Authors: Edwin Page
I stood on the
float and looked out over the people gathered before me. They had all supped
from the chalice, had drunk the blood of those who now lay in piles alongside
the vehicle. The atmosphere had been like a party, the cup passing from one
pair of eager hands to another as more and more testified to the healing
properties of the blood within and music played from the speakers. Now the
music had come to an end and the lights were turned off, the generators silent
as everyone enjoyed the relief of being free from aches and pains.
Some of the crowd were seated around the fires, which had been stoked
with wood taken from the hedgerow. All showed signs of their symptoms lifting,
though their faces still bore the strain and tiredness of the last few days.
‘What we gonna do with the bodies?’ asked Dodge as he stood beside me.
‘We’ll burn them in the morning,’ I replied as I continued to look out at
my followers, my disciples that would help bring about Judgement Day.
‘People.’ I raised my hands in the air to draw their attention, the
microphone standing silent before me. ‘Listen to me,’ I called as their
conversations fell silent.
‘Tomorrow we head north, on to Plattsburgh and then Montreal.’
There were nods and mumbles of approval.
‘Tomorrow you’ll taste truly pure blood and will be restored to full
health. It’s the contract that’s been made, the binding covenant with God.
‘You’re special,’ I said, appealing to their egos and vane individualism.
‘You’re the chosen ones, chosen by the Lord Himself to bring about a new order,
a new dawn for humanity. After one day ends, another must dawn, and you’re the
new light that’ll shine when this bright morning awakens for our species. The
past is being cleansed. You, God’s chosen few, are the future.’
There was a round of applause and a few cheers arose, people turning to
each other and passing comment, many smiling as their sense of self-importance
became inflated by my words.
‘Those of you that wish to return home to rest up for the night, make
sure to be back by ten. That’s when we’ll set out upon the road to our destiny.
‘For now, I will bid you goodnight,’ I stated. ‘May you all rest in peace.’
I smiled to myself, my turn of phrase causing amusement which I tried to hide
as I turned away from the mic.
‘Can I speak to you?’ asked Duncan as he rose from where he’d been
sitting on the edge of the float.
‘Of course, my friend,’ I stated as he walked over, raising his hands to
feel out my presence and resting one on my shoulder once he’d located my
whereabouts.
‘In private,’ he said as I looked at his bandaged face.
I led him to the makeshift steps and we descended slowly into the
darkness on the far side of the stage, a few small noises sounding in the
nearby hedgerow as nocturnal animals moved within its cover.
I brought us to a halt and turned to face him, his hand falling away from
my shoulder. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘What was in the bucket?’ he asked, the tone of his voice indicating that
he knew there had been something inside prior to the throat slitting.
‘Blood,’ I replied.
‘There was something else. If there’s one thing about losing your sight,
it’s that you pay much more attention to what you can hear.’
‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at,’ I said, using my words to cover
the sound of withdrawing the knife from my black robes.
‘I think you know exactly what I’m getting at. What medication did you put
in the bucket?’ he asked directly.
I stabbed him in the stomach and he gasped as I placed my free hand to
the back of his neck, drawing him closer and the knife sinking deep.
‘God may have given you insight,’ I whispered into his ear as I turned
the blade, ‘but he didn’t grant you any fucking wisdom.’
I sliced to the side violently, stepping back as his guts bulged from the
wound and began to spill out. He clutched his stomach and fell to his knees,
blood running over his fingers.
‘Judgement has been passed,’ I stated as he fell forward and I moved to
the side, looking down on his body without mercy.
Bending, I checked his neck to find his pulse rapidly fading, his life
almost vacated. I wiped the blade clean on the bandage at the back of his head,
putting it back in its concealment and turning away.
‘The blind man has been healed.’ I nodded to myself as I walked around
the tailgate of the float and headed towards those still gathered before the
stage, a few beginning to drift to their vehicles as they prepared to head
homeward and get some sleep.
