Cathedral of Dreams

by Terry Persun

  The knee cracked. The contact produced a terrible sensation that Keith felt as it transferred from his foot to his leg. Something inside Morning Light's knee not only broken but stretched like a string drawn taught. Keith imagined the string fraying into dozens of strands before popping apart and snapping in opposite directions.

  Morning Light screamed. The rifle he held went off and the floorboards near Keith splintered and flew. The man crumbled to the ground and lay across the rifle he had been holding. In his rage, he tried to maneuver the gun out from under him and into a usable position.

  John ran over and stepped on the barrel. “Help him up,” he told the others.

  A man and woman came to Morning Light's rescue. He flailed at first, then succumbed to their help, hobbling away and swearing back at Keith.

  John kicked Keith in the side, throwing him onto his back a foot away from where he was.

  Without thinking, and through the pain, Keith pulled his leg back to kick at John's knee as well. It worked once. But John sidestepped and grabbed Keith's foot as it shot forward. He lifted the foot so that Keith's butt was off the floor and he had no thrust. Then he dragged Keith toward the door. “Outside with them all,” he ordered.

  John dragged his captive by one leg.

  Keith felt splinters enter his butt and when he fell backwards to get it off the floor, splinters entered his shoulders. He rolled and tried to use his arms and hands to walk himself forward as they crossed the porch, but John moved too quickly. At the stairs Keith's body knocked against the old wood so hard that he found relief when he finally reached the stones and ground.

  John dropped the leg.

  Another man pointed a gun at Keith's head.

  “Up,” John said. “I'm sick of dragging your ass.”

  Keith rose slowly, feeling the pain in his shoulders the most. By the time he straightened the others had been ushered out the door and were standing on the porch. Molly wept while the other women surrounded her with their arms.

  Robert, Brent, and Will held their heads up, but their shoulders visibly shuddered from fear.

  “In the garage,” John said.

  The eight of them were taken into the garage and forced to sit together in the back left corner. There was only one way out and that was through the wide opening in the front.

  John stood outside and whispered to the two young men who had accompanied Morning Light in the jeep. When he left, the two men, rifles in hand, pulled plastic crates over and in front of the six escapees. They sat down, blocking the open door, and pointed their rifles into the group. “First one to move, gets shot,” one of them said. “No exceptions.”

  The garage gave the appearance of little use. Boxes lined one of the walls, along with shelves and a workbench crammed with rusted tools and broken household items. The feel of the place displayed more of nature than the violence the house harbored. The fresh air in the garage produced a cool organic scent. Concrete provided strength to the floor.

  It took less than ten minutes before Keith's sensitivity shifted and accepted the new location almost as completely as he had accepted the barn's essence earlier that day.

  The two men changed in demeanor as well. Their anger dropped and they talked to one another in low, inaudible tones, laughing every once in a while.

  Keith shifted to his knees.

  “Stop moving,” the man on the right said, waving his rifle at Keith.

  “My body is getting stiff,” Keith said.

  “I don't give a goddamn. Now sit still.”

  Keith rose to his feet.

  “What'd I tell you?” The man stood. His partner began to stand, too, but the first man held out his hand to stop him. “I'll take care of him.”

  Out the corner of his eye, Keith spotted the angel and felt relief. He wouldn't be doing this alone. She would guide him. “You're not allowed to kill me,” Keith said.

  “But I can beat the living crap out of you,” the man said, confirming Keith's understanding. He turned to his friend and they both laughed.

  Keith motioned for the others to get up, but no one moved.

  The man in front of him smiled broadly, a fake smile, “No followers?”

  Keith turned his head. He knew that the escapees would listen only if he saw the boy or girl. “I see them,” he said.

  The others began to get to their feet slowly, yet keeping their eyes on the rifle barrel and where it pointed.

  “See who?” the man demanded. “What's going on? Who's here?” He let the rifle follow his eyes as he jerked his head from side to side.

  Keith took two wary steps toward his captor, who did not step backward. Good. The rifle barrel was within reach and pointed at his chest.

  Robert advanced to Keith's left and Will to his right. Brent stood back with the girls.

  The other man left his crate and joined his friend. “Enough of this shit. Get back there or I will kill one of you.” He poked his rifle toward Robert just as the angel slid something off the workbench.

  There was a crash and both men looked behind them.

  Robert and Will grabbed at the rifle barrels, while Keith shoved the men off balance. They managed to get the rifles out of the men's hands, forcing them back over their own crate seats where they fell against the cement floor. Robert and Will turned and pointed the guns at them.

  The exchange of power went so smoothly it surprised Keith. He said, “Get into the corner.”

  The men scooted. “You won't get away with this,” one of them said.

