The
horrible scene shrinks in my rearview mirror.
“Would
you want your family to turn?” Frank pulls out a stick of gum and pops it into
his mouth.
“No!”
I yell at him. With every minute that passes in Vancouver I feel more and more
agitated. Seeing how bad it is this close to my home fills me with dread. Even
in Calvin’s mansion they were able to get in. Thinking about it makes my eyes
water up. I notice my grip on the steering wheel. My hands are trying to tear
the wheel off the column.
“We
should try and find a farm to live on,” Devon says as he pops the last of the
jerky in his mouth.
“A
farm?” I say over my shoulder at him. The thought of living on a farm has
always been a little fantasy of mine. I know that the reality of owning and
operating a farm is ridiculously hard work, but maybe with a group of people all
helping out it could be possible.
“A
farm,” I say again to myself. I know outside of Vancouver there are tons of
working farms. If we could get there maybe the owner would let us stay if we
helped out. The more I think about it the better I feel. “That’s a really good
idea.”
“You
know how to farm?” Frank chews his gum loudly.
“No,
but I could learn.”
“I
lived on one as a kid,” says Sara.
“Really?”
asks Devon.
“For
like a year, but I didn’t help or do any of the work. I was only six at the
time,” she finishes off the last of her energy bar.
“We
could find a book that would tell us what to do,” says Devon.
The
little street we are on is lined by beautiful homes with big front yards. There
are not too many people packing up and leaving these houses.
We
are so close. It is only a mile until my apartment. I can already feel my family’s
arms around me. I can’t wait to talk to Karen, and tell her about everything I
have been through today. I know that she will love the idea of living on a
farm.
“What’s
that?” Frank points out the windshield. I snap out of my daydream. There is a
roadblock up ahead. Men and women stand behind barricades armed with assault
rifles. There is about twenty of them out there and they are dressed in normal
street clothes. On the ground and street outside of the barricades lay piles of
dead bodies. I hope they are only gunning down infected.
“They
don’t look like police,” Frank gets his gun ready.
“Or
military,” says Sara. As we approach they aim their guns at us.
“We
should drive through them?” Devon ducks back behind Frank’s seat.
“They’d
cut us down in a heartbeat,” Frank grumbles. All of the intersections we pass
are labeled “Dead End.” There is no way around them and I am absolutely not
going back to the highway.
“Who
are they?” Devon hands Sara her machete from the floorboard.
“I
don’t think it’s going to help,” she takes it anyway. They are set up outside
the parking lot of a church. I stop the car. I stare them down and rev the
engine a few times. A woman steps up to the side of the car. I totally didn’t
see her. Blindsided like how the raptors take down their prey in
Jurassic
Park
. Clever girl.
“Don’t
try it buddy,” she says to me. She taps the drivers side window with the tip of
her gun. “Pull in,” she waves us into the lot. I am out of moves. There is no
choice. I pull into the parking lot. There are more people with guns at the
front of the church. Another twenty or so with rifles strapped to their
backs.
“Keep
moving!” A man yells at us and he points to a driveway beside the church. At
the front of the church there is a school bus unloading kids. The adults
quickly move them through the double doors and into the building.
“How
did they get so organized, so fast?” I ask. We loop around the back. There is
another group of people waiting, also armed with guns. They have ten cars
parked back here. The cars are set up so that they form a half circle around
the back of the building. They are using the cars as another form of blockade.
“Get
out!” a big man yells at us. He looks super pissed off and spits every time he
talks. “I said get out of the fucking car!” he has a toothpick tucked into the
corner of his mouth.
“We’re
so screwed! The’re gonna kill us!” Devon opens his door. I turn off the engine
and slowly climb out. We leave our spears behind. They take Frank’s guns and
his bag the second he opens his door. They grab my machete and knives I have
strapped to my hip. They do the same to Sara and Devon.
“What
do you want?” I ask.
“Shut
up and get inside,” the big man commands. He wears camo pants and a matching
t-shirt. He is over six three and all shoulders and arms.
“Who
are you people?” Frank glares at the big guy. He grabs Frank by the arm and
forces him up to the back door of the church.
