Authors: Edwin Page
He stepped up to me and put out his hand. ‘God surely guides you,’ he
stated as I took it and we shook.
‘You see,’ I stated,’ turning my attention back to congregation, ‘God
speaks to me.’
‘I want to drink from the cup,’ said a rangy man to the rear, getting to
his feet and his bony hand held in the air, face long and reminiscent of the
Reverend’s.
‘And me,’ said a large woman with a yellowing complexion and ginger
curls.
Others who had remained on the pews began to rise and call out to take a drink
from the chalice. My grin re-emerged as most of those by the vestry door lingered,
succumbing to the temptation of having their symptoms relieved, only one family
showing their lack of faith and continuing out of the church.
Soon there would be six corpses on the flagstones and my leadership would
be without challenge, each cup of blood being secretly laced with the morphine
in my pocket. The congregation were in the palm of my hand and I would help the
Lord bring about Judgement Day with them as my faithful, my disciples of the
blood.
Bob staggered
backwards, looking down at the top of his chest as blood began to seep into the
light grey cotton of his sweatshirt, the gunshot still ringing in my ears as I
watched aghast. Collapsing onto his knees, his arm fell to his side as the man
moved forward, sidling around the hood and reloading.
‘NO!’ I rose to my feet, clutching Chrissie to me with stifling
tightness.
Another shot sounded and Bob fell back to the grass.
I took a step forward.
The man rounded on me, the rifle being reloaded yet again as he pointed
it down the slope.
‘I just wanted the keys, is all. I didn’t want to shoot nobody. He left
me no choice,’ he said, keeping a wary eye on Tyreese, who stood motionless and
stunned by the trunk.
‘What the hell have you done?’ I looked at him in horror.
He crouched by Bob and searched his pockets. Taking the keys out, he
glanced at the handgun and quickly pried it from Bob’s hand. He pointed it at
Tyreese, who raised his hands higher and took another step away.
He opened the passenger door and backed onto the seat, placing the rifle
in the footwell with a glance. Keeping the pistol pointed at me and Tyreese in
turn, he stretched back, struggling to get the key into the ignition without
turning to see what he was doing.
Finally starting the Falcon, he readied himself to quickly shift over
onto the driver’s seat on the far side. He went to fire the gun into the air to
serve as a distraction, finding that the safety was on.
Tyreese lunged forward and grasped the man’s wrist, smashing his hand
into the edge of the doorframe. The pistol was loosed from his grip and fell to
the grass as they tussled.
With a yank, Tyreese tugged him from the Falcon and they tumbled down the
slope. I stepped to the side to avoid them and watched for a moment before
quickly climbing up.
‘Get inside and lock the door,’ I instructed Chrissie, placing her on the
seat and positioning myself so that her view of Bob was obscured.
I shut the door after she drew in her legs. ‘Lock it!’
She quickly pressed down on the button and I turned, taking up the pistol
from where it lay on the ground. I flicked the safety catch and pointed it at
the two men struggling at the foot of the embankment as I descended toward them.
I fired the gun in the air as I began to approach them, the man getting
the better of Tyreese, sitting astride him and beating down on his face with
bloodied fists.
‘Get the hell off him!’ I yelled as he turned to the sound of the
gunshot.
My index finger longed to pull back, to add greater pressure on the
trigger and fire the gun as it pointed at the man’s head. I resisted, fought my
own disgust and rage as Tyreese pushed him away and got unsteadily to his feet,
blood running from his nose and left eye already swelling.
‘Get to your feet with your hands on your head,’ I hissed as Tyreese came
to stand beside me, licking the blood from his top lip.
‘I just wanted the car,’ pleaded the man.
‘You took a life.’
‘I only meant to wound him.’
I shook my head in angry disbelief. ‘Is that why you shot him a second
time?’ My finger itched to pull back.
The man had no answer.
‘Where’s your wife?’ asked Tyreese.
‘Wife?’ The man looked at him in momentary confusion. ‘My wife, oh, she’s
a ways up the road. I need to get back to her. I need to be by her side.’ He
began to move to the left.
