Georgie balled his hands into fists and went to hit his head again, but the straps held him in place. He sure hated being so stupid. He was scared, and he hoped Layne would be okay.
Adam sighed and turned to the other man. “Make him talk, Horace. And for God’s sake, keep him alive.”
19
In a Theater
The theater was called the Powhatan, and it was just outside of Albuquerque. Adam was glad it had a basement, so Horace could do what he needed to do in private. Adam had claimed an office, as usual, and he was feeling anxious.
So close now. I can feel it. I can feel him.
It would only be a few hours before the courier talked, and then they would know where to go. Adam stood up. It was time to gather the congregation.
****
“We gather at the Powhatan Theater in New Mexico,” Adam said. He was rushing his sermon, but he didn’t mind. “This glorious twenty-five September, Year Three Anno Letum, In the Year of Our Death.”
“In the Year of Our Death,” the others said in unison.
“Fellow lesser humans: I know some of you have had concerns. Not doubts, but concerns. Well, the Lord has seen fit to give us a beacon. He has sent someone to show us the way to the Great Evil One. We have waited so patiently and fought so hard, and now the time is nearly at hand.”
The congregation applauded. Randolph whistled.
“I go now to see how much progress brother Horace has made,” Adam said. The crowd cheered him out of the room. He headed down a few hallways and then to the door of the basement. He knocked.
A few moments later, it opened. Horace emerged with blood on his hands, some already dried.
“Any progress?” Adam asked.
“He’s not talking,” Horace said. “He’s very stubborn.”
“Such a strong will. If only he could be convinced to join us. He would make a good soldier for our Cause.”
“But he won’t join. He keeps going on about how he can’t let his friends get hurt. A pity.”
“I trust you have something in mind to get it out of him?”
Horace stared at Adam. “Of course. I’ll just have to be less gentle.”
Adam returned to the theater and dismissed the congregation. As everyone was leaving the room, he pulled Randolph aside.
“What is it, Adam?”
“I need to talk to you in my office. I have a job for you.” Randolph followed Adam to the office. Adam shut the door, and Randolph took a seat. “As you know, we are in dark times. The end times, for certain.”
“Of course,” Randolph said.
“What I’m going to ask you to do won’t be easy. It may be dangerous.”
“Anything for the Cause.” Randolph’s eyes were already lighting up. Adam smiled, but he felt a pang in his heart.
“We’ll soon know where to find the Great Evil One. But we can’t simply march in and take over. We don’t know what we’re up against.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I want you to go to him first. Pretend to be someone else, have them call you ‘Randy’. I want you to get close to the Great Evil One, and anyone else he may be with. Observe them, learn who they are, how many, and how we can best dispose of them.”
Randolph leaned back. He put his elbows on the arms of the chair and rested his head on his hands.
“If it’s too much, you need only say so,” Adam said. “But know that I trust no one else more than you.”
“I’ll do it,” Randolph said. “Gladly. With honor, Adam.”
Adam smiled. He lifted a shaky hand and put it on Randolph’s shoulder. “Thank you, Randolph.”
Randolph left the room looking excited, but Adam was afraid. If Randolph was discovered, there was no chance he’d live. He wished he could go himself, he hated the idea of putting someone else, especially Randolph, in such a dangerous position. But someone had to keep the rest of the congregation together. Adam was having enough trouble with that lately, and any number of things could happen in his absence.
Adam waited, thinking. Soon, the Great Evil One would start his morning speech, so Adam gathered everyone in the theater again. As they filed in, he went toward the basement to check on Horace.
He found Horace standing by the basement door. His hands were clean, he had washed and changed. Adam smiled. “I trust you got what you needed?”
Horace shook his head. “Couldn’t be helped, Adam. The courier is dead.”
The smile dropped off of Adam’s face. He stared at Horace, filling with rage, even as Horace looked on as though nothing was wrong.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Adam said. “We needed that location! How will we find the Great Evil One now?”
“God will show us the way, I’m sure,” Horace said.
“Get to the theater. Now.”
Adam headed to his office to get something, and then made for the podium. Horace lingered near the back of the crowd. Adam started before the congregation had settled in.
“This is a dark day,” he said. The group stopped moving and talking, and many looked confused, none more than Randolph. “The Lord has sent us a guiding light, but one of our own has seen fit to extinguish it.”
Horace looked around. A few of the others stared at him.
“Instead of finding us a location, brother Horace has decided we should not know, should wander blindly along our path. Fellow lesser humans, please be so kind as to grab him.”
The others turned on Horace, and he barely had time to lift his hands before Maddock threw his arms around his shoulders, and then they were upon him, holding his arms and legs. They threw him to his knees and cleared a circle around him. He struggled, but a few churchgoers held him down. Randolph was one of them, as was Maddock. Adam recognized another, an older man named Christopher, and Maddock’s daughter, a young woman named Jane. Adam nodded to each of them as he stepped down the stairs and walked toward Horace. The congregation parted for him as he went.
“Horace, you disappoint me. Did you really think you could go against God’s will?”
