Everything Dies | Season 3

by Malpass, T. W.

  Salty put one in the spout and stood over his makeshift torture apparatus.

  ‘This is it, hotshot. Time to split.’

  The creature could only strain its neck to growl something indistinguishable.

  ‘I’m gonna find this Black Temple of yours, and when I do, I’m gonna make your friends regret not finishing me off when they had the chance.

  ‘As for you, I guess I should just leave you like this, but you did talk, and I did promise you.’

  Salty nodded to the creature, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

  5

  Raine could tell by the strength of the sunlight seeping in through the gaps in the boards that evening was drawing in. Several hours had passed since the young boy had entered their holding cell and brought them food and water.

  The fact that they were being fed suggested they weren’t here just to be slaughtered. There had to be a much better reason than that, but no one who’d survived the kidnapping had the slightest clue what that could be.

  For the first time since morning, the faint sound of dragging feet closed in on the door to the barn.

  Raine strained to get to a standing position and crept over to peer through a crack in the wood. She noticed the delicate frame of the boy from earlier. He was skulking around just outside, continually looking northeast towards something that was apparently tall, as he was raising his head to the sky.

  She caught a glimpse of his hands. His fingers were almost interlocked, and he picked at the tender skin around his nails. By the look of the redness and damage, it was a habit in which he frequently indulged.

  ‘Hey, kid,’ Raine whispered through the crack.

  The boy heard her the first time but chose to ignore it.

  After her second attempt, he turned and put his back to the door.

  ‘I just want to talk to you. Thanks for the food, by the way. We were all very hungry.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to. The disciples will be here soon, and they’ll hear us,’ the boy said.

  ‘Is that how you got that scar around your eye—the disciples?’

  The boy paused.

  ‘They say I talk too much, and they’re right. Just look at me now.’

  ‘Then we’ll make it quick,’ Raine said.

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. I’ll be in to clean up after…’

  ‘After what?’

  The boy huffed, slapping his own thigh in frustration.

  ‘You’ve got a big mouth, Samuel. A big mouth,’ he said, reaching up to slap the side of his head.

  ‘Is that your name—Samuel?’

  The boy was too busy cursing himself to answer.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Samuel. My name is Raine.’

  ‘I know,’ Samuel said.

  ‘What else do you know, Samuel? Why are we here?’

  Samuel paused again. This time it was due to something he’d seen.

  ‘They’re coming,’ he said. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Samuel?’

  Before Raine could say any more, the boy had scuttled out of sight. She heard his hurried footsteps skirting around the side of the barn and then away.

  She pushed her head against the door again, lining up her left eye with the opening.

  Four men approached. They were also clad in robes, but these were a deep red colour and they had hoods. Their hoods were down, and all the men had closely shaven heads. They carried weapons—long bladed ones.

  ‘We’ve got company,’ she said, turning to the other three captives.

  ‘Is there anything we can do?’ O.B. asked, readying himself for a fight though his legs and hands were bound.

  ‘Relax. They’re armed. Let’s see how this plays out. I’ll let you know when it’s time,’ Raine said.

  Foster and Jason also got to their feet when the men unlocked the door and entered.

  One moved ahead of the other three, who stood with their hands clasped over their long knives.

  Each man was pallid and slight of frame. They looked sick, their lips almost purple. Together with their hairstyles and clothing, it was difficult to tell them apart, save for the shape of their noses.

  ‘We’re going to cut your ankles free so you can walk,’ the man in front said.

  Raine presumed he was in charge, at least of this small group.

  ‘I would assume you’re not foolish enough to think you can escape. There’s really no place to run to anyway, and although we’re loath to use them, we do have your guns.’ The man parted his robe slightly to reveal the pants beneath and the pistol tucked into the waistband.

  ‘We won’t run,’ Raine said. ‘But we would like to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Fortunately, we’re going to take you to a place where all of your questions will be answered,’ the man said. He dropped to his knees and used his knife to slice through the bindings around her ankles.

  He approached Jason and did the same, then Foster and finally O.B.

  One of the robed men stood outside and waited for the prisoners to emerge into the dimming light, and the other disciples followed him.

  Even though the sun wasn’t so strong anymore, the captives’ eyes still struggled to adjust.

  One disciple decided to give O.B. a shove to move him along, much to his annoyance.

  O.B. looked back at him in a way that dared him to do it a second time.

  After seeing the intensity in his eyes, the man thought better of it.

  Raine held up both of her tied hands to shield her from the low-hanging sun and saw where they were being taken. It was an old wooden church, its design more reminiscent of houses of worship commonly found in western Europe. It sat on a small hill within a section of grassland that was completely surrounded by trees. Behind the church sat several trailers and tents she presumed were the homes of the cult’s followers.

  The woodland masked the camp from the outside world. Only the tower protruding from the church’s front housing a large cross at its pinnacle could be seen from a distance.