A small cluster approached and I slowed my pace, wary and ready to draw
the knife and pistol. The old man at the front extended his hand towards me.
‘Thank you, Reverend,’ he said earnestly, his bushy brows almost hiding
his close-set eyes.
I held out my hand and he grasped it tightly, shaking with vigour.
‘You are truly the Lord’s servant.’
‘I do what I must in His name,’ I responded with false modesty. ‘I am the
puppet and He’s the master that guides me.’
‘You’ve given us hope when we thought all was lost,’ said a woman to his
right, her expression filled with reverential gratitude. ‘You’re our saviour.’
I bowed my head briefly in gracious acceptance of her compliment.
She moved forward as the old man finally released his grip. Kneeling
before me, she took hold of my hand and kissed it.
‘Thank you.’
Others began to make their way over as they watched the exchange. The
woman got to her feet and took a step back, bowing as she did so.
‘You’ve saved my daughter’s life,’ said a woman in her mid-twenties,
glancing at the young girl that held her hand. ‘I will be forever in your debt.’
She moved forward and took my hand, bending to kiss it.
‘It’s not a debt owed to me, but to God,’ I replied. ‘It’s by His grace
that the truth was revealed to me.’
Those that had made their way over continued to offer their thanks as I
stood in their midst, inwardly basking in their praise. God was showing me the
righteousness of my actions. I knew it without a doubt. This was His sign that
everything I had done was by His bidding, had His seal of approval.
I smiled as I looked upon the unwitting fools about me. I was His chosen
one. I was His adopted son.
We stood before
the pile of bodies in the corner of the field, the front of the parade float
behind us. Shane and Dodge flanked me. They were my lieutenants, my Hands of
God. The Chang brothers emptied cans of gasoline over the corpses as we
watched, the morning dull and a thin mist hanging in the air after heavy rain
had passed during the early hours.
‘What happened with Duncan?’ asked Dodge without turning, the blinded
man’s body hidden at the bottom of the pile.
‘A lack of faith,’ I replied as Wade plucked a baseball cap from the heap
and dripped the last of the fuel on the material as he held on to the stiff
brim.
He dropped the can by his feet and produced a Zippo from his jeans.
Sparking it, Wade held the flame to the cotton and the cap caught, flames
springing to life and eagerly devouring the material.
Waiting a moment as the flames phutted in the hush, he then flung it onto
the pile and the fire soon spread. The smell of burning clothing and flesh
mingled with that of gasoline and I nodded to myself, smiling. Some of the
flames were tainted blue and green by the dyes in the material, the colour
vivid in contrast with the gloom of the day about us as smoke rose into the
stillness.
‘I love the smell of burning bodies in the morning,’ I commented. ‘It
smells like…’ I took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. ‘…Judgement.
‘It smells foul,’ responded Dodge.
I turned to him, studying his profile. ‘You still with me, Dodge?’
He nodded, still not turning, his gaze fixed on the flames as they took
hold and the clothing burnt away to bare the searing flesh beneath.
‘What’s on your mind?’
He finally turned, glancing past me at Shane and clearly apprehensive
about putting voice to whatever he was thinking. ‘We’re the chosen ones,
right?’
I nodded.
‘Then why are we sick?’
‘I don’t get your meaning,’ I said, looking at him quizzically and seeing
a lack of comprehension on David and Wade’s faces as they stood beside the
bonfire of bodies and looked over.
‘Well,’ he began, looking down at the ground between us, ‘I got to
thinking that surely those who aren’t sick have been chosen by God.’
I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of something to say to
counter his reasoning. ‘God works in mysterious ways. Who are we to question
His guidance?’
‘But it just don’t make sense.’ He shook his head and looked up at me
sheepishly.
‘Does any of what’s happened make sense?’
‘Well, no,’ he conceded.
‘From out of this chaos will arise a new order and only God knows the
final outcome. I can’t pretend to know what His plans are.’