‘Don’t move another muscle,’ I stated, the obviousness of his lie serving
to heighten my fury.
‘What are we going to do with him?’ asked Tyreese.
‘You can keep the rifle,’ offered the man, attempting to sound
magnanimous.
The gunshot rang in my ears.
Blood trickled from a single bullet hole in his forehead, mouth hanging
open and staring at me as he sank to the ground, legs buckling. He fell onto
his side, body twitching as I watched his death throes and Tyreese stared in
shock.
The light went out in the man’s eyes and he stared through me as he lay
before the tree-line.
‘We’d better go,’ stated Tyreese, glancing over his shoulder at the cars
passing on the off ramp, seeing a number of faces peering from interiors as
they drove slowly by.
I began to tremble, arm sinking to my side. Tears slipped from my eyes,
snaking down my cheeks.
‘BASTARD!’ I shouted, suddenly moving forward and emptying the clip into
the corpse at my feet, which jolted with each penetration.
The gun clicked as I continued to pull the trigger a few times, finally
flinging it at the body as I was overcome by grief. I shook uncontrollably in
the aftermath of Bob’s murder and the atrocity I’d committed as a result.
I fell to my knees and repeatedly brought my fists down on the man’s body.
‘Why did you do it?’ I moaned, voice thick with emotion.
Weakening, the fury within exorcised by the violence of my actions,
Tyreese stepped up behind me and put his hands to my shoulders. I continued to
flail for a moment and then broke down, head bowed.
He gently brought me to my feet and put his left arm about my waist. I
leant into him and wept against his shoulder as he guided me back towards the
car. I didn’t dare raise my eyes, fearful that Chrissie had been watching, had
seen her mother gun down an unarmed man.
‘Did she see?’ I whispered, swallowing hard.
‘Yes,’ he responded as we neared the Falcon.
My expression became pinched with angst. After everything that had been
said and done, I’d become the devil she knew, monstrous and terrifying, even to
myself. It had been so much easier than I’d thought. The pull of the trigger
had been too much to resist, its temptation overwhelming after watching Bob
gunned down.
We reached his body and I looked upon him, fresh tears springing forth. I
crouched and reached towards his cheek, fingers stopping short of touching his
skin. I barely dared touch him for fear to do so would make his death real,
would confirm it to the part of me that hoped somehow he was still alive or
that this was some nightmare from which I would soon wake, finding myself in the
passenger seat or beside him in our bed at home.
The tips of my fingers touched his face. I didn’t wake. My hand cupped
his cheek and I stroked it with my thumb before dropping forward onto my knees
and gathering him into my arms. My left hand went to the entry wounds at the
front of his sweatshirt, feeling the slickness beneath my palm as the blood
cooled and congealed.
‘We can’t leave him here,’ I whispered without looking round at Tyreese.
‘What about Chrissie?’ he asked. ‘Surely he can’t ride inside with us.’
I didn’t answer for a moment as I fought to keep some semblance of
control. ‘He can be on the back seat with me,’ I replied eventually, my voice
uneven. ‘Chrissie can ride up front. We’ll bury him in the yard at home.’
‘Okay.’ He moved to crouch opposite me. ‘I’ll lift him into the car.’ He
reached forward to take Bob’s body from me, but I retained my hold.
‘We really should hit the road before anyone else tries the same thing,’
he said, holding my gaze.
I nodded after another hesitation and relinquished my grasp. Tyreese took
him into his arms and straightened.
‘Could you open the door?’
I stood and did as he asked, Tyreese ducking inside and placing Bob in the
back. Chrissie watched in traumatised silence, kneeling on the seat and peering
around the headrest with a look of pale-faced fright. I had no wards to offer
as I stared at her, finding only emptiness within.
Tyreese shut the door and gently took hold of my arm, guiding me round to
the far side and helping me into the Falcon. It was as if I had no will of my
own, had become a puppet in need of guidance.
