Mitchell helps me onto the camel and we move out. I feel like I want to jump out of the saddle and run to the moon. We approach a small guarded station. Mitchell tells me to wait and hide, and gives my camel the order to stay. He climbs off his camel and disappears into the night. Ten minutes later he returns. Blood is splattered on his hands and forearms. I feel sorry he had to kill those men for me. Bless this man.
The stars are out in full force.
Those were the heavens I remembered from when I was a kid. I grew up in Alabama and always watched the sky at night. Since I’d moved to New York I’d become estranged from them. Pity. They’re so majestic, so beautiful. My happiness is so intense I think I’m going to cry. Luckily, I don’t have to steer or do anything. I’m along for the ride. We pass a large electric power plant at the edge of town. I can smell the acrid stench of burning coal.
I look behind me and see the lights of Medinine. A group of helicopters fly around the city where there is lots of activity and spotlights. It’s dark, but, because Mitchell had told me where the power plant was, I know we’re going south into the heart of the Sahara Desert.
I start praying like a thief on Judgment Day. I don’t want to go into the Sahara. I shake the fear off. God will protect me. I quote a verse from Psalm 121:7-8. “The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.”
An hour later we reach the edge of a large lake. I can see the reflection of the rising moon in the water, as well as the bright stars. We ride on the waters edge, so the lapping waves will wash away our tracks.
“So beautiful!” I yell to Mitchell. I’m seeing beauty everywhere, except for the stench coming from the power plant. This is an enchanted place. I raise my hands. Oh, if Marian could be with me! She would be filled with romance. Oh, oh, if Sister Jordan could see this. Jordan was my secretary and had a wandering heart. She wanted to see the world more than I.
“The lake is completely dead!” Mitchell replies. “Poisoned by a chemical factory fifteen years ago. They dumped chemicals into underground rivers which flowed into the lake!”
“Sometimes the brotherhood of man can be quite. . . “
“A bummer!” Mitchell finishes.
I laugh, “That’s right, I guess. A bummer.”
#
This was not the first time I’d seen capital industry step all over God’s green planet. When I’d lived in Selma as a boy I’d seen an entire neighborhood get sick because of industry. Ten people died as a result. All of them seemed to live in the new blocks west of the river. Four years before, a builder came into town and built cheap houses on a bulldozed bit of swampland. Little did they know, the land had been poisoned by a pharmaceutical company that routinely dumped there. We found out that the well water that was piped into the new houses had a high level of some chemical I can’t pronounce. They never prosecuted anyone for the dumping, or the cheap builder for not testing the wells. No one could prove a thing. The only evidence against the pharmaceutical company was the testimony of a truck driver who they had fired. And he was not the best of witnesses. He beat his wife, got drunk every night, and was a devil of a man in general. I believed him, though. I eventually brought him into my congregation and saved his soul.
I never understood how men could turn their backs on God’s Earth for a buck. I do believe in punishment. If you don’t atone for your sins, you should be punished for them. And there is a lot of atonement that hasn’t happened, a lot of sin gone unpunished. That’s why He’s planning the Second Coming. That’s why God will bring the Apocalypse to the Earth. And His wrath will be greater than anything man has seen in over three thousand years.
#
I do some thinking while on the back of my camel, gazing at the stars. I imagine what the Apocalypse will look like. Who will be the Four Horsemen? Who’s the antichrist? Will he be the President of the United States, or the head of an international corporation? My head buzzes and tingles with so many possibilities. The stars seem to dance about like fireflies on the edge of the Alabama River. Is God trying to talk to me? I try to listen to the stars for a while.
Our camels move on into the late night, easily walking on the soft sand. Besides a grunt now and again and an odor, the camels are quite pleasant.
The night goes on. Eventually, the moon sets. A pressure grows in my head. The stars aren’t so pretty now and neither is the moon. All the light I see grows coarse and jagged and has long exaggerated spikes emanating from every source.
