The Apocalypse Sacrifice: The Undead World (The Undead World Series Book 10)

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The Apocalypse Sacrifice: The Undead World (The Undead World Series Book 10) Page 16

by Peter Meredith


  Sadie pointed at the diploma. “I think she is. Her diploma is right there.” Sadie was terribly nervous that their cover was on the verge of being blown and yet they were being treated better than expected. When Jillybean had fainted, concern and compassion had been the only emotions displayed by everyone. It wasn’t until Corina had said her name that things had gotten a little tense.

  “A diploma is right there,” Jillybean replied. “We don’t know if that is actually hers. Do you have a driver’s license ID card?” Danahy started to fumble out an excuse, but Jillybean cut her off. “You see?”

  “I see someone who is trying to help,” Sadie said, putting a hand on Jillybean’s shoulder, holding her in place. “I see someone who is being nice. Not everyone is a bad guy, Jillybean.”

  “But a lot are,” she countered. “Most, even.” Jillybean turned hard blue eyes on Doctor Danahy, studying her. “Okay. If you’re a real doctor, name the twelve cranial nerves.”

  Danahy gave a short laugh that suggested she had now seen everything. “You’re testing me? Wow. Okay give me a second.” She stared at the ceiling for a moment and then began reciting the pairs of nerves starting with the olfactory nerve, which contained sensory nerve fibers relating to smell. She went through ten of them, but for the final two she turned the tables on the little girl. “Eleven begins with an A and twelve with an H. Let’s see who you are.”

  “You’re testing me?” Jillybean asked with the same sort of surprise Danahy had exhibited a minute before. Sadie tried to say something to stop her from answering and perhaps revealing who she really was in the process, but the little girl didn’t need to think of the answers and blurted out: “The Accessory nerve and the Hypoglossal. There’s also cranial nerve zero, the Terminal nerve, of course.”

  “Of course,” Danahy said, shaking her head in amazement. “You are her. I didn’t believe the stories. I mean, they’re so fantastic, but you are her. You’re Jillybean.”

  Jillybean instantly became guarded, but it was too late. She dropped her head as if being Jillybean was something to be ashamed of. It boiled Sadie’s blood for anyone to question her sister. “Whatever you’ve heard is probably overblown or downright false. And…and there were mitigating circumstances.”

  “I’m not here to judge,” Danahy replied, laying her hand on Sadie’s. “God is the ultimate judge.”

  This did not have the mollifying effect she had hoped. “Will he hate me?” Jillybean asked in a small voice. “I’ve done terrible things.” Her eyes filled with tears. Sadie grabbed her sister in another hug, fighting back her own tears. She wished she could say something to calm the girl, but she didn’t know the bible or really much about God and she struggled for words.

  “God is love,” Danahy said, smiling. “Repent and he will forgive.” Jillybean nodded, but Sadie could tell from the look in her eyes, she wasn’t convinced that murder could be forgiven so easily. Danahy saw it as well and said. “Trust me on this. Now about your physical issues, I think your syncope may be attributed to your diet, stress and dehydration. We’ll get some food in your belly and get you a good night sleep and you should be fine.”

  Jillybean thanked her as did Sadie, who was ready to get out of there and dig into the promised meal. Danahy caught hold of her arm. “Your turn. Let’s look at those legs. My goodness it looks like someone took a bat to them. Did you get in a car crash?”

  Sadie laughed. “No, someone took a bat to them, but it was…how many days ago was that?” Jillybean’s forehead creased as she shrugged. Sadie couldn’t quite remember, either. “Three or four. They feel a lot better than they did.”

  “Someone hit you with a bat?” Danahy looked shocked that such a thing was possible.

  “You know what? We also gotted in a car accident when someone blew up our hummer,” Jillybean said. “And we sank the Suburban, though that was mostly my fault. I never did see a river in the mountains get so deep as that one. It ate the whole car and it was big.”

  “Well, okay,” Danahy said. “You sure do get in your fair share of adventures. As a doctor, I have to tell you that they’re not good for your health. Ha-ha. Oh, sorry.” Sadie had flinched as she had pressed with her thumb along her shin. “Without an x-ray, I can’t be certain, but I don’t think your tibias are broken.”