“Follow
them,” says a smaller guy also dressed in camo. He has Frank’s bag slung over
his shoulder. I follow Frank inside. Sara holds onto the back of my jacket as
we enter the doorway. It reminds me, I do the same thing to my wife every time
we go to a haunted house. I make her lead and I hold onto her clothes. I really
hate haunted houses and I do not care if it makes me look unmanly.
The
place is a hive of people working. They carry up boxes from a set of stairs
that lead to the basement below. They fill newly constructed metal shelves with
canned food and medicine. There are even more guns lining the walls of the
room. They have medical cots set up with people that look like doctors and
nurses running the show. The man with Frank’s bag walks us down a hallway.
Another person follows the four of us and he has our blades. We are led to a
door at the end of the hall. He opens it and turns on the light. It is a small
room full of cleaning supplies, toilet paper and towels.
“Give
us your drivers license,” the man holds out his hand.
“What?”
“License,
now,” he snorts.
“Why
are you doing this?” Sara voice cracks. The man reaches for the gun strapped to
his leg. I pull out my wallet and he takes it from my hand.
“I’m
trying to get to my family,” I grit my teeth.
“Okay,”
says the man.
“Please!
Let us go! I have to get to them. I only live a mile away,” he shoves me into
the storage room.
“It
is not up to me,” he takes the rest of the wallets.
“Who’s
in charge?” Frank demands.
“Not
you,”
“How
long are you going to keep us?” Devon whimpers.
“That
is up to Brother Paul.”
“Who?”
I stand right in the doorway.
“He
is the man that will decide your fate,” he slams the door shut in my face.
The
fluorescent light in the storage room buzzes above us. It casts an eerie glow, making
us all look sickly and pale. There is no telling how long we are going to be in
here. After a few minutes it hits me. We stink. All the blood, sweat and tears
have made us a stinky bunch of people. I sweat a lot. Always have. In the
summer, at work, I would have to take paper towels and fold them in half then
jam them up into my armpits. I call them my “no-sweats” and they would soak up
most of the overflow. They would keep my dress shirts from pitting out. Nobody
wants to buy a laundry set from a guy with sweat stains from his ribs to his
elbows. It only happens on warm days and under my right arm pit mostly. Days
like today would give me the double stains and right now these puppies are
working overtime. They are cooking up a super stink and my three partners in
crime are suffering the worst of it. I pace back and forth which does not help
with the sweat factory I have going inside my shirt.
Devon
is propped up against a wall. He has not moved or looked up at us since we were
jammed in here. Sara nervously chomps on her fingernails. Every now and then
she will get a chunk torn off and spit it to the floor. From out side we hear shouts
and commands. Then someone will run up and down the hall. Frank has found a
cozy spot on the floor and he sits with his legs crossed in a meditation pose.
Out of the inside pocket of his jacket, he fishes out a pack of smokes and a
lighter.
“There
has to be a way out,” Sara spits another chunk to the floor.
“We’re
outmanned and outgunned. They’ve got us for as long as they want us,” Frank
slips a cigarette between his lips.
“Why
would they like want our licenses?” Devon keeps his eyes focused on the floor.
“I
don’t know,” I throw a hard kick at the door out of frustration. It is a thick
chunk of wood and well locked. It does nothing but make Sara jump.
“Sorry,”
I tell her. Frank fires up his smoke. He blows out an enormous cloud. Normally
I would hate someone smoking close to me. Cancer and everything, but what does
it matter now. The smoke smells better than we do.
“You
think they’re going to torture us?” Devon whispers.
“Why
would you say that? They’re church people!” Sara spits a bit of nail at him.
“People
in churches do stupid shit all the time,” Devon kicks it right back at her, “I
saw this movie once. It was filmed in the seventies in Brazil. This church in a
small town would give wine and women to the tourists as they passed through.
Once they got them to relax and let down their guard. The church people would
cook and eat them. It was so scary.” There is a burst of gunfire. We all
shutter.
“Damn
it, that story isn’t helping,” I resume pacing.
The
gunfire came from the front of the church. Maybe it is the infected. Maybe it is
a car that would not stop.
“We
should try and escape,” Devon aims it at me.
“How?!”
I stop pacing and face him.