“You okay?” Mitchell asks me. “You’re not cooing over the view anymore.” I don’t answer. Pushing air from my lungs seems too arduous a task. I can’t help but slump in my seat. That’s when the nausea kicks in. I lose my stomach over the side of the camel in heaving convulsions.
“Light nausea!” I scream at Mitchell, wiping my mouth. Oh, if the Lord permitted me violence I’d kill Mitchell for drugging me, even though it saved my life. The muscles in my legs start to tighten. I try to rub them, but my hands ache too much. Pain follows until I slip from my camel like a sack of potatoes and pass out.
I wake up to the bright sun. The air is still cool, but that will change soon. My head thumps, although not as bad as it did last night. I reach up and pull a torn wet rag off my forehead.
“You feeling better?” Mitchell asks. He’s sipping on a cup of coffee.
“I will once you share that coffee with me.” He hands me a small blue metal mug. It’s some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. “Wow,” I say, sipping eagerly.
“Arabian Java,” Mitchell says in between sips. “Very fresh.”
“You’ve been holding out. We haven’t had fresh coffee this entire time.”
Mitchell nods. “Saved it. I knew we’d need the boost on our trip. We have to cross about five hundred kilometers of desert to get where we’re going.
“I’m American. How many miles is that?”
Mitchell laughs, “About three hundred miles.”
That number sounds better even though I know it’s the same distance. I feel safe now, safer than I’d felt in a long time, even though there is nothing but sand dunes all around us. “And where are we going?” I ask, sipping the warm, heavenly coffee.
Mitchell points toward the rising sun, “A secret CIA base outside of Touggourt, Algeria.”
Chapter 1.25
Ben:
The clock ticks in my head. I wish I had a real clock to look at. The one in my head is so wrong. I can’t be sure what time it is, or how long they’ve been gone. I need Tequila, badly. I’m stuck on this boat with crybaby Rice. She’s pacing across the deck like a caged walrus looking for a way out. I look for a cool place to sit. It’s getting shit hot under the sun. I go below to find shade. The doorway leading into the cabin is already open. As I step down the ladder I feel like I’m stepping into a sauna. My pits instantly become little sweat sprinklers.
The first area is the kitchen, a big kitchen. Four stainless steel sinks line the wall to the left. Two double-door refrigerators are at the rear of the kitchen. There’s a bench all the way to the right and two food prep tables sit in the middle of the room. It’s an impressive galley. Galley, I think that’s what the fish heads call it. Polished red wood covers the walls and the floors. There are two side portals and four ceiling hatches. I open them all to get a breeze going. The kitchen is pretty awesome. There are lots of drawers filled with every kinda cooking tool you’d ever need. I open the refrigerator. Nothing in there. Next to the fridge is a small book hanging on a hook. It’s a cookbook. I thumb through the pages and read aloud, “Crostini filled mushroom caps, bacon wrapped shrimp. Holy shit, that sounds good.” On the next page I continue, “Cornish game hens with a blackberry sauce, and veal served over wild mushroom cream, and a salmon and wine dish.” My stomach growls and rolls.
Rice comes down the steps, “What’s going on?” she asks, clearly bored out of her mind.
&nb
sp; I can suggest something to take her mind off things. Something hard. I laugh to myself. “Party boat for rich dudes and their dudettes,” I say, staring at Rice. She has a pretty face, for sure. Puffy from all the crying. I’d definitely play with her ta-tas. Rice turns away. I hand her the menu, “Check out what’s for dinner.”
She takes the book. “Are you going to cook this tonight?” she says nervously, but playfully.
I shrug, “I’d love to. Let me pull a game hen out my ass.” I laugh.
She chuckles and loosens up. “Oh, I’ll have the veal. Got one of those in your you-know-what?”
“Nice choice.” I take the book back and hang it on the hook. “I just hope they stop at a Romeo’s Delectable Market for some fresh pasta.”
“I shop there too sometimes,” Rice says. “They have chicken parmesan I’d kill for.”