The click of the belt being secured in place made me flinch as he backed
out and closed the door. I kept my gaze averted from Chrissie as she sat across
from me, sure that if I looked into her eyes I would see fear as she regarded
the monster that her mother had become.
Getting into the driver’s seat, Tyreese closed and locked the door beside
him after placing the carryall by Chrissie’s feet. Taking hold of the stick
shift, he put the car in gear and glanced over his shoulder, looking at me
briefly before turning his attention to the oncoming traffic as he switched on
the indicator and pushed out into the stream of slow-moving vehicles.
We set off once more, Bob’s presence beside me whispering with memories
and loss. There would be no more glory days.
I wouldn’t have killed the man if I’d known then what I know now. I’d
have shot Tyreese, Chrissie and then myself, granting us all the mercy of not
having to live through what was to come.
I stood at the
table in the middle of the long vestry, the side door open to let in the light
as I studied the map before me. The Reverend’s vestments were in a garbage bag
by my feet, along with what remained of the morphine. Almost half had been used
in the communion and most of the rest was in the form of prescription tablets
that would have to be crushed before being mixed into the blood.
A vague shadow fell across the table and I looked up to find Dodge
standing in the doorway, the heavy clouds beyond.
‘You’re going to want to come and check this out,’ he stated with a
sideways nod.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Come and see for yourself.’
I glanced back down at the map and then walked around the table to join
him. He led the way along the sidewalk at the edge of the parking lot, stepping
down onto the concrete as we made for the gap between the two school buses,
which were set for the journey ahead, all the food having been packed already.
We stepped out from between them and Dodge turned to look south. I
followed his gaze and stiffened. There, on the main street and heading towards
us, was a slow-moving convoy that filled both lanes of the highway. Leading the
way were a couple of patrol cars with fire trucks behind. Beyond them were a
selection of vehicles which included half a dozen coaches, a gas tanker and two
rigs towing large trailers. They were surrounded by cars and another couple of
cop cruisers were at the rear. I guessed there to be at least fifty vehicles,
all of which were covered in a layer of soot and dust, their wipers having
cleared swathes from the windshields. Many showed signs of damage, some of the
coaches with windows boarded or covered with plastic sheeting.
‘What do we do?’ asked Dodge.
‘Say hi,’ I replied, walking into the road and standing in the middle of
the northbound.
I raised my hands in the air as they drew close, noting that the
paintwork on the hood of the patrol car on the left was scorched and peeling.
The convoy ground to a halt ten yards away. I hadn’t got any idea what I was
going to say, what I was going to reveal, but trusted in God to give me the
right words.
The passenger door of the burnt patrol car opened and a large black
officer climbed out, the suspension creaking. He looked around, glancing up at
the apartment buildings on the other side of the street.
‘Who are you?’ he called, studying me closely.
‘Don’t worry Officer, there’s no snipers,’ I replied, smiling
disarmingly. ‘We’re perfectly friendly here.’
‘It’s Chief,’ he corrected, ‘Chief Brody.’
My brow furrowed, sure that I’d heard that name before. ‘You famous or
something?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s the name of the main character in
Jaws
,
but, as you can see, I ain’t no Roy Scheider.’
‘I’m Reverend Peterson,’ I said, beginning to walk towards him while
wishing I’d put Peters’ vestments on, my board shorts and t-shirt not giving
the impression I would have liked.
‘That’s far enough,’ he stated, hand moving to the holstered gun at his
hip.
I came to a stop. ‘I’m no threat, Chief.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘Where are you guys coming from?’
‘The Bronx,’ he said flatly, glancing at my sandwich board as it rested
on the sidewalk in front of the church.
‘Is it bad?’ I asked.
‘Worse.’ He rubbed his temples briefly. ‘Are there more of you in there?’
‘A few. Where you headed?’
‘North.’
‘Anywhere specific.’
‘North,’ he repeated, remaining distinctly unfriendly.
‘We were about to head that way. Have you heard about Montreal?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Look, Chief, you can trust me. There ain’t no harm going to come to you
here.’