‘But you act on His guidance.’
‘But I haven’t any idea where that guidance is taking us, other than to Montreal.’
‘The Rev’s right, Dodge. The world is totally fucked and all this…’ Shane
nodded at the bodies, ‘…is just part of it.’
I nodded. ‘We’re just along for the ride, it’s the Good Lord who’s
driving the bus.’
‘And if I want to get off?’ He looked at me nervously.
‘What the hell’s happened to you, man? Only last night you used one of
these TX30’s on that man and now you’re whining about what?’
‘I’m not whining,’ said Dodge, turning to Wade, who’d drawn the tazer
that had been tucked into the back of his jeans.
‘What’s got into you?’ asked David.
‘It’s just…’ He shook his head and took a breath as he turned his gaze
back to the ground. ‘It’s just something ain’t sitting right with me.’
‘Since last night?’ David looked at him in bemusement.
‘I had a dream.’
‘That’s nearly a famous opener,’ Wade joked darkly, shaking his head.
Dodge shot him an unkind glance. ‘I was drowning in an endless sea of
blood, but there were wings floating in it, angels wings all torn and
tattered.’
‘So?’
‘So, it was the blood of the angels, the blood of the innocent.’
‘It was just a fucking dream, Dodge,’ stated Shane.
‘No, it was a message.’ He looked at me meaningfully. ‘What we’re doing ain’t
right.’
Wade looked at me from over Dodge’s shoulder. I gave a faint nod.
Dodge saw the gesture and began to turn. The sound of the tazer
discharging mingled with the lick of flames arising from the burning pile of
corpses. His face contorted, teeth barred and muscles jumping in response to
the electric discharge. His eyes rolled back and he fell to floor, body
twitching momentarily and then falling still.
Wade nodded to himself and looked at the stun gun in his hand. ‘Wow!
These things are fucking cool,’ he commented. ‘No wonder they call the X30 ‘the
Count’,’ he commented.
‘I hadn’t heard that,’ I responded, gently nudging Dodge’s body with my
foot.
‘It’s because when you get hit with one of these things you’re out for
the fucking count,’ he said with a grin, crouching and detaching it. ‘You want
we should throw him on the fire?’
I nodded.
‘What if he wakes?’ asked David as his brother took hold of Dodge beneath
the arms and looked around at him expectantly.
‘Then he’ll get to experience a taste of the hellfire that awaits him,’ I
replied.
David frowned and moved to take hold of his feet. The Changs lifted him
and then swung his body a few times until there was enough momentum. Releasing
it, Dodge sailed through the air and landed on the centre of the pyre.
‘You’d better find Jacqui,’ I said, turning to Shane. ‘They’ve got quite
close. You know what to do.’ I glanced at the flames.
He gave a nod. ‘I’ll tell her we need some help and get her over here
first, so the others don’t see.’
‘Good thinking,’ I responded, giving him a pat on the back and smiling.
Shane turned and headed towards the buses on the far side of the basic
arena we’d created in the field. I looked over my shoulder and could make out a
few people sleeping inside, heads against the condensation on the windows. The
cars parked on the other side of the field were visible between the buses, a
few people starting to rise and stepping out to stretch. They looked haggard
and drawn, the effects of the radiation having taken hold again while the
morphine wore off as they slept.
I touched my hand to my temple while turning back to the flames. I’d
woken with a dull ache. It was the first sign of the sickness and I knew it
wouldn’t be long until it became worse and was echoed by aches throughout every
nerve and fibre, dizziness and nausea following. My body was beginning to break
down, to fail as it succumbed to the invisible and silent killer which was all
around us.
I looked up at the tainted clouds. ‘God be praised,’ I whispered, knowing
that he would save me till last, that he would sustain me until I had witnessed
the fulfilment of His judgement.
I tucked my hands in my pockets as I returned my gaze to the flames,
finding something resting in the right pocket. I withdrew the playing card and
my smile was renewed.
