by J. Thorn
The man’s mouth foamed and his eyes glazed over in delightful rapture. Others on the floor stood and started to shuffle around the room. Father glanced at the armed guards while beaming with satisfaction.
“My sons and daughters, be still. Your opportunity to serve Him is coming. We must finish our study so as not to be fooled by satan. ‘And when he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels which stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them. And another angel came and stood at the altar, holding a golden censer, and many incenses were given to him so that he might present the prayers of all the saints at the golden altar which is before the throne. And the smoke of the incenses went up before God from the hand of the angel together with the prayers of the saints. And the angel took the censer and filled it with the burning incense, and he hurled it to the earth; and there came rumblings and noises and peals of thunder, and earthquakes”.’”
The entire group vibrated as one turning and thrashing, spittle flying from their mouths. Father stood on the chair with his voice echoing off the ancient, yellow brick of St. Michael’s Church. He smelled the excitement in the men and women, the musky scent lifted on the warm rise of collective body heat. The survivors, the true believers, would serve Him for all eternity.
“My flock, please settle. The time for service is near. But before we go there is more we must examine.”
“Father, what must we do with the survivors, those who have proven their loyalty to Him?” asked the man who read earlier.
“My son, their fate lies with God. Those who do not repent will face certain death. Those who worshipped false idols and practiced sexual immorality will bleed the rivers of His paradise red. John says, ‘And the rest of humanity, those who were not killed by these plagues, they did not repent, neither of the works of their hands, such that they worship demons and idols made of gold and silver and bronze and stone and wood, which can neither see nor hear nor walk, and neither did they repent of their murders, nor their potions, nor their sexual immorality, nor their thefts.’ You see, he has plans for those without faith.
“Fallen. Fallen is Babylon the great which had given the nations to drink of the wine of the wrath of her whoredom. Suckle at the teat of the witches and raise the demons from their hiding places.”
Father’s eyes met the sergeant at the door. The soldier stood at the door with his assault team. He waited for Father to send the infidels to the firing squad and dismiss those who passed the Holy Gauntlet from that fate.
Chapter 18
The aroma of stale beer woke her from the stupor. Jana closed her eyes again and felt the presence of many around her. When she opened them she counted five faces. Their muffled and distant words formed into coherent sounds.
“She’s coming around,” one woman said.
“Give her room to breathe,” a man said.
Jana sat up and streaks of light and pain flooded her head. She felt dried blood in her matted hair and a bitter, copper taste in her mouth. Her hands trembled.
“It’s okay. You ran into Peter and knocked yourself out. Somebody get her some water.”
A small boy appeared at Jana’s side with a bottle of warm water. Jana tried to speak but her tongue felt swollen and cumbersome as she fought to put a sentence together.
“Where…?”
“You’re in the convenience store of the gas station on the corner of Mayfield and Warrensville. You’re safe here.”
Although it was dark, Jana’s eyes adjusted. She could see the faces of the people around her but not their bodies. It appeared as if their heads floated in air. She managed to smile at the young boy who shared his water with her.
“What are you people doing here?” she asked.
Her thoughts came back into focus.
“We were here when the shit went down and managed to hide in the storeroom. We haven’t left this place in days. Well, a few of us did, but they didn’t come back. You’re the first to come by since, since…”
The woman trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.
“My name is Jana. I live right down there on Plainfield. I think they’re looking for me.”
“They’re looking for everyone, dearie,” an elderly black woman said.
“I’m Peter,” a man said.
“Ruth.”
“Bill.”
“Sally.”
“Jake.”
“Andrew.”
The little boy sat on Jana’s good leg.
“I’m Jay,” he said.
Peter held his hand out to Jana and helped her to her feet. His rough hands lifted her without effort. Jana guessed Peter to be in his mid-thirties based on a receding hairline and paunch that grew under a loose shirt. He wore a wedding band as well as a filthy white button-down shirt and khakis.
“Sorry about knocking you over. We weren’t sure who or what you were and we happened to run right into each other. If it makes you feel better you gave me quite a shot to the ribs.”
Peter smiled.
“Didn’t mean to rough you up,” she said. Jana thought he had an Irish or Scottish accent but she didn’t want to ask.
“Honey, do you have any news? Has there been a terrorist attack?”
Ruth stumbled toward Jana on a cane held together with duct tape. Her mangled glasses hung from a broad nose. Ruth tottered but kept her balance as the others caught their breath.
“No, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember. I woke up with a wound in my leg and I hid from soldiers breaking into my house. After they left I ran down the street. Nobody’s around, nobody anywhere.”
The group stood motionless.
“I have a radio from my shower. Maybe we could try and pick up the news.”
Jana picked up the duffle bag she dropped during the collision with Peter. She unzipped it and fumbled around inside until she found the neon green radio. She handed it to Peter. He turned the dial and picked up nothing but static from one end of the FM band to the other. He switched the radio to AM with the same result.
