by Smith, S. L.
“You don’t want us to litter, Father?” Marshall asked.
“Not exactly, but that’s good, too.” Padre answered mysteriously.
Isherwood was smiling broadly. “Padre! What’ve you got up your sleeve. You got yourself a bullet factory, don’t you?” Padre didn’t answer, but he was nodding and grinning.
“No way!” Justin said, looking shocked. “You stinkin’ idiot. That’s amazing. You got lead and everything?”
Padre nodded, “Yup, and about forty pounds of gunpowder.”
Justin’s jaw loosened a bit at that. He turned his head, mumbling to himself. “Forty pounds? But that would be – well, for a .22LR – that would be like two, no three thousand or so bullets per pound. That’s like enough powder for over, uh, over a hundred thousand bullets!”
Padre had pushed out his bottom lip a bit and was nodding. “Got a nice little furnace, too, but I’ll need some help pedaling the bicycle generator for that.”
All Justin could manage to say was “Dude.”
After another hour or so, around night fall, they began taking shifts shooting the “gopher” heads that were still popping up over the crest of the long mound. It had grown another couple feet in height at the crest. Not only were fewer and fewer people needed, but they wanted to start muffling the sound of the rifles and they only had two suppressors that would fit the rifles. They decided to bed down for the night after Padre made them a light, but hot meal. They divided up the night into shifts. By the fourth watch of the night, they had shut off all the trucks and were only using knives and flashlights to kill the ones that had managed to climb over the mound and stagger into the fence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: COWS AND CODDLING
They awoke early the next morning before dawn. Marshall had had the last shift. There were just a couple zombies still groping through the cast iron bars of the church’s tall fence. These were easily and soundlessly dispatched with knives. Now that they had killed so many, they hoped to move out without attracting the notice of another wave.
Before heading back to St. Maryville, they first unloaded the cattle. They started with the trailer without the bull. Father Simeon would allow the cattle to roam freely across the property. They would be protected inside the fences. There was plenty of grass for now, too, but they would probably still need to bring in some bales of hay. They unloaded the eight cows from the second trailer, but the bull prevented them from unloading the first trailer.
Father had an idea for what to do with the bull. The church’s fence ran all around the church property, including the large cemetery at the back of the church. The older section of the cemetery was further enclosed with another heavy cast iron fence. It was filled with ornate vaults and statues. It appeared from a distance like the downtown section of a miniature city with the vaults rising tall like skyscrapers. Altogether, the smaller cemetery within a cemetery enclosed almost an acre. There was plenty of tall green grass between the rows of vaults, as well.
“Whoa,” Justin said, overhearing a conversation between Father Simeon and Isherwood. “Padre’s coming back with us?” They had all just finished unloading the bull into the older section of the cemetery. Jim, Agne’s husband, had taken over driving the truck and trailer. He seemed to have quite a bit of skill behind the wheel.
Isherwood and the priest interrupted their private conversation and turned to Justin. Isherwood nodded, “Yeah, that’s right, but we don’t want to leave the church completely unattended, even temporarily.”
The others were drawing closer, as well. “We’ve been talking, Father.” It was Agnes with her husband, Jim. “We wouldn’t mind staying and taking care of the animals.”
“You two wouldn’t mind?” Isherwood asked. “This place could get swarmed again, even with the walls of corpses as barricades. And my stomach’s already starting to turn at the smell.”
Agnes looked back to her husband and exchanged nods. “Just so long,” Jim insisted, “as you provide us with a good bit of ammo and maybe one of the vehicles, in case we need to bug out your way.”
Isherwood nodded heavily in answer. Padre added, “Of course! Matter of fact, I would’ve insisted on it. You two have experience with cattle?”
“Yes, Father. Quite a bit, actually. Jim’s managed pasture land on the side for years.” Agnes answered. Jim hitched a thumb in one of his belt loops, apparently feeling abashed all of a sudden.
“Is that right, Mr. Jim?” Father Simeon nodded in admiration.
“Yes, Father.” Jim answered, looking at the priest from the corner of his eye.
“Don’t mind him, Father.” Agnes said confidentially. “It’s just we’ve always wanted our own piece of land, you see? Jim’s always wanted a herd of his own. With your say-so, you’re sorta answering prayers we’ve had for, well, for quite a long time.”
“It’s done then.” Padre said. “You’re really helping a lot of people, Jim and Agnes. I hope you know that and this, as well – it’s no mere coincidence that you’re here and alive, or that any of us are still here, for that matter. We have just enough gifts and talents between us to begin turning things around. But only enough.”
“We’ll take good care of ‘em, Father. Just you wait and see. You’ll be real proud of this herd.”
They left Jim and Agnes a short while later, leaving out the front gate and passing through the still-unblocked half of the church road. Before leaving, Father Simeon had taken Jim and Agnes aside and walked them through the process for manufacturing bullets. He also left them with an instructional book and all the used brass casings from the night before. There were a few more books on the subject, Father explained, in the small library branch along the highway. Jim already had some experience with the manufacturing process, and they were both already familiar with Padre’s preparations for the apocalypse, including the bicycle generator.
