Chapter 42: Breaking Point

Chapter 42: Breaking Point

  Anne sits with her back against a warped wall covered in gaudy brown wallpaper. She is lost in a well of emotions. Hugging Belinda tightly to her chest as the girl sniffles. Brandon clutches his mother’s arm as they sit tightly packed in a room full of strangers. To her left Bianca Fullerton rocks back and forth. The woman chants “my baby” in a monotone chorus repeatedly. Her left eye is nearly swollen shut. Sitting at her side Dakota dozes all but ignored. Private Medina is perched in an old folding chair facing both women her back to the door. A few hours having passed since being locked up by the men of the church. They find themselves in the room on the opposite side of the church’s basement. Almost as soon as Ben and Sara had turned the corner heading into the Sin Preacher’s office. Several of the men from the church had barged in room. They seized the group’s weapons at gunpoint. The muscular older man they all called Colonel. Demanded Bianca surrender her now “fatherless” infant child. Jamal courageously came to Bianca’s defense. He was no match for the retired man of war. Colonel beat Jamal unconscious then ordered his minions to drag Jamal’s limp body out of the room. For what it was worth Bianca Fullerton resisted the maniacal man who demanded her baby. In one motion, he yanked the wailing baby from her mother’s out stretched arms. Grinning he dropped Bianca mid charge with a savage punch. The kind of sucker punch reserved for a bar room brawl. “Mrs. James ….” Medina speaks softly so as not to be heard over the undercurrent of background chatter buzzing about the room. “Mrs. James we have to do something.” Medina’s brown eyes fall upon the older woman. “Look it’s just us now and if we want to survive ladies we’re going to have to fight.” Anne meets Medina’s gaze her eyes narrowing. Anne’s eyes break away and probe the room around her. She sees several men of varying sizes and age. They sit scattered around the tightly packed room. The stench of unwashed humanity clogs the air around them. “We can’t do this alone Carlita.” Anne cautions the girl standing to her feet. “Mommy don’t go.” Belinda protests as her mother gently sets her down next to her brother. “I won’t honey trust me we need to help save daddy and everyone else.” Private Medina catches her by the arm. “Mrs. James the more people we talk to about escaping. The more likely we are to lose the element of surprise.” Anne wipes her tired eyes summoning up all the courage she can muster. “Mrs. James … Anne.” Carlita rises from the chair. Her first impulse to speak out quickly is overridden a surprised expression that cascades over her face. She feels a heavy familiar weight in her uniform pants leg pocket. Medina pats her pocket down like a kid searching for lost candy. The look on her face quickly flashes from excitement to day after Christmas disappointment. “Fuck.” She moans in exasperation. “I thought they forgot one of my weapons.” With that, Medina produces the handheld radio Anne’s father had given Ben. From the front of the cramped room, they can hear the jingle of keys muffled by the wooden door. Medina tosses the radio to Brandon. “Hide it lil man.”

 

  Medina creeps across the room as its other occupants draw back from the door. She crouches behind the door as she hears a key slide into the lock and turn. Private Medina steps up so as not to been seen through the gap between the door and its rusty hinges. She watches as a man walks in the room he is short and old with white hair his legs are so bowed its comical. Before the man, trailing him comes fully into view she swings upward connecting solidly with his jaw. As an afterthought, Private Medina delivers a solid kick to the old man’s back. He goes sprawling out across the dusty floor. She squares her shoulders fist up ready for the next person in line. Carlita is now face to battered face with Private Carson. She is less concerned with the half dozen men corralling the young bull of a soldier. The pistol parting the crowd floating in the grip of an unseen gunman is a bit more urgent of a matter “Move …” An all too familiar voice calls from the back of the packed staircase. The men part like the Red Sea as Colonel emerges from the darkened stairwell. Coming into the room, he casually steps over the man on the floor rubbing his chin. “Jesus Jon get up  ...” The lumbering man commands looking down. His gun aimed at the center of Carlita’s head. “And help Charlie up God knows he can’t get up on his own.” He says casting a dismissive glance at Charlie while rubbing his forehead. Medina is terrified watching the man knead the meat on his head with his mangled fingers. “I don’t know who I should hit you jackasses or her?” Colonel studies the young girl. “Stand down soldier.” He says lowering the pistol his eyes narrowing. “Aren’t any of you going to help her?” Anne screams beckoning the men around her to action. None of them moves some drop their heads in shame. “Hey were you with that big black guy and a female soldier?” A chunky Hispanic man calls out. “They paraded through here yesterday.” “Yes that was my husband.” Anne responds unsure of the man’s point. “I didn’t see any of you worrying about us. Not while you sat over there eating and enjoying yourselves.” The man stands defiantly rubbing his fingers though his thick bristly black facial hair. “You lost something …. Somebody lady is that it?” He says timidly looking around the room. “Well get in line what makes you so fucking special.” The man’s chest heaves up as he steadies himself. “I had to give up no to sacrifice my Abuela. That’s the price of life in this new age,” He says wiping a tear from his cheek. “Look outside see the alternative lady? Welcome to our hell.” Anne James is aware her legs are hinting at their impending failure. She steadies herself it is her turn to look down at the floor. Colonel looks about the room his smile spreading. Within seconds, his throws his head back in uproarious laughter. His underlings all join in filling the room with a sickening oily sound. Unlike the men in the room, Medina jumps at the chance. A swift kick to Colonel’s wrist sends his gun clattering to the floor. She swings for the man’s head only to have the blow blocked. The ruthless Colonel clamps down on her arm like a vise. He drives a calloused fist into Medina’s stomach. As the girl crumples, he hefts her up in an arc. Colonel takes two giant strides crossing the room. He slams Medina into the drywall above Brandon and Belinda’s heads. He turns away leaving her body embedded in the wall floating several feet off the floor. Colonel takes a second to rub his still aching side where Lockett had kicked him earlier. Carson bucks under the weight of the men holding him. “Careful boy I won’t go so easy on you.” Carson bites his lip in anger. “You’re a big man when it comes to fighting women.” Private Carson shouts angrily. Gravity takes hold of Medina tugging her from the cracking wall. She falls forward landing on the kids trailing dust and shards of plaster. Anne moves to her children. Colonel catches her by the arm. “Take a look bitch.” He whispers pulling her closely. “Understand what you’re up against.” He says, “Look at that gun on the floor.” Anne shoots a quick glance down at the pistol. “Let me see if one of you men is man enough to pick that gun. I’ll let you and yours go free.” He announces to the men around him seated on the floor. No man in the room even looks at the gun. Most of them actually attempt to appear as distracted as possible. “See that Mrs. James …..” Colonel shakes Anne to emphasize his words. “No one wants freedom anymore. They want protection and we give it to them with a healthy dose of God’s word.” Anne snatches herself away from her captor. “Say what you will Colonel.” Anne straightens looking Colonel in the face. “But there is nothing Godly going on in this false temple.” “Charlie pick up my damn gun.” Colonel barks his order. He turns to the crowd of men behind him. “Jon grab that trouble making heathen.” He points to Medina squirming on the floor. “The rest of you anybody no holding somebody grab a kid and the chick with the shiner.” Colonel pulls Anne roughly down a long dim hall lined with people on either side. Ahead of them is an open door. Without a word, he shoves Anne into the room. She lands painfully on her tender foot. Anne comes to rest on a small table similar to kind found in almost any kindergarten classroom. “Everybody get out now!” Colonel screams a vein rockets up the side of his neck pulsating as it goes. Women screech a few children whimper as people scatter from the room like vermin in the light. They run head long into the troop barreling in behind Colonel. He stares at the remaining people gathering their meager belongings before fleeing in terror. Men begin to drop bodies all around her. The group holding Carson does not release their hold on the young man. They wrestle him into the center of the room. Anne watches them go her attention focused on Carson. She does not see BC deposit Chip on the floor. “Chip honey ….” Anne cries crawling over to her son. BC stalks over to Chip placing a booted foot on the boy’s hand. “Not so tough without your wheelchair are ya boy?” He laughs his meaty face jiggling. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard anybody say hick.” Chip responds with a smile. BC presses his heavy foot down causing Chip to wince. “You leave my Chippy alone!” Belinda yells with all the force her little lungs can muster. She is on her feet moving around overturned chair. BC watches the child come at him in a huff. “Little girl…” BC begins to say grinning. Belinda’s tiny hand delivers a solid blow to his testicles. He topples backwards clutching his nuts. Belinda falls down into her brother’s arms tears in her light brown eyes. She examines her big brother’s hand. “Oh God I’m surrounded by idiots.” Colonel shouts in exasperation. “If I had to go into combat with you shit kickers and clod hoppers. I’d kill you myself.” He glares at the men holding Carson. He studies the boy as if he were a wild animal they were preparing to release back into its native habitat. Colonel storms over to Charlie tugging his pistol from the man’s waistband. “You will be locked in this room.” He tells the James Clan. “There will be two armed me posted outside the door all night.” Colonel sizes up the men around him. He sees two younger church members strapping husky young men in their mid-twenties. “You two boys have just been voluntold.” He motions to the pair. “Do you each have a weapon?” “Yes Colonel.” The taller of the two men answers producing a revolver from his back. His new partner hunches his shoulders. “We’ll get you a weapon son.” Colonel tells the other man he assigned to guard the room. “Listen up if this door knob so much as jiggles. One of these boys will come get me. Then I will toss one of you outside at sunset.” He cocks the slide back on the pistol. “Now test me if you want.” Colonel points the gun menacingly in Private Carson’s direction. “Listen up young buck.” He offers up eyeing the boy up and down sizing up the threat. “My people are going to let you go and we are going to exit this room.” He turns the gun down on the women and children on the floor. “If you move from that spot I’m going to empty my clip into you little family circle here understand?” Carson simply shakes his head reluctantly acknowledging his agreement. “Now BC get your ass up man and can we please manage to get out of here without another one of you. Either getting hit with a hammer, beat up by a cripple, knocked out by a woman, or kicked in the ballsack by a first grader?” BC gets up and scurries past Colonel a hand gingerly cupping his crotch. The big man backs out of the room pistol held high smiling. The door closes with a clap. The sound of a deadbolt lock deploying echoes across the tiny classroom. “Here’s a pistol.” They hear mumbled through the thin wooden door.