  The angel was gone. Keith told Will to watch them from the front of the garage. Robert and Brent ran for the van, taking the girls with them.

  Keith heard the van start and knew that it wouldn't be long before those inside could guess what was happening. As the van swung near the garage, he yelled at Will to get going.

  The men began to get up and Will fired twice.

  Each man bent over and reached for their chest.

  Will shot again. Keith saw blood seep into the front of their shirts and ripped the rifle from Will's hands and turned him toward the van. The two of them jumped into the van, Keith throwing the rifle under the seat. Robert skidded the tires over the gravel on his way out.

  Behind them, Keith saw a couple of the men stumble onto the porch. They raised their rifles. “Duck!” Keith yelled, and everyone inside the van hunched over. Several shots went off. One of the rear windows shattered, but they turned onto the road and were gone.

  “Everyone okay?” Stacy asked. There were nods all around.

  “They'll be on us fast,” Robert said. “Where to?”

  Keith lacked the guidance they expected from him. He had no idea what to do next. In a panic, he looked around the inside of the van.

  Stacy followed his gaze. “They're not here, are they?”

  Keith turned and kneeled between the front seats. “Make the next left,” he said.

  Robert didn't hesitate. He obeyed.

  As soon as they turned, Keith said, “Now another left, then a right, then a left.” He had no idea where he was leading them, only that turning corners would help keep them out of sight of their pursuers. He had a general idea where the highway was located, but didn't know if that would be a better or worse place to travel. He turned back to the others, “Anyone know how to get to the city?” He didn't want to go back to Newcity and could have suggested they return to camp, but he feared Bradley too much to go back there. He'd follow this through for now.

  “We've never been out of the camp,” Stacy said.

  Everyone else remained silent. “Then there's nothing we can do but drive,” Keith said. Then he cocked his head. “How'd you learn to drive?”

  “Maintenance carts in Newcity.” Robert's face was bright and smiling.” Except that this thing's got some real power.”

  Molly lifted her head then. Tears ran down her face into a grimace that stretched across her mouth. Her lips pouted and quivered. She interrupted, “I know how to get there,” she said. �
��Sam took me on plenty of rides. Every time we changed camp. And I've seen maps.” She burst into a wail, saliva falling from her mouth as she coughed.

  Keith patted the empty seat next to Robert. “Get up here.”

  Stacy and Rebecca helped Molly get into the front seat. Brent sat in the second bench seat with his arm around Amanda's shoulder.

  While Stacy and Rebecca held Molly steady, Will was left alone. He stared out the side window. His shoulders shuddered.

  Keith scooted back a little to make room for Molly and placed his hand on Will's knee. “You all right?”

  Stacy let go of Molly once she was settled and rotated enough to rest an arm on Keith's shoulder.

  “Ouch,” he ducked from her hand.

  Stacy shot a glance at Will. “He never killed anyone before.”

  “They're not dead,” Keith said. “At least they weren't dead when we left.”

  Stacy peered into his eyes. “I'm not going to ask how you know that.” She let Rebecca comfort Will and sat on the seat near Keith. “What's wrong with your shoulder?”

  “Splinters. From my butt to my head.”

  “Let me take a look,” she said.

  Robert twisted his head around. “First, where we going?”

  Stacy didn't wait for Keith to answer. “To the city,” she said. “We have a package to deliver.”

  “I knew that. I was wondering where in particular.”

  “We'll know when we get there,” she said.

  Keith removed his shirt and Stacy leaned over him. “I can get some of these, but the crazy driver,” she said in a loud voice, “has got to let me know when he's going to make a hard turn.”

  “I'll try,” Robert said.

  Stacy pulled Keith's skin taught and scraped or pinched from time to time. “Some of them are coming easily enough. Others are in there pretty far. We'll need a knife or something.”

  “Turn,” Robert announced.

  Stacy pulled her hands back dramatically until the van maneuvered the turn.

  Keith saw that Molly had stopped crying and now focused her attention on the road in front of them and their surroundings. “Keep going straight for a while,” she said.

  Keith could feel her calm and was encouraged by it. Her concentration had reduced her pain and loss. Will, too, had settled, although he stared out the side window pensively. Stacy handed Keith his shirt and he slipped it on. She made her way back to sit next to Brent and Amanda. Rebecca slid closer to Will and laid her head onto his shoulder. Keith lifted up enough to fall onto the seat next to Rebecca. They all sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts, while Robert took his driving orders from Molly.

  They were all Newcity people now. Not even the one outsider they could have relied on for his experience. Keith worried for them all. What were they headed into? What would they find?

  The van made another turn based on Molly's memory and eventually pulled onto the highway. The increase in traffic indicated that they were closer to their destination, but the shattered window drew a lot of attention.

