by Jay Vielle
He brought the bow up, and as planned, it wasn’t strung. He always told me that a good archer unstrings his bow when he stores it to maintain the integrity of the string. He pulled it up in front of him, noting the bottom end that had a loop around it. He would need to bend the bow and loop the other end over the top. He began to try, then realized to his horror that he’d always used the ground to push the bow down to get the string looped on the other end. On horseback there was nothing to push against. He tried pushing it against his saddle, but it slipped suddenly, and he almost dropped it. The mutates closed even more. Tommy was galloping his horse towards the pack, and as he neared them, reached back to untie the rifle. But the knot on the rifle was too tight. He couldn’t undo it with one hand, and he couldn’t afford to get off the horse and risk being attacked and overwhelmed—anymore than his father could dismount and try the same with his bow.
“Tommy,” yelled Jake.
“The knot’s stuck. I can’t get it,” yelled Tommy. Jake jammed the bow into his stirrup and fumbled with the other end. It slipped again, but not as far.
“Shit!” yelled Jake. Tommy yanked frantically at the string and realized he wouldn’t get it undone in time to save his father.
“Fuck it,” Tommy yelled, and spurred his horse towards the closing pack.
“Get. On. There. You. Fucker,” Jake said, jamming the string on the end of the loop. Just as he got it, he lifted the bow and reached back for an arrow to nock. The lead mutate was now only steps away. Jake nocked the arrow as the first mutate reached for him. Just then a second mutate came behind his horse’s haunches and growled.
“Oh shit, boy, I’m surrounded,” he yelled. The horse kicked one leg violently against second mutate, knocking it flat on its back a few feet away. It howled, then started to get back up and charge again. Jake released the arrow only a foot away from the first mutate’s eye socket and released. Its head jerked back violently and it dropped like a stone. Then the second mutate, learning from its mistake, had circled around behind Jake but to the flank of his horse to avoid the kick. He had one hand on Jake’s stirrup when Tommy came charging up brandishing a Japanese katana sword. He swung with all he had and lopped the upper half of the creature’s skull off, and it, too, dropped like a stone.
“Nice work, boy,” yelled Jake. “But there’s two more.”
“I got the one on the right,” said Tommy, charging his horse forward and lifting his sword arm.
“I’ll take the far one,” Jake said. He nocked his arrow, took a deep breath, and released.
The arrow missed.
“Shit,” said Jake. Tommy rode off and decapitated his mutate, but he was now twenty yards to the east of his father. Jake nocked a second arrow as his mutate began to charge wildly at him. This one glanced off the skull of his attacker, who howled, but shook off the effects of the arrow and continued the charge.
“Uh oh,” said Jake, fumbling for another arrow. He couldn’t reach it, and to compensate he leaned as he turned. The entire quiver spilled out onto the ground beside him.
“Tommy,” he yelled. “I’m fucked.”
“Dad?” Tommy yelled, turning his horse and realizing that his father’s only weapon was on the ground. He spurred his horse, but he knew that the mutate would be on his father before he could get there. The mutate closed and reached up for Jake. Jake swung his bow like a club, catching the mutate in the mouth. It howled and shook its head again and renewed its reach. It had just grabbed the reins of Jake’s horse, when out of the blue behind it, Vinny came charging up brandishing a pair of nunchakus. He swung them violently as he made the pass past his father and the creature. The nunchakus smacked onto the creature’s skull and it dropped like a stone at the feet of Jake’s horse.
“Jesus,” Vinny said. “That was close.” Jake’s eyes were bugged in astonishment.
“Yes,” Jake said. “It was. Thank you, boys.”
“How many times do we gotta save your ass on this trip, Dad?” Tommy said, grinning. Vinny laughed out loud and shoved his nunchakus back up into a slot on his saddlebag. Jake dropped off his horse, collected his arrows, and put them back in the quiver. Then he looped the bow over his shoulder.