 

  The hours pass by quietly as the group settles into a general state of hopelessness. Chip and Private Carson told their tale of how the men had ambushed them. Carson explained that the men were acting on direct orders of The Sin Preacher. He even gleefully shares how Chip had fought back against injuring Silas Proctor. His face beams with the wide-eyed pride of a proud big brother. Anne puts on as brave of a face as she can. Her heart aches for Ben. She misses her husband and cannot imagine leading the family though this apocalyptic nightmare without him. Before they know it the beat up church speakers overhead burst to life. Anne cannot help the gut wrenching moan that escapes from her throat. Chip crawls over to his mother taking her in his arms. “Mom … Mom.” The handicapped teen pleads. Chip’s eyes begin welling up with sorrowful tears. Anne gives into her son’s unyielding hug. Benjamin James junior tugs his little brother and sister embrace. The Sin Preacher begins her nightly sermon. Unknown to the group gather below. The sermon tonight had a pair of very special guest. Everyone in the room that had come together over the last few days knows the sun has set. It was Anne’s turn to wail inconsolably. “Ben …” she cries out. Thirty minutes later sleep finally pulls Anne James from her heartbroken delirium.

 

   “What’s that?” Brandon shakes his mother awake in the middle of the night. Anne is groggy her eyes blurred and puffy from crying. “I heard something mom.” Brandon insist. “Me too.” Carson whispers before kneeling down next to the family on the floor. “Did it come from the door?” Anne inquires her voice is low but filled with alarm. Carson shakes his head “no” vigorously. More of the group about the room stir awake. Overhead The Sin Preacher prattles on her devout words flow forth in a torrent. “Was it thunder?” Brandon asks to no one in general. Carson holds up a finger to his lips to silence around him. “Carson …” Chip calls quietly. Without his chair, Chip has to salamander crawl over to Private Carson. “It came from back there.” He gestures with a gloved hand to the rear of the classroom. There is a set of canary yellow closet doors built into the wall. The doors have paintings of rainbows and caricatures of Jesus. The room and its décor would fit into almost any church basement in America. Carson nods towards Chip. Carson stands pointing down at Chip. “Are you with me bro?” He asks his eyes never leave the doors. “Yeah man I’m right behind you.” Chip motions for his family to retreat further back towards the door. “Carson you go high and I’ll go low” Comments Chip. Carson stops in his tracks looking down at Chip a smirk on his face. Chip holds up a hand he beckons Carson down to his level. “Look I don’t have my chair so I’m of little use bro.” “Bullshit …” Carson interrupts Chip’s pity party. “I got something for you though.” Chip says fishing through his pants pocket. He comes up with the pistol his father had given him. “Nobody thought to pat down the cripple kid I guess.” A wide smile grows on Chip’s face. He props himself up like a tripod aiming high at the closet door. “I don’t have my Lucky Mallet Carson but I got your back.” Chip brushes his sandy colored hair from his face.    

 

  The door slides open revealing a deep back void. Brother Gustavo appears from the inky blackness. The tall lanky man stands upright. Brother Gustavo’s eyes are appear to bug out almost completely from his head. They appear red and he looks exhausted. His neat black pompadour is now a tangled bird’s nest of hair. Cobwebs cling to his hair billowing in the breeze as he walks. His skin is so pale he looks ill. Gustavo’s pristine white uniform is rumpled and filthy. Private Carson braces himself in a boxer’s stance. Gustavo moves past him with nary a glance. Carson believes for the briefest that second the ice cream man is one of those “smart” zombies. If the man sees Chip on the floor nervously pointing the revolver up at him, he does not show it. He brushes past the handicapped teen knocking the gun from his grasp. “Forgive me I know it’s late.” He implores Brother Gustavo’s cool easy demeanor is now a distant memory. “Mrs. James can I please have a word with you?” He asks his voice gravely whisper. Anne cannot hide the fact that she clearly taken aback briefly scanning the room. “Uh Brother Gustavo please I have had a hard day.” Anne gives back a slight hint of frustration in her voice. “Your pastor took my husband and Sara away.” Brother Gustavo nods his head in understanding. “I know Ma’am … I know.”  Brother Gustavo’s head hangs so long his chin touches his chest. He falls to his knees before Anne startling her and the children. “Please …. Please Mrs. James.” He begins to beg desperately. His steeples his long fingers together tears welling up in his eyes. “I can help you Mrs. James please.” He reaches for her hands trembling. “If you help me I will try to get you and your people out of here.” Anne cannot help herself she takes the man’s unsteady hands in hers. “OK … ok…” She murmurs looking back at the door. A loud crack of thunder causes the children to jump. She wonders about the two guards on the other side. “Will you help us escape and help me find my husband and Sara?” “Yes …” He whines leaning forward placing his head on her hands. “But you must help me first Mrs. James please.” Brother Gustavo sobs heavily once. “Ok  ... ok alright. What do you need Brother Gustavo?” He looks up from her hand a faint smile in his wet tired eyes. He awkwardly scoots on his knees like a child closer to Anne. “Please tell me who said ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”

 

