The Remaining

by Travis Thrasher

  “And if I do—if we do—we’ll get out of this mess? We’ll be raptured?”

  “No,” Pastor Shay says. “The Rapture’s over. We missed that boat.”

  Maybe there are some airplanes that can come down? Or can we simply take a car?

  “That’s not good,” Tommy says.

  His tone is overly sarcastic, but the pastor’s not biting. There’s nothing remotely funny to the pastor about any of this.

  “It isn’t,” Shay tells him, “but we have hope in this path to the Father and in his gift of eternal life. You have to make a choice, Tommy.”

  You’re sure sounding like a preacher man now.

  Shay stands up.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Considering the look on the pastor’s face, Tommy thinks he might do anything. Who knows. Maybe the guy will carry him over and baptize him right here and now. Tommy’s not sure how that all works. But the fact that this somber, scruffy-looking guy actually happens to be a preacher is a surprise to begin with. So anything he might do won’t be too unbelievable.

  The pastor has a sad-looking smile on his face. It reeks of regret. “I’m going to be a pastor for the first time in my life.”

  More people have come into the sanctuary. Some stand around the perimeter and in the back. Others sit in the pews, waiting for some kind of hopeful word. The lights are dim but still work overhead. The faces looking around at one another seem heavy and overcast and scared. Conversations are hushed. Smiles are abandoned. Everybody is feeling and thinking the same thing yet nobody wants to utter it out loud.

  That changes when the pastor walks to the front and asks everybody if he can have their attention. “I want to share a few words with all of you,” Pastor Shay tells them as he stands on the platform at the front of the church.

  Tommy scans the room and finds Allison and Jack sitting near the back in a pew. He takes a seat beside them but doesn’t say a word.

  The pastor stands there holding his Bible, a stoic look on his face. Tommy can tell the man is trying to hold back his emotions.

  “For those of you I haven’t met, I’m Pastor Shay.”

  He pauses for a minute, looking around, clenching his jaw.

  “I have been a fraud. It’s true. I walked into this church years ago—ten years ago, in fact. I became employed with an occupation and that is what I did. I merely occupied. I walked through this sanctuary with my soul asleep. But I’m not sleeping anymore.”

  Everybody in the room listens with full ears. Not one head is turned away.

  “In Matthew, Jesus said there will be those who use his name, give fancy speeches and sermons, but he will turn to them eventually and say, ‘I never knew you.’ And I was one of these people. I was a charlatan—a traveling salesman passing through life. Hocking God’s wares. Something miraculous had to happen to open my eyes to the truth of Jesus Christ. I hold myself responsible for not only my failed faith, but everyone who counted on me yet still stands here today.”

  “What can we do to save ourselves?” a voice calls out from the crowd.

  The pastor looks to the ground for the moment, then back at all of them. “Those of us gathered here—this is our wake-up call. A kick in the pants. Oh boy did we ever get one.”

  Tommy looks for a moment at Allison, then at Jack. He wonders what they’re thinking.

  I have no idea what to think so I’ll reserve that for now.

  “Our path will not be easy and will not go unchallenged. This is our opportunity. I can now show you the way. We can share this journey together.”

  As the pastor speaks, Tommy can hear a slight fluttering. That soon becomes louder and louder. A flapping, a thumping. Violent. Soon the noises become loud and aggressive thumps and seem to be hovering somewhere outside the church.

  More of those things, those monsters, the demons.

  “Did you hear that?” Tommy whispers to his friends.

  Pastor Shay stops. There are audible gasps and concerned voices sounding off. The flying, flapping sounds continue.

  Then the lights go off.

  Someone screams.

  Tommy stands up, making sure Jack is at his side.

  Lights flicker and the flying creatures are still outside making loud noises and landing on the roof and shaking the building somehow.

  This can all go away these creatures don’t have to hurt us.

  The people in the church are rushing out of the pews, slamming into each other, yelling and cursing and crying.

  “Let’s get out of the main room,” Tommy tells them.

  They head to the entrance of the church. Faint light spills on all of them. Voices are asking what those things are and what’s happening. Somewhere back in the sanctuary, Pastor Shay is still standing, still waiting to continue his speech.

  Somehow the thing outside senses when they are near the front door. Or the things—who knows how many there are. There’s a scratching sound, like sharp knives scraping the other side of the door. It sounds so loud, so close. Tommy can almost feel them on his skin.

  Jack slowly moves people away from the door. All eyes are on it now. Even the pastor, who walks into the entryway, is staring at it.

  “Move to the back of the church,” Jack calls out.

  He’s close by Allison, almost making sure he’s protecting her. The group of people move away from the door. Some are totally freaking out. Tommy tries to calm them as he moves with them. He hears someone calling out his name.

  Sam.

  He keeps walking but the voice shouts his name louder. Tommy turns around and gets nudged and then nearly knocked over by people frantically trying to seek safety.

  Nobody cares anymore. It’s just about me me me.

  “I’m coming,” Tommy shouts out to Sam.

  The things are outside, scratching and clawing to get in. They’re on the sides of the church now and the front door and the roof and everywhere.

