by Sean Platt
“Fuck!” Charlie screamed as he put his hand to his ear. He had no time to consider the pain as Vic charged again, this time landing a strike in Charlie’s ribs. Pain splintered through his side while radiating from his left ear.
Charlie doubled over and vomited onto the snow.
Vic stopped, staring at Charlie polluting the virgin white. Charlie wiped vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked up to consider his next move. Vic stood fixed between Charlie and the car, with its cache of weapons. Charlie chewed on his meager options for bypassing Vic and retrieving the guns, all the while wondering where the fuck Adam had run off to.
Charlie took a step back. Vic remained rooted, staring intently at Charlie with his beady, black reptilian eyes, but did nothing.
What the fuck is he doing?
Charlie backed up again, this time with four long strides, but never breaking eye contact with the freak of nature. Vic still refused to budge.
He’s fucking with me; he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. Maybe he wants me to run so he can chase me down for more of a thrill.
Charlie took two more steps back, placing him steps from the front door. If he could run without slipping in the snow, then maybe . . . Once inside, he could get to the shotgun behind the front door.
Vic continued to stare like a coiled viper. If there were an expression on Vic’s face, Charlie couldn’t discern it. Vic looked like someone who wasn’t home inside his head. If Vic was impaired, even momentarily, Charlie had to seize the chance and run — now.
Charlie spun around, planted his left foot, and exploded off of it into a dead sprint, not looking back.
Immediately, he heard Vic’s steps falling quickly behind him, fast, and gaining ground.
Fuck!
Charlie reached the front door, turned the knob in his hand, and . . .
Fuck! Adam locked it on the way out!
Footsteps punctuated the promise of death behind him. Charlie spun around just as Vic reached him, blade-hand on the down-swing toward his face.
Charlie inhaled his last breath and prepared to greet death.
A final flinch, then . . .
BANG!
The gunshot cracked like thunder in the pre-dawn darkness, hitting Vic in the back and knocking him forward off balance, causing his blade-hand to miss Charlie’s face by inches and decapitate the doorknob instead. Vic fell on top of Charlie, catapulting them both into the door, then onto the ground.
Charlie screamed, pushing and kicking at Vic, who was down but not out, arms reaching wildly to grasp Charlie.
He kicked Vic in the face as more footsteps came toward them. Adam appeared with a rifle, the one they kept near the front gate. He fired again at point-blank range, this time blowing Vic’s head open like a grotesque melon, spewing a blackened bloody mess.
“What the fuck was that?!” Charlie asked, getting to his feet and looking at the thing that had been Vic.
“I thought you killed him!” Adam said, staring at the corpse.
“I did!”
“So, not only do we have to worry about these monsters, but the dead rising from their graves as mutants?” Adam said. “Fuck. Me.”
Charlie looked up, bug-eyed, and laughed. Adam didn’t curse much, so it was funny to hear the words coming from his mouth. “Maybe he wasn’t dead? Maybe one of those monsters got to him before he died and turned him into one of them?”
“Like in zombie movies?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “Unless this is more like that Invasion of the Body Snatchers movie, where Vic was some kind of pod person, and had been this way for a long time, just hiding and waiting to come out of his human shell.”
“Yeah, but you saw him. He didn’t seem right. I think if he were some kinda pod person all along, we woulda picked up on it a long time ago. Besides, I don’t think pod people would be such assholes.”
Charlie laughed again, “When did you get so funny? Wait. You’re not one of them pod people, too, are you?”
“Ha, Ha,” Adam said, and then his eyes locked onto Harry, lying on the ground, disemboweled from Vic’s blade-hand. Charlie’s eyes followed, and instantly, the joy he felt in being alive was severed as they remembered Harry’s grisly death.
“I didn’t know him that well, but he didn’t deserve this,” Adam said.
“No, he didn’t,” Charlie agreed, taking a moment of silence, before turning to Adam. “Come on; we need to get the hell out of here and go find Boricio.”
