prayed and cried again when she thought that Jesus had left her here until she called her pastor. The man had obviously been busy on the phone with more important members of the congregation, but he took the time to answer her questions and assure her that everything would be alright.
According to Pastor Allan, the Book of Revelation was meant as an illustrative essay to the members of the Church. John had been shown many things by God and a lot of the visions that he'd seen had come to pass over the course of history since the book was written two millennia ago. The Lord worked in mysterious ways and human beings – even those who are chosen and are as pious as John was – will never be able to fully interpret God's will. John tried to interpret what he'd been shown, but obviously he'd gotten some things out of order.
The pastor also made a side reference to the fact that the King James Bible, the version that all good, God-fearing Christians should use, was translated and compiled by an earthly king in the 1600s. The Church at the time was losing followers because no one understood Latin so King James directed that the Bible be translated into English for all the people to use. Pastor Allan said that it might have been a case of the king wanting the story to flow better by having the final, climactic scene at the end.
We'd never fully know the truth, but it was highly likely that the Lord intended the rise of the dead as a final test of his follower's faith. Look at poor Job and all the things that the Lord allowed Satan to do to him, maybe this was a more widespread version of those trials and tribulations. In fact, the pastor told her, that's where the term “tribulation” comes from; the faithful will have to endure terrible suffering to prove that they are worthy of passing through those Pearly Gates and seeing the face of the Almighty and his Son seated at his right hand.
Luanne had felt much better after talking to Pastor Allan. Everything he told her made perfect sense. She'd been brought up in the Church and lived her entire adult life as a Christian, so when the preacher told her that this is what the Lord told him, then by goodness, she would believe! He told her to stay in her home out of sight and pray for a few days until the heathens had been wiped off the face of the earth by the military and then meet at the church on Wednesday at noon. From there, the congregation would develop a plan to survive the coming apocalypse, if the Lord didn't call them home before then.
It all sounded very prudent to Sister Luanne. So, she'd done as he'd directed and saved as much water as she could from the tap and took stock of her food situation. She was in very good shape; she had a garden in the back yard and canned her own vegetables. In fact, she had four boxes of the big mason jars of food sitting in the laundry room that she'd planned to deliver to the shelter after church on Sunday that added to her supply. When she went to the church next week, she'd be sure to load up all of her food in the trunk so others could share her good fortune.
She knew for a fact that the Wilson's probably only had enough food to last a couple of days. Hillary was her best friend in the world, but that woman would not listen to common sense. The family made a point that they always went to the organic food market so all their food was fresh and Luanne thought that there was no way that they could have a stockpile of groceries. She harrumphed at the silliness. The only preservatives that she used in her canning were salt and water – that was as natural as you could get.
After she was done with the little things like closing the blinds and making sure her doors were locked, she sat on the couch with her bible and turned on the news. It was terrible, but mesmerizing at the same time. All those people were being killed in the most horrifying way. She couldn't even imagine being eaten alive. How disgusting. She wondered if any of the people who were killed were Christians but then she went back to Pastor Allan's comments that this was the final test for humanity. Maybe every person who was now one of those creatures had taken God's test and failed. What if all the Christians who'd not back-slid into Satan's grasp were at home or work, safe and only the sinners were attacked?
It made sense to Sister Luanne. She'd done everything that the Lord had asked her throughout her life, including remaining abstinent until God delivered the right man for her to marry and possibly have children with. She felt a pang of sorrow at that thought. With the way the world was and the Rapture surely to be close behind it, she'd never experience the joy of having a child. But it was God's will that it happen this way, so she'd accept the role she'd been given.
She was the church's Sunday school instructor for all the children under five and loved every minute of her work for the Lord. She was still young enough that the kids didn't view her as an old lady; they saw her as more of a mature older sister who taught them about God through games and songs. Luanne had another thought and wondered if any of her kids were in trouble. Surely the Lord wouldn't allow the innocent children, who hadn't yet reached the Age of Accountability, to suffer. Would he?
The woman slapped herself mentally and panicked for a moment. Those were the thoughts that the Silver-Tongued Beast had placed in her head. “Get thee behind me, Satan!” she shouted into her living room. The Devil was trying to corrupt her thoughts and introduce doubt, just like he did to Job.
“You're going to have to try harder than that. I love the Lord and would never question his will. I know that he called those kids home to Heaven before the bad things happened to them. Those things on the television are just their earthly shells, left here to torture the wicked. Now, get thee behind me, Satan!” She practically screamed the last sentence and then glanced at her screen door.
Had itbeen a mistake to leave it open? She hadn't anticipated this attack from the Devil or that she would have such a violent reaction to his tampering. What if someone heard her shouts? She had an eight-foot wooden fence completely around her yard, but that didn't stop the sound from carrying. Then, a calm settled over her and she knew that Jesus was there with her.
“If it's Your will, Lord, then let them come. I have lived my life for you. You are my Savior, the Lord, my God. I love you.”
