The Seventh Day

by Scott Shepherd

  “Primo …”

  The one-eyed brother turned toward the blond one. “What?”

  “C’mon. Let’s go. There’s nothing here.”

  Primo hesitated, picking at a scab on his chin. After what seemed to Aurora like an eternity, he nodded and moved toward the door.

  She followed them outside and watched as they walked down the drawbridge to the fence where they had tethered their horse. Secundo mounted first, then pulled Primo up to join him.

  The jet-black horse snorted and whinnied from the extra weight. Flames darted from its nostrils.

  Two seconds later, a similar snort echoed in the night. It was followed by an identical whinny.

  Primo and Secundo immediately looked in the direction of the shed.

  Aurora closed her eyes.

  Shit.

  She held out as long as she could.

  They threatened her with atrocities that just sounded awful coming out of their blistered mouths.

  Aurora refused to speak.

  Primo pummeled her with his fists.

  Still she gave them nothing.

  She thought about lying. Sending them back to the Fields.

  Then Primo came out of the house. He had something in his hands she couldn’t quite see with all the blood in her eyes.

  “She’s stubborn,” said Secundo.

  “She just needs a bit more persuading,” suggested his brother.

  Primo produced the candles he had been carrying behind his back. He turned and took in the expanse of Funland.

  “Bet it’s been a long time since there were fireworks at this place.”

  Primo moved to his horse and squeezed its thick neck. It whinnied and snorted flames that he used to light one of the candles.

  Oh God. Not Funland. Not the place her family built from the ground up.

  “Please. Don’t.”

  “Then, tell me where Joad went. And don’t even consider lying,” said Primo, bringing the candle up by her face. “Because you’re coming with us and if we end up on a wild-goose chase, you’ll wish we ended things right here.”

  Aurora didn’t doubt for a second the man would carry out the threat. She was sure he would love it.

  “So?” Primo brought the candle even closer.

  He wasn’t giving her much choice. Maybe by going with them she could warn Joad and the others.

  Joad. Fixer. Please, please forgive me.

  “Nemo.”

  Secundo looked confused. “Like the fish? In the cartoon?”

  Aurora shook her head. “It’s a town. It’s where Joad is from.”

  Laura. Doc.

  “You’ll show us the way,” said Primo.

  I’m so sorry.

  Aurora nodded.

  Minutes later, they slung her across the horse Joad left behind. Secundo climbed up and kept Aurora at bay with a stranglehold on her neck.

  Primo didn’t get on his mount so quickly.

  He tossed the candles onto the drawbridge, and torched Funland anyway.

  34

  Graffiti covered every inch, despite its five-story height. Joad had a hard time getting Laura to believe that at one time, way back when, images used to flicker across this screen holding him spellbound hours at a time, alternately making him laugh, cry, and his heart race at the speed of light.

  They had hunkered down for the night in the dilapidated building that had once been the refreshment stand for the drive-in just off the state highway. Joad explained that his mother used to bring him here as a child; a three-hour car ride from Nemo, on most Saturday nights. It had been his favorite time each week, being transported to a different world he had never imagined, far away from his father’s iron hand. He would babble excitedly all the way back, talking with his mother about the film they just saw—knowing he had to get it out of his system before he got home. His father thought she was wasting Joad’s time, filling the boy’s head with garbage that would only make him dream of things he’d never be.

  “Wasn’t there a movie theater in Nemo?” asked Fixer, placing his bedroll on the floor still littered with candy wrappers that had been discarded years ago.

  “A small one. But they made this a big weekly party. People would come from surrounding counties to forget their troubles for a night. They’d show cartoons, tons of coming attractions, and shoot off fireworks at the end of every show.”

  Laura sat between Joad and Sayers, staring out at the drive-in screen as if it was a holy shrine. “I’ve never seen a movie.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Fixer.

  “I was six when they went away forever,” Laura reminded him.

  “You saw a few on TV,” Sayers pointed out. “I watched a couple with you and your mom.”

  “It’s not the same,” she said. “Plus, I really don’t remember any.”

  Joad felt a little hole open in the pit of his stomach. Once again, he was reminded of how she had been robbed of a normal childhood. It made him appreciate more than ever that Laura was growing up in a world where innocence had been lost, dealing instead with survival dilemmas that most of humanity had never experienced.

  He pointed at the broken-down counter and told Laura how each week his mother had come inside and told him to pick a treat. Popcorn, Red Vines, Milk Duds, Bon Bons—there were so many choices Joad spent most of the trip from Nemo deciding which he wanted. He remembered one birthday when she said he could have as many as he’d like, so he had one of each. That night when they got home, he had the worst stomachache of his life, and wondered if his mother had been trying to teach him something.

  The discussion turned to their favorite movies. Doc was a big fan of 2001: A Space Odyssey, though he still wished someone could explain the ending. Joad and Fixer told Doc he was on his own with that. Joad said if he had to pick one it would be The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

  “That makes perfect sense,” said Sayers.

  When Laura asked why, her stepfather summarized the movie, describing Clint Eastwood’s single-minded trek to find the missing gold, while uttering as few words as possible. Laura never took her eyes off Joad the entire time, and a smile spread across her face.

