Fountain of the Dead (27 page)

“I need gas right now,” Sam said. “That little go round sucked up my fuel.”

“We’re close to Darien,” Frank said. “We got about thirty miles.”

They rolled into the city; historic signs marked the entrance. Frank glanced at them as they passed them. The headlights lit up the small town.

“Not a big place,” Gerry said.

“Looks like someplace I could have lived,” Frank said. “Get a small house and a boat.” Frank glanced at the maps. “Maybe one big road going through town; it leads to the highway. Look for a gas station, or a marina, might be a chance for some non-diesel fuel. Look for some stores, anything we can take with us for back home.”

“Why don’t we just ask those people over there waving to us?” Gerry said. Frank slowed the Jeep and turned on the high beams. A group of people stood on the side of the road, waving frantically at the caravan. Frank stopped the Jeep and got out; Gerry took aim, just in case. He motioned for the others to stay put. He approached them and let his guns be seen.

“No need for that son.”

“Evening, Preacher.”

The elderly man smiled, his wrinkled skin stretched tight. A horseshoe of white hair on top of his black skin. His black shirt and white collar were neat and clean. A large silver cross hung around his neck from a silver chain.

“What’s your business here, folks?”

“Passing through, looking for fuel for the vehicles.” There were five of them, various ages that stood behind the pastor. Frank motioned for the others to come up. “We could use some directions out of here too, if you don’t mind.”

Catherine moved through her people to the front. “My name is Catherine,” she said, stretching out her hand.

“Call me Randy. That’s my church in back of me. There’s not too many of us left here in town. We spend most of our time in there.” Catherine looked around at the small houses. It reminded her of their home back north. She missed what they had built up.

“This is my flock, Randy,” Catherine said. “We’ve been driving for a long time. We don’t have a lot, but we can trade some supplies, for a safe place to rest.”

“I live in a house of God, Catherine. I could never turn away those in need.” Randy turned and headed for the church steps.

* * * * *

Randy opened the doors to the church so everyone could step through. It was simple, painted white. It opened into the worship hall. Some of the pews had been converted to beds. A small staging area was erected behind the podium and altar. The visage of Christ hung from the ceiling above the podium. Frank took lead for the group, keeping an eye out, just in case.

Survivors populated the church, tired and hungry faces, that looked at him and then quickly away, with a few forced smiles. Randy swept open his arms and offered them seats in the front pews. He pulled a stool out from the podium. Micah took out his journal and started to sketch and take notes.

“This is a fine place you have here, pastor,” Catherine said.

“Thank you, ma’am. We try and there’s not too much left out there. But we don’t see a lot of the dead here. Savannah is barricaded at both ends. It’s tough for them to get out. That city is a death trap.”

“We were headed through there. Heard rumor of safe havens in the city.”

“There ain’t nothing in that city,” a woman said standing up. “We was in there not too long ago. I lost my boy. He was trying to get into a store. Didn’t know anyone was alive inside they shot him down, like an animal. We couldn’t bring him back for a proper Christian burial.”

“I am truly sorry,” Catherine said. “We’ve lost some friends of ours on our journey here.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Randy said. “What is your purpose?”

Pierce shook his head; Catherine dismissed him with a glance.

“We’re following this man,” she said looking at Pierce. “Going into the Everglades.”

“You’re following that psycho?” the woman said. “Look at his eyes, look at them bite marks on his arms.”

“Betty, please.” Randy said. She went to a rocking chair and sat down, talked softly with some of the other folks there. Her eyes kept wandering to Pierce. “Why the Glades?”

“Let me ask a question,” Frank said and stood. “How do you all survive here?”

“We have a sweet fishing spot on the end of the docks. People say they’re sick of fish, but with what the Lord’s been providing has been keeping us alive. Used to be a hardware store in town; we’ve taken what we needed and tried to make it look abandoned, boarded over the doors and windows and such. There are some fruit trees in back of the church and we have gardens. We save our seeds for the next planting season.”

“Our turn now,” Catherine said. “That crazy man claims to have research that will put an end to the zombies.”

“No, not to them, the bite and the infection,” Pierce said.

“We’re traveling, trusting this man, risking ourselves so maybe some kind of cure can be found.”

“Well God bless you sir,” Randy said and took his hand. The pastor glanced at Pierce’s arms before letting go.

“What did you do with the zombies? I hate that word,” Micah asked.

“The ones we killed, we buried. We try to leave them alone and hide when we see them. They walk right through town. We know how to keep quiet and hide. We also have a farm on the outskirts of town, used to have hay rides and corn mazes. Now we keep some of them corralled up there.” Randy turned to look at his church; more than half of the strangers were asleep.

“Can we stay here tonight?” Catherine asked. “We have medical supplies and Beverly over there, snoring away is our nurse. She can help if anyone is injured.”

“Our pews are taken, but there’s more than enough room on the floor.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Catherine smiled. Blankets were spread out on the floor and a child came round with a bucket of water and ladle to drink from.

“We catch the rain water in barrels and then boil it. Be nice to have a tall glass of cool sweet tea, when the night gets hot,” Randy said.

“How long have you folks been here?” Micah asked.

“Since the storm,” Randy answered. “Ten long years we’ve taken sanctuary here. When people panicked and fled, we trusted in God and stayed. People left in droves, in cars and boats. A few locked themselves away in their houses. Before the storm, we used to get our fair share of tourists, kept the town alive. No one comes anymore.”