  “Can we take another route in?” Keith said. “I don't like the way some of these people are looking at us.”

  “We're almost there,” Molly said. “This is the fastest and easiest way. Besides, there'll be just as many people on any other road. We'll just have to chance it.”

  “Unless, we get guidance that says differently,” Stacy added from the back.

  “Agreed,” Keith said.

  Robert drove up a hill and onto an overpass. The mass of Newcity fell into view, in the distance, beyond several miles of the inner city area that surrounded it.

  As they approached, large trucks took up much of the road. Writing on the sides of the containers told of produce, beef, chicken. Keith noticed the lack of household items, furniture, or electronics. “This is all food,” he said.

  “Almost everything. What Newcity needs, they manufacture themselves. Food and raw materials are all that go in anymore,” Molly obviously channeled what Sam had told her. She shook her head. “And nothing they manufacture comes out.”

  “So the outside works for Newcity,” Keith said.

  “And they work for themselves. Factories, maintenance, it's all done just to maintain more and more life,” Molly explained.

  “They are headed into the future, while we are retreating into the past,” Keith said, including himself as an outsider now.

  “What is life without living?” Brent asked in a simple tone, matter-of-factly.

  “They have everything in there,” Keith said, “but there's nothing to have. How did we get ourselves into this?”

  “It doesn't matter,” Stacy said, “as long as we can get ourselves back out of it.”

  Chapter 16

  The urban area surrounding the Newcity complex thickened with people and cars amidst an uproar of noise, as the eight escapees drove closer to the complex. Robert had no idea where to go. None of them remembered the exact place that they had been picked up, and Molly had traveled only to surrounding towns with Sam, never back into the city. After deciding that they couldn't sleep in the van because it would be too easy for Bradley's men to spot the, they made a group decision to abandon the vehicle in an alley. They left the rifles behind, but gathered as much of the food as they could, stuffing it into their pockets.

  There was no hiding the tentative advance the escapees made from the alley and into the crowded streets. Many of them held hands, following one another as though they were a group of psychiatric patients on a tour, afraid they'd get separated from one another.

  Keith didn't need to be in physical contact with anyone. The noise of the city assaulted him with the low rumblings of thousands of conversations, racing engines, and occasional yelling or horn blowing. The oppressive sounds combined with the partly cloudy sky that hung near the tops of the buildings like a permanent fixture. As they worked their way through the crowds, he had no idea why he had come back. How long had it been between escape and reentry? How far had he traveled only to return? And the others, what did they expect to do, really? How did they expect to enter a secured building and what warning would they offer to those inside? The questions accumulated as he led them on, but were eventually answered, at least for him. He had to get away from them. The truth was that he would figure his next move out on his own. And each of them would have to figure it out for his or her self.

  There was no answer to fit everyone, not for their small group, and not for the residents of Newcity.

  Small street-side stores were open for business, but Keith knew from his first experience that this wouldn't be the case in an hour or so.

  This late in the day, the sun didn't do much more than provide a soft ambient glow to the streets, which lay mostly in shadow. The roadway always appeared to be damp even when it wasn't raining. A heavy odor of grime whooshed by every time a car passed, which was often. Many of the people on the streets were adults, but small families with one or two children ducked in and out from behind parked cars from time to time as though they were sneaking somewhere.

  A police vehicle slowed as it drove past, and the officer inside watched as the eight of them paraded in a direction they thought was leading toward Newcity.

  Once he turned down a side street, Keith said, “You guys are going to have to unlock your hands. That policeman looked pretty suspiciously at you.”

  No one let go except Stacy, who had been in the lead. She turned on them and clenched her lips together and shot her head forward in an angry reprimand.

  All hands dropped, but it hardly mattered. They advanced in unison as though they were still holding hands, or stuck together with an invisible thread.

  Through frustration, Keith led them closer to where he believed the doctor had been located. Perhaps that would be a place they could hide for the night if he could find it among all the similar looking buildings. He would know for sure once the boy with a bullet hole in his forehead appeared. Until then, Keith took over as leader. No one aske
d if he could see his guides. He knew they were afraid to pose the question, for fear of an answer they didn't want to hear.

  The police car that drove past them earlier turned down their street once again. A shot of panic caused Keith to usher the others into an alley too narrow for the car to follow. He had them huddle into a group and crouch down as he watched the policeman pass. The alley was drenched in shadow, the ground gritty and damp. Shards of broken glass crunched under their feet. A rat ran along one of the walls and Amanda screeched. Keith jumped toward the rat and it squealed and ran off. “They won't hurt you,” he said, knowing that his words meant nothing to her.