  The most unusual and unnerving aspect of this particular structure that differentiated it from any other church she’d witnessed was its colour. It had been painted black from its sturdy foundations to its highest peak. It appeared tainted, unholy, inverting it from white to black as a satanic cult would flip a crucifix.

  The rest of the group were just as disturbed by the sight of its dark, ominous message.

  Jason stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it, quickly nudged onwards by a red-robed disciple.

  Raine was the first to climb the steps at the entrance. As they entered the narthex, they could see past the murals on the walls into the nave. Around a fifty-strong congregation sat perched on the rows of pews inside. Only the backs of their heads were visible. They all faced forwards and remained silent.

  The man leading the disciples entered the nave, and as soon as he did, the church organ exhaled the wheezing tones of ‘Faith of Our Fathers.’

  The men, women, and children gathered there did not raise their voices to accompany the music. They behaved as if they were under strict orders. Even when the prisoners were paraded down the aisle, the simply dressed practitioners never turned their heads; they either faced the altar or gazed down to the Bibles resting on their laps.

  At the end of the aisle, they were directed to the one object in the church that looked vulgarly out of place—the large custom-built crate up on the left side of the stage. Obviously a portable holding cell that had been transported inside. The kind of crate used in the old world to detain illegal immigrants at a detention centre.

  ‘Go ahead,’ the disciple said. ‘Inside.’

  Raine halted the line and considered the implications of stepping inside the crate.

  ‘Don’t make this any harder than it has to be,’ the disciple told her.

  She glanced back to make eye contact with O.B.

  He looked to her for instruction. If she’d mad
e some gesture—a wink, a nod—he would have tried to fight his way out.

  Instead, she faced the crate again and stepped up to it, ducking inside the open door.

  Foster, Jason, and O.B. followed, and the door was locked behind them.

  The lead disciple turned to address the congregation.

  ‘Now that our guests have arrived, let us commence the ceremony.’ The man walked to the opposite end and opened the vestry door.

  Another disciple came out from the doorway, linking arms with a prisoner.

  Foster rushed to the front of the crate and locked her fingers around the grating.

  ‘Ethan!’ she shouted.

  Ethan looked exhausted but in no worse shape than he’d been since the compound. The blood had been cleaned from his face, and he wore the same modest brown robes of the congregation. He smiled when he saw Foster and the others, though with a distinct sense of resignation to his expression.

  Raine noticed it, and she wondered why they had kept him separated and what he now knew that they did not.

  A third person appeared in the doorway to the vestry. Ethan almost cowered in their presence.

  Draped in the purest of white robes, the figure’s large hood obscured their face. They walked past Ethan and the disciple to take their place at the altar.

  The appearance of the white robe caused the entire audience to stand in unison as the figure climbed the steps and approached the pulpit.

  Raine moved to the grating next to Foster so she could get the best view. When the figure removed their hood, she immediately stumbled back, bumping into O.B. and Jason, who also stood with their mouths open in disbelief.

  The man cloaked in white was familiar to them all. They had left him behind at the compound when it had been overrun by fire and the dead. He should have been consumed by the creatures or starved to death inside the research chamber he’d escaped to, but there he was, addressing his loyal throng as they waited for the first words to pass from his lips.

  Father Edwards seemed different to how they remembered him. His skin bordered on translucent, his eyes stained with a sickly yellow hue. He smiled down at his followers, a warm smile tainted with a hint of dementia.

  ‘My children, today we are truly blessed.’

  Episode Five

  Eyes, Tongues, Cocks

  1

  Salty tapped the glass front of the Snowcat’s fuel gauge with his index finger. The dial showed it was already more than halfway towards an empty tank.

  ‘Never noticed before how much this piece of shit eats gas. It won’t be long before we have to switch to the sled.’

  As he relaxed into his seat, he felt a twinge from the stitched wound in his shoulder and reached up to it.

  Anna sat opposite him up front, tilting her head to regard him with concern.

  Salty noticed her eyes on him and shrugged off the discomfort.

  ‘Ahh, it’s nothin’. Just the swellin’ tightening up the stitches.’

  Anna continued to stare, her nose twitching.

  ‘What? You got a medical license now? I’m fine.’

  He took one hand from the wheel again to tickle her behind her ear.

  ‘I forgot to thank you for saving my ass back there. How many times is that? Three? Four? Maybe one of these days you’ll let me return the favour.’

  The dog began to pant gently, each breath producing a small cloud of condensation as it mingled with the cold air.

  ‘I know what you’re thinkin’. We should just take off, find ourselves a new place to stay and kick back. It’s the sensible choice in our current situation.

  ‘But that’s the thing about people. They get under your skin, make you care. Then they go get themselves kidnapped by a crazy religious cult.’ Salty’s chuckle that followed was bittersweet and soon faded when he remembered the cave and the construction of woven twigs used to exsanguinate the fox.

  He moved his hand over Anna’s head, pushing his thumb along the bony gap between her eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry, girl. We’ll find them.’ Such was his sense of melancholia, he’d taken his eyes off the route in front of them for far too long.