“We’re not gonna bury Harry?”
“We don’t have time; we need to find Boricio if we’re gonna save Callie.”
“How are we gonna find him?” Adam said. “He could be anywhere.”
“Harry said something about a compound, remember? How many other compounds are around here? That we know of?”
“You think he went back . . . there?” Adam asked, fear cracking the man from his voice.
“We’re about to find out,” Charlie said, as he grabbed the sack of guns from the car and loaded them into the cabin of the F150. “Let’s roll.”
Forty-Seven
Desmond Armstrong
Kingsland, Alabama
The Sanctuary
March 25
Morning
Desmond walked a step behind Mary and Paola on the return march from the funeral, back behind the The Sanctuary walls. He was burning to talk to Mary, but he had no choice but to wait. They were flanked by the congregation on all sides; Desmond couldn’t help but feel that he was a dissenting buoy in a sea of similar thought. And in a world where The Prophet, Rei, and John all had the power, the wrong word at the wrong time, overheard and reported, could get them all in trouble, or maybe a box.
The congregation scattered at the gate, everyone going to get out of their black clothes and into the day’s chores. Desmond felt a swell of hope, now seconds from finally being able to talk to Mary. He turned to Paola, so he could ask her if she’d mind if he and Mary had a few minutes alone, when Will was suddenly beside them.
“So, how did that go?” he asked.
Desmond felt a flash of irritation, but it wasn’t Will’s fault. Desmond said, “Oh, you know Brother Rei, such an elegant speaker. I haven’t been so moved since I evacuated my bowels this morning. Scott deserved better than that. How is Luca? Everything okay? The kid seems to be taking this especially hard.”
Mary pulled Paola closer to her and shot Desmond a look.
Will leaned down toward Paola and said, “Hey, would you mind going and checking on Luca for me? I’m sure he’d love that. He’s okay, mostly just nerves. It can’t be easy to be small inside, walking around in that big body. But I’m sure he’ll open up to you. Always has. Besides, he’s worried about you. Even mentioned it to me earlier at breakfast.”
Paola looked down, then quickly back at Will. “I feel bad about this morning,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to make anyone upset, especially Luca.”
“Sometimes it’s best to simply say what’s on your mind. You did get the table talking about Scott, after all, right?” Will winked at Paola and she smiled. “And I don’t think Luca’s upset, but I know he’d love to talk to you. He’s over at his Quiet Spot right now.”
Paola nodded, then hugged her mom and headed toward the Quiet Spot.
Desmond was grateful to Will for taking care of Paola, even if that wasn’t what he was trying to do. With Will, you never really knew. Now if only Will would disappear, too, he and Mary could finally start talking.
“Everything okay?” Will addressed them both, but he was looking directly at Mary.
She nodded, then said. “I think I’m like Luca – a heavy case of nerves.”
Will told Mary everything would be okay, that it was always hardest in the valley of a dip, and a few more random things that made little sense to Desmond. He had no idea how much they meant to Mary, and until they were alone he’d have little space to find out. Will seemed even weirder than normal. Though, if he thought about it, Desmond thought everyo
ne seemed a little weirder today. That meant it was probably him. No one was weird in a way he could put his finger on, except Mary.
Mary was weird because she’d never seemed so far away.
Will said his goodbyes.
To Desmond’s relief, Mary said, “I really need to talk to you, Des,” a second later.
Desmond smiled. “Thank Christ, I’m not crazy. I could tell something big was on your mind. What’s up?”
“Not here,” she shook her head. “It’s big and I want to know we’re alone. Let’s find somewhere less crowded.”
“Fine by me,” Desmond said, taking her hand.
They made it two steps before they were stopped by John, with the new stranger standing beside him.
“Desmond, Mary,” John bowed his head after each name, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” The stranger stepped forward and John said, “This is Boricio. The Good Lord has led him to us. He feels he is home now, here at New Unity, and would like to contribute to the congregation and The Sanctuary as much as possible. You two remember what it was like to be new; I was hoping you might oblige to make Boricio feel as much at home as you were made to feel upon arrival.”