 Anne’s face contorts in confusion. The feeling grows two fold as she peers back at her son. A thin impish smile crosses Chip’s lips. “I … don’t understand Brother Gustavo.” She answers breathlessly. “Who said it!” he barks tightening his grip on Anne’s hand. “You’re hurting me.” Anne struggles to break free. Chip and Carson close in from behind Gustavo. “You’re boy …..” Gustavo spins releasing Anne’s hand. He points an accusatory finger at Chip that seems to freeze him in place. “He told me that it was not in the Bible and that Benjamin Franklin said it.” Anne slowly stands feeling a dull ache in her foot. “Well he was right Brother Gustavo Benjamin Franklin did say that and it’s not in the bible.” Anne intentionally steps away from the children and Bianca Fullerton. She is back peddling towards Chip and Carson. Brother Gustavo covers his face with his hands. Soon the room fills with the soft unmistakable sounds of Brother Gustavo weeping. Anne stops and reverses direction she moves for Brother Gustavo. Chip tugs on her legs Anne looks down to see her son shaking his head boldly. She gently pulls her leg from her son kneeling down. “He’s hurting honey.” Anne takes her son’s chin. “We need him as much as he needs us.” Anne kisses Chip’s forehead causing him to blush furiously. “Brother … Gustavo.” Anne calls to the man as he sits prostrate on the floor. “Why does what Ben Franklin said trouble you so.” Anne comes to his side placing a caring arm around his shoulder. “It’s not what he said.” Brother Gustavo says through sniffles. “It is what it means to me Mrs. James.” Brother Gustavo speaks as he slowly pulls hands away from his face. He looks into Anne’s eyes. “I know that what you say is right. If you take it with everything I’ve seen and what I know to be true.” He absently wipes the back of his hand across his nose. “I have been used, I am still a sinner, and just as damaged as I ever was.” It slowly dawns on Anne what Brother Gustavo is saying. “Look Gustavo I don’t know what The Sin Preacher promised you but she can’t make you whole.” More thunder crackles from the wailing storm shaking the church. Anne leans in close. “It’s time for you to be your own man. You have to stop looking for a man or in your case a woman to provide you all the answers.” Gustavo uses his sleeves to dry his eyes like a kid. “Romans Chapter three verse twenty three.” Brother Gustavo pushes his lanky body off the floor. “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” He runs his fingers through his hair. Brother Gustavo stands shivering peering up at the celling. “Gustavo you need to do more than quote the Bible.” Anne cautions Gustavo. “Do you understand what that means?” She inquires. “Yes Mrs. James I do.” He brushes his uniform attempting in vain to restore it. “What about my husband and Sara Brother Gustavo?” Anne guides the conversation by to her direct need. “Can you help them too?” “No Mrs. James the Sin Preacher cast them both out tonight.” He replies staring blankly ahead.

 

    “Daddy …. Daddy … Daddy!” Belinda cries out. Chip “shushes” his sister. Anne cannot believe what she has heard. “Hey shut the hell up in there!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door. Brother Gustavo seems startled by at sound of the man’s voice. In two huge steps, he leaps behind a tattered grey couch. The door opens “Keep quite in here or else.” One of the men orders peeking his head into the room. “She had a nightmare.” Chip fumbles rocking his baby sister in his lap. He keeps his gloved hand positioned near B’s mouth just in case. “Well keep her quite or else I’m going to get Colonel.” He chuckles nudging his partner. As the door closes, no one in the group speaks. They stand frozen in place statuesque each digesting the news Brother Gustavo has deliver. Anne races over to the man behind couch. “Gustavo please ...” She grabs his arm. “It is my turn now to beg you.” Anne does not attempt to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. “Can you go out and save my husband and Sara?” He swallows hard his mouth opens but no words come out. Sound finally spill from his lips. “No Mrs. James I can’t.” He pats Anne’s hand on his arm. “It would risk all of our lives.” He holds up a finger to silence Anne. “Listen Mrs. James …. Listen everyone.” He prods Anne back among her children. “There are dozens of those smart zombie things in the church rectory above you. She preaches to them every night and leaves a recording playing during the day time.” The news comes down like a hammer to the survivors. “She …. The Sin Preacher I mean had me corral a lot them but only the smart ones. She wants to use them to help her take over an underground military base near here.” “Wait they listen to her.” Carson blurts. “Yes they do for the time being anyway.” Gustavo answers. “In the morning they stand around in the pews. We keep them locked in. At night she sets them free to hunt and bring more of their kind back.” Gustavo fidgets in place. His minds tells him these people will grow to hate him too. After all he has done in his life following misguided prophets from one town to the next before settling here. “She has a deal with the ‘Unclean’ as she calls them.” He sighs “We protect them during the day and they leave us be at night.” He stares at the speakers on the wall as if he can see through it. “Their numbers grow nightly she has an army that out numbers us two time over. We need to leave this place. This flock and their shepherd have made a literal deal with the devil.” “Do they know?” Anne stammers. “The other people in here, the members of her church, her flock.” Gustavo shakes his head. “No they don’t know. The only people who know the truth are she and I. Not even her precious Colonel is aware of her true nature.” Brother Gustavo heads back into the closet. His chest puffed out with confidence far from the man he was when he entered. He disappears closing the door behind himself like a cheap magician. In his mind, he prays for once in his life with his own words. Right now, he wants to save that woman’s baby and the James family that is all. Thunder shakes the walls of The First New Faith Baptist church from the angry sky outside.

 

 

 

     So it appears as though Brother Gustavo's faith in the Sin Preacher has been shaken. Will he be able to help the remaining survivors escape. Can he save baby Cammy for the gruesome fate that awaits her?

 

   I hope to see you all back her the week of February 2nd for Chapter 43 of The Living Dark to answer those questions and more. 

 

 

 

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Sincerely:

 

 

The Living Dark

 

Chapter 41: Nightlife

Chapter 41: Nightlife

 

  Humidity creeps into the cool night air. Inside the old well-kept wood paneled station wagon. There is an odd assortment of beings this night. The battered station wagon looks suspiciously like the one from those old National Lampoon’s movies. It casually navigates the muddy back roads of this rural area. Distant claps of thunder interrupt the conversation between two of the car’s occupants. As two others lay curled in the fetal position on the floor behind the front seats. “Lawson ….” Hobart questions his fellow zombie from the passenger seat. Lawson who is focused on driving cuts his eyes in his passenger’s general direction. “What Hobart?” The one time death row inmate turned sentient walking corpse responds. His voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. “It’s been a while since I drove and I’m tryin’ to concentrate dumbass.” He tells the dead man in the grimy prison guard uniform. Hobart himself is lost picking at the bone fragments around his shattered eye socket. “Bro just want to know why you trust that nutty ass Sin Preacher chick so much.” Lawson takes his attention from the road as plump raindrops begin to pelt the car. He stares down Hobart his cloudy orange eyes narrowing into slits. “Nah no disrespect Ian ….” Hobart holds his hands up in an effort to indicate his submission. “Just saying man you ran the biggest prison in the state from death row.” Hobart fumbles over his words. “Whatever you wanted you got every guard, every inmate was terrified of you. Now you’ve signed on with that robed bitch. It’s like to you her word as law.” The sound of Lawson’s knuckles cracking as he grips the steering reverberate about the car. “First off motherfucker …” Lawson snarls through gritted teeth. “Do I have to remind you who the fuck you are talking to?” Lawson’s right hand snakes out. He stabs two fingers into the black gooey hole where Hobart’s left eye had once been. Lawson pulls the dead guard to him like he’s grabbing an unruly fish by the gills. “Law … Lawson.” Hobart cries flailing around the front seat of the car. Slamming on the car’s brakes Lawson causes the vehicle to slide sideways on the rain soaked muddy road. Ian Lawson yanks Hobart’s face as close as he can to his own. For a brief moment the only sound in the car is rain drumming off metal. Ian the undead serial killer takes the time to deviously wiggle his fingers in to slimy goo inside Hobart’s skull. This odd sensation brings renewed protest from Hobart. “Bro …. Bro please.” “Shut up bitch!” Lawson screams out. “Remember Hobart I aint forgotten I’m a damn zombie because of yo stupid ass boy. You might be dead punk but I can still make you hurt.” The killer exercises complete control over Hobart. He slaps Hobart’s head viciously off the dashboard twice before slowly withdrawing his fingers from Hobart’s eye socket. “You just one eye away from being blind bitch!” Lawson points with the same two fingers that he’d seized the man’s diseased head with. A deep red mixture of fluids fly from their tips as he points. “Do I make myself clear boy?” Lawson asks Hobart who has drawn himself back against the window like a frightened child. “Yeah ….. Yeah bro.” Hobart’s hands tremble as they nervously make their way up to the hole in his face. “Let’s get one thing straight boy. That bitch says she can get us into a military base full of living warm human meat. When she done served her purpose just like you. I’ll get rid of you both and anybody else who tries to control me.” Hobart swallows hard. His dry sickly colored tongue literally sticking in his throat. “Hey …. Man I ... I’m with you bro. You and me Lawson we a team bro…… a team.” Hobart shouts. Ian shakes his head emitting an audible chuckle. “I got a prison guard for a bitch.” The smirk fades from his face as he cranes his head forward. Lawson peers from the car’s windshield at the sky.