  “Yes,” she said. “I see what you mean.”

  Even Joad had to chuckle.

  “You’re all nuts,” Fixer said. “Best movie ever? The Wizard of Oz—hands down. No argument.”

  Laura said she’d heard of it.

  “Heard of it?” Fixer looked astonished. “They showed it on TV every year!”

  “Her mother and I thought it was too scary for a five-year-old,” Sayers explained.

  “Scary? Sure it was! That’s what made it so great!” responded Fixer. “Along with being funny. And fantastical.”

  Of course, Laura said she wanted to hear more.

  Joad wasn’t surprised that Fixer was more than happy to oblige.

  For the next couple of hours, he virtually acted out the entire film. Joad was impressed; nearly a decade since he could have possibly seen it, Fixer remembered every line. As the strange little man played Munchkins, the Wicked Witch, the Wizard, and even barked like Toto, Joad realized he knew pretty much every word as well. Fixer taught Laura the songs and Doc joined in more often than not. Even Joad found himself humming, though mostly to himself.

  It warmed his heart to see Laura so enthralled. There, in the same drive-in where he’d spent so many memorable nights by his mother’s side, Joad witnessed something he thought he’d never see again: the wonder in a child’s eye as she experienced magic for the very first time.

  Laura broke into a huge round of applause when Fixer finished, as did Doc and even Joad. Fixer took a few bows, then lay down, exhausted from the effort. He was soon asleep and Doc quickly followed suit, leaving, as usual, Joad on the ground wide awake beside the ever-curious girl.

  “Did you come here with Becky?” she asked after a while.

  Joad shook his head. “They stopped showing movies here way before that.” He closed his eyes and drift
ed back in time. “There was this one place she loved to go.”

  “Where?”

  “A small diner. In the middle of a national park, a couple hours from Nemo.”

  “Why’d she like it so much?”

  “Because it was ‘our place.’ We’d always sit at the same table and she’d stare out the window at the view. She used to say over and over it was her favorite spot in the whole wide world.”

  Laura didn’t respond at first. For a moment, Joad thought she had fallen asleep.

  “Maybe you’ll get to go there together again.”

  “I hope so,” said Joad.

  He closed his eyes once again and dared to wish.

  Oh God, I hope so.

  N-O-M-O-R-E.

  Two words. One battered sign at the highway’s edge.

  That was all it took for seven years of hopes and dreams to spin down the drain.

  Someone had spray-painted a big black X across the E in NEMO on the city limit sign, replaced it with an O, and added two more letters to form the words that broke Joad’s heart.

  N-O-M-O-R-E.

  No More.

  It was all he needed to know what awaited him was going to be worse than he ever imagined.

  Fixer, Sayers, and Laura remained silent atop their mounts, looking to take their lead from Joad. He didn’t say a thing, just urged his horse forward and the quartet moved through the outskirts of Joad’s hometown.

  The first buildings had weed- covered lawns, most of their roofs missing, and maybe one window out of ten still in place. It only got more devastating when they reached the main streets.

  Once a bucolic small town, there were only traces of a mom-and-pop market, post office, coin laundromat, and a park with an honest-to-God bandstand. Joad’s heart was in his throat remembering walking down this very same street on hot summer days, when everyone in Nemo would turn out to shop and socialize.

  But no longer.

  Nemo was dead.

  Joad continued to lead the way, riding past deserted buildings, an occasional stripped car, and smashed-in store windows. His three companions stayed a few yards behind, not wanting to intrude on this most horrific of homecomings. Finally, Fixer rode forward until he was abreast of Joad.

  “I’m really sorry, Joad.”

  Joad didn’t acknowledge the sentiment. He motioned ahead.

  “I’m on the next street.”

  “Joad. There’s no one here.”

  Joad kept on riding. The others were left with no choice but to follow.

  They rounded the corner to find Joad’s block.

  What was left of it.

  Family homes had been decimated. It was like a wrecking ball had been taken to the entire neighborhood. Then they saw the real culprit.

  A Strangers spacecraft.

  It was embedded in the side of a white building. Maybe one-third the size of the crater craft, the damage it had done to the block was like fallout from a meteor crash. Miraculously, the white building was still intact—as if being Ground Zero afforded it some kind of protection.

  Joad dismounted and walked onto the burnt-out lawn. In the dirt was a long pointed object, once part of the building. Now, split in two. Joad bent down and picked up the top half of a steeple.

  Sayers recognized it and his mouth gaped open.

  “This was … a church?”

  Joad continued to stare at the steeple, then up at the spaceship that had snapped the steeple from the building.

  “This was my home.”

  He knelt down and grappled for something else in the dirt.

  A sign lying facedown on the barren lawn.

  He flipped it over—plastic white letters had been affixed to a black background.

  SERMON. SUNDAY. 10 AM.

  Laura had gotten off Macy and moved beside Joad. She peered over his shoulder and mouthed the words on the sign. Including the two on the bottom right.

  REVEREND JOAD.

  Laura stared at Joad incredulously.

  “That’s you? You’re a priest?”

  Joad didn’t answer.

  He buried his face in his hands.