“I
don’t know. You can think of something. You’re always thinking up how to get
out of things,” he folds his arms in a pout. They didn’t get Frank’s ankle gun and
I have my hammer in my backpack. I think Devon has an extra knife in his. A six
shot revolver, a hammer and a knife versus an army of assault rifles. Great. At
best we would take down the people that open the door. Then we would be
murderers. I am not a murderer. I don’t want to kill anyone. I didn’t want to
kill the guy in the Big 5. He pulled the trigger not me. My conscience is clear
with that guy. I don’t want an innocent person’s blood on my hands. I have
enough infected blood on them. I feel bad every time I kill an infected.
Here’s
my plan. We storm out of here stab, hammer and shoot the first couple of
people. Then what? We would not make it fifteen feet from the door. They would slaughter
us. We would be cut down in a hail of gunfire. Shot up in the backyard of a
church. Why do I have to think of something? It is someone else’s turn to come
up with a plan to escape death. My phone vibrates. I pull it out quickly. I am
so excited I almost drop it. It is my brother.
“Don?!”
I yell.
“Jim?
Can you hear me?”
“I
can hear you,” there is a long pause. “Don?” I ask.
“It
shows that you’re there but I can’t hear you. We’re safe. Get to Mom and Dad’s.
I love you bro. Get to Mom and Dad’s. See you there,” then he is gone. My folks
live outside of Vancouver on five acres. It is not a farm. There are only grass
fields around it. The house is large and surrounded by trees. It is a good
place to fall back on. It is not easy to find if you haven’t been there before.
I hang up the phone and dial my wife. It rings and rings. It goes to her voicemail.
“Karen!
I hope you can hear me! I love you and the girls! Please be safe! I’m almost
home! I love you baby!” I hang up my phone and slide it back into my pocket.
Tears spill down my cheeks.
“What
are your kids’ names again?” Frank is halfway done with his cigarette.
“Valerie
and Robin,” I choke a little on the words.
“How
old?”
“Valerie’s
five. She just started school and loves it. Robin is two. She’s a fiery
redhead. Her hair looks a lot like yours.” I point at Sara. When I think about
my kids even a little my heart wants to explode. My wife can take care of
herself. She can run and kill an infected if she has to. Kids do not
understand. They will only be scared. “What about you? Any kids?”
“I
had a boy,” Frank leaves it at that.
Someone
is at the door. Before it opens the lights go out and it is pitch black. I
fucking hate the dark. Even as an adult I have a night light in my bedroom. It
is not for the kids or my wife. It is for me. A second later the door opens and
they blind us with a powerful light. I can’t see anything.
“Turn
around and put your hands in the fucking air!” they command. Hands push us to
turn our backs to them. A black fabric sack is jammed down over my head. The
asshole hits the gash on my forehead and the pain cripples me. My hands are
pulled behind my back and zip tied. They drag me out of the storage room.
“What
do you want?!” I shout.
“Let
us go! Fuckers!” yells Sara.
The
bag on my head is tightly woven. I can’t see shit. They shove me down the
hallway. I can’t breathe. I have never been this afraid. None of the infected has
filled me with this much outright terror.
I
am forced to my knees. This is it. They are going to execute me. I am never
going to see my family again. I will never see another sunrise. My family won’t
even know what has happened to me. I will end up in a shallow grave with a
bullet to the skull. Maybe they will chop my head off and I will still turn.
Then I will be a severed head, still chomping my rotted teeth and sitting next
to my lifeless body in that grave forever. Fuck, I know how to depress myself.
Someone
in the room works quickly at a computer keyboard. They type wildly and pause
every now and then. A printer spits out sheet after sheet. Someone organizes a
handful of papers at a desk in front of us.
“Jim
Blackmore?” A powerful voice asks from behind the desk.
“Yeah!”
“Sara
Foster?” the voice questions.
“Yes,”
she whimpers.
“Frank
Ellwood?”
“Fuck
you!” Frank declares. Now that is how you sound tough. Frank is going to get us
killed, but he sounds grizzled.
“And
Devon McKay?” poor Devon lets out a cry and a snort.
“Where
are you all going?” asks the voice.
“Who
wants to know?” Frank spits the words from his mouth.
“I
am Brother Paul. I decide who stays and who goes. Now where are you going?” we
don’t answer. It’s a trick. Devon yelps. They are torturing him. He screams like
someone has pulled a fingernail out.
“My
apartment!”
Devon
lets out a soft cry. They have stopped hurting him.
“To
find your family?”
“Yes!”
