Authors: Christopher Cox
The “us” caught my attention, but I let it pass. I tucked my weapon back into my holster. Taking the cue, Madi did the same. “We don’t want anything of yours, Preacher.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a slight smile with the recognition. I suspected it had been some time since he had heard it. “We’re turned around, little lost, and just want to be on our way.”
“Of course,” he composed himself and offered, humbly, “Father Evans; Please, call me Henry. I’m sorry, about startling you.” He continued without a pause. “You can see that things haven’t been quite right around here.” I couldn’t quite place his accent, but his voice was remarkably calm, given our surroundings.
“Yeah, I see that,” I said, looking at the treetops. The unasked question hung in the air.
“Oh, I didn’t make ‘em this way,” he explained, “Good Lord only knows what did, but I don’t ‘spect he did it ‘neither. Me and my church, we made our home out here because it was away from the undue influences of the world; no television, no phones, no internet. We could live our lives clean and live it right, just like God intended. We lived a good life, ten of us in all, including my wife.”
A painful memory flashed across his eyes, then disappeared. He continued, “A couple months ago, that one,” he searched the treetops for a moment before pointing at one particular struggling ghoul in doctor’s scrubs, “appeared. It looks like a man, but it ain’t, don’t let yourself be fooled. We thought it was a man and he was sick, but it wasn’t nothing but a lie from hell. We tried to help him, it was our way to help strangers, but we knew that it was something evil when it bit Hannah while she was trying to care for him. Tore a chunk clean out a’ her arm.” I noticed that he involuntarily switched from referring to the creature as a man and as an ‘it’- that was an easy transition to make.
“We locked him up in one of the rooms, but ‘twasn’t long before Hannah fell sick, too. When she died… well that made the man a murderer, doesn’t it?” He paused for an answer.
“I guess so,” I answered. I wasn’t going to argue.
He continued, from memory, “Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. That’s from the book of Genesis. It’s our way, it’s God’s way, we brought him out for death by crucifixion. It was justice. The man was possessed, we knew that for a fact, but I didn’t see that made him any less responsible for what he done” He seemed to need to justify their actions- I wasn’t sure if that could be done.
He continued, “We sew the mouth shut with a rag inside, so we don’t hear the screaming, but that wasn’t a problem here. The man didn’t scream, or talk, or do anything else. He’d only moan and try to bite. If nothing else, sewing his mouth shut made it a little bit safer for us.”
“We gave him the chance to atone for his sins, course, before we quieted him down. He did’n take that chance,” he said, sadly. “Me and the men, we hauled him here to this spot and pulled him up the ladders. He didn’t seem to feel afraid; he didn’t seem to feel anything at all. He didn’t try to run, he just tried to bite anyone that was close to him; he didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t open his mouth. He tried all the same.”
“We crucified him, but thing is, he didn’t die. Still not dead, you see that. He just sat there and struggled, trying to get at anyone that came close to check on him. We can’t take the body down ‘fore he’s dead. We even broke his legs, you can see, but it didn’t do no good. Even if they just possessed, then you can still kill the body; we never seen this ‘fore.”
“Probl’m was, I swear this is true, next day, Hannah got up. But whatever was in her body wasn’t Hannah any more. It was violent and cruel, just like the man here, and she attacked anyone that was near her.”
“This land, our home, had become forsaken by God, and more of those abominations came to us, like just coming in the area was enough to make someone a murderer. When that happened, we knew what they were, and we crucified them, too. But our faith was lacking, and even my flock succumbed to the wickedness of wrath. One by one, we left them stricken, secured and safe in the barn until God sees fit to remove what ails ‘em. When there were no young men left to help me crucify the fiends, I took to leaving ‘em tied here to the trees, keep ‘em away from the homestead at least. ’Fore you ask, we sent for help, but no one made it back once they left, it just ain’t safe.”