  EPISODE 7

  35

  No one uttered a single word.

  Joad had wondered what their reactions might be. He’d known ever since they got together on the Flats this very situation would present itself if they were fortunate enough to survive the journey to Nemo together.

  Fortunate. Bad choice of word.

  Staring at his church with the gigantic spacecraft sticking out of the wall as if it had been attached at birth, Joad sensed that any luck he’d had getting home had been for naught.

  Laura stared at him with a mix of wonder and confusion. He regretted having kept his true calling from her. He’d done it for a number of reasons, some practical, most self-serving.

  He knew it begged a ton of explanation. Joad was certain that a man of faith wasn’t what Fixer, Sayers, and Laura saw in him when they first encountered him. That didn’t fit the man who rescued hostages from pirate ships, young girls out of alien spacecrafts, or let Fixer blow two brothers sky-high without an iota of remorse. Joad could have set them straight, but the story was one he was loath to tell. Mostly because of things he’d done way back when; things he couldn’t condone or be proud of.

  Proficient with a weapon, seemingly gruff and insular, in days past he would’ve been labeled a gunslinger, or perhaps an outlaw. There had been a time he thought the characterization was deserved—but that was before he met Becky and turned his back on his former life. He had stood behind the pulpit in this very same church and shared many of these tales. Back when he had a congregation which he thought might be helped by hearing the sins of his own past, to ensure better futures of their own.

  Back then, it had felt right and purposeful to spread that faith. He had come home to Nemo with Becky, his beautiful bride, and taken on the mantle as the new reverend. She had supported his decision wholeheartedly, turning the church and rectory into the most welcome place on Earth. Becky had been the one who persuaded him to go on the goodwill tour overseas, saying that the impoverished would be inspired by what Joad often referred to as his lifelong climb after a fall from grace.

  Then came the Strangers.

  Ascension and redemption took a sudden back seat. Survival and the single-minded desire to get back home to the love of his life was all Joad could think about.

  Initially.

  The detours changed that.

  Joad had been on the Other Side on The Seventh Day. Eight thousand miles away from home, give or take a few hundred. It was a monumental trek without a car or plane at his disposal. He knew that traveling on horseback, even at a leisurely pace, should only take a year. Two, tops.

  Not seven.

  It had been Remaining like Fixer, Doc, and Laura, and even the brothers, that diverted him from the direct path to Nemo. These “detours,” as Joad had come to think of them, were not things he’d set out to find. In fact, Joad would tell you he tried his utmost to avoid them.

  Time and time again, he allowed himself to get caught up in the plights of the Remaining. Sometimes for weeks or months; there was even a whole year spent deep in what had once been Southeast Asia, where Joad had been unable to extricate himself from a situation and resume his odyssey home.

  Now, standing in front of his decimated church with the trio he had gathered along the way, he was reminded of why he took those detours.

  It wasn’t by choice.

  He did it because he had been chosen to.

  Slight change in syntax. Huge difference.

  A whole lot to explain when he didn’t have to.

  Looking at his three companions, Joad realized this was why he hadn’t been forthcoming with the truth. If they’d never made it to Nemo, there would have been no reason to reveal anything. But now, because he had withheld so much, coupled with the current state of his church and hometown, the impact on Fixer, Sayers, and Laura was overwhelming.

&
nbsp; They continued to gape at Joad’s former home. He could tell they were wrestling with the idea that not only had he resided here, but had overseen a flock of congregants. Add the uninvited party crasher from another world in the church wall, and Joad could see how they had a lot to wrap their brains around.

  The church and rectory formed an L on the corner of the block. On one side, the sanctuary reached for the heavens; most of the stained-glass windows were still miraculously intact around the Strangers’ craft. The walls had a few cracks, but the biggest casualty from the crash seemed to be the split-in-half steeple.

  The rectory formed the other line in the L, stretching down the adjacent street, perpendicular to the church. It was two stories tall, the church offices and meeting rooms comprising the lower floor, and Joad and Becky’s home on the upper.

  Joad glanced at the massive wooden doors to the church, then at the others.

  “I’m going inside.”

  The trio exchanged looks. Joad noticed each was more dubious than the one before. It was Sayers who spoke up first.

  “Joad—there can’t be anybody here.”

  “I’m going inside,” Joad repeated.

  It was more an order than a statement. Fixer acknowledged it with a nod. “We’ll just wait out here.”

  Joad pointed out a gate at the other end of the rectory. “Why don’t you go in the garden? It’s beautiful.” His eyes drifted back up at the spaceship. “Well, at least it used to be.”

  Sayers murmured that sounded like a good idea. As Joad approached the church entrance, the others moved down the block toward the garden gate. Joad hesitated before tugging the big iron handles on the doors.

  Was it locked? If not, what would he find inside? Sayers was probably right: If Rebecca were here, wouldn’t she have already run out of the church and into his arms the moment she heard clip-clopping horse hooves on a street that looked like nothing had strode upon it in years? Or was this a fantasy he’d built in his head as reality because he had dreamed it for so long?

  Only one way to find out.

  The door swung open easily enough. Joad entered the narthex, a room bridging the sanctuary on the left and the rectory to his right.