  “If they were, how would you go about fixing them?” Jillybean asked. “When I try to put a cast on brokeded legs, they always come out kinda bumpy.”

  Danahy leaned back from her. “I don’t understand. You’re setting people’s legs?” She gave Sadie a look that suggested the idea of a child setting broken bones was preposterous. And it was, of course. Still, Sadie agreed with a nod. The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “W-we’ve heard stories, but…is this something that happens around you a lot, Jillybean? People get broken legs?”

  “Oh, no. I have to use a hammer.”

  This statement, uttered with complete innocence, shocked the doctor to such an extent that she looked to the door as if she were about to scream for Sheriff Woods. Sadie held up a hand. “It’s a little weird, yes, but Jillybean wants to be a surgeon and she practices on captured zombies. She’s actually very good.”

  “Uh…um…uh,” Danahy said.

  Jillybean glared reproachfully at Sadie. “It’s not weird. Doctors use cadavers to practice on, and that’s what means dead people. And everyone calls the zombies undead and that’s what means they’re monsters. And I saved Mister Neil when he got shot and remember Mister Van-Loggins and his tummy-ache? No one thought you could die from a tummy-ache ‘cept for me.”

  “He died from a tummy-ache?” Danahy asked, her face set in such a way that it seemed as though she feared the answer.

  “Oh, no,” Jillybean answered. “He had his face eated off by a monster, but before that he had a real cute appendicitis. I popped that sucker right out of there. It was like a swelled-up sausage, but only an uncooked one. It was all red and all.”

  Danahy opened her mouth to speak, but there was a knock on the door and she jerked. It was the Sheriff. “Father Amacker would like to see the guests outside if the little one is well enough.”

  “She is.” When panic swept Jillybean’s face, the doctor smiled easily. “He won’t hurt you. We’ve heard the stories that came out of New Eden. Human sacrifices? How horrible it must have been. But we’re not like that. No one will stop you from leaving and no one will force you to come to God.”

  “Then what does he want with us?” Jillybean asked.

  She shrugged. “Perhaps to properly introduce himself.”

  Sheriff Woods opened the door and gestured for them to follow him out through the lobby. There was a general hum in the air that had Jillybean backing into Sadie.

  “It’ll be fine,” Sadie said. There was no way she knew this for certain, but she had a feeling. She wasn’t wrong. When they stepped outside into the beautiful May morning, they were greeted by two-hundred and seventeen faces. The entire population of the town was standing and sitting and playing in the street.

  Jillybean froze and Sadie could feel her pulse through her skin. “It’ll be okay,” she repeated.

  The crowd backed up a bit and the buzz settled down. Now, Sadie saw that two metal folding chairs had been set in the middle of the street. Standing next to them was the priest in his green vestments; he gestured for them to come forward, however Jillybean wouldn’t budge. Sadie’s only choice was to drag her forward and she wouldn’t do that.

  When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to move, little Corina wiggled through the crowd, followed closely by Anita. “Come on,” Corina said. “He’s just going to wash your feet. See the basin? He’s gonna get all that soot off. My mom says that Jesus was like a servant. Do you know what a butler is? It’s like that, so you don’t have to be scared.”

  With the two children taking her by the hand, Jillybean moved to one chair and Sadie to the other. It was a strange moment having the old priest grunt his way down to his knees in front of them. He bega
n speaking what might have been a prayer. Sadie didn’t know. She had been so worried about her little sister that she didn’t realize how truly frightened she was.

  She had spent the longest in the sterile dungeons of New Eden and she had been the object of desire of Abraham their false prophet, who had steadily fallen into evil. And she would never forget being chained to the post atop their sacrificial altar. Nor would she forget the flames burning her feet…and now here was another priest. She tried to smile at him, but her lips rebelled.

  Her feet were so black from the soot that they looked as if they had been drawn from a fire. He took one foot and she flinched. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “I am simply a servant of the Lord before whom we are all equal.” He placed her foot into the basin; the water was cool and wonderful. She relaxed as he rubbed away the soot, and was able to smile at Jillybean.