The caravan again had Old Blue at the head and the Escalade following behind. As they crested over the railroad tracks, they were happy to see that the Morganza highway was just an empty stretch of highway again. It showed no sign of the previous day’s grisly parade. The open road looked inviting enough, again appearing as it likely once had to the crew of Easy Rider. They had weathered the storm, for now.
*****
They were relieved to find the church grounds in a much more tranquil state than the last time they had returned home from a bruising shoot-out. The air, however, was thick with the smell of rotting flesh. The moaning of the zombies had been replaced by a low buzzing sound. Clouds of flies were darkening the sky farther down Main Street, where they had left the mounds to rot. Isherwood shivered in disgust at the thought of the mounds of flesh being replaced by mountains of squirming maggots. His thoughts turned to how they could set fire to the mounds before disease began spreading to their doorstep and also how they could avoid burning down the whole town in the process.
These thoughts quickly evaporated as Sara came running toward the caravan as they were opening the back gate. Her face was stricken and she was crying. All the men poured out of the trucks at the sight of her. She just buried her face in Isherwood’s chest for a time, as she tried catching her breath long enough to tell him what had happened.
Isherwood was mentally preparing him for the worst. “Where are the children, Sara? Where are Emma Claire and Charlie?”
Sara wasn’t able to regain her composure for some time, but the sound of the truck engines and the gate opening had drawn the others to them. Gran explained that Emma had been taken. “Not by zombies,” she said. “We saw a car driving away right after we noticed that Emma had disappeared.”
“What can you tell us about the car?” Father Simeon asked. “Did it have any markings? Could you hear how far it went and in which direction?”
“It was headed back towards Hospital Road,” Tad answered. “It was dirty, but I think it was a brown sedan. Somebody had drawn something in the dust on the back windshield.”
“What?” Isherwood said with madn
ess barely veiled in his voice. “What was drawn, Tad?”
“Three crosses.” She said without looking Isherwood in the eye.
“Three crosses? Hospital Road?” Isherwood said in astonishment.
Justin was shaking his head. “What? What does that mean? You know where they took her from that?” Isherwood didn’t answer him. He had stormed off and was busy digging through the back of Old Blue.
“Patrick,” he said, coming back holding the automatic rifles. “How much ammo do you still have for these?”
“Enough,” Patrick answered gravely. “Enough.”
“Hello! Would somebody answer me?” Justin was calling out. “What aren’t you people saying?”
“It’s Tad’s and Jerry’s wacko church.” Isherwood called out from the trunk area of the Escalade. “It’s that converted roller rink or bowling alley or wherever those rapture freaks set up shop. They’ve got three crosses out front, and they’re gonna hang from them if they’ve hurt her. Where’s your rope, Patrick? I put rope in every one of these –”
“It’s right here, buddy.” Patrick said, showing Isherwood the rope that was laying right in the center of the truck bed. He exchanged glances with Justin and Father Simeon.
Padre nodded. “Alright, Isherwood. Let’s load back up. We’re coming with you and we’ll go right now, but listen, buddy.”
“I don’t need help.” Isherwood said rummaging violently in the back of Old Blue. “But they will.”
Padre nodded to Patrick, who nodded back. “Look, man.” Patrick started saying as he walked straight up to Isherwood. “We can’t do this if you’re gonna go over there all half-cocked and stupid, okay?”
Isherwood rounded on his friend. His eyes were enflamed with malice. He was about to charge Patrick while gripping his rifle with white knuckles, when Father Simeon appeared behind him. The priest brought down the butt of a pistol hard onto the back of Isherwood’s skull. Isherwood collapsed under the impact. Padre snatched the rifle from Isherwood’s clutch just before he fell on top of it. “Get him in the truck,” the priest called to Justin and Patrick. “He’ll be up and ready by the time we get to Hospital Road.”
“We never went down Hospital Road,” Patrick was saying, as he lifted Isherwood’s unconscious body by the feet. Justin was carrying his head and shoulders. They tossed him as gingerly as possible into the cab of Old Blue. Sara went over to him, still trying to choke down her sobs.
Patrick was still thinking aloud. “We’d avoided it all this time because it was swarming with zombies. This little rat’s nest has been waiting there all this time. We probably even helped these nutbags along by drawing the swarm away. If we’d done nothing, they’d have probably already starved to death in their building surrounded by the dead.”
“I’m sure we’ll make it right soon enough.” Justin said grimly.
Gran and the rest were still standing by watching the men prepare to leave. “Do you need Tad to come with you?” Gran asked. “Shouldn’t you at least ask her what this place looks like on the inside – is there a back door? Maybe a way in through the roof?”
Justin and Patrick turned to the older woman, clearly impressed. Tad looked back at Gran almost offended, but Gran pressed on. “What? You don’t think you’re partly responsible? You’ve been associating with these fools for the last thirty years, dear. Coddling madness, hmmph. You think you can just make up a religion from whole cloth without consequences?”
Justin whistled in appreciation. “Better do what she says, Ms. Tad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: COJONES
In the end and over the fierce protests of Jerry, Tad agreed to accompany Father Simeon and the other men to the church with the three crosses. They had left Marshall at St. Mary’s to help guard, along with Jerry, against any further attacks from the mysterious group.