Nodding to myself, I looked upward again. It was no coincidence I
rediscovered its presence then. It was a sign. It was confirmation that I would
be the last man standing.
I woke to the
grey light and thought that it must only just be dawn. Turning in the driver’s
seat, I winced as pain flared in my lower back. Chrissie was asleep on the
passenger seat, which was reclined as far as it would go against the bags
packed about Bob’s legs.
I looked in the rear view and saw his face, the wind having reached in
through the broken window and tugged the cover from his head as we’d sped
through the night. The shotgun blast had almost removed the right side and I
was sickened by the sight, quickly turning away and steadying myself with deep
breaths.
A few spots of rain patted on the roof as I looked to the window by my
shoulder, wiping away a patch of condensation with my sleeve. We’d pulled of
the main highway onto a country road, coming to a stop in some woods a couple
of miles from the intersection. Trees stood dark all about the car, leaves
tumbling in the gusty wind that occasionally rocked the Falcon.
‘Like fall,’ I thought, remembering that my father used to play Jeff
Wayne’s
War of the Worlds
on CD sometimes when my mother was out. She’d
found it too disturbing, once telling me that the song ‘
Forever Autumn
’
reduced her to tears.
‘Like a leaf on the breeze, you blew away,’ I quoted softly, tears
welling in my eyes.
A suffocating feeling of melancholy came over me and I quickly unlocked
the door, slipping out into the chilly morning as quietly as possible. My weary
eyes released a wash of misery as I moved around the car and went to the broken
window.
With the tune playing in my head and memories of my childhood stirring in
my mind, I pulled the cover back over Bob’s head. I placed my hand to his cheek
once it was hidden from sight, seeing the vague impression of his features
beneath.
‘I miss you,’ I whispered, stroking with my thumb as my tears continued
to fall.
The wind lifted and a flurry of leaves fell about the car.
‘It’ll be forever winter soon,’ I stated. ‘I’m glad you won’t have to see
it.’
‘Mommy?’ Chrissie’s voice was soft and confused.
‘Right here, Honey,’ I responded, taking my hand from Bob’s hidden face
and wiping the tears from my cheeks.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked as I stepped to her door and opened it,
crouching in the entrance.
‘Why are you crying?’ she asked, looking at my reddened eyes.
‘Just a little sad, is all.’
‘Daddy?’ She lowered her gaze.
‘Yes,’ I replied, not wanting to mention my fears about the world and
where it was headed.
‘I miss him,’ she stated, eyes glittering.
Her simple statement made my heart ache. I reached out and took her into
my arms, weeping bitterly. ‘So do I.’
I felt her body begin to shudder as her tears mingled with my hair and we
shared intimate moments of mourning in each other’s arms.
‘Are we going home now?’ she sniffed when we finally parted.
I looked to her eyes, seeing the dullness that whispered of her sickness.
‘We’re going to Montreal,’ I stated, placing the back of my hand to her
forehead before wiping away her tears.
‘I thought we were going home.’
‘You need medicine, Honey, medicine that we don’t have back at the
house.’
She looked at me sadly, but didn’t voice any protest. ‘I’m achy,’ she
said, ‘and I feel dizzy.’
‘They’ll be able to make you better when we get to Montreal,’ I reassured
her, wishing that I believed my own words. Not only did I doubt our ability to
get across the border, I also doubted there was much they could do to reverse
the poisoning.
The thought of having to watch my daughter wasting away caused me to take
her into my arms once again, holding tightly. ‘I love you, Honey.’
‘I love you too, Mommy,’ she replied quietly.
The trees shivered and the rain started to become heavier. I released her
and tried to compose myself.
‘We’ll have something to eat and then get going,’ I said.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘That’s what you said last night, and then you went ahead and ate that
big slice of sponge.’
‘Have we got anything sweet?’
‘I think there’s some cookies in the trunk.’
