The Last Church

by Richard Lee

  Telly was going to pay big time. If it was possible, she would make him pay twice. Once for Steve and again for his poor wife he tortured. Was it possible to kill someone twice?

  The tears had stopped for now. Her want of revenge had done that.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Nothing came from the wall television except static. Ami gave up any hope of seeing the news and finding out what was happening. She had stayed in bed all last night and today. It was late afternoon now and she had no idea what to do. She desperately wanted to venture outside but was afraid to. Last night, looking out the window, the sight was something only Dante could imagine. His vision of Hell was right here in Area City in the year two thousand, three hundred and sixty eight. Not only that, but it was right under her window.

  Her lights were flickering. She worried about how long the generators would last. Could they hold out until this problem was repaired? Briefly she wondered how one fixed a war, but couldn’t find an answer. All wars stopped when one side gained total victory. She knew Williamson wouldn’t give in and the news before all this was that the German/Arabian front was determined to get what they needed. She couldn’t remember what that was, though.

  And didn’t much care.

  She wanted out of the house. It was cramped and stuffy. The air conditioner wouldn’t work without enough power and the generators supplied barely enough to produce food. She had never been claustrophobic before but was sure this was what it felt like. Her house was big enough yet she felt closed in, unable to move.

  Making a decision, she threw the bed covers off her naked body, got up and dressed in three-day-old clothes, a pair of jeans and a white tee shirt. Gingerly she went to the window and opened the shutters manually. She wanted to save as much power as possible, just in case a broadcast did make it to her wall television. And more than that, she didn’t want anybody close by to hear the shutters open. It would be hard from the third floor but not impossible, and it was always better safe than sorry.

  The shutters slid away, revealing empty streets. Litter was everywhere. Tires burned on sidewalks and cruisers were gutted. Pieces of burnt paper and other small rubbish twirled in tiny whirlpools created by the wind.

  Where did everyone go? Last night they were partying hard.

  It didn’t really matter at the moment. What the scene outside told her was that it was safe to get outside for a bit of fresh air. She was so relieved she didn’t know she was smiling hard until her cheeks hurt.

  Outside, the wind looked rough. She could almost picture an old western movie being filmed below her apartment, instead of litter flapping over tar-sealed roads there would be tumbleweeds and a dirt road.

  She broke her thought pattern and relaxed her smile. It could still be dangerous, she told herself, be on guard for anything.

  One last check up and down the street and she was sure it was safe enough to venture outside. She had already made the decision to go and commanded her legs to take her to the front door.

  Movement was slow at first, but she couldn’t remain here forever, and apart from that she had an urge, small as it was, to visit the only active church. She shook her head. Weird, she thought. But the closer she got to the door the stronger the urge was.

  The door closed. She waited to hear the electronic latch magnetize into place. Satisfied that her home was securing itself, she ventured onto the street.

  “Close and lock,” she said.

  Her bare feet made soft thumps on the carpet stairs. She was acutely aware of this and intently listened for any other sounds.

  At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and listened. She heard nothing and that was a problem. This sector had an abundance of birds of all kinds. Even the endangered Sparrow could often be spotted close to here.

  It’s just a quiet day, she told herself and moved cautiously to the front door. She seemed to reach it far too fast, as if it had reared up and flung itself at her.

  She put her foot an inch from the door and said, “Open.” The door opened and stopped against her foot. She peered through the small gap. Checking both ways as far as she could see, Ami looked for anything out of the ordinary. Then she wondered what exactly that meant, but couldn’t see anything save trees, parked cruisers (one gutted by fire) and houses lined across the street. A light breeze blew fallen leaves across the road. They scattered, swirling around a slashed tire.

  Gingerly, Ami opened the door wider. She moved forward slowly and stopped on the first concrete step. She surveyed the area more thoroughly and saw nothing to fear except the empty streets.

  Ami walked along the centerline of the street. That way she could see everything in three directions. Occasionally, she turned around to check behind.

  The empty streets worried her and for the first ten minutes of her walk, she felt like she was passing through a ghost town. It was eerie. The only sound was the wind pushing leaves, scratching them along the street. It was a relaxing sound and Ami felt her tension dissipate, slowly leaking from her pores. It was like walking in the dead of night with only the wind to keep her company. The fact that it was daylight quickly destroyed the feeling. Now she was relaxed and that was enough. It was also a great improvement from last night. Hell, she felt terrific compared to when she finally decided to open the door.

  She caught a sight in her peripheral vision. She had a quick glimpse of a red blur disappearing behind a bush. The sight froze her. She didn’t notice anything before. Ami realized that she hadn’t been paying attention.

  She turned to face the bush. “Who’s there?” she asked, making her voice sound tougher than she was. She waited a few seconds, then added, “Come out now.”

  The bush shook. She heard a soft whimpering sound.

  “Come here,” she said firmly and waited again.

  “Go away, please,” a young voice said.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Ami kept her voice soft this time. Soft and encouraging, like a teacher with a kid that really tries but always fails.