“I’m afraid there isn’t anyone broadcasting,” Peter said. He turned the radio off and handed it back to Jana. “Why don’t you keep that in your bag and we can try again a little later.”
“Why don’t we keep it on? Are there nine-volt batteries in here?”
“Yes. Good point, my lady,” Peter said. “We can afford to leave it on and hopefully we’ll pick something up.”
Jana felt a flutter in her chest. She turned to hide her face from Peter.
A younger man approached Jana.
“I’m Jake,” he said, holding out his hand to hers.
She shook his hand and noticed that he had tattoos on his right arm. His left hand pulled his sleeve down over the ink.
“Jana,” she said.
Peter appeared next to her. “Well, let’s see if we can make a little room for Jana,” he said. “We’re going to need to squeeze another person into the storeroom tonight. It’s not safe out here.”
The group led Jana through the jumbled aisles of snack cakes and potato chips. Unopened junk food was stacked floor to the ceiling. Jay tugged on Jana’s jeans and handed her an opened bottle of water. She smiled and ruffled his hair with her hand. Sally smiled too and pulled her son, Jay, inward.
They entered the storeroom where candles pilfered from an emergency roadside kit spread a meager glow. Jana gawked at the boxes of packaged goods along the walls. Blankets and tarps spread out on the floor. A metal shelving unit stood across the wall blocking the back door. That meant the only entrance to the storeroom was from the food mart. To the right, an employee restroom stood with the door open.
“There are bottles of washer fluid on the floor,” Bill said. “Make sure you fill the tank up with it after a flush. If you’re doing a number one, don’t flush it. We don’t know how long the washer fluid will last.” Bill’s face glowed bright red as he stared at the tops of his shoes.
“I’ll be sure to flush when appropriate,” Jana said.
The group sauntered into the room and retreated to their tiny spaces. Jake and Peter slid their tarps apart a foot or so to create a space for Jana. She sighed with resignation at the thought of sleeping between the two men. Peter unrolled a fleece blanket and placed it in Jana’s spot.
“It’s not exactly the Cleveland Marriott but anything’s better than sleeping on the cold concrete floor.”
Peter smiled and waved at Jana’s space. She noted her spot on the floor had the same dimensions as a coffin.
Jake sat on his tarp. His eyes searched Jana’s body.
“Feel free to get close if you’re cold,” he said. “There’s no heat in here but I’m always warm.”
Jana looked at Jake. She held his gaze for another moment but did not respond.
After fidgeting, sneezes and coughs, the group finally settled. Jay complained to his mom that he was hungry, and then cold, and then thirsty and then hot. Though she liked the boy, parenthood never looked so unappealing to Jana. Sally told Jay bedtime stories about magical dragons in imaginary lands until he fell asleep. Others stared at the water stained ceiling of the storeroom, awake and still. Jana fought to keep from crying aloud and tried to ignore the tears flowing down the side of her face.
The sound of sloshing water kept her awake, along with the odor of windshield washer fluid. The floor of the storeroom sucked most of the heat from their warm bodies and a candle created flickering shadows on the walls. Jana felt like she was sleeping on a glacier. Her back, neck and shoulders began to ache and she flipped around on her tarp. Every movement brought a rustle of plastic, until she gave up on sleep and stood. She moved toward the door that led back into the store. As she got closer, Jana noticed a chain and padlock woven through the vertical push bar of the door.
She crept back to her spot. While Jake slept, he had his sleeves rolled revealing the human artwork from wrist to elbow. In the muted candlelight, Jana saw a dragon as well as an inverted cross. The beast stood on his wrist and bellowed fire up his forearm toward the cross. Flames danced around the dragon and the numbers “666” sat above an elbow covered by an ink spider web. On the other arm, Jake wore a faded swastika.
“We don’t know about him,” Peter said.
Jana jumped, almost falling on Jake. She turned and glared at Peter. He could see her anger even in the dark.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you like to take a walk, get a drink?”
“Yes I would. I can’t sleep.”
“Some haven’t found that difficult but I have. This is our third night here and I haven’t slept but five minutes of any of them.”
Jana followed Peter to the door. He pulled a silver chain out of his shirt. It hung around Peter’s neck with a key on the end. He slid the key into the hole and opened the padlock, gently dropping the chain until it lay coiled like a venomous snake on the concrete floor. Peter pushed the door open a crack. He placed his right eye to the opening and stood motionless for a minute. The calm silence of the store convinced Peter to push the door open so he and Jana could squeeze through.
He walked down the aisle closest to the back wall where the coffeemakers stood cold and silent. Jana inhaled the scent of hazelnut coffee, closed her eyes and shook her head. Peter picked up two cups and handed one to her.
“Here. Shake it a little bit and then pull the top off.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“It will be hot coffee.”
Jana looked at him with a quizzical expression.