Madi and I had listened with rapt attention. With no news from the outside world, the old man seemed to believe that the problems were his alone- that they were restricted to his woods.
“Father,” I started, haltingly, “This is happening all over the world, and it’s getting worse. I’m… I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to offer.
His face fell as he struggled to comprehend. “Oh,” he said simply, “There a cure?”
“No.”
He didn’t say anything, for a moment, then spoke suddenly, “Let’s get you two back to the house, get you some rest. I think we all need it.” His accent was light and irregular, as if he had been away from home too long.
We walked straight to the path, then continued the way me and Madi were heading. I was grateful that we didn’t walk through the thick of the woods, which I believed to be a kindness from Henry, since he probably had come that way himself.
I wasn’t sure know how long we had walked, but it was long enough for Madi to begin breathing heavy. She didn’t complain, but I could see that she was wearing down. Without stopping, I pulled the pack from her back and fixed it to my front, carrying both. I noticed that, for the first time, she willingly kept her gun.
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.
“We’re almost there,” Henry called over his shoulder, “It clears up around the bend here.”
True to his word, the canopy began to clear, spilling fresh, bright sunlight onto our path. The dust that we disturbed floated lazily in the beams of light and birds flitted from branch to branch. It was a welcome change from the darkness from which we emerged.
“Here we are,” Henry announced, as he turned sharply off the path. We followed as he navigated a trail that we could barely see, but he seemed to know by memory. After a few minutes of hiking, a clearing came into view with several solid, weathered wooden buildings. The homestead was simple, but well maintained and precisely functional.
“Come, come,” called Henry as he hurried towards the porch stairs. His insistence… the sudden enthusiasm… it made me suspicious of his motives, and I was comforted by the cold weight of the gun in its holster and the surety that Madi could use her own. The grounds were unnaturally quiet, except for the complaint of the porch stairs against our collective weight. The covered wooden deck was rustic, with seemingly handmade rocking chairs and a butter churn sitting alone near the railing. Henry opened the door on its aged, creaking hinges, holding it for Madi and me.
The inside of the home was exactly what I had expected from the outside- simple, rustic and functional. The house seemed normal, comfortable even, which was a rare blessing that allowed me to forget, for a short time, that in any moment we could be surrounded and overcome by a herd of the undead.
We made small talk, avoiding the obvious subject, before Henry excused himself to the small kitchen set on the far end of the house; he was clearly unpracticed on the small wood stove, but the home soon began to fill with the smell of searing meat and soft spices. My watering mouth and groaning stomach reminded me of how much I’ve missed such things.
The man hummed some soothing hymn to himself as he cooked. It was strange, in these modern times, to see a living room that wasn’t pointed towards a television set, but the lack of one here made sense on every level.
Madi and I spoke, keeping our voices low.
“Dad…” Madi Paused. “That wasn’t Mom and Jake, was it?”
She met my eye. She knew. “No, honey, it wasn’t,” I answered.
“I still feel better, a little bit,” She said after a few moments.
“I do, too, sweetie; I do, too.”
A polite cough came from the small dining area, where Henry stood. “Supper’s ready,” he said.
“It smells delicious,” I offered. “What do you call it?”
He beamed with the compliment. Clearly the holy man wasn’t above a small amount of pride. “Ever had tenderloin cooked from salted pork?” Madi and I shook our heads in unison. “That’s what it is, with my own blend of herbs and spices. You like it?”
“Delicious!” replied Madi around a full mouth.
Henry didn’t force the saying of grace, which my stomach appreciated, but he did pause solemnly and cross himself before eating. After several helpings and some light conversation, he cleared the table.
“Miss Madi,” he said. She looked up at him, her mouth coated in pork grease. “When was the last time you had a proper bath?” A lifetime ago, I would have bristled at the question from someone who was practically a stranger, but the novelty of the concept, in these times, legitimized the question.
She thought about the answer, but I spoke first. “It’s been a while; not too many chances these days. Why?”