“I’m going to get some of our supplies and bring them in. I’m still paranoid about not being able to get to them,” Frank said and nodded to Gerry and Sam to follow. They opened and closed the doors silently to not disturb anyone. Frank paused to look at Pierce who sat in the corner of the church and muttered to himself.

* * * * *

“What do you two think?” Frank said. He looked back at the church silhouetted in the moonlight. Frank leaned back over the hood of the Explorer and moaned when his back popped.  “If this was a tourist town, there might be some supplies on the ‘Main drag’ if there is one,” Frank said. “I’ll tell Catherine, see what she wants us to do. I’m sure no one in this town is going to say boo to us. We check any shops and look for anything interesting. They obviously have supplies.”

“So now we’re turning to thugs and looters?” Sam asked.

“We’ve killed our friends on this trip and there’s much worse we could be doing,” Frank added. “It’s obvious there’s not a department store here and I’m not saying take their last hammer. Besides what have we been doing for the past 10 years? Raiding stores and homes taking what we needed.”

“I don’t care for the idea,” Gerry said.

“These people seem genuine, feels more like theft,” Sam said.

“Undecided,” Gerry said. “I always figured my first real visit to the South, there’d be some grand feast, ham, grits, sweet potato pie.”

“In another world, Gerry,” Frank said. “Get the medical kit and the bag of guns. Make sure everything is locked up tight. Let’s bring one radio inside and put the other two in the Monte.” Gerry stopped them on the stairs of the church and spun around.

“What do you know about Ponce De’ Leon?”

“The explorer?” Sam asked.

“I don’t mean the car,” Gerry answered.

* * * * *

Smoke flitted in through the open church doors. Frank bolted up drawing his guns. He looked around a moment, not sure of where he was and realization set in. Something was cooking. He got up quiet as he could, careful not to wake the others, and went outside. A small campfire blazed in the churchyard.  The congregation was gathered around the fire. Randy waved at Frank as he descended the stairs.

“Hope you folks like bass; we caught some nice ones this morning.”

“Any hot meal is welcome, sir. Thank you,” Catherine said.

“No need to call me sir. I’m just a man,” Randy said.

“I’d like to be a man with a giant mug of coffee,” Frank smiled.

“That I can’t do. We had a couple coffee shops in town. Best pie and scones this side of Dixie. Do me a favor Frank?” Randy asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We have some folks here not happy anymore, I’d appreciate it, if when you come back from the Glades, you take them up north, if you have room.” Frank excused himself and took Catherine by the arm over to their cars. They talked in whispered while people busied themselves for the meal. The morning was cool and clear. The expression on Catherine’s face changed and she nodded and walked back to the fire.

“How’d you know we were from the north?” Beverly asked.

“You have a God awful accent,” Randy said then laughed.

* * * * *

They feasted on bass and root vegetables. Before the meal started, everyone took hands while Randy said grace; he prayed for his flock and for the strangers new to town and that they had a safe trip. When the meal was over, good-byes were said; Beverly and Micah helped to clean up.

Randy handed Frank a bundle of folded papers. “Take these, they’re old but I reckon you folks can use them more than I can.”

“I can’t take your maps Randy. Someday you and your people may decide to migrate or something,” Frank said looking at his shoes.

“I was born in this town and I buried my wife in this town. I have no intentions of leaving. There’s a nice patch of earth over in the graveyard with my name on it. Even when the dead are knocking at my church’s doors, I’ll be staying.” Randy held up his arm and pointed for emphasis. The doors to the church were crowded with people staring out of the safety of the hall.

“Be safe, Frank. Keep all them people safe too.”

“Thank you Randy. Look for us in a few days. God willing we’ll be back.” They shook hands and Frank climbed into the Jeep; he handed the maps to Gerry.

Randy turned his back on the vehicles leaving the town. He didn’t see them turn off for the main drag.

* * * * *

Catherine stayed in the Monte as their caravan slowed and stopped. Frank was out first. Like the hardware store, all of the store fronts were boarded over. He walked to the Explorer, opened the back, and took out the pry bar. Catherine waved him over.

“Only what we need.” Frank nodded. She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “We’re not doing this to bleed them dry.”

“I know.” Frank walked to the doorway of what he guessed was the hardware store. He slid his hand across the surface of the boards covering the doorway. He pulled on a board and the faux covering pulled outward, a door over a door. He turned and shrugged at Catherine. The door was locked. Frank looked back and took the pry bar to the door locks and he went in.

* * * * *

Darien was a nice little town. The people there were lead by a pastor named Randy. They told us Savannah was a death trap. If we had gone there, there’s no doubt we would have lost more people. The way our luck is running, everyone would be dead, but Pierce. We slept in a church and had fish for breakfast. Beverly spent some time with them, patching up some minor injuries, we gave them some stuff from the medical kit. Randy refused a gun. He said they were used to hiding and were good at it. We’re supposed to come back after we get out of Florida, I think we may have new people in our village. But really I don’t know why they’d want to come. It’s the same world, just different scenery.

* * * * *

“We’re here,” Frank said and pulled the jeep over to the road’s shoulder. “Pierce in the front.” He gripped the steering wheel tight, staring through the dirty glass of the windshield. A large sign read “Welcome to Florida.” “Gerry take back passenger. Micah, all things considered, son, please get in the Explorer.” Pierce climbed in the front over the side, practically over Gerry. Micah hopped over the tailgate and ran for the Explorer. Williams was in the front. Micah climbed into the Explorer’s back seat and was instantly assaulted by the stink of gas. He cracked the windows and leaned forward to see out the windshield, between the front seats.

“Does anyone besides me not feel confident in Pierce’s skills?” Sam asked looking to the others.