  How many are there?

  He finds the white-haired punk girl and grabs her hand tightly. “Don’t let go.”

  They both run to the back of the church now, Tommy trying to find where Jack and Allison went. It’s madness. One minute the pastor is talking about Jesus and wake-up calls and now there are things trying to rip off the walls and doors surrounding them in order to get inside.

  The roof sounds like it’s about to either come off or collapse. Tommy hears the pastor’s hoarse voice shouting at them to get to the basement.

  Yeah, go to where we’re burying the dead. That way we won’t have to carry your bodies very far.

  A woman stumbles and falls and people simply run over her. Tommy helps her up while keeping his hand clenched onto Sam’s.

  It’s total chaos in here. Jack is helping lead the group downstairs, opening the basement door at the top of the steps and ushering people in. Tommy nods at his friend as he passes, following Sam into the darkness below.

  Who knows what awaits them down there?

  41

  RUINER

  The lights flicker like fireflies in the night until they finally go out, leaving the group in darkness in the cold, musty air of the basement. Jack slams the door shut and now they’re down here in relative silence, in the unfinished open area with the graves of the dead nearby.

  Tommy turns on the night vision in his camera and sees Dan cradling Skylar. The faces that look into the camera are ghosts and zombies counting the seconds before they’re finally free of this nightmare.

  But there’s only one way for that to happen.

  Tommy doesn’t know some of these people. Most, in fact. Yet they’re all down here huddled together in fear and in darkness. He’s videoing them in order to keep this for whoever comes next. For whoever’s left. Assuming he’s gone.

  Unless, of course, we’re all gone.

  “Where’s Rachel?” the faint voice belonging to Skylar asks.

  It wasn’t long ago that she was saying how much she loved Dan, how much she adored him and how sh
e couldn’t wait for their future. The promises and the dancing and the wine and the fun.

  Tommy shoves the thought away.

  This is all we have now and this is all I can do.

  “Rachel?” Tommy asks out loud.

  He looks at everybody his camera is picking up but doesn’t find the nurse anywhere. Then he hears the sounds again. The fluttering beat coming, a heavy and ominous pounding.

  The sound comes from above the church but they can hear it even down here.

  There are some cries and gasps.

  The thrashing continues like some loud, angry animal punching the walls and the rooftop.

  The camera wavers as Tommy’s hand shakes. There’s no sign of the nurse.

  “Rachel?” he calls out again. “Has anyone seen Rachel?”

  “The nurse? She was in the triage.” It’s a woman in the shadowed crowd talking.

  Tommy shuts his eyes for a moment and curses to himself.

  “Rachel’s out there,” Skylar says in a weak voice. “We have to—”

  Someone screams. Not like a scared-you sort of scream but a painful, hurting scream that continues for a while. Getting closer. And closer.

  Jack opens the door a crack. Tommy looks out and can hear the scream approaching.

  No no no.

  It’s her. She’s racing to get down the stairs.

  But something wants her it’s taking her it’s grabbing her.

  Jack starts to move but Tommy jumps on his back and prevents him from going out there and being a moron.

  A dying moron.

  “Jack, no, come on.”

  Rachel falls and climbs to her feet again but then something—some dark shadowy hand—swoops in and takes her and slams her against the wall, her lifeless body suddenly a kid’s doll bashed against the hard, flat surface with malice. Tommy pulls Jack in.

  The door slams shut.

  The silence is sickening.

  Tommy pictures Rachel’s body being bashed back and forth and doesn’t know what could do such a thing. What kind of demon can pick you up and flail you around like that? What kind of things are they dealing with?

  The hushed cries all around him are the answers. Nobody knows. Nobody knows and one by one they keep dying. Violently and unexpectedly and suddenly.

  As Tommy and Jack stand a few feet away from the locked door, Pastor Shay comes and puts his head by it.

  Something is behind it. Something breathing. Something sick, waiting and wanting all of us.

  The scratching starts. As if it can smell the pastor and knows who’s standing there and wants to rip the heart and soul from this man. It sounds like a dog wanting to get in. Not a little dog but a feverish devil dog clawing with its two front paws, ripping into the door until the thin barrier can’t take any more.

  The pastor and Jack lean against the door. It looks like it’s about to pop out, to split or be crushed. The rest of the survivors are moving away from the doorway.

  Faint, heavy, sickly whispers can be heard outside.

  Skreeeeeee

  Scratching, hovering, pushing, tapping. They want inside. They want them. They’re hungry and they’re not going away.

  “Listen to me,” the pastor calls out to Jack and Tommy. “Get everyone out of the church—after—”

  More scratching, frantic and panting and breathless.

  Then a thunderous bang comes. They can all feel it and it shakes them.

  No.

  Tommy’s eyes burn and his gut clenches without breathing and without looking. Every loud thud or pounding or scrape results in someone screaming or whimpering.

  “What are you going to—?” Tommy starts to say to the pastor.

  “Just listen to me!”

  Another loud boom.

  They’re coming. They’re going to break through.