 

    Rain was pouring down trying in vain to cleanse the now polluted planet. Ian’s mood darkened to match the atmosphere outside. He’d been imprisoned so long he’d forgotten how beautiful the sky was. Now these cursed clouds obscured his vision of the stunning ribbons of orange light that cascaded across the night sky. “Let’s do this.” Lawson announces. “Come on lil piggies.” Lawson roars stepping out of the car into the downpour. He leaves his door open and the car running. Lawson drags Ben roughly from the back seat dropping him in the cool wet muck. He looks down at the naked black man whose hands are tied at the wrist. “I got the bitch Lawson!” Hobart calls over the rain and thunder. On the other side of the station wagon Hobart takes his sweet time pulling Private Lockett from the car. He makes sure his cold clammy hands linger on her exposed breast. He pulls the young soldier by her bound wrist like an ornery pack mule. Sara is dumped in the mud next to Ben. Hobart casually steps backwards behind Lawson his job done. Rain falls in sheets so dense it’s hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. “Now meat ….” Lawson addresses the pair of humans on the ground at his feet. “Dead or alive my word is my bond.” He wipes the rivulets of rain water from his face. “So I won’t kill your asses this time but the next time I see you piglets.” Lawson advances slowly squatting his booted feet sinking in to the thick mud. “I will tear you apart with my teeth. Take heart though yo friends and shit back at that church.” Lawson’s lips pull back into a sinister sneer. “I assure you they are going to die by my hands while pleading for God take them.” He looks back a Hobart. The dead man is staring up letting the rain pool in hole in his face. Lawson clears his throat standing up. “Huh?!” Lawson snaps back. “Uh yeah motherfuckers y’all is dead!” He utters comically as Lawson brushes past Hobart paying him no mind. “Get in the car you fucking moron.” Lawson says shaking his head in disgust. Hobart zips off around the car to the passenger side afraid of displeasing Ian. Lawson stops leaning on the open door. Without warning he leans into the car pounding his fist down on the steering wheel. The horn blares out cutting through the symphony of rain and thunder. “Wooooooo! Woooooooooooo! Cooooooooome and geeeeeeeeetttt it!” Lawson hoots and hollers into the night. He laughs like the maniac as Hobart ever the follower joins in. “Human Sushi!” Hobart adds drumming on the car’s roof. The horn falls silent and all that’s left is the sound of pouring rain.

 

 

  Ben gets up to his knees then he stands upright. Leaning down taking Sara’s arm he never takes his eyes off their captors. “Get up now!” He tells the girl tugging at her by the arms. “Sara … Sara there’s a path over there come on!” He tries to keep his voice low so the ghouls won’t hear him. “Hey piggies have you ever heard of fast food?” Lawson shouts cupping his hands over his mouth pointing into the darkness. “Well y’all best be faster food.” Ben turns back looking over his shoulder. He’s distracted by the odd sensation of mud squishing between his toes. Ben watches the darkness in the distance. His vision is obscured by the driving rain. There he sees them where there was nothing before a pair of orange dots floating in the distance. A dazzling bolt of lightning illuminates the area. Ben catches a glimpse of a figure moving their way. He’s frozen in place the mud around his ankles now feels like cement. Instinctively he pulls Sara close to him. He does so in the same manner strangers seated next to each other on a plane. Holding hands as they plummet towards the ground seeking a few precious seconds of comfort. He begins to back pedal when he’s greeted another flash from the sky. Where the lone shadowy figure had once been there were now dozens. Ghostly eyes hover about the landscape menacingly. The glowing orange eyes reflect each jagged bolt of lightning. Ben can’t stop a shiver from running up his back. The eyes appear to float adrift in a sea of black riding an unseen current their way. They all look as if to be headed to where Ben and Sara now stand. More lightning there are now dozens of forms coming through the darkness. Glowing eyes dot the night from as far back as they can see. “Sara we gotta go.” Ben yanks Sara along as he passes the car cautiously. He sees their one time abductors grinning back at them. Ben feels paved asphalt under his feet as he and Sara take off at a dead sprint down a scenic river bike path. “Over here!” Ben hears someone scream from behind them as the rain drowns out the voices. He can only hear thunder and rain in addition to the sounds of their muddy feet slapping the ground. “Stay close Sara.” Ben tells Sara looking over his shoulder. He goes to work on the restraints with his teeth. Ben gets the rope’s knot to loosen and starts to wiggle his beefy hands free. “Ben I can’t get mine …” Sara says in a panic. “I’ll get yours when we get a chance to hide.” Ben squints through the rain driving before him. He sees a black shape floating in the air up ahead of them. “They are coming for us Ben I can hear shouts.” Sara wails as the rain washes the mud from her face into her mouth. “Don’t stop Sara we can use the rain for cover. Nothing’s gonna stop me from getting back to my family.” Ben’s emotional words come from his heart but his physical heart feels like it’s ready to implode inside his chest. He doesn’t stop reaching back taking hold of Sara’s bound wrist. They run on together each one occasionally glancing over their shoulder searching the shadows for their pursuers. Sara is slowly pulling ahead of Ben fueled by a steady flow of terror and adrenaline.

 

  “Hey Lawson why the fuck we still here?” Hobart calls out over the thick grey sheets of rain. He leans on the passenger side of the station wagon waiting for his answer. “I figure we are do for some guest.” Lawson squints his dead eyes peering at the forms emerging from the shroud of rain. A dazzling bolt of lightning illuminates the area before them. Emerging from the downpour is a teaming mass of the undead. Rotters sprint into the picture driven by hunger for live human flesh. Behind them Trotters meander about on unsure footing. The less coordinated dull zombies fall about in the thick muddy farm fields around them. Lawson realizes the snarling cadavers vaulting from the cloak of water aren’t stopping. Their dead eyes can’t discern warm blooded bodies from the putrid decaying mobile corpses of their kin. Lawson is aware his brethren are hunting based on the shape of their prey. “Shit.” Lawson sighs as the heavy wet footsteps beat nearer to him. The rage in the howls of the zombie nearest to him brings out his own inner demons. The first cold body to jump him is a tall lean form shaped like a man. It lunges forward just as Lawson steps gracefully to the side. “You motherfuckers really need to learn to control y’all selves.” He barks catching the running corpse by the scruff of his neck. Lawson whirls around with the corpse in hand using its own momentum to his advantage. He propels the dead man’s head into the car’s rear passenger door. There is a loud crack like a tree branch snapping. The zombie goes limp in his grip in the same motion Ian Lawson pirouettes to face the next corpse. He lashes out in a blur propelling his calloused fist into the screaming woman’s face. Her head whips back as he catches her by her filthy blouse. Lawson takes the zombie to the ground dragging her over to the open car door. Lawson holds the flailing zombie with his right hand like a snake handler. Lawson uses his right hand to grasp the still open car door. He begins to slam the shrieking zombie’s head between the door and the frame. The blows from the door come in rapid succession as Lawson’s rage reaches a volcanic boiling point. “You ……” He screams out slamming the door over and over in a blur. “Need to …..” Lawson pauses calmly. Looking over at Hobart who is standing with his fetid mouth wide open catching rain. “Control yo’selves!” The final vicious blow from the door crushes the zombie’s head. Lawson looks down watching the decaying woman’s headless body twitch about in the mud. Lawson releases the door turning about slowly. He walks towards the gathering horde of zombies.