  Slowly from the bush a kid emerged. He wore blue jeans, a plaid shirt nicely tucked in, and a red baseball cap. His brown hair curled at his skinny shoulders. His body shook, making his freckles ripple gently on his nose. The boy stood at the edge of the lawn. His brown eyes watched her intently.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Daddy took Mommy to God with him.”

  Shock exploded into her bones. “What?” Ami muttered, forgetting everything except the scared little boy a few feet from her.

  “Daddy took Mommy to heaven,” the boy said. “I ran away. Daddy was strange last night.” The boy studied his shoes. Quietly he added, “Daddy looked for me. I was scared. His eyes were big and...I ran away.” The boy started crying.

  Ami wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around the lost soul and comfort him. But she feared scaring him more and causing him to run away again. She decided to remain where she was and watch him, until the sobbing subsided.

  He looked at her. Huge tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his jacket sleeve.

  “How old are you?” she asked. It was a dumb thing for her to say, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

  The boy smiled. He said, “I’m seven years old.” And quickly added, “Today.”

  “Wow,” Ami said, “you’re a big boy today.”

  The boy beamed.

  “How about joining me and keeping me safe from strangers?”

  “We’re strangers,” the boy said.

  Ami pretended to think about this. She scrunched her face into many outrageously thoughtful images, until she heard the boy giggle. She said, “If we introduced ourselves, then we’re not strangers anymore, right?”

  The boy nodded.

  “I’m Ami.”

  “Ami who?” he inquired.

  She smiled and thought, smart kid. “I’m Ami Pluggle.” She held out her hand.

  The boy strode forward and shook her hand. “I’m Dennis Theme,” he sai
d with confidence.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you too.” Dennis looked past her shoulder. “Where is everyone, Ami?”

  “I don’t know. Shall we go look for them?”

  Dennis released her hand. He looked down the road in the direction Ami was headed when they met. “I don’t know,” he said. “I heard people talking last night.”

  “What were they saying?”

  Dennis seemed to think about that. “Nothing much,” he said. “Some scary looking guys wanted to go to a church in the city.”

  “Why would scary looking guys want to go to church?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  They started walking in the direction of the city. Ami walked slowly so Dennis could keep up. “Dennis, are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Where do you live?”

  He used his thumb to point over his shoulder. “Back that way.”

  “I’m hungry also,” Ami lied. “Can we go to your house and get something to eat? It’s a long walk to the city.”

  The boy shook his head wildly. He stared up at her with eyes full of fright. “Mommy and Daddy are in the living room. I saw them this morning.”

  You saw them dead, right, Dennis?

  There was no food in her house. The processor wasn’t working properly. But homes with kids got extra power for the food processor and heat during winter. It wouldn’t take long to get something for him, but she needed his voice code to operate it. In this kind of emergency, voice patterns were the only key.

  “Honey,” she said, squatting down and gently placing her hands on his shoulders, “you need food. When did you last eat?” She answered for him, “Yesterday at the latest, right? You need to eat and I need your voice code to get the food for you.”

  The boy nodded. At length, he said, “The back door leads directly into the kitchen.”

  “Shall we go?” It wasn’t really a question. She was going to go no matter what. Deep inside, she hoped Dennis was wrong about his parents and this was a sure-fire way to find the truth. Expose it. No matter the outcome, this boy needed food. His face was too pale.

  “Do I have to come?”

  Ami stared at him solemnly.

  “I do, don’t I?” he said.

  Ami nodded. “Sorry,” she said.

  Dennis shrugged. “This way,” he said. He made a hundred and eighty degree turn and headed down the street. He dragged his feet with his head low and looked back a couple of times. Ami smiled at him. Reaching his driveway, he turned left onto it.

  Ami followed him through a small white gate, past a hard light holo-dog that was flashing, its body breaking and forming every few seconds. She was surprised it was still active.

  Dennis said, “It’s been like that for years.” He climbed the stairs to the back door. “Open,” he commanded and the door opened, greeting him by name.

  Ami was impressed. This family had the latest gadgets. She wondered what was inside as she followed Dennis.

  “Hello,” she called once inside, “is anybody home?” She waited a few seconds and said, “I found your son, Dennis.”

  “Dead people can’t hear you,” Dennis said. He sounded like a fully-grown adult with that sentence. He went to the processor voice control box. “Cornflakes with a lot of sugar,” he ordered. Instantly it was on the kitchen table with a spoon next to it. “You want something?” he asked.

  “No, thanks, Dennis. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” He sat down and dug into the cereal.

  Ami advanced on the sliding doors leading to the living room. A bad smell drifted through the small crack where the doors joined. Slowly she reached for the handle.

  Don’t do it, she warned herself.

  “Don’t do it,” Dennis said as if he had read her mind.

  She pulled her hand back and turned, looking Dennis right in the eyes. Her look said everything. The boy nodded, a single tear spilled from one eye and sped down his cheek, rolled across his chin and dropped into his cereal. He resumed eating.