She bowed her head in prayer and asked fervently for forgiveness of all of her sins, both physically and mentally. Sister Luanne prayed for hours until great drops of sweat poured from her forehead. Logically, she knew that it was because the Texas day was heating up and from the physical exertion of kneeling for so long, but she also attributed it to the fervent offering of herself to the Lord.
The sound of splintering wood in her back yard made her look up towards the door in apprehension. She stood painfully and hobbled over to close the back door. The Sunday school teacher was only three feet away when a bloody woman appeared in the doorframe.
Sister Luanne recoiled in shock at the absolute immodesty and disgusting thing before her. The woman wore a leather mini skirt, tall boots and nothing else. Her bare breasts stood out firm, like nothing the smaller chested woman had ever seen. Men must have lusted after her greatly. Then it hit her, Satan was attacking her with the pure embodiment of lust! She'd never even seen another woman's bosom before and this was his evil plan, to throw it in her face that she'd never gotten married and had a husband to lust after her the way that men did for the woman before her. The Evil Beast was trying to make her doubt her faith.
“I cast you out, Satan! You're not welcome here!” she shouted at the nude hell-spawn in front of her.
Trisha turned her head slightly to regard the meal in front of her and then lunged forward to ease the never-ending hunger.
The Salesman, 5:27 p.m.
Well, that's it then, Darren thought to himself as he stared over the steering wheel. He'd finally given up on his marriage and told his wife that he wanted a divorce. Sarah's drinking was out of control and it was a major strain on their relationship – hell, there wasn't a relationship anymore, it was two people who lived under the same roof and fucked when some little device said that the woman was ovul
ating.
He wanted children, he really did, but maybe he was past the point of wanting them with her. She was a disaster. Before he stopped calling her six months ago, she'd be wasted by noon when he'd call from the office. There was no telling how early she got drunk these days since they didn’t ever talk. It was easier to avoid the fight and just not call.
The funny thing is that she said she still wanted children with him. She still confessed to loving him and promised that if they could just have kids, things would be different. They’d looked into adoption, but the costs were astronomical to a single-income family. That’s another thing that was maddening to him. She stayed at home and didn’t work. When they’d lived in Ohio, the couple had more money than they knew what to do with, but since moving to Texas, she’d gone on a few job interviews and then called it quits when she hit a little bit of adversity. Hell, even if she worked at the gas station and got out of the house while she brought in a little income, then Darren suspected that some of the tension would go away. Being cooped up inside all day long was what did it… Maybe the problem was this state.
He stared in a daze at the road as he thought about how messed up his life had become. They'd been totally happy in Ohio. They made love, not just had sex. They went on dates and had a great social life with several very good friends. Hell, they even used to be that couple who would hold hands as they walked through the mall together. What happened? How had it progressed to this so quickly? They were questions that he couldn't answer, but he knew that he missed it and wanted to get back to that place with Sarah.
A tiny ache in his chest made him realize why the ancients had thought that emotions and love came from the heart. As he continued driving towards his house he shook his head slightly and thought, Maybe I’m being too hard on her. It’s not her fault that people down here don’t think women should be in a “man’s” job. I’d probably drink a lot too if I was faced with the same type of adversity.
Darren made up his mind to tell Sarah that he wanted to work things out. He’d spoken hastily in a moment of anger, maybe he didn’t really feel that way and he’d just let his emotions get the better of him. They could go to counseling. What if I ask to be transferred back to Ohio where our families are located? Would the company allow it? He held on to that thought for a moment and then decided that he didn’t care. My marriage is more important than some job.
The miles continued to disappear underneath his sedan’s tires as he neared his home. He was excited to have made this important decision and decided that he couldn’t wait to tell Sarah that he was going to do whatever he could to reclaim their marriage and make things right between them once again. He pushed a button on the dashboard that activated his cell phone via Bluetooth and a female British voice filled the cabin.
“Make a phone call on… Darren’s phone.”
“Call Sarah,” he replied.
“Calling… Sarah.”
The phone rang seven times and then her voicemail picked up. “Hi, this is Sarah. Leave a message and if I want to talk to you I might call you back.” He frowned. She changed her voicemail in a drunken funk one day and refused to change it back, even though she still had job applications out to a few local companies.
Darren cleared his throat and said, “Hi, Sarah. It’s me. I wanted to call you and tell you that… Well, I just… Shit, I didn’t want to leave this in a message, but I just feel like I need to tell you and can’t wait. I was wrong this morning. I don’t want a divorce. I want to stay married to you. I love you, okay? I’m sorry that I said that. Look, I’ll be home in about five minutes and we can talk then.”
He pushed the call end button and concentrated on the road. When he actually paid attention to his surroundings, he realized that the northbound lanes of the highway were jammed with traffic and he was one of the only cars driving south. Normally at this time of day, the opposite was true. No one headed north towards Temple and everyone was headed towards their homes in the suburbs. What’s going on? Darren had been on a few sales calls today and he always listened to satellite radio so he wasn’t aware of any accidents or anything. Maybe that construction near the bridge was screwing things up again.