 

  The dead can see now that he is one of them. “We just let loose a couple naked darkies.” Lawson looks at the zombies gathered around him. He points through the veil of rain down the pathway where Sara and Ben had disappeared. “What do you mean you idiot?” A fidgety woman shouts angrily pushing her way through the crowd. “Why in the fuck wouldn’t you chase them down yourselves? You two pretty boys in the habit of sharing your food?” She mocks stepping up into Ian’s face. “Other than that prison jumpsuit what makes you any different from us?” She says challenging the killer. Lawson takes his time looking the ghoul up and down. His eyes linger on the curves of her breast underneath her blood caked t-shirt. A rotter slowly shuffles between them with his dull cloudy eyes staring down the bike path. The zombies moan causes the others like him to ring their vocal dinner bell. The mindless walking corpses ignore the infected casually fighting amongst themselves. They sense the warmth through the rain left by the fleeing humans. “Where the hell all these dummies goin’?” Hobart asks over the top of the car. “They can sense warmth from those two we turned loose I bet.” Ian chuckles. The rest of you festering fuckers are too smart for yo own good.” Ian Lawson blurts. Those dumb rotten sacks of maggot food go on base instinct. I suggest you folks beat them to dinner cause they tend to make a mess of things when they get there first.” A few of the sentient zombies look around at each other. “Fuck that!” A short bald man dressed like a high school gym teacher spits as he turns to run. He opens the proverbial flood gates as wailing zombies follow him. They plow head long into the slow moving pack of zombies trampling them under feet. Bones are broken in a collision of the undead. Some Rotters find themselves pushed by frantic undead hands into the slow moving river besides the bike path. “Get in the car Hobart.” Lawson commands lowering himself back into the idling vehicle. “You didn’t answer my questions asshole.” A woman’s raspy voice barks from the backseat. Lawson turns about in the driver’s seat to face the woman as she slams her door shut. Here in the cabin of the dimly lit car he can see the flesh torn from the back of her neck. The bones visible there appear to be an impossible shade of white to his foggy eyes. “What makes me different you ask?” Lawson says. In the blink of an eye his hand is around her throat. Yet she doesn’t flinch an evil smile coming to roost on her face. “What makes me different bitch is that I killed before all this …. Before death was fashionable.” His grip tightens fingers burrowing into the dead woman’s neck. Hobart watches the scene unfold with all the glee of a child watching his idol sign an autograph. “Unlike you … you dead rotten piece of shit.” He whispers pulling the woman’s face up to his. “Dead or alive I can control my urges to kill.” Lawson shoves the ghoul back into her seat. She bounces up and down clapping “We’re gonna have so much fun boys!” Lawson throws the car into gear pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The car fishtails through the muck as Ian heads back to the church.

 

 

   Ben’s age was catching up with him. He was behind Sara and even with her hands bound she was widening the gap between them. Her bare feet slap the paved blacktop of the bike path rhythmically. Then she vanishes into the dark rainy night. From behind them they hear their hunters. Ben wheezes struggling to keep his footing. Suddenly the rain is gone replace by steady streams of dripping water. Ben spins around to find Sara looking up. Her index finger pressed to her lips to silence Ben. “We have to get up there now.” Ben looks up to see they are standing under a rusty black railroad trestle. Ben scans the length of the old structure as it crosses over the river into the darkness. The train tacks only serve to slow the cloud burst spilling from the heavens. “Ben we have to get up there. It’s our only hope we can’t out run these things.” Sara taps Ben’s shoulder he subconsciously notices her smooth wet naked body for the first time. “Hey can we focus here Mr. James.” She snaps at him. “My tits have been out all evening and it doesn’t look like I’ll be covering them anytime soon.” She glances back the way they’d come. Ben feels flushed like a school boy. He realizes the only thing keeping the blush from showing on his cheeks is the pigment in his skin. Sara squats with her bound hands out motioning for Ben to step up. “Mr. James hurry the hell up.” She yelps startling Ben into action. The trestle is only a few feet above their heads. Ben braces himself placing a meaty foot into Sara’s palms. “On ‘go’.” Sara Lockett instructs Ben. “Oh and Mr. James please try and keep your balls outta my face on your way up.” Ben feels a new rush of warmth bubbling up his neck into his cheeks. “I uh ah …” Is all he can manage stammering. “Go.” Sara orders pushing upwards with her hands interlocked as Ben stretches out above her. His fingers clasp the cold metal and Ben pulls his girth upwards. He struggles to finagle his girth up into the narrow opening on the trestle’s bottom. The cackling dead draw closer to their quarry. Ben braces himself between the steel sides of the trestle. “Gimme your hands Sara quick.” Ben calls out thrusting his hand down towards the female soldier. With his body braced looking down Ben tugs Sara up with ease. He grunts softly Sara takes a hold of the side of the rusty metal next to him. She joins Ben pressed against the side of the railroad bridge. Seconds later zombies’ race into view below them. The pair cling to each other breathlessly just out of sight of the living dead below them. “They lied to us played us for fools!” The chubby gym teacher growls pacing back and forth. “Bastards ….” A dead man missing both his arms next to him scowls. Soon they are joined by a throng of enraged zombies. Ben and Sara watch the crowd growing mere feet below them. An ill-timed bolt of lightning lights the surreal scene. “Wait did you see that?” The armless corpse asks. “See what?!” the gym teacher shouts. “Up there I thought I saw something.” The armless zombies attempts to direct the group’s attention up to the trestle. “Up there you jackasses.” He cocks his chin up. In the distance the sound of something falling into the cold black water of the river breaks the stalemate. “They’re in the water …..” the gym teacher shouts running off. “We’rrrrrrrreeeee coming you fuckers.” The dead man laughs. Like festering lemming the remaining zombies follow him. Except for the armless man he stands underneath the bridge squinting upwards through the dripping rain and his cloudy eyes. Ben is aware of Sara’s warmth pressed against him. He doesn’t know how long he can hold his breath. Sara squeezes his hand. The dead man loses interest he takes off after his pack.

 

  “Thank God.” Sara whispers in Ben’s ear. “Alright let’s move this way.” Ben states they begin to make their way down the iron frame of the trestle. Soon they find themselves out over the shallow icy water of the river. “Where does this thing go Mr. James?” Sara murmurs. “I don’t know …. The other side of the river I guess.” Ben responds as they move hand over hand balancing on a thin ledge of dusty steel. Ben can see the river bank on the opposite side. “We crawl up then stay low.” Ben tells Sara over his shoulder. “Ok I say we hunker down til morning.” Sara responds. Soon they come to the end of the trestle Ben holds his hand up as a signal. Sara stops as he pokes his head up between the old battered railroad ties like a frightened prairie dog. “Let’s go.” He murmurs ducking back under the trestle. Ben groans as he wiggles his burly frame up onto the railroad tracks. Once more he reaches down to give Sara a hand up. From their blind side Ben vanishes taken off his feet by a shadow. Someone pounces yelling “Gotcha ….” Ben’s blindsided by a shadow. Sara is stunned as Ben and the shapeless form tumble down an embankment into a drainage culvert. They hit the water with a splash. Private Lockett gnaws at the rope cinched painfully around her wrist. She feels the rope loosening as she bites like a crazed animal. Down in the drainage ditch she can see the oddly shaped figure straddling Ben. The murky runoff water is only about two feet deep. “Oh God!’ Sarah exclaims. She can see the figure sitting atop an apparently dazed Ben. It was the armless zombie who’d lingered behind after the others. Finally she frees her hands dropping the rope at her feet. Sara scans the area in a panic she grabs the only thing she can a large brick. Sara leaps down the slope towards the bodies thrashing in the river runoff. “So those assholes weren’t …..” The zombie atop Benjamin James never finishes his thought. Sara slaloms on her bare feet down the waterlogged grassy embankment. With a grunt she smashes the brick into the dead man’s skull with both hands. Bones crunch like breaking china as the zombie pitches forward into the water. “Over here!!” A voice calls from beyond the curtain of rain. “Come on Ben we gotta move.” Sarah whispers in a harsh hushed tone. She directs her large companion to a drain pipe two feet wide running under the road above them. Ben moves slowly climbing up and in the chrome opening. “Here ….” Sara hands him her lethal brick. “You watch that end.” Sara points through the trash filled drainpipe. Ben can see light at the pipe’s other end. “Ok …” He mumbles. Sara reaches down in the muck finding a jagged chunk of concrete. She leaves the crumpled zombie behind crawling into the pipe staring at Ben’s back. She turns the opposite way as they squat back to back. “You and me Mr. James.” Sara swallows hard water running down her face. “Please …” Ben huffs quietly through gasps of air. “Call me Ben … Sara after all we’ve seen each other naked. “Shhhh.” Sara hushes Ben. “I heard a splashes from over this way.” A distant voice calls from above them through the softening rainfall. “Down there it’s that armless fuck.” Another person laughs. Sara thinks the voice belongs to the fat zombie from across the river. “Bet he fell his stupid ass down that slope and split his head open.” The fat man laughs at the body floating just beyond arm’s reach of Sara. Soon the concerto of laughter above them drowns out the distant thunder. “Let’s go …..” Chubby the zombie says. “Those assholes lied to us. Besides I think I saw some people a few miles down the road this morning times a’ wasting it’ll be daylight soon.” For the first time since they had been captured Sara thought “It’s quite.” “Sara …” Ben wheezes his teeth chattering. “We aren’t alone in here kid.”   