  When it was her turn, Jillybean giggled. “That tickles,” she said, shyly.

  “See how the dirt comes off so easily?” the priest asked, taking her pinky toe and giving it a wiggle. “Would you like me to wash away your sins as well?”

  Jillybean’s face clouded over and she dropped her pointy chin to her chest. “They won’t come out of me so easily. They won’t ever come out.”

  “The Lord forgives,” the priest said. Jillybean shook her head in response, her brown fly-away hair falling across her face, hiding it. “Are you saying that you are beyond forgiveness?” She nodded. “Ahh, now I understand. You don’t understand the power of the Lord. Did you know he created all of this? The earth, the sky, the heavens…this little piggy?” Once more he gave the toe a wiggle.

  “I heard he did that and that’s good and all but what I’ve done…” She couldn’t go on and by her shaking shoulders, Sadie knew she was crying again.

  The priest gently put her foot back into the basin. “He is strong enough to create this world but he can’t forgive a little girl? Tell me, Jillybean, has Sadie ever forgiven you for something?” Slowly Jillybean nodded. “Was it bad?”

  “Yes,” Jillybean whispered.

  “Was it the worst?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” The word could barely be heard.

  “And yet, she forgave you. The Lord can as well. Ask for forgiveness from the Lord and he will forgive because, as much as Sadie loves you, the Lord loves you more.” Jillybean thought about this in silence and, oddly, the entire population of the town was quiet waiting for her to say something.

  “I want to be forgiven,” she told the priest. “I don’t want to be bad anymore.”

  A broad smile broke across his face. “Then let’s take a walk back up to the church, and we’ll talk.” He straightened with a groan and then stuck out his hand. Sadie was a little surprised that she took it. Normally, she was very shy with strangers and not quick to put herself in a position that could be turned around on her.

  Sadie got up to follow after them, but a hand caught her. It was Doctor Danahy. “Can I have a word, please? In my office?”

  “Sure.” As the crowd broke up, some following the priest up to the church, some heading out to the fields and some standing about chatting, Danahy showed Sadie into her office. “Something wrong? With me or…”

  “It’s Jillybean,” Danahy said, taking a seat behind her desk and gesturing to a leather-bound chair in front of it. Sadie sat down, suddenly nervous once again. Before speaking, the doctor glanced out the window where little clumps of people could be seen. “We’ve heard of her even out here. There’s been a few groups coming through looking for a better place. Some were Azael and some were refugees and some were soldiers from Estes.”

  Sadie had been sitting upright and pensive. Now, she wilted into the chair. “Yeah, so? People talk.”

  “People do talk and they all say the same things about your sister. Look, like I said, I’m not here to judge. Her sins are between her and God. My concern is for her mental health and the safety of the people around her. Is she quote-unqoute, crazy? Honestly?”

  Her first impulse was to deny, deny, deny. “People talk. You know that. They grab onto any little…”

  “Did she kill a baby?” This shut Sadie up. She found herself looking down at her bruised right knee. Slowly, she nodded her head. “And the stuffed animal? Did she talk to it?” Another nod. “And the River King, did she kill him?”

  “He deserved it!” Sadie snarled, smacking her hand down on the arm of the chair as hatred roared through her. Her father deserved the death he received, in fact he deserved a far worse death…but had General Johnston? Had Eve? She dropped her head again. “Look, everything you’ve heard is probably half of what she’s done, good and bad, but she is the real victim here. The way she is, it’s not her fault, it’s been forced on her.”

  Danahy looked evenly at Sadie. “I know and really, it’s a wonder there aren’t a lot more people like her. Luckily, she can be fixed through medication and a stable environment and we have both here. Hold on.” She hopped up and went to a locked closet which held a locked cabinet.

  She opened both and began poking through drawers. “Yes, I thought I had some. This is Zyprexa, it’s an antipsychotic. It’s been proven to help with certain neurological disorders. Schizophrenia is one of them.”