Perfect.
Desmond stepped forward and shook Boricio’s hand, then introduced him to Mary. Something about the stranger made him bristle, but Desmond had no idea what, and couldn’t exactly trust his instincts since he was smart enough to realize he was acting paranoid. He should at least wait for the guy to give him a reason before hating him automatically. Of course, Desmond would have disliked pretty much anyone that John introduced him to at the exact moment he was about to finally get some alone time with Mary to find out what’s had her acting distant all morning.
“So, what brought you here?” Desmond asked.
Boricio looked around the compound as though he owed his breath to the safety of its walls, even though he’d only been behind them for a few hours. “I have to confess that I believe Brother John here hit a home-run at the batting cages. The Good Lord must have led me to you just this morning. There’s no other explanation. I was lost, and figured I’d probably never be found again, wandering through the woods with no idea where I was or where I could go.”
Boricio shook his head and rubbed the crease in his forehead. “Had a bad run-in with a group of wild folks not too far from here just a while back. It was a guy and two girls, took me in like we was family. Lived there a while, until they got all sorts of sinful ideas and tried to lure me into the rat’s nest of their evil ways. I left as soon as I could, straight out the back, but they gave chase. Tried to kill me. I managed to escape, but just barely. And only because The Good Lord saw fit to deliver me here.”
Boricio looked around The Sanctuary in silent gratitude again.
John said, “Boricio has fought off many of the Demons, too.”
Boricio nodded like his neck had fresh batteries. “Sure did, been fighting them since the late of last October. Should’ve known there was evil in the house of sinners since there were so many Demons around their part of the woods.” Boricio waved his arms around the courtyard. “Aren’t none of them here, though. In fact, I was getting chased by two of them Demons just this morning while I was following The Good Lord’s path to your blessed doorstep. But soon as I was spitting distance from the gate, both them Demons turned back around, screaming that horrible scream, like a banshee ripping off a Band-Aid. They went running off in the opposite direction like they found a shortcut back to hell on the far side of the forest.” Boricio looked solemn as he finished his story. “I’ve made war on maybe a hundred of them Demons since October, but I ain’t never seen ‘em run scared like that before. That’s how I knew I’d found my home. I’d be safe in the bosom of The Good Lord. I’m lucky to be here.”
Mary squeezed Desmond’s hand. “It’s just so dangerous out there,” she said.
Huh?
Desmond was confused, and trying not to get agitated. Mary had been in a hurry to leave The Sanctuary. And now she was hinting that she wanted to stay?
Why?
Boricio was full of shit. Desmond figured the stranger was simply using his smarts. The guy knew how to survive. From the outside, The Sanctuary looked plenty safe. If Boricio was smart enough to survive on the outside for half a year, he was smart enough to survive in here, too. Even if that meant acting like a religious nut.
Desmond tuned out as John started telling Boricio that there was no luck. The Good Lord had led the way, and they were all better off for it. One new mouth to feed, but two hands to help build the church, blah blah blah. Desmond was crafting an exit to the conversation so he could get Mary alone, at least long enough to empty her mind of whatever was giving it weight, and pulling him down with it.
Boricio told Desmond and Mary how nice it was to meet them again, then turned his attention to John, asking him about work schedules, and seeing if maybe there was something he could do to help everyone out. He claimed he was a whiz in the kitchen, but Desmond was happy to hear John say that the kitchen staff was well taken care of. Desmond didn’t want the stranger touching his food.
Desmond and Mary clearly weren’t needed, so they excused themselves from the conversation, then made it to the area behind the barn without further interruption. Luca and Paola were now walking around the hangar, Paola talking animatedly, though Luca still looked sad.
Mary was softly crying before they got to the benches, though Desmond could tell she was trying her hardest not to. “What’s wrong, Sweetie?” he said.