 

 

 

  Well finally The Living Dark is back I am glad to say! So much has gotten in the way of Chapter 41 but it is here now and I hope it was worth the wait.

 

 

   Looks like Sara and Ben have found themselves in a bad place. By bad place I mean butt ass naked and on the run from zombies. Meanwhile Lawson and Hobart head back  to the church and their keeper The Sin Preacher.

 

 

Hope to see you all back the week of January 5th for Chapter 42. Enjoy your Christmas and New Years! See you all in 2014!

 

 

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The Living Dark

 

 

Chapter 40: The Congregation

Chapter 40: The Congregation

  He feels his head spinning as if he’d spent the day drinking then hopped on a Tilt a Whirl. Ben is so woozy that the world before his eyes appears as a shapeless blob of white. His head flops about on his shoulders like he’s an infant. His mind cleared slowly so he focuses on the one clear memory drifting among the mental fog in his head. The Sin Preacher his mind meandered she had threatened him. The woman had revealed her true colors by telling him she “wanted Jamal and baby Cammy as payment or something equally as heinous.” Ben’s stomach reacted bitterly to the vertigo seizing his senses. He fights to clear his mind he needed to find his people and get the hell out of First New Faith. Ben pulled himself together staring at the blinding white light before him. He sees the silhouette of an angel floating in the midst of a fiery ring of light shining through an amber colored stained glass window. “Come on Ben.” The man prods himself mentally to get going. Gravity pulls his head to the left causing Ben to struggle to hold his head up. The blurry outline of a man appears to his left. Ben ignores the figure he instead puts all his efforts into standing up. His hands feel heavy his arms moves as if he’s swimming in tree sap. Indecipherable words filter into his ears as background noise. It drifts up sounding like a crowded train station around him. Ben stands to his feet by clamping down on the chair in front of him. He sways in place fighting the effects of the blow to the back of his head that had rendered him unconscious. He felt as if it had reset his brain nothing moved at the correct speed. Ben had that sensation of being in a dream trying to move while being held back. His knees buckle painfully slamming into the back of the wooden bench he clung to for support. He barely manages to remain standing glancing down at his hands. What he sees puzzles him his hands are clasped together as if he is praying. He must be still suffering from being knocked out. He believes his hands are bound at the wrist.

 

   Ben casts a drunken sideways gaze at the man standing to his left. They are eye level with the man being slightly taller than Ben. With all the background conversations and mumbling going on Ben can’t make out the man’s words. He sees the lean gaunt fellow dressed in stained bright orange clothing. He stares at the man they catch each other’s eye Ben’s head tilts to the side similar to a confused dog. Ben shakes his head vigorously back and forth attempting to snap himself back to reality. The man’s orange jumpsuit is filthy with deep crimson black stains covering him from head to toe. What perplexes Ben the most is the man’s eyes they seem diseased and dull with a slight shiny hint of orange. Ben’s subconscious begins to scream at him from the foggy haze of his mind. He can’t make out the voice which seems to call to him from down a long dark hallway. He looks the man up and down leaning in to get a closer look. He can see inside the man’s mouth. His crooked yellowed have tatters of something caught in them. “Must have ... just eaten.” Ben thinks leaning in to examine the red sauce coating his new found friend’s face. The voice in his head grows louder but can only hear snippets of the words it screams at him. In his dream like stupor Ben becomes painfully aware of a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. He is literally starving without thinking he raises his hands to the man’s face as they both rock in place. The man turns his mouth hanging slack as he playfully nips at Ben’s finger like a puppy. He misses providing Ben the opportunity to jab his finger at the man’s cheek. Ben drags his thick index finger through the stain on the man’s face narrowly avoiding his wild blond facial hair. The man’s skin is cold and clammy. His skin feels rough like old wet leather. Ben’s finger comes back slick coated in a sticky red goo. Ben stares down at his fingers as he rubs them slowly together. He can see now his hands they are bound with a thick dirty piece of rope at the wrist. Down further he can see the naked brown meat of his thighs. Is he naked “why in the hell would I be naked?” He thinks to himself climbing out of the dissipating murkiness enveloping his mind. It is replaced with that illogical confusion one feels during a particularly lucid dream. Ben touches his thigh smearing a red stain across his brown skin. Unlike the man besides him his skin is warm to the touch. Benjamin James panics he becomes acutely aware that he is more coherent than he thinks he is. “He’s dead!” The voice in his head screams with such ferocity Ben’s head snaps back. He’s looking the man in his face and only now does he take in the sickly greyish color. A groove made by his finger is visible in the blood slick on the dead man’s cheek. The man in the gore covered orange jumpsuit turns to face him on heavy feet. The dead man utters a low guttural moan sending Ben tumbling backwards in terror.

 

   Ben lands hard on his back his head scanning the room. His vision having cleared Ben is aware there are people swaying in place all around him. The mumbling that had filtered into his ears plays from speakers overhead. The Sin Preacher’s voice pours from the rafters raining down in a hypnotic sermon. There are old brown wooden pews on either side of him as he rolls about on the floor. He is laying naked on a filthy frayed red rug. Looking over his head he spies two doors bolted and chained shut. Ben sits up panting “I’m in the church sanctuary!” He spins back in the direction of the figure he assumed to be an angel. It steps out of the halo of early evening sunlight at the end of the aisle. The Sin Preacher saunters down the aisle in a full length white robe with gold trim. She carries a small black microphone her arms outstretched like a bird seeking to take flight. Ben has found the source of the voice he heard filling his concussed mind. Her smile seems to outshine the shaft of sunlight behind her bathing the small chapel. Another moan pulls his attention back to the zombie in the prison jumpsuit. The walking corpse takes a few unsteady steps in his direction. Ben’s glances to his right looking for a way out. Seated with her bound hands nestled in her lap is Private Sara Lockett. She sits nude staring straight ahead shaking uncontrollably. Ben guesses the girl’s shivering is due to fear rather than the temperature. “Sara …” He wheezes as if his voice would set off an avalanche of the undead. Her head turns mechanically in his direction. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are wet with tears that have spilled down onto her breasts. Sara silently shakes her head “no” deliberately mouthing the word. Her lower lip quivers with such force Ben doubts she could actually speak. She mouths the words “help me” then robotically turns back to face the front of the church. A long bone chilling groan erupts across the aisle. Ben whips his head back in time to see the undead convict attempting to navigate his way out of the pew. “Easy my child ….” The Sin Preacher says walking smoothly into Ben’s nightmare. With mannerisms more suited to a mother she prods the fussy zombie back into the pew. “Mr. James …” She turns showing no fear of the living corpse. “Welcome you have met my flock now let me introduce you to my congregation.” She announces with glee. Alarmed Ben looks around the room finally. The pews are filled with zombies all standing swaying in place like obedient dogs waiting for their master’s command. Ben gasps aloud there at the end of the aisle backlit by the waning late day sunlight. He makes out the outline of a person chained to the floor. Ben sits gazing past the Preacher’s he recognizes the man chained to the floor before a small pulpit.