  Sadie didn’t know whether to grab the pills and shout with joy that there was a way to cure her sister, or cringe over the idea that she really was crazy. It was something she never liked to think about and had always assumed Jillybean would just “get better” somehow.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the bottle and getting up.

  Danahy stopped her. “She’s going to need more than just pills. She has to stop the running around and the adventures and all that.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “You’re wrong, Sadie. It is that easy. If she stays here, she’ll be cared for…please, don’t get mad. I’m sure you’ve done your best, but you’re a kid, too. You can stay as well. You’d be more than welcome.”

  Sadie knew she couldn’t stay. The town and its people were weak. It was wide open and virtually undefended. How long would it be before they were overrun by a horde of zombies? Even a small herd of a couple of thousand would destroy them. And then there were the bandits. The town was large enough to make the little groups shy away, but would happen when the mountain bandits came together under some fell leader?

  Murder, torture, rape.

  The town was a temporary safe haven, just like Estes had been. Jillybean needed something more durable. She needed…hell, they all needed something that would last. But would the little girl’s mind be able to hold out long enough to find something like that?

  “I have to leave, but I’ll try to talk Jillybean into staying.”

  “No, you have to make her stay, for her own good.”

  Sadie smiled at the absurdity of the statement. “No one makes Jillybean do anything against her will, not without paying a price.”

  Chapter 15

  Jillybean

  She was sitting on a stone bench behind the church when Sadie found her two hours later. It had been a long conversation with Father Amacker and now she was glass-eyed and staring. She was well overdue for sleep and tired from their long walk.

  Around her, the children of the town ran in what seemed like a cyclone of energy, squealing with laughter. Jillybean couldn’t count them all because of how fast they were going. There seemed like a lot of them. She hadn’t seen this many children since back in the Before.

  “Come play!” Corina would shout every time she came near.

  “Come play or you’ll be a fat hog!” Anita only shouted this once and then had to sit out of the fun by her mother.

  For the first time in her life, Jillybean didn’t want to play. What little energy she’d had in her had been sapped out of her during her confession. Father Amacker had made her tell everything she had ever done it seemed, and that included the stuff that Eve had done as well—and that had been all bad stuff.

  Then he had asked her:
“Are you truly sorry for your sins?” Jillybean had said she was, but didn’t know if she really was. She was sad about some of the stuff she did, but not sad about others. She had killed the River King and that had been good. She had killed the bounty hunter with the dead eyes, and that had been good, too. She had killed the Colonel and that had been good, however killing his bodyguards had felt less good, but still, she thought it had been necessary.

  It had gone on and on like that for what felt like ages. Even Father Amacker looked exhausted when she was done, as if forgiving someone was as tiring as doing all that stuff she’d had to ask forgiveness for.

  She was tired, but happy. Unlike Abraham, Father Amacker was a real priest and had used his priestly powers to save her soul from “eternal damnation,” and that was a real nice thing in her book.

  When she had been sitting there for about a quarter of an hour, she saw Sadie limping up the hill from the main part of the town. She carried a picnic basket the size of a small suitcase, the weight of it had her limping with a tilt. When the children saw her, they dashed right at her like a stampeding heard of gazelles. Corina and a girl with skin the color of midnight took the basket, while some of the larger children tried to act as human crutches.

  “Okay, okay, give them room,” Rachael Woods said, shooing away the children when Sadie was trying to set out the food. “Let them eat in peace. Besides, it’s about time everyone got out of their good clothes. Those of you who have mid-morning chores should get to them. Jenny? I know you have a goat that’s in need of milking. I can hear it from all the way out here.”

  The children were well behaved and didn’t grumble as they ran for their bikes. A few, Corina and Anita among them, stood back, staring in anticipation to see what was in the basket. Rachael snapped at them. “Find something to do or I’ll start assigning tasks.” That was enough to scatter them to the winds.

  Sadie cracked the lid of the basket when they were finally alone, or at least mostly alone. Three-year-old Connor Woods had waddled in a circle and was now back, pointing to his mouth. “Do you like fried chicken?” Sadie asked him.

 

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