“These are kind of new. They have chemicals in the bottom of the cup. When activated, they give off heat giving you a warm cup of coffee, hot chocolate, soup, whatever. It’s not like a French roast from Phoenix Coffee, but it’s the only hot coffee you’re going to find around here.”
Jana followed Peter’s instructions. She felt the cup come to life in her hand. The chemical warmth spread from the bottom toward the top.
“Why hasn’t everyone drank these already? Seems to me they would be one of the first to go.”
“Because nobody knows about them. I hid them under the cabinet.”
Jana smiled and took a sip. She caressed the outer lip of the cup the same way she did with her favorite mug.
“Do you want it?” Peter asked.
“Want what?”
“My story. We all have one, don’t we? Being here is like being shipwrecked. We’re a bunch of castaways forced to live in a cramped space together for an indefinite period of time. Nobody knows if we’ll be rescued or not, so we continue to live out our existence as best we can.”
Jana sipped the warming cup and sat on an overturned plastic milk crate.
“I’m not about to sleep, so go right ahead.”
Peter pulled another milk crate up next to Jana and began his tale.
“I’m originally from Wales. You may have detected the accent.”
Jana blushed again, pretending to be surprised by his revelation.
“I came to the U.S. about ten years ago. I’m a math teacher at Brush High School. I have a wife and two kids.” Peter paused and spun the wedding band on his finger. “I’m not sure what’s happened to them.”
He paused again, struggling to form the words.
“I was at school late, trying my best to get papers graded before parent-teacher conferences next week. I had a desk lamp on but the room lights were off. I think that’s what saved my life. I could hear the sound of the military vehicles marching down Mayfield. Bursts of light came through the window when the slaughter began. I turned the lamp off and crawled to the window. Troops were everywhere. The school was dark and because it was night they didn’t come inside. I watched them pull people from the homes across the street and shoot them in the head, right there on the front lawn. Other soldiers spray painted a pentagram on the house. They moved right down the line. People were dragged out on to the lawn and shot. Others were bound and thrown into a troop transport, and some, I assume, were killed in their beds. I could see the flash of a machine gun as it lit up a room inside.
“This went on for an hour, maybe two. I stayed in my dark classroom and waited. As the troops moved west on Mayfield Road, the streetlights went out behind them. The phone on my desk was dead and the power to the school was off. I live on Belvoir near the school. That was the direction the troops headed and all I could think about was my family. I stumbled through the dark hallways and left through a door in the back of the cafeteria. No one else was around. I ran as fast as I could over the football fields and on to the quiet streets of South Euclid. I don’t know what happened to everyone. Houses were dark, cold and empty. It was as if everyone fled. When I finally reached Belvoir, almost every house had the pentagram painted on it, including mine. I ran through the backyard and tripped on my son’s bicycle in the driveway. Our kitchen door was open and the screen door was tossed aside. I grabbed a flashlight from the closet and dashed through the house. There wasn’t a sound or a soul in it. The good news, I think, is I didn’t find any blood. They took my family and I’m holding on to the belief they are alive somewhere. That’s more than I can say for many others.”
“Jesus, Peter.”
Jana finished her coffee.
“May I have another?” she asked, tipping her empty cup in Peter’s direction.
“Here.”
He handed her a cinnamon spice latte, according to the label.
“I was saving this for later but you can have it.”
“Thanks Peter, you’re very generous.”
Jana activated the chemical reaction and waited for the magic cup to heat.
“I’m sure your family is okay.”
“I’m not…but thanks for making the effort. I don’t think I could have continued if I found them slaughtered in my own home.”
“How did you end up at the gas station?” she asked.
“I went to my neighbor’s houses. Not all of them were as lucky as my
family. Gary Wilson’s body was sprawled across his front doorstep and others were gunned down in bed. I decided I needed to get out in case they came back. I moved down Mayfield and I thought the food mart might have useful dry goods in case this went on for an extended period of time. By the time I got there, it was clear the troops had as well. Glass was everywhere and bodies were under the pump canopy. Ruth, Sally and her son, Jay, were already inside. They huddled together behind the counter. It was just us that first night. Bill, Andrew and Jake showed up the next day. Since then, we’ve been hunkered down trying to decide what to do next. If we could get news about what was happening, we could make decisions. But nobody knows anything, anywhere.”
“How do you know if you don’t ask?”
The question jolted Peter and Jana as it came from the direction of the storeroom.
“Thought you were sleeping, Jake,” Peter said.
“Hard to do that with people moving around and yapping all night, eh, Jana?”
Jana gave Jake a nasty look and shuffled her milk crate closer to Peter.
“We couldn’t sleep,” she said, trying not to stare at his tattoos.
“It’s the niggers’ fault. All of it. They’re demons from hell.”
Peter stood up and placed himself squarely between Jake and Jana before speaking.
“Shut up, you racist pig.”
“Back off, dickhead,” Jake said.
Peter started to step forward when Jake pulled a nine millimeter handgun from behind his back.
“It’s time we do things my way.”