“Think I’ll keep this strung in case we need it again,” he said. “Tommy?”
“Already on it,” Tommy said, standing next to his horse untying the knot on the rifle. “Think I’ll make this a slip knot this time,” he said grinning.
Wendy and I just sat there agape, on our horses.
“That whole goddam family is insane,” I said.
CHAPTER 6
“Big, huh? Are you allowed to tell me these plans of Father Joe’s, or does he want to do it himself?” asked Ivan Morse.
“You know Father Joe. He likes to unveil things,” said Wes. “But I believe that considering how big a part he wants you to play, that he’ll let me give you a peek into the Christmas package.”
“My, my,” said Ivan. “Do tell.”
“Father Joe says that he has seen his fill of depravity in the world. He has some theories that maybe even the Almighty has seen His fill, as well, and that’s why we’re in this fix we’re in at the start of World War III,” said Wes.
“Go on,” said Ivan.
“But you know that Father Joe doesn’t like to impose his views on the world. He’s never been pushy like that,” said Wes.
“True. That’s very true. Father Joe is a ‘live and let live’ kind of fella,” said Ivan.
“Well, this new situation here in Emmitsburg, Father Joe sees it as a great opportunity,” said Wes. “We have been spared. This town is relatively intact. Frederick was decimated, Thurmont partially so. The bigger cities in Maryland have a huge death toll—so big they probably won’t have an accurate count for years. But here we are.”
“Here we are. You’re saying?” asked Ivan.
“Father Joe thinks this could be the new Zion,” said Wes. “The new Promised Land.”
“Does he now? How do you figure?” asked Ivan.
“Ivan, you do the math. If most of the towns and cities in Maryland have depleted numbers, and we have most of ours, we are by subtraction one of the most important cities in this state. Maybe THE most important,” said Wes.
“I see your point,” said Ivan, his brows raising in thought.
“And maybe, just maybe, even the new capital of the state of Maryland,” said Wes. Ivan nodded, stuck his bottom lip way out and furrowed his brow to give the image of a man in deep thought. “And that city is going to need financial backing. You and your bank have always been the heart of this town. Now you can be the heart of Maryland. And who knows? If things are bad all over…”
“The heart of the United States,” said Ivan.
“The New Zion,” said Wes.
“The New Zion,” echoed Ivan.
“But Father Joe wants this new world to look like his parish. His congregation. His values. He sees this catastrophe for what it is: a chance to remake the country the image that God wants. It’s what drew Brigham Young to Utah. And you, Ivan, you can finance all of that. You’re one of us. One of the most important.”
Ivan just grinned at that.
“Father Joe is having a town meeting. We’ve already begun advertising it. It will be next week at the Hunter’s Run football field. We want you to be there. He wants you, among others, to speak to the people. He wants you to be a pillar—even more than you already are,” said Wes.
“A pillar. Well, I’m honored. I’ll be there to help Joe start his New Zion,” said Ivan.
“Fantastic,” said Wes. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down,” he said, shaking Ivan’s hand briskly.
“One question Wes,” said Ivan.
“Shoot,” said Wes.
“This New Zion,” he continued. “What if there are people here who don’t necessarily share our values? What if they don’t want to be part of all of that?”
“You let me handle them,” said Wes. “Father Joe and I have agree
d to let them settle anywhere they’ll be happy. If they’re not happy here because they don’t fit in, no hard feelings. They can settle wherever they like.”
“And if they don’t want to settle someplace else?” asked Ivan.
“We encourage them to do so,” said Wes. “And you can help with that as well.”
*****
“Okay, I’m with you. But how do you plan to take down a church?” asked Estela.
“Well, first we need to find out more about it,” Morgan said. “I can’t really answer that yet.”
“And how do you suppose we find out more about it?” Estela asked.
“We could spy on it,” said Morgan.
“How? They know I’m his daughter. And many of them saw you,” Estela said.