Henry grinned widely, “It just so happens that I have me a bathtub here, with warm water. How does that sound?”
Madi gasped, “great!” I’ve never seen the child excited about a bath.
“How is it you have warm water? Heating up well water or something?” I asked.
“Even better,” he answered, “There’s a fresh-water spring up the hill a ways, and a water tank up on the roof. In the morning, I pump water to the tank, and the sun heats it up through the day. It’s maybe not as hot as it could be, but it’s better than nothin’.”
Madi squealed with delight. “Can I, Daddy?”
“Sure,” I answered. It was good to see her excited, and I was grateful to this man for what he could give. “Don’t drain the water when you’re done,” I added. It would be a shame to waste the resource, when I could use it after her.
“Excellent!” Henry exclaimed with a clap of his hands. “Please, this way.” I grabbed Madi’s bag, and we followed him into the nearby bathroom. The room boasted little more than a toilet and simple vanity, but it was the bathtub that had my attention. It was made of smooth wood that shone with sealant; a painted plastic pipe was fixed to the wall and ran through the ceiling, ending with a threaded cap. “It’s not pretty, but it works, and it’s warm,” he explained.
“It’s wonderful,” said Madi.
He explained the contraption, briefly. The cap held a pressure plate which, when pressed, would allow the water to flow. When you let go, it stopped.
“Thank you,” said Madi. “If you don’t mind…” She trailed off delicately, every bit a young lady.
Henry and I left, closing the door behind. The sound of rushing water followed us and faded as we returned to the living room.
Alone now, I approached the subject. “You want to know what happened, don’t you?” I asked as I sat.
He nodded, pulling his chair closer.
I closed my eyes and relived it.
“I don’t think anyone knows how it started; whoever does know is probably either dead or hunkered down somewhere safe. For us,” I began, “it was sudden. One day, some of those creatures came crashing into our lives, into our living room, specifically. They were bloody and violent, and hungry, like out of some nightmare. We made it out and onto the roof, only to have to watch the world destroy itself around us. We saw our friends and neighbors die horribly, only to get back up and do the same thing to others. You ever seen sharks in a feeding frenzy?”
“Saw it on TV once, a while back,” he answered.
“It was like that. After a while, it didn’t matter what it was, if it moved, it died. If it tried to run, it wouldn’t get far. Adults, children, animals, it didn’t matter. I figure it’s the lucky ones that were picked clean to the bone.”
“Why?” he asked.
“They didn’t get back up,” I answered. He listened intently as I continued. “We were rescued a while later, a Coast Guard helicopter of all things. Nowhere near the ocean, but everything was out of control by then anyways, it didn’t take long, I heard.”
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“What I pieced together, the same thing was happening all over the state, probably all over the Country by that time. I don’t know if we’ll ever know just how fast it spread, not like anyone was bothering to keep a record; by that time, all anyone wanted to do was survive. No one even knows quite
what
‘it’ is, that’s the most horrifying part; just, people started eating each other. Family, strangers, it didn’t matter when they caught it. So we’re flying towards the city, and it’s just fu-” I corrected myself and he smiled kindly, “sorry, freaking; freaking chaos on the ground, we could see it out the open side door. Homes on fire, cars plowing into crowds, things that I couldn’t imagine before then. You know what bothered me the most?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “When I saw the mall on fire. I don’t know why, but that’s what did it for me.”
“It’s hard, when the familiar is lost,” Henry said banally.
“Hard? No, it wasn’t hard- it’s easy when you don’t have a choice about it. What it was, was brutal. Everything about that day was brutal, violent and horrible. One of the survivors, up with us in the chopper, she was hurt; holding her arm, and shaking and sweating, the chick looked bad. There was a medic or something trying to help her. That little girl in there,” I pointed at the bathroom door, “that little girl saw it happen. The woman died right there on the helicopter floor. She started coughing and shaking, then she screamed, then she… just stopped.”