“Adam, you’re nuts! It was an accident!”
“An accident I told you not to make. Horace, you’ve shamed us all. You’ve shamed God.”
Horace struggled and shouted for help, but found only cold eyes.
“When our mission is complete, we will be given the most honorable of deaths,” Adam said. “To become life for the greater humans… There’s nothing better. To give what you are to someone else, and then be one with God.”
“Adam, please!”
“You won’t have that.”
Horace began crying, shaking harder than ever, but Adam’s fellow lesser humans held him down. Adam drew his gun from its holster and pointed it at Horace’s head. “May God have mercy on your soul,” Adam said, and then pulled the trigger.
****
Adam sighed. The crowd was still settling down. Someone was crying. Adam wiped sweat from his eyes, and Maddock handed him a towel. Adam looked to his left, where a radio sat in waiting.
“I know this has been a most troublesome day,” Adam said. “But don’t lose faith. There are many stones on the road to God’s grace. This is but one of them. We shall continue together.”
“What are we going to do, Adam?” Christopher asked.
“We continue west. This day has been awful enough, but I’m going to turn on the radio now.” The crowd groaned. “Yes, the Great Evil One is insufferable, but that’s only more reason for us to stand and fight. Let us hear what he has for us on this day, and let us keep in mind that we are fighting for God, and this may be one of the last times the Great Evil One speaks.”
Adam turned on the radio, and the familiar voice came over it.
“—doesn’t last forever. Use as much metal in your barricades as you can. We had a bit of an accident a few days ago because of a plywood barricade.
“That about does it for advice today. But I have an important announcement, this morning. I’ve h
ad a lot on my mind lately, and I’ve made a few decisions that were very hard for me to make. This is one of them.
“You out there, across this land of ours, you’ve been listening to my voice for years. You’ve done as I asked, often without so much as looking me in the eyes. You’ve listened to me as well as provide me with advice of your own. I say ‘you’ on here a lot, and though I never see much outside of this room, I have faith that you’re out there.”
The congregation looked around. This was different from the normal bile, and Adam’s heart started beating faster.
“I’ve shut myself off from you. That isn’t right. So today, and from now on, I’m going to announce where I am. This radio station is in a little area my friends and I call New Los Angeles. We’re located in Glendale, in northern Los Angeles, near Ventura Freeway and Route 5.”
Eyes lit up around the room.
“New L.A. currently can’t house much more than we have now. We’re looking to expand. Anyone who wants to help is welcome to join us, or just to come and stay with us. If you have experience building things, moving them, setting up barricades or scavenging, you’d be especially helpful. We’re looking to make New L.A. a bastion of hope, a true city for survivors. But I need your help. More than I ever have before.”
Adam didn’t hear most of what he was saying; he was lost in the miracle. He turned to his congregation and didn’t say a word. He just watched as they erupted into cheering and hugging and smiling.
Adam was happy as well, but he looked at the crowd, looked at Randolph, and couldn’t stop a sigh.
There was still so much work to do.
Part III: An Antique Land
20
On a Lonely Road
The air smelled like salt and felt colder already. Bailey followed the interstate but didn’t dare sleep anywhere near it, so every night she would walk an hour to one side of the road and find a place to sleep, and every morning she would walk back and continue on her way.
A blur in the heat ahead grew larger, and eventually became a gas station. She approached warily; buildings in good condition seldom went unused. She had twelve rounds in Mike’s gun, which she drew as she walked across the parking lot.
Pallets stacked with dog food sat in front of the windows. Some animal had gotten into a few of the bags, but they were mostly intact. Bailey ducked behind one as she made her way toward the door, so anyone inside wouldn’t be able to see her.
Bailey looked around the edge of the pallet, but the glass of the door was dirty and it was dark in the station, so she saw little besides her own muddy reflection. Bailey crawled around the pallet with the gun pointed upward, against the side of her head. She licked her lips, then pushed the door open.
She heard a ding! but it was drowned out soon afterward by the blast of a shotgun. The door shattered and glass rained down on Bailey as she covered the top of her head with her hands.
Her ears were ringing more than the service bell ever had. She looked up: A tripwire had been set up much like that of the service bell, but this one was connected to a shotgun’s trigger. She had kept under the shot though, and while she could feel a cut or two already starting to bleed, Bailey was okay.
For the moment. A tripwire had to have been put there by someone, after all.
Bailey listened but didn’t hear any movement, and she didn’t see anything but a dark, empty store. It was messy, and while most of the perishables had been taken long before, various knick-knacks remained, and surprisingly the cigarette rack was almost untouched.
Bailey stood up, making sure to stay well to the side of the shotgun. Once she had squeezed past it, she looked the gun over. It was strapped to an old magazine rack, and both of its shells had been spent a few seconds earlier. She made a mental note to take it with her; she could probably find more shells somewhere.
Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and she looked around again. The place was messy and musty but looked empty. There was a hall to the far side with some doors, so she carefully made her way toward them, scanning for traps or movement.