“Only a few of them saw me. And we can change clothes, pretend to be somebody else. If we don’t run into your father, we’re fine.”
“Are you serious?” asked Estela. “That’s loco.”
“It also might be fun,” said Morgan.
“It does sound fun,” Estela said. “And what’s the worst they’re gonna do to us. Expel us? Kick us out of something we don’t care about?”
“Someplace we wouldn’t be a part of if they paid us. So, you’re with me?” asked Morgan.
“With you. Now where do we get other clothes?” asked Estela.
“Don’t you have keys to a Wal Mart?” asked Morgan. Estela smiled.
“But how do we get there?” Estela asked.
“Vinny’s dad has several cars here,” Morgan said.
“And a tractor,” said Estela.
“Let’s see if that old truck over there works. What kind is it?” asked Morgan.
“The front says GMC,” Estela said. “Why do you ask?”
“Keys. Look for keys with GM or GMC on them,” Morgan said, pleased with herself.
“There they are. Just inside the door, hanging by that corkboard,” Estela said.
The girls packed a backpack with drinks, snacks, and some money that Jake had given them just in case. They got in the truck and started it up and headed on out to the Church of Many Blessings. It was about a four-mile trip through rolling fields and streams to Emmitsburg’s downtown portion. They rode past the front of the church. Picnic tables and the giant barbecue pit on wheels were still out in front from the gathering they had hosted last week. They parked the truck down the street a ways and started walking towards the church.
“Do you see anybody?” asked Morgan.
“No. Nadie. Not a soul. Where do you think they all are?” asked Estela.
“It’s a church. I would imagine not too many people are around on a weekday,” she said.
“Morgan, the whole world has been bombed. This isn’t like every other week,” said Estela. Morgan dropped her head and giggled.
“Sorry. You’re right. Sometimes I forget,” she said.
“I know. Things are normal here. They were normal with you, down at Virginia Tech. It’s hard to believe there are cities where no one survived. No one,” Estela remarked.
“Look, there’s a side door open down there on that terrace. By the barbecue pit,” Morgan said.
“You want to go inside? Really?” asked Estela.
“Are we doing this or not?” asked Morgan. “You think your father is up to no good, and you think it’s because of this church. We could have sat in Mr. Fisher’s home and waited for major television to come back, but we didn’t. We came here. So, let’s do this,” Morgan said.
“Okay.”
The two walked timidly up to the terrace door and just walked in. The door led inside to a dining area and cafeteria. No one was around. They could hear voices in another room, so they left the cafeteria and tip-toed towards the sound. It was a television reporter.
Finally, we have news from the president. He is alive and well in an undisclosed area. He has sent this message via his spokesperson to be read aloud.
Greetings, my fellow Americans. I am alive and well and currently in a location that will not be revealed until the Joint Chiefs of Staff believe that it is safe to do so. By now most Americans know that we are in the midst of nothing less than World War III. A number of nations have joined together and taken aggressive action against us in an effort to do harm to our country, our freedoms, and our citizens. I will not let this happen on my watch. Several hard-hit cities are currently under Marshall Law and will remain that way indefinitely until such time as I decide—along with the Joint Chiefs—when the best time to lift those restraints might be. In the meantime, I ask that you avoid those cities, help each other be strong, and together we will lift the United States of America above this fray and once again to the top of the world. I will be sending more messages in a periodic manner. God bless you and God bless America.
“Wow,” Morgan whispered. “That’s the first we’ve heard from him since the bombs dropped a week ago. So, he is alive.”
“A shame. He stands against everything I stand for,” Estela said.
“But he’s our president. And other countries attacked us. So, you do stand for some of the same things,” Morgan whispered. “Let’s don’t talk politics right now. We have a job to do.”
“I wish I knew what that job was,” Estela complained.
“Can I help you two?” said a middle-aged woman who had walked up behind them quietly.