 

   “Jamal!” Ben screams having found control of himself. He struggles to heft his girth up and onto his feet. “You sick bitch let him go.” Ben demands storming towards the woman who simple pushes her glasses up on her narrow nose. “Stay where you are fool and still thy tongue in this house of worship.” The Sin Preacher commands as Ben continues in her direction. When he shows no signs of stopping she raises the microphone in her hand. Miriam quickly flips a switch on the bottom of the mic and the prerecorded sermon wafting from the speaker’s stops. Suddenly the once docile moaning zombies become enraged caged beast. Snarls echo out as every zombie in the room starts to moves like a pack. They stumble for the warm living morsels of flesh locked in the church’s cramped nave with them. Benjamin’s feet won’t budge from the moldy carpeted floor then he finds the reverse button. He begins to back pedal from The Sin Preacher as she stands up boldly defying the zombies to attack her. She doesn’t flinch as they living dead begin to encircle her. Ben trips over a body on the floor he lays out in the air landing hard. His tender head impacts the floor but this time Ben fights to maintain his consciousness. He is eye level on the floor staring into Sara Lockett’s terrified face. A blast of feedback rattles from the speakers mounted around the hall. “At first light ….” The Sin Preacher speaks softly into her microphone. “The king came unto the lion’s den.” The riled up zombies cease their aggressions almost immediately upon hearing The Sin Preacher speak. “He called out Daniel has your God protected you from the lions this night?” The woman chuckles softly into the microphone. She spins about joyfully like an amused child. The Preacher raises her microphone flipping the switch once more. The church’s sound system plays Miriam’s recorded sermon for the undead masses. She takes several steps forward as the zombies around her wander back into the pews. “So Sara do you still fancy me fool?” She asks kneeling down getting in close to Ben and Sara. “You believe these poor folks to be dead to be … zombies.” She spits the word out with a sneer. “You couldn’t see the truth and for a while ......” The Sin Preacher looks around the room. “Neither could I. The Lord he opened my eyes as surely as he made the blind man see.” The Sin Preacher takes a few short steps over to a tall brutish zombie. The huge walking corpse is dressed in sand covered bloodied military fatigues. He is missing his right arm it looks to have been chewed off above the elbow. The Sin Preacher playfully runs her fingers through his spike salt and pepper hair. The zombie cast his dull gaze upon her like a dim witted dog. A spark of intelligence flickers across the dead man’s jellied eyes. “You girl you mocked me.” Pointing an accusing finger at Sara who lays trembling curled in a naked ball on the floor. “You were right to mock me young Sara. For I myself initially missed what God was trying to reveal to me.”  

 

    The Sin Preacher turns back to Ben and Sara. “One of my first encounters with the Unclean was right here in this sanctuary.” She waves a hand about causally talking. “One of our members was bitten when she came to us after The Event.” The Sin Preacher moves back to where Ben and Sara are cowering. “She succumbed to her injuries that day. So we lay her down here in the pulpit.” She motions over her shoulder at Jamal. “She lay right there where the heathen is chained to the floor.” Jamal moves slightly the steel chains locking each arm to the floor rattle. Ben feels helpless looking at a beaten Jamal laying in what appears to be the remains of a butcher gone mad. “When she was raptured her body was resurrected without her soul. I was preaching in the pulpit my flock deserted me they fled in every direction. So I kept preaching and as she drew nearer to me I could see a spark.” Miriam stops looking back out the high stain glass window. The Sun was preparing to relent to the moon for yet another night. “Her eyes weren’t just dull and lifeless. So I preached to her fed that need in her to be nurtured by the Word. When Brother Gustavo happened upon us. I had him restrain her until I could formulate a plan.” The Sin Preacher strolls slowly down the aisle. As she passes Jamal he pulls back from her like an animal in fear. She glides smoothly up the three short steps taking up position behind her white podium. “You see not all of the Unclean are truly soulless my friends.” She raises her voice over the playback hypnotically keeping the dead at rest. “I sent Brother Gustavo out to do my work so that I may do the Lord’s work. He gathered all of the Unclean who showed the spark of a soul from near and far. Then he brought them to me here to be ministered to …. To be shown the light so to speak.” She claps her hands together pressing them to her lips attempting in vain to suppress a smile. “When I speak it soothes their tormented souls. They listen to me, they hear me and they obey the sound of my voice.” The last part she pronounces with such self-righteous grandiosity Ben expects her to take a bow. “I protect them during the day when they are at their most venerable and they return the favor unto me at night.” The Sin Preacher scans the room looking out over her congregation with a certain sense of pride. She keeps the audio of her mock sermon just loud enough to be heard like background noise at a party. Downstairs is another matter entirely she has commanded the volume be raised nightly. This way it masks any wayward noise the congregation might make that would alert the flock. Her eyes sink to the naked olive skinned young man at bound in sacrifice before her. One last glance back at the fading sun and she knows it’s almost time.

 

  “There is only one drawback tour little arraignment Mr. James. You will find out what this unfortunate drawback is like every other person in that room downstairs has.” She presses her glasses on her nose again. “My congregation can’t overcome the one major side effect of their current condition and that is the need to feed on warm human flesh.” She holds her index finger up as if she has just gotten an excellent idea. “They have to be fed like any good guard dog to ensure not only their obedience but that do not turn on their master. My flock who were with me before this all came about are exempt. However those folks like yourself Ben who have found themselves in need of shelter during this time of Tribulation. Well they my friend must choose from among themselves a sacrifice whose death will pay for their safety.” She turns her finger down at Jamal who begins to tug at his restraints. Ben leaps to his feet unsure of what to do next. “Now Ben before you act know this. This filthy heathen and that fatherless infant will pay for your family and the rest of your group’s passage here at First New Faith. Would you sacrifice them all for one who is ignorant to the ways of the Lord and a child who is granted automatic passage into the Kingdom of Heaven?” Ben’s words fail him as he looks at Jamal’s bruised body. He finds himself glaring at The Sin Preacher his eyes bubbling with hate. The Sun throws off its last light before sinking down below the horizon. As the sun fades he is drawn to the face of the zombie nearest him. It was his old buddy in the orange prison jumpsuit. The corpse’s molted sunken upturned face slowly comes to life. Its eyes loose much of the cloudy as an orange flecked glittery light seeps into them from the edges. The mouth which had hung open like a putrid fly trap turns into a bone chilling sneer. “Awwwwwww fuck yeah!” The dead man burst to life along with the rest of the congregation. He leaps for Ben cackling like a madman. “Stop Ian.” The Sin Preacher shouts from the behind the podium on the stage. “You will not harm these two do I make myself clear?” She tells the ghoul as the rest of the Unclean now mill about uncharacteristically repressing their murderous cannibalistic ways. “What why the fuck not?” The dead killer snarls moving in close enough to cause Ben’s bladder to go. “Ha he pissed himself.” The zombie missing an eye and most of the bone in the surrounding socket standing over Ian’s shoulder laughs. “Hobart shut the fuck up I want to hear why I can’t skin tinkles or this bitch on the floor here.” The Sin Preacher comes down from her perch undead part allowing her to pass. “Ian you and Hobart have served me well and you have helped me do the Lord’s bidding as he has instructed me.” She pats the dead convict on the shoulder. “These two are far too troublesome to allow refuge among us. So I am casting them out for they are non-believers who shall reap what they have sown. I want you and Hobart to provide them safe passage. Take them out into the wilderness leave them to wander as God did Moses and the children of Israel.” The Sin Preacher steps to Ian Lawson poking a finger into his chest. “My word is my Bond Ian and as so it cannot be broken. Ensure that no harm comes to them by your or Hobart’s hand I will reward you most handsomely my child.” Ian shoot a glance over at Hobart who simply hunches his shoulder. “How handsomely?” He asks running his dry discolored tongue over his jagged teeth. The Sin Preacher pulls Ian by the collar bringing his ear down mere inches from her lips. “In my office I have a plump innocent morsel that you may have for yourself. A baby Ian for you and you alone my most trusted disciple.” Ian Lawson rights himself lost in the Sin Preacher’s eyes. “Deal …..“ He says grinning.