“Karen,
Valerie and Robin?”
“How
did you...?”
“I
have your license and a working internet. I know everything. Now answer the
question!”
“Yes!
I’m trying to get back to my family!”
“Good.
Sara, where are you going?”
“I’m
with Jim, helping him find his family!”
“What
about your mother and father? Kristen and Ray?”
“They’re
dead!”
“How
did they die? I do not see a record of that. Was it today?” Brother Paul
shuffles some papers.
“Yes.
They were bitten,” she hyperventilates.
“I
am sorry for your loss. What were you arrested for a few years back?”
“Spray
painting a wall.”
“Not
just any wall, but the front of a church and your father worked there as a
preacher. Why are you following Jim?”
“He
saved me!”
“Did
he? From what?”
“I
was almost raped...and he saved me.”
“Jim,
you are a hero. Now Devon, where are you going?”
“With…Jim.”
“And
your parents? Travis and Susan? I see they live in West Linn.”
Devon
fights to form the words. “I don’t know what’s happened to them…I was at work.”
“You
work with Jim I see. Why did you stay? Why didn’t you go find them?”
“I
would have died. Jim saved me.”
“He
saved you too? Jim, you are a savior. Do you feel saved right now?” Devon
cries.
“Frank-”
Frank
cuts him off. “Dead son. Wife and brother eaten by freaks. Never arrested. Not
even a Goddamn parking ticket. Let’s get this shit over with.”
“So
hostile Mr. Ellwood? Did Jim save you too? Is there a theme here?” Frank doesn’t
say a word. “Please do not take The Lord’s name in vain. Not in his house and
not ever.”
“Fuck
you!”
“I
am asking you politely not to swear. Well, I will get right to it. One last
question. Are you good Christians?” It must be a trick. Why would he care? What
does it matter if we are good Christians? The world is falling apart and he
wants to tell us about Jesus. What are we supposed to say? I celebrate
Christmas but don’t go to church. Do I dare tell him the truth or what he wants
to hear?
“It
is not a trick question,” Brother Paul walks over to us. I can feel his
presence. He is only feet from us. A drink is poured. I can smell the alcohol.
“The
world is coming to an end. My flock and I have been preparing for this Day of Judgment.
We have spent years readying ourselves for the worst. It is only a matter of
time before we are ushered into the loving embrace of our Lord, but until that
day I must keep my people alive.”
He
is a good preacher. I will give him that. It is like listening to an incredible
salesman. Every word is perfectly timed and given the exact inflection needed
for maximum impact. Something trickles down my face and neck. It is difficult
to tell if it is blood or sweat. My forehead throbs with pain.
“What
I really want to know is, are you evildoers? It sounds silly, I know. Evildoers.
What I mean is, there will be no law enforcement after today. No one to police
the masses. No one to watch if you have committed a crime. Against man or God.
I do not want people running around Vancouver murdering every person they meet.”
A
gun cocks behind us. Devon and Sara let out soft whimpers. I am going to blow
this bag off my head I am breathing so hard.
“I
need to see my family again! Please! They need me!”
“I
have no doubt that you would do whatever it takes to protect them, but I will
also do whatever it takes to keep us safe.” He moves around the room and sips
his booze. “I am a busy man. So tell me, can I trust you to be good Christians?”
“YES!”
I shoot the word from my mouth.
“And
the rest of you?”
“YES!”
They yell.
“I
will only give you this one warning. If you cross me, I will make you and your
families suffer.” He moves back in front of us. He is face to face with me.
“Jim,
I know everything about you. I know where all of your family members live. I
trust you. I trust you to always do right. Know that I will hold you personally
responsible for your people,” he rests his hands on my shoulders. “God has told
me that you are good. He has whispered in my heart and revealed to me your true
colors. I know you are a good man. A good family man, just like me,” Brother
Paul rubs my shoulders and gives them a little pat. His hands linger on my
body. “Return their weapons and guns. Give them a radio. If you get settled and
need something, we broadcast on channels eleven and fourteen. We will need to
keep the car. Sorry, but good running vehicles like yours will be hard to find
over the next few weeks.” He lets go of my shoulders and another set grabs me
from behind and raises me to my feet. They force us back out of the room and
down a hall. The bustle of people working fills the air. We are back in the
room where they were unloading their supplies.