She came to the first door and wasn’t sure what to do. She knocked, listened, and heard nothing. Bailey crouched by the wall next to the door, then turned the handle and cracked the door. When nothing happened, she pushed the door open, then retracted her arm. Still nothing, so she looked around the edge to find an empty bathroom. She went inside.
The sink didn’t work, though she hadn’t expected it to. There was water in the tank of the toilet, and she drank heartily. She couldn’t see how clean the water was, but frankly she didn’t want to know. She needed the water.
Bailey went to the next door and knocked. A little more confident, she opened the door the same way she had opened the last. The door bumped lightly into something. Bailey looked around the corner.
It was a small utility closet, but it had been cleared of anything janitorial. There was a sleeping bag on the ground (it barely fit inside, and the door was pressed against it now) and the shelves were stocked with canned food. Most of the cans were empty, but one or two looked sealed.
Bailey looked toward the door of the store, saw nothing but desert light creeping through, and then stepped into the closet. She inspected the cans and found three unopened. She went back into the main store and found a tan canvas bag. The coolers had been cleared of anything useful, but she found a few empty bottles and took them with her to the bathroom, where she filled them with water from the tank, then put them in her bag. After that she went into the closet, took the three cans, and put them in a pocket separate from the water.
Bailey slung the bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. She stepped into the light, but then stopped. Something had caught her eye, something she had missed before because her eyes were adjusted to light, and not dark.
On the ground outside the door, just past the curb, a cigarette sat on the ground, still lit and smoking. Bailey looked around and couldn’t see anyone or anything in either direction, but it was obvious someone still lived here.
Bailey went back inside and placed two of the cans back on the shelves. She would have returned all three, but she hadn’t eaten since leaving Mike’s compound. She felt bad, but she also felt hungry.
She turned to leave the store again, and as she headed for the door, a man stepped into the station. Bailey dropped her bag and raised her gun, and the man raised a shotgun at her.
“Drop it,” he said. His yellow sunglasses hid his intentions well, and his cowboy hat and thick mustache helped.
“You first,” Bailey said.
“You taking my shit?”
“Only some. Thought the place was empty, but I realized it wasn’t and I put your food back. Two of the three cans.”
The man sighed and lowered his shotgun. “Least you’re honest. Ain’t many people honest these days.”
Bailey lowered her handgun a little, since she was the one intruding, but kept it ready. “I also took some water.”
The man stood still for a moment. “I ain’t got no water. I get it from a well nearby.”
“The toilet tank,” Bailey said. “There was water in there.”
“Well, shit and a half. I been here near two years and never even thought to look.”
“There’s still plenty.”
“Thanks. By the way, your safety’s on. You wouldn’t have done shit to me.”
Bailey looked at the handgun and guessed it to be true, but by then she felt comfortable enough to put it away.
****
One of the cans she had left him was full of beans, and he invited her to share it with him. The man emptied the can into a small pie tin and set it on the ground in the parking lot, well in the sun, then sat on the curb in the shade.
“God, I wish I had a working stove,” he said.
Bailey had almost declined his invitation to eat, especially since he let her keep the can she took, but she had to eat something soon. She hoped he could find more somewhere, but didn’t feel right enou
gh to ask.
“Where you headed?” the man said.
“Anywhere,” Bailey replied. “There’s some people up the interstate. Two groups. Neither one is friendly.”
“Yeah, I seen people come and go. I stay out of their way and they stay out of mine.”
“That would be Burke’s group. If Mike’s group found you, they’d never leave you alone.”
“Sounds like a nice bunch. How’d you get away from them?”
“Snuck off. They’ll kill me if they find me.”
The man let out a snort that sounded sad. “Guess you won’t be staying, then. I mean, I know I ain’t exactly asked you, but I wouldn’t have minded. Gets lonely out here. Not that I’d be asking your hand in marriage or nothing. Nice to just have somebody to talk to every once in a while. Maybe help find supplies.”
“I should definitely keep moving,” Bailey said. “Honestly, I should probably leave the state. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to right now.”
The beans were smoking by then, and they smelled wonderful. The man picked up the pie tin and divided the beans into two smaller trays, each of which had a plastic spork inside.
“You should take one of my pie tins when you go. Sun and aluminum will cook just about anything. At least until it starts to snow.”
“Thanks. I don’t know what I’ll do when winter comes.”
“Tell you what,” the man said, then wiped beans from his mustache, “wait here a minute. I have something for you.”
He went back into the store. Bailey looked around. She was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt over a white muscle shirt, and had little else to her name. It would be snowing within a few weeks. She looked at the store and felt bad for breaking the man’s door. But there were tarps on the dog food pallets, and she figured he’d make do.
When the man returned, he was carrying a bundle. As he got closer, Bailey realized it was clothes. “You look like you’ll fit them,” he said. “Might be a little small.” He looked from side to side for something to set them on, saw nothing, abandoned courtesy, and dropped them on the asphalt.
Zombiemandias (Book 2): In the Year of Our Death Page 10