“I love their Nine Cheese Rosatti.” I salivate as I leave the kitchen and head deeper into the boat. “Nothin’ like it in the world,” I say over my shoulder.
“Nine cheese?” she says easily. “That’s a lot.”
“So good.” I enter the dining room. There are two eight-person tables on either side of the walkway. Bookshelves are here and there, filled with tons of books, and a flat-screen TV in the center of the shelves. Along all the edges of the room are cushy benches. “Nice shit. I can get used to this.” Rice agrees. I continue down the hall, finding the bedrooms. I peek in the first room. It’s got double bunks for stick people. “Jeeze,” I mumble. “I don’t think I’d fit in these beds.” Rice laughs. She knows what I mean. She’s a big fish like me. “Good thing we have a kid and a skinny nerd with us.” I open all the portals in the two rooms. The breeze gets stronger. Fresh air hits my face. The beads of sweat that have formed on my temple ice my skin. God, it feels good. I close my eyes and breathe. My head gets quiet. I love it when my thoughts stop.
“You okay?” Rice asks.
She totally rips me from my Zen. I grunt and move from the room. You know, I usually hate talking to people. One of my things, I guess. I used to count how many people I had to talk to in a day. It was a good day if I didn’t have to say a word to anyone. I would feel like an invisible man, like I was watching my life on television for the fun of it. I loved every minute of my solitude.
But now I feel like darkness is coming for me. It’s behind me like that proverbial closet monster. I shutter as nervousness whips through my heart. This fucking sucks. One minute I feel relaxed, and the next I’m freaking out and not trying to show it. I look at Rice. She smiles, which exaggerates her dimples. She’s got a good smile. I guess I like her being here distracting me from the darkness.
The next two rooms have twin beds. “One of these is mine,” I say. “I’m gonna block out that sun and sleep for a week.”
Rice peeks in. “Big rooms. Very nice. I’ve never been on a boat this big.”
“Me either. I’ve just been on speedboats, racing boats that burn through the water and make your nipples stand up.” That was a lie. I’ve never been on anything other than a rowboat. I look at her to see if she sees through my lie. She doesn’t.
There’s a full bathroom with a tub behind the next door. “Rich people got it good! Even at sea,” I exclaim. “This is an f-ing million-dollar yacht!”
Rice moves in and tests the water. It works. “Oh shit! I can take a bath! There is a God after all! Oh, I have to tell Andy. He loves baths.”
“No hot water, though,” I reply, not bringing her down at all.
“I don’t care. I just need to get wet.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say and give her my orgasm face. She shoots me a frown. I pretend to smack myself across the face. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”
She shrugs. She’s definitely a prude. I move to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s the master bedroom. I run to the huge bed and jump on it. The mattress is so soft. “I change my mind. This is my room!”
Rice follows me and pokes her nose in the bathroom and in all the drawers. “Eight people, seven beds. This will be fun.”
“You wanna rock this king-size luxury bed?” I pat the cushion next to me.
“Keep dreaming,” Rice replies. There’s that cute smile again. If I can chill out the creep in me I might be able to get into her pants.
“Joke, just a joke,” I plead forgiveness with my best puppy dog face. I open the remaining hatches. After a sweet moment of silence, we go back up top.
Andy lies on the settee in the middle of the boat. He’s looking up. The boat’s ropes and metal pulleys hit against the mast. Tink, tink… tink, tink. The rhythm seems to echo the clock in my head. I wish I had a joint with me.
I look at the shore. I see a few walkers stumble to the end of the small dock where the rowboat is tied up.
“What are they doing?” Rice asks. I shrug.
One of the walkers looks over the edge of the dock at the boat. It loses its balance and falls in the water. “Whoa! Look at that!” I yelp.
“What are they doing? No one’s even in the boat.” Rice runs to the cabin and vanishes into the boat. She returns with a pair of binoculars. We take turns looking through them.