He took his exit off of the interstate. The back road would feed him into his neighborhood much faster than the main route through town. Normally, the road was quiet and serene; the only activity you'd see was a dust cloud over the trees where some farmer was tilling his land for planting in the spring or harvesting a crop at the end of the season. This day was different.
Cars sped by him at speeds well above the posted limit. A lot of cars. The few faces that he could make out looked terrified. What the hell? That was definitely not normal. He scanned through the radio stations, but not much came in until he found the country station from Waco.
“…We repeat, do not attempt to go to the town of Belton. Martial law has been declared by the governor and there's word that the president is considering deploying troops from nearby Fort Hood. All we know at this point is that there has been some type of extremely contagious viral outbreak and you are not allowed to return to Belton. Shelters are being set up in Temple as we broadcast from the SoundEx Media building here in Waco. We repeat, do not attempt –”
Darren punched the off button. “Fuck that. It's my home,” he told the silent radio and pushed the gas pedal down to speed up the sedan.
Within half a mile, he came to a military roadblock. Big Army trucks were parked in a vee across the road with the smaller, open point facing the inbound traffic. He could tell that the purpose was to funnel the outbound traffic through one point and not allow anyone in. He slowed down to just a few miles an hour and crept towards the checkpoint.
He didn't see anyone, just the vehicles. He got to within twenty feet before he realized that the sides of the trucks were covered in blood. What the fuck? Where are the soldiers?
No one was attempting to leave through the barrier, so he drove carefully around the plastic barrier that was meant to further slow drivers and entered the space between the two lead vehicles. Just as he cleared their front bumpers and saw open road in front of him, the car was rocked by someone jumping into the side of it. Out of instinct, he stepped on the brake and came to a complete halt.
Soldiers surrounded his car and pressed their bloody faces against the windows trying to reach him. “Holy shit!” he screamed and pressed the gas pedal down. There were too many of them pressed against the front and sides of the sedan to get any type of traction.
Teeth made clacking sounds as they snapped against the carand blood smeared across his window. The men and women pressed themselves tightly against his car in a near frenzy trying to reach him. Darren had a moment to realize that these weren't soldiers anymore, they were something completely different. The word zombie sprang to his mind as he remembered all the campy horror movies that he'd watched as a kid, only this time, it was real and in his face.
He checked his rearview mirror and nothing was behind him, so he shifted into reverse and backed up six feet causing the creatures to fall. Then he shifted back into drive and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The BMW 550i's 400 horsepower 4.4 liter V-8 engine roared to life and shot the luxury car forward into the group of zombies who had already recovered from his maneuver and were starting towards him once more. They went flying to the sides and one even hit the hood and rolled up over the roof, but he made it through. Thankfully, the car's low profile had kept any of them from getting trapped under the axles and high-centering the sedan.
Darren pulled the lever beside the steering wheel to spray the windshield washer fluid and the wipers cleared away the gore that had been caked on the glass. “What the hell is happening?” he muttered over and over as he flew the last few miles toward his house. It was too much to process right now. He had a very logical, linear A-to-Z kind of mind, but somehow when he went to work this morning, the world had derailed from its normal pattern and everything went haywire.
Along the way, he
saw wrecked vehicles and people running in the distance. To the south, smoke hung low over the center of town as fires of some kind burned away the historic buildings down there. The world had gone mad in the ten hours since he pulled out of his garage.
Finally, he pulled into his neighborhood. Minus a few people hastily throwing suitcases and things like that into their cars, it looked just like it always did. They'd purchased in this neighborhood because it was so quiet and the HOA ensured that everyone kept their lawns perfectly manicured to a published standard. The chaos that had taken hold only a mile away seemed to have skipped this part of town – so far.
Darren wasn't stupid. He knew that he only had a few minutes to get Sarah and some things together before everything came crashing down here as well. You don't have that level of destruction happening right next door without it spreading.
He pulled into his driveway. Sarah's car was still sitting were it had been this morning. Their garage only effectively held one car and since his was the more expensive of the two BMWs, they left hers outside unless there was going to be a hail storm. He cut the engine off and ran towards the entrance.
The front door was wide open.
The sales rep slowed down and stepped cautiously inside. The coat rack was tipped over on its side across the foyer and the light jackets that had previously hung on the rack were scattered everywhere, including what looked like a trail of them heading around the corner towards the bedroom.
Darren closed the door behind him quietly and snuck across the dining room into the kitchen to get one of the big chopping knives that sat in a knife block on the counter. It slid soundlessly from the wood and felt heavy in his hand. The knife should be a really good defensive weapon if one of those things was in here. This is my home, he thought. And Sarah is my wife. He considered the situation in the neighborhood, it still seemed unscathed. God, I hope she's just drunk and forgot to close the front door. He rationalized that she could have fallen into the coat rack and gotten tangled in the jackets.