Mary didn’t make him wait. Through a controlled sob, she said, “I’m pregnant.”
Desmond couldn’t find his tongue through the thick tangle of sudden shock. At first, all he could do was stare, then he pulled Mary close and started petting the back of her hair. Finally, he said, “Are you sure? How can you be certain? You haven’t actually taken a test have you? Maybe whatever happened in October has affected everyone’s cycles?”
Mary cried harder, and Desmond regretted all four of his questions, especially the last one.
He repeated the first question anyway. “Are you sure?”
Mary nodded. “I know my body, and trust my instincts. There’s a baby inside me, Desmond. Our baby. I’m sure of it.”
Desmond laughed, so he could feel alive instead of numb. “You’re sure of it? Now you’re starting to sound like Will!” He laughed.
Desmond had no idea if Mary found it funny. He thought he could feel her smile, but her face was buried in his chest as she surrendered to a shuddering sob. He let her catch her breath as he continued to stroke her hair. “We have to stay,” she finally said. “It’s too dangerous out there, at least on our own. We don’t know what sort of dangers are waiting and I’m only going to get bigger and bigger. From what we’ve seen, there are no doctors or hospitals anymore, Desmond. This is it.”
“There aren’t any doctors here,” he said.
“But there are two midwives, at least. Plus heat and food and guns and a lot of other stuff a baby needs to stay safe. My big baby might be old enough to handle it out there,” Mary glanced toward the gates. “But my new baby doesn’t stand a chance.” She looked at Desmond and held his eyes. “Our new baby doesn’t stand a chance out there.”
Desmond said, “I’ll do whatever you want, go wherever you want, do whatever you think is best. But this place creeps me out. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can find somewhere to settle down.”
“Where Desmond?” Mary had stopped crying, but she was skating along the razor’s edge. “Where else can we find someone to help us have our baby? We thought we found safety at the farm, and you saw what happened there. If John and the people here hadn’t come, we’d all be dead. All of us.”
She was right. John and the nutjobs had saved them.
“We’ll find someplace safer, with normal people that we don’t need to worry about. Wherever we go,” Desmond said, “I’ll be there. I’ll help you. We’ll find someplace safe. We’ll be safe. W
e did it before; we can do it again. People were having babies for thousands of years before the first hospital was ever imagined.”
“Yeah,” Mary agreed, “and they had the infant mortality rate to prove it.”
Desmond nodded toward the box with the young girl being punished inside. “How about that, Mary? You want our child to grow up in a place where he or she might get tossed in the box when it cries too loud?”
He would have loved to hear Mary’s comeback, but they were suddenly interrupted by Rei, looking even more smug than normal.
“Yeah?” Desmond said, not even trying to hide his irritation.
“I was wondering if either of you two have seen Brother Will. I would very much like to have a word with him.”
“I saw him a bit ago, but I’m not sure where he went.” Desmond said. “What’s up?”
“I had something I wanted to share with him. Pay no mind; go on with your talk. I’m sure I’ll find him shortly.” Rei made it three steps before he turned back and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Brothers John and Boricio would like your help over at the church, Desmond. They’re waiting for you now.”
Then he turned and looked at Mary, with a wolfish smile that made Desmond want to rip every tooth from the fucker’s mouth.
“Sarah was wondering if you could help her prepare for our new Brother’s stay. She’s waiting for you now.” He turned and walked away, not waiting for an answer.
Desmond and Mary knew they were being watched, so they wiped their eyes and each walked toward their assignment. He hoped she would listen to reason, and that they’d be gone from The Sanctuary before much longer.
The end of the world had jumbled man’s laws, and Desmond wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay before he made sure Rei quit breathing for good.
Forty-Eight
Will Bishop
Will waited until lunchtime, when the guards thinned to nearly nothing, just one man on the main house roof and one at the front gate, then made his way to the rear gate leading to the cemetery.