‘Trust,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I ain’t gonna be doing that
again in a hurry.’
‘Problems back in the Bronx.’
‘Hell is back in the Bronx,’ he replied. ‘We’re what’s left of those who
tried to hold it together, tried to stay civilised.’ He shook his head again.
‘It’s all gone to shit.’
‘Are you all sick?’
His eyes were haunted as he looked at me and nodded. ‘And getting worse.’
‘He’s got the cure,’ stated Dodge from the sidewalk.
‘There ain’t no cure for severe radiation poisoning,’ replied Brody.
‘Ask anyone here, they’ll tell you,’ said the young man.
The Chief looked at him and then turned his attention back to me, his
expression becoming curious. ‘What’s he talking about?’
His gaze moved to the school buses and I glanced back over my shoulder.
Shane and the Chang brothers had moved into view, guns in their hands.
‘Self-defence,’ I stated turning back to the Chief, ‘you understand.’
His hand rested on the handle of his firearm as he regarded me with
suspicion. ‘There ain’t no cure,’ he said again, ‘and you ain’t no preacher. What’s
waiting for us in there?’ He nodded at the church.
‘God,’ I replied simply.
‘And?’
‘Nothing.’
He shook his head and looked around again, as if expecting an attack at
any moment. ‘Get out of the road,’ he instructed.
‘You’re not coming in?’
He raised his right eyebrow as he stared at me.
‘Please yourself,’ I said with a shrug.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Dodge. ‘He can heal you all.’
Chief Brody shook his head again and prepared to get back inside the
patrol car. ‘Just drive. He’ll get out of the way,’ he instructed the officer
at the wheel as he climbed in, making sure to speak loud enough that I’d hear
every word.
The door slammed and the pair of cruisers led off, the rest of the convoy
following. I stood for a moment longer and then calmly stepped to the sidewalk,
watching them pass with a smile. There was whispering in the back of my mind
and I knew everything that had happened was as it should be, as God had
planned. As they say, He moves in mysterious ways and it was not my place to
question, only to follow.
I looked to the coaches amidst the other vehicles. The people looking out
had the appearance of zombies, cheeks sunken, eyes surrounded by shadow and
filled with blank desolation, a number of them sporting minor injuries or bandages.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Dodge.
‘We wait for an hour or so and then head for Interstate Eighty-Seven,’ I
replied, turning to him as the vehicles continued to rumble past.
‘Why do you think they’ve come this way?’ he asked. ‘It would have been
quicker to take the interstate through the city.’
‘Maybe the way is blocked and this was God’s way of letting us know.’
The cruisers at the back of the convoy passed by and we turned to watch
the Bronx survivors head north. I knew I’d see the Chief again. It hadn’t just been
his name that I’d recognised, but also his face, and I knew this was because our
paths would cross again, that Brody was significant in some way and part of
God’s plan.
‘How long will it take to get to Montreal?’ asked Dodge as we began to stroll
towards the others.
‘A straight run would take seven to eight hours.’
‘We’re not heading straight there?’ he glanced over at me.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘we’re going to stop at Albany and Plattsburgh.’ I
brought us to a stop before Shane and the Chang brothers.
‘There’s something I haven’t said,’ I admitted, looking to each of them
in turn. ‘The effects of drinking the blood aren’t permanent.’
‘It’s not a cure?’ asked David.
‘It’s like a transfusion. A few sips won’t have a lasting effect, but the
more you have the greater the effect will be. We need to find more people with
pure blood or everyone will start feeling sick again.’
‘How are we going to find them?’ asked Shane.
My gaze settled on the parade float in the rear left of the parking lot
as I took the Ace of Spades from my pocket and thoughtfully flipped it between
my fingers. ‘The Lord provides,’ I replied cryptically, the four of them
sharing glances.
‘How do you feel about a trip to the record store?’ I asked, looking at
Dodge.
He looked at me in puzzlement, but nodded his agreement. ‘Okay.’
‘What’s going on Rev?’ asked Shane.
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ I replied with a gleam in my eyes.