  Ami turned back to where the smell of rotted eggs came from. She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the door handle. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and at the same time reopened her eyes.

  The living room was a mess. The smell rushed at her and watered her eyes. Through the blur she saw two people on the sofa. The woman’s throat was cut wide open. The gash was brown on the outside but dark red inside. Blood had run down what was left of her neck and dried in clots at the top of her house dress. It glistened in the sun beaming through open shutters.

  A long bladed kitchen knife lay at the man’s feet. His head was leaning on the back of the sofa. Both wrists were slashed and a long cut ran up both forearms.

  “Jesus,” she whispered.

  Without thinking, she moved slowly into the room. She barely noticed the stench of rotting bodies now. She could still smell it, but it was faint and bearable.

  She didn’t know a person could slice both wrists and forearms. Dennis’ father must have been able to handle a great deal of pain. Either that or he was in such a rage he didn’t notice the pain.

  Advancing on the slumped bodies of the boy’s parents, she noticed a book with strange writing on the cover. Slowly she reached past the father, terrified that a hand would suddenly shoot out and grab her, and picked up the old hardback book off the sofa’s fat armrest. She hadn’t seen one of these before and was excited to hold it in her hands, even in this situation.

  Gingerly, she opened the worn cover and drew back the first two blank pages. She was looking for a publisher’s imprint and especially a copyright date. The next page over she was faced with foreign writing. It looked like a bunch of squiggly lines without any kind of format or rhythm. Curious, she turned the next page. There was a line with the words ‘SIGN HERE’ in bold type. She flicked through the rest of the thin hardback book, only to find the rest of the pages blank.

  Weird, she thought and placed the book back where she had found it, no longer worried about grabbing hands.

  Soft sobbing came from behind her and she turned to face Dennis. He was on his knees, staring at his dead mother.

  “Daddy did that,” he blubbered.

  Ami had no idea what to do. The murder-suicide didn’t surprise her, not with the fear of an all out electronic war looming overhead and the sound of bombs exploding not far away. That worry and hearing the crazies outside must’ve driven the father to breaking point. But how the hell was she supposed to explain that to a seven year old boy?

  Dennis looked up at her. Fat tears ran down his face and saliva hung from his lips.

  At a complete loss, Ami went to him and wrapped her arms tightly around the quivering body. He returned her embrace and sobbed against her shoulder. She waited until the sobs lulled and said softly, “We should go now.” She felt Dennis nod and slowly they both stood up, wrapping their arms around each other.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Peter rolled off Rachael. They were both naked and sweat glistened on their bodies in mid-afternoon light. They had made love four times, and each time, Peter wanted more. He guessed three centuries could do that to a man, and Rachael had given it to him.

  Cupping his hands behind his head, he wondered how Telly got on following that woman. She was a nice piece of work and strong also. Pity she wasn’t on his side. She would die like the rest in the final battle.

  His wish book would take millions, if not billions, of souls away from the white light of pity and show them the red light of life. Every dream a human wanted would be fulfilled, even world peace. It took only one person to wish for that and it would be done.

  In his lifetime, no one had wished for that. Well, not as far as he knew. Wars were brewing everywhere when his time came. Pity. Well, one battle was left to fight and Peter was determined to show everyone in this age the Bringer of Light.

  But first he had to get his computer back. He was
n’t sure how to make it work but Rachael would find a way. She was a resourceful young lady. And he was totally taken by her. If only she could be stronger and see the big picture. She was a slave to her emotions and that was unacceptable.

  What would happen if he had to take someone that she cared about? Then he remembered Eric. She had dealt the final blow. She had taken the dagger and cut open the throat. She had entered the zone. She was prepared to kill rather than lose him.

  That’s what Peter believed at first, but now he was having second thoughts. It felt like she wasn’t truly supporting him. Today she had stood back and watched. In fact, she spent a lot of time in silence. What was she thinking? Why was she thinking? What was she hoping to accomplish trying to convince herself...of what? Everything Rachael had seen was real. Everything Peter promised, he could deliver. Yet he suddenly felt she was trying to convince herself this wasn’t real, as if she was an actress in a movie. But she wanted the final rewards, right? Human greed always wanted the final rewards, regardless of means to receive it.

  And that was how they had met Telly.

  If ever there was a greedy son-of-a-bitch, Telly was it. That was Peter’s first impression. And he liked it. Telly came across as a man who knew exactly what he wanted and had bent the rules to achieve it. Telly wanted money and power. Power came from money and he wanted more. Telly had more connections in the black market than Peter could hope to achieve on his own. And more importantly, he was a believer of the book.

  Peter was in the police cruiser when they met.

  He didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He just pointed the nose of the cruiser away from the fighter jets and went straight. He had tried many times to start a conversation with his dream girl, in the hope of getting to know her better. But nothing worked. She gave short period style answers, sometimes she just grunted. Fuck the bitch. If she wanted to continue this journey with him, then she had to block the emotions she had been forced to follow and learn the new way of cutting them off. It was the only way they could truly be together.