  The pastor begins talking in a hoarse, frantic voice but one with full authority. “There’s a relief center set up outside the city, at the Cape Fear Bridge. They have supplies. Get everyone out of the city.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jack asks, still pushing back on the door that’s buckling and popping.

  “We know they’re attacking the churches, these things. Get these people to the relief center. And whatever you do, stick together.”

  Tommy puts his camera down for a moment. He thinks he knows what’s about to happen.

  That can’t happen he’s not going to do it he’s not crazy.

  “What are you doing?” Jack asks.

  “There is only one way out.”

  It’s not going to end this way. No.

  The loud bang startles all of them, including Tommy, who ducks for a moment since it seems so close. And then before he can do anything or say anything, the pastor moves to the door. Then he looks at Tommy.

  “I’ve seen it in you,” the pastor tells them. “Lead them out of here. You can do it.”

  The pastor opens the door a sliver.

  “They’re here for me,” he tells them.

  Then he shoves Jack away from the door and opens it all the way.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The words . . .

  Who’d he say them to? Jack? Me? All of us?

  But Tommy doesn’t think so.

  They were for the God he supposedly followed and served and preached about for his whole time as a pastor. The words were directed upward.

  Pastor Shay steps through the doorway and then opens up his arms and the hellish creatures smother and snap and suck the man’s body. The bones crack and buckle under the demons’ grip as the pastor begins to howl in a way Tommy’s never heard before. Shay’s body is lifted and snapped and then seized into the darkness all while his bloody wails continue.

  Tommy and Jack both slam the door shut and soon the bellowing stops. They wait for a moment. Then something massive slams against the door. It sounds exactly the way a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound dead body would sound hurled up against a door.

  The corpse of the pastor is just outside. The something seems to snatch it up again and slide it away.

  Then . . . silence. Strange, eerie, awful silence.

  But the monsters are gone. For now.

  42

  BREATHE

  Breathe. In. Out. Again. Once more. In. Out. And again.

  These are the simple thoughts running through Allison’s mind.

  Breathe. And again. And again.

  Sitting on the hard cement, the part of the basement that isn’t dirt, Allison covers her legs with her arms and waits and listens. She can’t sleep or even begin to. She keeps waiting for the clawing and scraping to start again.

  The unholy, hellish sounds don’t resume.

  It doesn’t keep her from shivering with fear.

  We were just all dancing together listening to rap and rapping along with it.

  Time doesn’t care about them anymore. And God? Does God care?

  Are You up there? Are You watching? Can You even hear me with all the other carnage You have to deal with?

  Her heart wants to just stop. Her eyes want to roll back in her head and stay there.

  The world ended. Ended. Ended right in front of her face. And still it rips apart, bit by bit. A pastor sucked up and snapped and spit back out by something. Something she can’t even speculate on. What can do that? Who can do that? And who can allow that to happen?

  If this is Judgment Day, then she has lots to pay for. For not being a good girl and not believing and not caring and not submitting.

  I’m a big, fat, failing sinner and I’m going to die soon.

  She knows this.

  Allison knows this and it hurts to breathe.

  The world is over and I might as well be over and it comes down to this thing this whole big bad thing I do or don’t believe in.

  Thoughts swirl. End-of-the-world stories aren’t supposed to be like this. They’re supposed to have ways out. They’re supposed to have sweet moments of grace. They’re supposed to have sweeping orchest
ral music and A-list actors and bright lights and rainbows all coming at the right moment to bring salvation.

  But none of those things are happening. None of those things are coming.

  It’s just silent and dark and lonely.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  She tells herself again. And again. Huddled and hunkered down and hungry and utterly and completely flying off the handle.

  God can You hear me please God?

  Please.

  In.

  Out.

  43

  THE DAY THE WORLD WENT AWAY

  Where are You, God? Where are the tiny strands of light in this dark place?

  Where is the sunset? Have You forgotten to turn it on? Have You finally let us put out the fire?

  Can You only hear me if I’m on my knees, with my hands folded, with my eyes closed?

  Do I need to be afraid?

  Do I need to be fearful?

  When will this night be over or will it ever?

  When can I wake up and see the normalcy we all once had?

  I want it back. I want to rewind the video of life. I want to redo. I want to redo it all.

  But does that mean I have to accept You’re behind it all?

  The cracks in the door allow streaks of sunlight to cut through the darkness they’ve been huddled together in all night. Tommy is cold and sore and exhausted yet his mind still races. He wants to get out of this hole, to get away from the dead bodies buried not so far away, to feel the sun on his face and breathe in fresh air. He also wants to try to do something, anything, to fight the creatures that are attacking them.

  We have to be able to do something, right?

  Jack is the first out of the group to stand and move to the door. “I haven’t heard anything for a while,” he tells them.

  “Don’t do it,” someone says.

  “Maybe they’re gone,” another voice says.

  The discussion continues as Jack ignores it like always and does his own thing. He opens the door a few inches, and dust floats in the air as more light makes Tommy squint. No screams. No demon sounds. Nothing yet.