“Oh God!” shouted Estela. “You startled me!”
“I’m sorry dear. I didn’t mean to. Now, can I help you?” she asked. Estela’s eyes widened. She turned to Morgan.
“Yes ma’am,” said Morgan smoothly. “We’re supposed to help with that thing they’re doing, but we don’t know where to go, and we can’t find anybody.”
“Thing? Oh, the town meeting you mean?” asked the woman.
“Yes. That’s it. The town meeting. I’m sorry. I’m not even sure the name of the guy who asked us to volunteer. Pablo, something?” Morgan said. Estela’s eyes bugged and she kicked Morgan in the shin. Morgan smiled through the pain and kept eye contact with the woman.
“Pablo? Mr. Fuentes? Oh yes, that makes sense. Well he’s at the college right now, but he should be back this afternoon. I believe they’re actually all gathering at the high school. That’s where the meeting will be, and I think they’re doing all the preparations there.”
“Of course. The high school. We’ll go there, thank you,” Morgan said.
“My pleasure dear,” said the woman.
“One more thing, ma’am. I’m new around here, can you remind me where the ladies’ room is?” Morgan said, smiling. Estela looked at her strangely.
“Why of course. It’s down that hall and to the left.”
“Thank you so much ma’am. Much appreciated,” Morgan said, and she started down the hallway. Once they got to the corner and turned, Estela grabbed her by the shoulders.
“What were you doing back there? Using my father’s name? They could have tied us together and that would have ended it immediately. Are you trying to get caught?” Estela said.
“It was a gamble, but I figured with nobody else around, your father wasn’t either. It also gave us some information about why everyone is gone, and our using the bathroom just bought us time to snoop around, and gave us an excuse if they catch us again, because we just say we got lost,” Morgan explained. Estela smiled.
“Actually, that was brilliant. I knew I liked you for a reason,” she said, leaning in for a kiss.
CHAPTER 7
“Okay,” I said, breathing heavily. “I need to know what the fuck you all are doing with Japanese weapons! Like, who the fuck has those anyway?”
“Kore wa, katana des, ne?” said Wendy, smiling and pointing at Tommy’s sword.
“Yes,” said Tommy. “It is a katana. Hai,” he said smiling.
“Jake. Seriously. Have you had those things all along?” I asked.
“Did you think the horses were packing them?” said Jake.
“You get weirder all the time,” I said
. “Tommy has a big-ass sword, Vinny has nunchakus, I’m guessing you have something too, besides the bow?”
“Sai,” said Jake, patting his saddle bag.
“You three are like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or something. Does one of you have like ninja throwing stars too?” I asked mockingly.
“All three of us,” said Vinny, brandishing one of his with a grin.
I just shook my head with a weird grin on my face. Jake seemed ready for anything, but I never thought that would extend to traditional non-explosive martial arts weapons.
“Eddie, it’s not that weird when you think about it,” said Jake.
“Yes, it is,” said Eddie. “There is no explanation out of this one. This shit is weird. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad you all were prepared. But I’m gonna go ahead and say this shit is weird.”
“Eddie, what do I do? I mean besides teaching,” said Jake.
“Wrestling coach,” I answered.
“Okay. Anything else, not tied to the school?” Jake asked.
“You do some of that MMA stuff or something,” I answered.
“Or something. I teach judo and aikido. Both of which were hand-to-hand combat techniques originally developed to be used against weapons,” Jake said.
“And?” I asked.
“The weapons in question,” Jake said, like Vanna White opening a showcase and pointing to his son’s weapons. “You gotta have them to know how to use them to know how to stop them.”
“So, this is another of your weird hobbies,” I said.
“Or merely an extension of one of my former weird hobbies,” said Jake.
“And your sons?” I asked.
“Both are trained with all of them. Those in their hands are their preferred ones. Can you think of a more appropriate time to be packing obscure martial arts weapons than during a zombie apocalypse?” he asked.