And it was all his fault.
Alan closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of one of them biting down on his flesh that would signal the end of his life.
The noise of the desperate fight liquified his bowels. The growling and chomping and moaning of the zombies, the wails of those in the back of the church awaiting their fate, the meaty crunch of Cade’s weapon hitting flesh…it was all too much.
And then a new sound made Alan's heart skip a beat.
“ODINNN!”
Alan's eyes flew open, and there, silhouetted by the light outside, standing in the doorway decked in glinting chain mail, stood the Lord’s angel of vengeance.
The viking waded into the church over the bodies of the fallen, and hewed left and right, sending two more zombies to a well deserved final rest. The others, occupied with attacking Cade, stood little chance as the chain mailed warrior stepped forward and dispatched them, his axe flashing in the light and flinging droplets of dark blood with every swing.
And then, as suddenly as the zombies had burst forth into the church, it was over. The weight lifted off of Alan's chest. Strong hands gripped his own and hauled him effortlessly to his feet.
The man before him in the chain mail turned out to be a lot younger than Alan had expected. Dark black blood smeared his face and tarnished the armor he wore, but his smile was genuine and white teeth flashed in the gore that covered his face and flecked his scruffy beard. He casually flipped a lock of lank, blood-soaked hair over one shoulder where it slapped against his armor.
Alan wobbled on his prosthetic legs, unable to feel the slickness of the floor through metal and plastic. The stranger snatched out a hand and grabbed Alan by the forearm to study him.
"Are you all right, then?" asked the stranger. “They didn’t bite you?”
Alan placed his hand over the Vikings hand and smiled, his vision growing blurry at the edges. "Yes, praise God, I’m alright, thanks to you. No, they didn’t bite me, I don’t think.“
Cade doubled over, grasping his knees and sucked wind. Daniel appeared from the hallway leading to the rear of the church and threw up all over the body of a zombie with its skull cleaved nearly in half. Others emerged, hands over mouths, staring in awe at the carnage on display in the church.
Alan surveyed the grizzly scene for a moment, his nose wrinkling at the smell of rotting flesh, feces, and stagnant blood. It would take them a week to clean the foyer.
His mind snapped back to reality, and he turned, desperately seeking out Cade.
The wiry ex-soldier had pulled himself free of a tangle of bodies, quickly slopping off the blood on his hands and checking for cuts and injuries. He looked up, still holding the bloody pew leg, winked at Alan, and flashed a thumb’s up.
Alan sighed in relief. Though Cade had never so much as spoken word in seven years, his constant presence was an immense comfort. Just the thought of enduring such an unknown future without the studying presence of his silent sentinel sent Alan into a momentary panic.
"Yes, I think we’re all right now,” he said after a moment to collect himself.
“Whew…that was brisk," the stranger said, placing his hands on his hips.
Alan noticed the bloody axe still gripped by the younger man.
"That was some fancy axe work there, friend. My name is Alan Walsh, I'm pastor here. Welcome to the Beacon Point Church of Christ.”
“Nice to meet you, pastor. I'm Darren Bruce. "Did anyone get hurt or injured?" he asked, looking around.
One of the remaining defenders caught his breath and stood on wobbly legs. "We lost two men, thanks to you. What hell were you thinking, driving that car into the wall like that?"
"Oh, no," Darren said, his face downcast. “I—I never meant for anyone to get hurt…"
Alan put a hand on the blood-slick, chain mailed shoulder. "No one is guaranteed safety in this world anymore," he said, looking at the defender who’d complained. Turning back to the newcomer, Alan continued. "What you did may have saved the lives of everyone still breathing in this church. I cannot thank you enough. That hole in the wall was allowing the entire group of creatures through the gap."
"He's right," said Daniel, glaring at the complainant. "If this guy hadn’t pulled that stunt with the car, it’d only be a matter of time for they busted down the doors and got in here."
Alan waved off the sentiment. “We should re-barricade the front door, clean these bodies out, and tend to our fallen.” He looked at those who’d run from the fight at the end. “Several of our defenders have been injured. We need to look after them as well."
Darren nodded, then looked out the front door. "Injured…oh, shit—Amanda!" He turned and slipped on zombie blood, caught himself against the door post, and raced across the porch.