  When he turned his attention back to it, something had crept up on them.

  Beyond the glare of the Snowcat’s headlamps bouncing up from the surface snow, the distinct outline of a large vehicle etched itself out in the darkness about one hundred metres away.

  Salty pumped the brakes and skidded to a stop. Now that he was aware of its presence, he could see the tracks it had made alongside them from the driver window.

  He collected his rifle from the footwell and grabbed the door handle ‘You fancy stretchin’ your legs, girl?’

  Anna wagged her tail in recognition and jumped down into the snow with him.

  He approached the vehicle with caution, his rifle trained on the passenger cabin, although he didn’t expect anyone to still be inside.

  Sure enough, he was right. One of its doors was slightly ajar, and when Salty took a peek, Anna scrambled up the steps and onto the seat.

  She sniffed around the interior, barking once to indicate she’d located a familiar smell.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Salty said. He shined his torch around the front and back seat and checked the gloveboxes. He found nothing of any note—no trace of his friends.

  He walked on ahead of the snow track, following the footprints into the snow. It was confusing to count them because there were so many and they were coming from two different directions—both to and from the vehicle.

  Then he came across two sets of completely new, more conventional vehicle tracks, likely arctic-style SUVs.

  ‘They switched rides here,’ Salty said. ‘This must have been a rendezvous point where more of their buddies were waiting.’

  He stood up straight and gazed beyond into the darkness.

  ‘At least we have some tracks to follow until the snow stops. It’ll give us some idea of which route they took.’

  He breathed hard as his lungs struggled in the climate, and Anna followed him back to the Snowcat so they could recommence their search.

  2

  The four prisoners pressed their faces against the bars of the crate, just as transfixed on the speaker at the pulpit as his devoted followers who remained standing.

  Edwards glanced over towards the makeshift jail cell before clearing his throat and speaking to his flock.

  ‘Before we get started tonight, I feel I must apologise for the lateness of the hour.’ He looked down at the third pew back on the left, to the small girl cradled in her mother’s arms, eyes half closed and sucking on her own thumb. ‘I appreciate that some of the little ones are being kept from their beds.’

  Edwards’s smile faded, and his voice took on a much sterner tone.

  ‘I would not have called this gathering unless it was of great importance. As you know, our mission has never been more under threat than it is right now.

  ‘Gideon and his apostates of Hell are preparing to hinder God’s plan by preventing us from completing our work here. We need more soldiers in this fight, which is why we are so grateful that young Owen has put himself forward to become the next initiate.’

  Edwards directed his goodwill to a male follower—no more than a boy, really—who sat on the front pew. He was dressed in what looked like a brown sackcloth, his head freshly shaven. He appeared to be surprisingly healthy for the current state of the world, gazing up at the preacher as if he was looking at the face of his lord and saviour.

  ‘Owen’s courage to place his human existence in the Lord’s hands should serve as an example to us all.’

  Owen bowed his head in appreciation of Edwards’s words, suggesting he didn’t feel worthy of such praise.

  The caged prisoners still stood with their mouths open, unable to process what they were witnessing.

  ‘It can’t be,’ Jason whispered. ‘How the hell did he survive? How did he even get out of th
ere?’

  ‘The same way we entered,’ Raine said. ‘He must have made his way to the boat somehow.’

  Foster’s eyes widened and she gripped the bars tighter as her gaze drifted to Ethan flanked by disciples and then back to Edwards.

  ‘He sent those men all that way to find us and bring us back here,’ she said.

  ‘For what purpose?’ Jason asked.

  ‘Revenge for leaving him behind,’ O.B. said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Raine said. ‘There’s something else—something more.’

  Edwards couldn’t possibly hear whispers from where he stood, but he turned his attention to the crate.

  ‘Of course, you would have all heard by now that our Hands were able to find and retrieve these criminals you see before you.’

  The prisoners felt the collective scrutiny of the congregation as they all stared. The followers regarded them with the wonder and apprehension of looking upon a curious artifact or an alien race. Some parents even covered the eyes of their children.

  ‘Please, there is no reason to be afraid. There is no way they can escape. I understand how upsetting it is to have such vermin in our house of worship, but it is important that they are present to witness the ceremony. They will serve an important role in the days to come, and we shall all reap the benefits of that. As Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

  ‘Speaking of blessings, you would have also noticed that we have a very special guest with us this evening.’

  The audience immediately looked to Ethan. Their attentiveness and welcoming smiles disturbed him more than any sense of persecution ever could. He turned away from them so he was facing in the direction of his captive friends.

  ‘He has travelled a long way to see us, and I trust you will all make him feel at home,’ Edwards said. ‘It was not safe for him where he was, but now he is in our care, and soon he will be ready to fulfil God’s purpose and bring this world back to the faithful again.’

  ‘What the fuck’s he talking about? What do they want with Ethan?’ Jason asked.