A different puppet walks down the beach and steps into the water cautiously. It moves into the water until the water covers its head. It sloshes to the rowboat and grabs on to it. Another walker fiddles with the line until the boat gets untied! “Oh shit!” The boat slowly floats away from the dock but stops a few feet away. More walkers stumble into the water. I count six. The boat slowly moves away from the dock. The damn things are keeping it right where it is.
“How can that thing breathe underwater?” I mumble.
“They’re dead. They don’t breathe anymore!”
Andy sits up and runs to the railing. “What’s going on?”
Rice goes to one knee. “I want you go to down below. Find a bed and stay there. Try and rest. I don’t want you to worry at all. Okay?”
Andy nods and runs to the ladder. He pauses then goes below.
“That puppet is just gonna stay there, holding on until they get back?” I can’t believe this crap.
“They’re setting a trap.” Rice starts to cry.
“No shit,” I reply.
Shortly afterward, Isabella comes down the path pushing a cart full of stuff. She stops at the dock and turns to help Markus and Josh.
A minute later, Ian, Hana and Tanis show up on mountain bikes and — a dog?!
Rice and I jump up and down. “It’s a trap! Walkers under the boat!” We watch Ian dive into the rowboat. I yell again. He can’t hear me. We can’t do shit! I’m stuck on this boat without so much as a BB gun.
Rice is wailing. I scream so loud I gag myself. All I can do is watch.
Ian manages to get the rowboat back to the dock. They load the boat with the shit as Isabella bitch slaps the walkers into piles of twitching lumps. When everyone gets in the boat they start comin’ toward us.
Hana and Ian pull at those oars. They don’t move very much at all. I watch through the binoculars and yell, “They’re under you!”
At the same time the walkers pull the boat on one side. The boat flips over. Everyone is thrown into the water along with all our shit.
I can see them thrashing. The boat drifts away. Splashing. That’s all I see. Splashing. I back up. The binoculars slip from my fingers.
“What do we do?” Rice cries out, grabbing at me.
I can’t swim that far. My fat ass would drown. I’m stuck. I know Rice can’t swim it either. So we watch. All we can do is watch.
Chapter 1.26
Ian:
Our rowboat, packed with food, water, fuel, and ourselves, flips over. Water fills my lungs and I cough it out. I try to breathe but more water splashes into my mouth. Someone grabs me! I open my eyes. Even though the water is dark and swirling and chaotic I can see an emaciated, vein-covered hand of a walker pulling me under. Multiple hands reach through the turbulent, bubbling tempest and claw at my skin. The sur
face is only a few feet away but I can’t reach it.
I twist like a corkscrew. The water helps me escape them. I slide right out of their grip and swim up. My head bursts into the air and I gasp. Isabella is free also and she’s swimming for shore. I see Markus, Tanis, Hana, and Josh emerge. We’ve all slipped out of their trap. When my feet touch the muddy shore I catch my breath.
I look at Hana. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “I hate those things.”
The walkers rise from the water. Drenched and washed of the dirt and blood makes these walkers look different, like starving, pissed off old folks. The worms protruding from their eyes twitch and flap in agitation. There are six of them.
I grab a large rock from the muddy shore and bash one across the head. I hit and hit and hit until I can’t breathe. I kick the knee and it breaks backward and collapses. This bastard is done for. It’s on its stomach. I grab a wrist and wrench the arm back until it pops from the socket. The other arm dislocates just as easy. The walker can only flop around.
I help Tanis beat his walker to a pulp. Everyone stands over their kills, triumphant. Their little ambush failed, but more are coming.
“Let’s get our stuff back on the rowboat! Me and Isabella will distract them until you’ve got it all,” I yell.
Walkers approach from the city. Me and Isabella lure the group away from our salvage area. They follow us into the shallow waves, which slows them further. Pertinacious fuckers, they are. I jump over the small waves and run away. Isabella steps from the waves and onto the shore. She blasts one in the face with her shotgun and snaps a few of their knees with well-placed kicks.
When Markus yells out, we dive into the water and swim to the rowboat.
6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 Page 21