‘The ones you made last week?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll dig them out for you,’ I replied, glad that though
it wouldn’t be a healthy breakfast, at least she as willing to eat something.
‘I won’t be long.’ I brushed her fringe back before standing and shutting
the door.
I went round to the trunk and dug through the boxes as my sweatshirt was
dampened by the rainfall. Eventually coming across the cookies, I lifted the
Tupperware box. I hadn’t any appetite either, but knew she’d have me up by my
toes if I didn’t have something too, deciding to join her in having a
triple-chocolate treat.
Shutting the rear, I walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat.
‘Here,’ I said, passing her the box.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
‘I’m having one as well.’
Chrissie looked at me with mild surprise for a moment and then popped the
lid off, taking a deep breath of the doughy scent that arose from within and a
faint smile gracing her lips. I glanced over as she selected, guessing at which
one she’d take. Sure enough, she moved one of those on top and took the largest
from beneath. I grinned and felt the gloom lifting a little.
We sat in silence as we consumed the cookies, Chrissie using the box to
catch the crumbs and my hand cupped beneath my breakfast as I savoured the
sweetness. The rain patted on the roof and I licked my lips after swallowing
the last, my stomach groaning, but still no appetite arising in response to
consuming the snack.
I turned the key in the ignition so the dash would light up and was
shocked to see the time. It was nearing eleven.
I glanced out of the windshield, the condensation obscuring the view. It
was so dull outside that I could be forgiven for thinking that the sun had yet
to come up, the wan light beneath the dark clouds leaving the world shadowy and
indistinct.
Looking at the fuel gauge, I saw that we had less than a quarter of a
tank left. The work that the V8 had been required to do during our escape had
drained much of what Tyreese had transferred from the pickup. I had no idea
where we were and so couldn’t even begin to work out whether we had enough gas
to reach the border.
The thought of having to find another vehicle and siphon the fuel was not
one I relished, the memories of the confrontations in Swanton and back at the
farm causing the hairs on the nape of my neck to tingle. Without Tyreese I
would be the one having to take the greatest risk and if anything happened to
me there would be no one to protect Chrissie.
I glanced at her thoughtfully.
‘Is everything okay, Mommy?’
‘Just thinking about the journey ahead. You all done?’
She nodded and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
‘Put the lid on and buckle up, then we’ll get going.’
Chrissie did as instructed and I wiped the inside of the windshield with
my sleeve, turning on the fans in order to clear the remainder. Starting the
Falcon, I was glad that Bob had painstakingly looked after his precious car,
taking time to learn all about the engine from manuals so he could service it
regularly. I looked in the rear-view, briefly glancing at the covered form of
his slumped body.
Backing out of the trees and onto the small road, we then set off back to
the highway. I looked for any road signs that might indicate where we were and
as we approached the intersection saw that we were about to join Route
Twenty-Two, Ticonderoga to the south and Port Henry lying north.
I took the left turn toward Port Henry and vaguely recalled passing over
a bridge not long before we stopped in the early hours of the morning. I’d been
exhausted, had driven for hours in a dazed state after the adrenalin of our
escape had worn off, the latter stages of the journey no more than a blur.
‘It must have been Lake Champlain Bridge,’ I stated to myself, recalling
the pale shapes of iron girders rising and falling beside the car as we passed
over it.
‘What must?’
I glanced over. ‘You were asleep by then,’ I replied.
‘By when?’
‘When we crossed over into New York State.’
She peered out of the window, wiping away some of the moisture. ‘Doesn’t
look much different from Vermont.’
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘What were you expecting?’
She sat back and thought for a moment before shrugging. ‘I just thought
it would be different somehow.’
I didn’t respond, but hoped she was right, that it would turn out to be
different and we’d make it across the border without running into any serious
difficulties. Judging from the previous day, I thought our chances of that were
slim, but I needed to hold onto something in order to keep going.