"Who's Amanda?" Alan called after him.
"She came with me—in the car!" Darren said, vaulting the steps and landing with a thud on the gravel sidewalk leading to the parking lot. He sprinted the last few steps to the cop car and came to a skidding halt at the passenger door.
Alan carefully navigated his way through the mess in the foyer and emerged onto the porch as other survivors joined him. They watched in silence as Darren wrenched open the passenger door, ignoring the squeal of ruined hinges, and carefully assisted a blonde haired young woman out of the front seat.
She was stooped over, clutching her ribs, in obvious pain. With one graceful movement, Darren bent over, gently placed his arms behind her back and legs, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a child. He took a glance over his shoulder at the zombie horde piled up against the back of the car, writhing, growling, and snapping teeth, then turned his back on them and walked toward the church.
In moments, he was mounting the steps and coming up abreast of Alan, carrying the girl in his arms. "This is Amanda, she's a grad student with me at UNM. I think she broke a rib or something when we crashed the car…"
"We don't have a proper doctor here, but we do have some young women who’ve been volunteering to help.”
"I'll take them back to Mary,” Daniel volunteered, wiping vomit from his lips.
Nodding his thanks, Darren followed Daniel into the church. The girl turned, and flashed eyes so blue they were almost purple at Alan. "Thank you," she whispered, wincing in pain at the effort.
"Of course, my child. Get some rest, we'll talk later."
Alan noticed that Cade had already begun dragging bodies outside and dumping them around the corner of the church. He wore a pair of rough leather gloves, and a sour expression on his face, but didn't complain. The only sound he made was a slight grunt when he dragged a particularly heavy body out the church.
Before long, others emerged from the back, found gloves or other methods of wrapping their hands, and joined him in purging the church of bodies piled up by the front door.
Alan stepped out of their way, remaining on the porch to survey the battlefield and keep watch for new incursions. He stepped over to the railing, flecked with blood—dark blood, he was pleased to see, rather than the bright red blood that survivors shed—lifted his eyes to the leaden, cloudy skies, and offered his most sincere thanks to God above.
He could only take the arrival of Darren Bruce and his friend Amanda at the most critical moment in their defense of the church as a sign. God favored the survivors in the church, his little flock of refugees. Alan didn't know anything about Darren yet, but he was sure the young man would play a critical role in the continued fight to survive.
Alan closed his eyes. Deus vult.
What’s Next?
The action doesn’t stop here!
Have you read through the Elixr Plague story so far and need some more post-apocalyptic mayhem? Well, I have another series called The Wildfire Saga.
You might also want to check out my Future History of America series. (Fair warning, this one’s not for the faint of heart.)
If you want action, these books have plenty. If you want characters—lots of ‘em�
�these books are chock full of people, from presidents to foreign leaders, spies, rebels, soldiers, civilians, and even bikers.
Want a paperback book you can sink your teeth into? The Future History books can also be used as doorstoppers.
If you’re looking for something less action-packed, but more realistic, you may want to try my Solar Storm series. This post-apocalyptic story is set in the days immediately after the sun wipes out the global power grid and the entire world is essentially tossed back to the 1800s. Solar Storm is about one man’s quest to save his family and survive when the whole world goes dark.
Author Contact
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About the Author
MARCUS GRADUATED FROM the University of Delaware and later earn his law degree. Since then, he has at times been employed (or not) as: a highly over-qualified stock boy, cashier, department manager at a home furnishings store, assistant manager with a national arts and crafts chain, an acting store manager with the same chain, an unemployed handyman, husband, cook, groundskeeper, spider-killer extraordinaire, stay-at-home-dad, and writer.
He currently lives with his wife, children, and one cheeky vizsla in Illinois—and he couldn’t be happier you’re taking the time to read this.
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[email protected]
Books by Marcus Richardson
ELIXR PLAGUE
Episode 1: Vector
Episode 2: Infection
Episode 3: Pandemic
Episode 4: Apocalypse
Episode 5: Survivors
Episode 6: Refugees
OTHER SERIES
The Future History of America
The Wildfire Saga
Solar Storm
For my complete catalog, please see:
marcusrichardsonauthor.com
Elixr Plague (Episode 6): Refugees Page 10