As Gran had anticipated, there was both a back door and roof access to the converted bowling alley. Tad advised against coming in through the front. They would be wide open if they entered down the church’s long driveway. They would also have to take Hospital Road head on. They decided to come from the back, even though this meant driving through the same sugar cane fields that stood at the back of Wal-Mart. Father Simeon thought they could probably find some rougher roads leading to the back of the cane fields. Driving straight across the furrowed cane field would likely make a lot of racket.
They decided to approach quietly and observe the compound first from behind the cover of adjacent buildings. Tad had also seen the dirty brown sedan driving away. They hoped she would be able to identify it, if it they ran across it in the bowling alley parking lot or elsewhere.
They were all standing in a fenced in backyard in Major Subdivision when Isherwood awoke from his nap. It had been Justin’s backyard until recently. They had avoided Major Parkway to get there, driving instead through another adjacent subdivision east of there. There was a direct line of sight past the Civic Center and across the cane fields to the back of the old bowling alley. They were looking through their binoculars.
“We need a telescope to see anything at this distance,” Patrick said. Even still, they could see a sizeable ring of zombies surrounding the back of the bowling alley. They could also see, though obscured by a stand of sugar cane, the dust-covered sedan that had led them there in the first place.
Justin shook his head, “Yeah, but wind is coming from the west. We’re in a good spot to listen. Besides, didn’t the Aycock kid have a telescope?” Justin and Patrick had both lived in this subdivision until Isherwood had driven by over a week ago, leading the dead behind him like the pied piper.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Patrick agreed.
“Let’s go get it, then. We should have a good view from your second floor deck.”
“Knives only, guys.” Padre reminded them. They were leaving just as the truck door was slowly creaking open. Isherwood was sitting just inside, rubbing his head. Justin saluted him in passing.
Patrick hushed him quickly, as Isherwood, suddenly aware of his surroundings, made to start yelling again. “Go talk to Padre. He’ll explain.” Patrick said in hushed tones.
Isherwood staggered over to Padre who was still watching over the top of the fence. Staggering, he resembled a zombie, himself. He was rubbing his eyes, trying to make them focus. “Hidey-ho, Wilson.” He said groggily with a weak smile.
“Did you just make a Home Improvement joke?” Padre asked, shaking his head in disdain. “Wouldn’t we need to be on opposite sides of the fence for that?”
Isherwood sneered back at the priest. “What? So you could sucker punch me again?”
The priest was shaking his head. “That wasn’t a sucker punch that was cold-cocking.”
“Whatever, jerk.” Isherwood said, but his smile had started growing stronger. It then arched into a sneer as the image of his daughter flashed across his mind.
“You know as well as Padre that you needed a good blow to the head.” Tad said from the tailgate of the truck. She was sitting there hanging her feet over the side. She was barefooted, as always.
Isherwood whirled around. “What’re you doing here?” There was a thick note of blame in his voice. At the sight of her, the madness was again beginning to stir in his eyes.
“These are my people, remember?” Tad said. “Did Padre knock you out before or after your Gran’s little indictment?”
Isherwood went over to Old Blue to lean against its side as he spoke to Tad. “Your people, right. Guess I’m not the only one that needed a good blow to the head.”
Tad didn’t respond immediately, but allowed for a long pause. Isherwood looked at her strangely, and noticed for the first time that she was smoking a cigarette. He couldn’t decide what was weirder. He’d never seen her smoke, and she never paused before responding to his jabs at her religion.
“You alright, Aunt Tad?” He asked again. The edge had fallen from his tone.
She gave him a sidelong glance and then returned to her cigaret
te. He saw that her eyes were ringed in red. “I will be.” She said. Subconsciously, Isherwood retreated backwards with his head and shoulders as though edging away from a snake.
“So, what’s the play?” Isherwood asked Padre, after putting some space between himself and Tad, though never now taking his eyes off of her.
Father Simeon shrugged. “Not much we can do. We have no way of knowing they’ll ever come out of their again. They probably have enough of a stockpile in there, so they don’t need to leave anytime soon. Can’t really smoke them out, or your daughter might be forced into that ring of zombies around the building. Don’t take this the wrong way, but they might be preparing to drink the Kool-Aid.”
“So, what then?” Isherwood asked. “Go in guns blazing?”
Father Simeon just nodded, dolefully.
“Lock and load.”
*****
Isherwood grew increasingly anxious, as they waited for Justin and Patrick to return with the telescope. When the two finally did return, they took turns looking through the telescope and decided that they knew no more now than they had without the telescope.
“Crap, guys!” Isherwood said, finally overwhelmed with waiting. “My little girl’s less than a half mile from here. What the hell are we waiting for?”
“Where’d she go?” Padre said suddenly.
“What?” Isherwood growled. He clenched his fists, imagining himself ripping the Roman collar from Father Simeon’s cassock as he threw him over the fence. “She’s in that freakin’ bowling alley church.”
“No,” Padre shook his head calmly. “Where is Tad?”
Isherwood felt as though the priest had thrown cold water in his face. He even moved to wipe the imaginary water from his chin.