 

  “Mr. Lawson …. Mr. Hobart our guest if you please.” The Sin Preacher points to Ben and Sara as she heads back to the altar. The ghouls each grab a human Lawson grabs Ben roughly by his neck. Hobart is not as gentle “C’mon bitch” he blurts snatching Sara off the floor by her hair. Sara screams in agony as she is yanked to her feet and drug down the aisle. “We have two orders of business.” The Sin Preacher says walking ahead oblivious to the throng of dead on either side of her. Climbing up the small stage coming to rest behind her podium again. “First ….” She motions into the crowd. The Frankenstein like soldier plods up to join her. “Ma’am yes ma’am.” He calls out falling in a to a parade rest even with his missing limb. “Sargent Glass has been kind enough to supply us with a little information about our current situation and how we may better it.” Ben and Sara are dropped to their knees almost literally face to face with Jamal. The Sin Preacher looks to the soldier only to see rage building in his decaying face. “Sargent is there a problem?” She turns to the big zombie. “Yes Ma’am this coward left me to die!” Sargent Glass advances pointing down at Private Lockett. Sara reels back “Staff Sargent?!” She utters in disbelief. “Do tell Sargent?” The Sin Preacher says a look of concern etched upon her face. The angry zombie closes the distance hopping of the stage in two great strides. “Yeah it’s me you cowardly whore.” He says slapping Sara across the cheek so hard she rolls over into crowd of zombies. “You and your unit hauled ass out of there without looking back.” He shouts standing over as Hobart giggles jumping around like an evil sidekick. “You left us to die we were slaughtered.” He unsheathed a sinister looking combat knife with his remaining hand. “Now Sargent I can see you were wronged ….” The Sin Preacher speaks up. “But let’s not forget that vengeance is mine. I say you will have you vengeance my child but not here not now.” She says dismissively. Sargent Glass looks back at here then down again at Sara as if he was torn by his choices. “You were delivered to us last night for a reason Sargent Come now Sargent tell us of this Operation Bullfrog.” The tension in the zombie’s muscles relax he snaps his combat blade back into its sheath. “Operation Bullfrog …. “ He calls out to the undead gathered around him. “It is a protocol the United States Government put into place during the Cold War.” He joins Miriam on the stage once more. “Operation Bullfrog has gone through many upgrades in the past fifty years. Its primary goal is to ensure that the U.S. Government could communicate in the event of a nuclear attack or any other event that would cause a total communication blackout.” Murmurs from the zombies begin to fill the room. The Sin Preacher raises her hands and they all fall silent at once. “The Bullfrog is a massive all terrain self-sustained mobile combat platform that has a sophisticated satellite array atop of it. Imagine a train comprised of tank like vehicles on steroids that don’t need a tracks. Now there are five Bullfrog units strategically placed across the country. Each one is designed to allow communications to leapfrog from across the country to coordinate any remaining assets in play. There is one not far from us and it was to serve as our forward base of operation from our post at St. George.” The Sin Preacher reaches up placing a hand on the dead man’s shoulder interrupting him. “Now my children the fun part. Each of these vehicles also acts as a pseudo ark of sorts. It ferries any survivors back to its base or burrow as the Sargent told me. These fortified bunkers can hold up to two thousand souls. We will commandeer this behemoth and ride it back down into its burrow delivering my vengeance …..“ “What does that have to do with us we don’t need shelter?” A woman missing most of her scalp call out. “Can you imagine any reason why the Government would want to coordinate its assets?” Glass responds “If they get their shit together it is us … our kind …. “ He pounds his broad chest “…..That they would seek to exterminate. We cannot allow this my brothers and sisters.” He says to the snarls and shouts of the zombies listening to him. “I will not allow this transgression against my people.” The Sin Preacher shouts raising up her hands. “We will take their sword and turn it on them. We will ride the beast down into its lair and bring my word unto the living masses. We will use our weapon to strike down each of its kin for none shall stop the Great Tribulation.” The Sin Preacher brings her voice down several octaves. She slaps the side of the podium with an open palm. “My children take solace for those who turn a deaf ear to me and the salvation I offer. Well they will most assuredly fill your bellies.” The decaying horde of zombies milling about raise their hands skyward falling to their knees.

 

  The Sin Preacher looks out over the sea of hands watching as her new congregation pledge their devotion to her. The members of First New Faith Baptist church huddled below her in fear “were never this zealous.” She muses as her heart soars filled with a joy so fulfilling Miriam knows this is why she became a preacher. Well she actually became a preacher to piss off those who said she couldn’t mostly but this was a close second. “Now my children it is time it is time for you to take sacrament before you head out to minister my Gospel.” She steps around the podium making her way down to the last tiny stair. She positions herself directly behind Jamal. From here she can visibly see the young man trembling with dread. More importantly she could see Benjamin and Sara’s faces as they looked upon their friend. “Brother Lawson and Brother Hobart please ensure our guest of honor have a clear view of the sacrament.” Hobart wastes no time driving a knee into Sara’s back. The girl reels pitching forward as he throws his full weight on her back. He reaches down grabbing a hand full of her hair yanking her head. Sara cries out her eyes tearing from the pain. She can see the tears she has shed are nothing compared to the cascading stream of tears coating both Jamal’s cheeks. “Well ole Hoss …. “ Ian Lawson squats down next to Ben. “I aint gonna be all over eager like my friend here.” He cocks his head in Hobart’s general direction. “But know this my brother …. “ He comes in close and whispers in Ben’s ear. “If you so much as flinch or turn away at any point. I won’t keep my word my deep dark brother and when I get y’all out away from here. The things I’ll do to you will make you wish you were this camel jockey here.” Ben wretches feeling bile travel up from his stomach. “You understand me boy?” Ian Lawson asks. Ben can only nod his head as he begins to weep uncontrollably. He prays that the salty tears will obscure his vision.

 

 The Sin Preacher steps down placing a hand on Jamal’s sweaty back. He is shivering so hard she feels as if she has her hand place on a large speaker. She closes her eyes throwing her head back raising her other hand in prayer. The living dead congregation do the same as well. “We take this living sacrament as a show our faith. A bond that shall not be broken as we seek to seize control this new world from the nonbelievers whose mere presence is an abomination before my God almighty. We spill this heathen’s blood as they did in the Old Testament oh Lord that you may see our willingness to slay your enemies.” The room goes quite the only sound is Miriam’s disembodied voice oozing from the PA system over head. “Amen …..” She says opening her eyes after a long pause. “Flesh of my Flesh …. “ She pronounces dipping her head down. She allows her hair to fall over and cover her face tightening her grip on Jamal’s shoulder. By the time Ben’s mind can process the image lain bare before him. The Sin Preacher has her mouth buried in the side of Jamal’s neck. He shakes trying to throw the woman off but to no avail. The Sin Preacher pulls away with a wad of flesh in her mouth. Jamal’s blood spurts out in thick rivulets covering Ben and Sara both. The Sin Preacher staggers backward vigorously masticating the meat in her mouth. She swallows hard her face a mask of pleasure as she wipes her chin dropping more blood on her once white robe. She comes to rest on the stairs of the stage panting like a satisfied whore. “Partake my children ….” With that the dam of savagery burst. The zombies tear at Jamal’s chained body in a frenzy of such ferocity it would make a great white shark jealous. Ben watches in horror as Jamal closes his eyes one last time. The young man vanishes under a pile of screeching zombies. They beset Jamal with teeth, hands and a ravenous sinister hunger. Ben watches the mass of bodies writhing on the floor. A rush of blood seeps from under the snarling zombies. The chewing starts causing Ben to vomit over the crowd of feasting ghouls. They begin to rip Jamal to pieces the whole macabre looks like a group of zombies wrestling in a pool of human viscera. Ben wants to recoil to look away in horror but he doesn’t. Not even when Jamal’s still warm blood washes over his knees flowing at like a small red tidal wave. He catches a glance at Sara as she is bathed in the same flow except she is laying flat on the floor. A female corpse falls inches from Ben she clutches a slab of raw meat hissing like badger. Suddenly Sargent Glass looms over the fallen zombie. He smashes a large black boot into the middle of her face the way one stomps out a cigarette butt. He twists his massive foot mashing down until the dead woman’s head resembles a pulped watermelon. He callously reaches down pulling the prized meat from her still twitching hands. The big dead soldier walks away chewing without looking back. “Brothers take our honored guest and cast them out of my congregation.” “Yes Ma’am …..“ Lawson hoots. “Remember let no harm come to them by your hands my brothers. For God had decreed that they be cast into the wilderness and left to their own devices like Lot.” Ben and Sara are drug from the rear door of the church into the humid night air. Overhead the dark black sky is awash with orange ribbons of light. In the distant thunder rumbles across the back hills of the farm country. Lightening flickers briefly illuminating heavy black rainclouds. Hobart and Lawson take a few seconds to stare in wonder at the orange lights before dragging their captives away in to the night. They make a pit stop at the carport behind the church before setting off into the night.

 

 

 

  Looks like things have come to a fairly disturbing head within the walls of The First New Faith Baptist Church. The Sin Preacher has shown where her loyalties are. Other than Ben and Sara no one under her roof has any idea of the depths of her depravity. As for Ben and Sara they find themselves at the mercy of two psychotic zombies. What will happen next in The Living Dark Comeback the week of November 17th and find out.

 

 

 

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The Living Dark