Arize (Book 1): Resurrection

by Nicholson, Scott

  Rocky and Sonia were already awake, sharing an MRE they’d secured the previous night upon their return to Promiseland. The place had changed dramatically while they were away burying Ramona. Col. Hayes had established a tactical operations center command post in the churchyard, complete with an array of satellite telecommunications equipment. Perhaps it was the contrast to the stark wasteland beyond the walls, but the presence of electricity, floodlights, fresh supplies and equipment, and what looked like an infusion of military recruits and FEMA staff made the church seem like it was a century ahead of the rest of Raleigh.

  The number of refugees appeared quite a bit larger, and instead of gathering in the gym, many camped outside the doors of the church sanctuary despite the menacing weather. Some of them sang hymns while others crowded by the massive front doors, kneeling in prayer on the hard stone steps. Meg found their desperate spiritual pleas a little eerie, but perhaps some of them had lost loved ones like she had. Unlike them, she didn’t ask God for relief from suffering.

  No, she wanted to feel her pain, not have it lifted.

  After clearing the checkpoints, collecting FEMA-distributed food, and returning to the room where they’d spent the previous night, the first thing they’d all done was charge their phones. But they discovered the network was still down, so Meg couldn’t call Ian. They slept with the lights off, but the glow from outside made it difficult to drift off as the wind sluiced through the broken windows. Meg was haunted by thoughts of Ramona and dozed briefly and restlessly.

  Rocky awakened the others and they decided to meet with Col. Hayes and Ingram’s staff to decide their next move. Meg still hoped to go to the CDC in Atlanta and Sonia was confident the military had cleared enough terrain for a helicopter transport.

  “We’re sticking with you,” Sydney said, speaking for Arjun. “I don’t dig the vibes in this place.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “Maybe Atlanta has some shelters that aren’t as weird as Promiseland.”

  But the vibe in the courtyard was even stranger than the night before. The wind had shifted, just as Hayes had predicted, and now the clouds raced in from the east, dark and swollen with precipitation. The crowd outside the sanctuary was persistent, however, clustering under the portico and covering themselves with vinyl tarps, shower curtains, ponchos, and ragged umbrellas as a sideways drizzle set in.

  A line of people stood outside the gym despite the foul weather. The indecipherable boom of an amplified broadcast came from inside the building, which ordinarily would’ve been a comforting sign that electricity had been restored, but something about the cadence of the voice was disquieting.

  Hayes at first refused to see them, but Sonia demanded a meeting under the authority of the North Carolina government. He then agreed to meet with Sonia, Meg, and Rocky, along with one of Ingram’s assistants. The others decided to wait in the gym for further news, with the goal of securing more food and water.

  “What now?” Hayes asked Sonia when they’d been escorted into the tent amid an array of equipment, several radio operators, and a staff of technicians tracking weather, flight plans, and field maneuvers.

  “We want you to keep your word and get us to Atlanta,” Sonia said. “Our mission hasn’t changed.”

  “We’ve already suffered casualties because of you,” Hayes said. “Besides, Atlanta’s off the boards.”

  He seemed to relish the shock on their faces. Meg asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Burned like General Sherman made another march to the sea,” said a lieutenant. “Last SITREP we got put the body count at a hundred thousand, and most of the rest are deaders. The ones that aren’t crispy critters now.”

  “Anyway,” Hayes added, “the birds are grounded because of the hurricane.”

  “Aren’t you even trying to find a cure for this virus?” Meg asked, incredulous.

  “That’s now a secondary objective, Dr. Perriman. President MacMillan and Reverend Ingram have a strategy of securing our current assets in the wake of these natural disasters and the outbreak. We also have reason to believe China and Russia might mobilize if they get news of our limited response capacity. Zombies are only one of the threats we face.”

  “I want to talk to Ingram,” Sonia said.

  “I’m sorry,” said one of Ingram’s assistants, a young man who’d managed to remain dapper and well-coiffed despite the hardships. “Ingram’s promotion means he’s just not available for minor civilian matters.”

  “This isn’t minor,” Sonia said. “And need I remind you that I’m currently the highest-ranked state official at Promiseland?”

  “North Carolina doesn’t exist, either. Under the president’s executive order, federal authority supersedes any local authority. Ingram is now in command of all field, response, and rescue operations across the country.”

  “He still needs to meet with us,” Meg said.

  “You’re welcome to petition for an audience,” the prissy assistant said. “But he has more important priorities than worrying about a researcher. This is the Lord’s domain now. Science had its chance and failed.”

  “Science hasn’t even started yet,” Meg said. She was aware her rage was partly fueled by loss, but she saw her work as one way to control her own fate, Jacob’s fate, and that of the rest of the world. Even if she could only contribute a little knowledge to the combined effort, she was determined to make a difference.

  “Look, I don’t want to come off like some kind of ramrod asshole, but you have to understand I have family members I haven’t heard from, either,” Hayes said, unmoved. “You, me, and millions of others have lost people. We have to expect collateral damage under the circumstances. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to recall some patrol units before the shit storm hits.”

  Hayes turned his back and a couple of soldiers nudged Meg and Sonia toward the exit of the command tent. Rocky stepped in to stop them, but Hayes ordered him to stand down.

  “You ordered me to protect them, Colonel,” Rocky said. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Carry on,” Hayes said with a wave of dismissal. “We’re done here.”

  Meg, Sonia, and Rocky made a desultory journey to the gym to find the others. The line was shorter now, but they were able to avoid it and join the milling crowd. Speakers mounted on tripod stanchions in each corner delivered a recorded sermon from Reverend Ingram, and it was only then that Meg realized it was Easter Sunday.

  The line led to a series of tables where some unseen activity was taking place. It looked like an examination of some kind, because people sat in chairs being attended by others. The attendants weren’t dressed as medics, soldiers, or relief officials, however. They wore shabby Goth clothing, black and rumpled and accented with spiked collars, earrings, and colorful tattoos.

  Their group was waiting near the entrance, and Sonia reported their disappointing meeting.

  “They’ve gone crazy,” Hannah said. “Mass delusion. That line…it’s for people who want to get inside the church sanctuary.”

  “Why doesn’t Ingram just open the doors?” Meg asked.

  “You have to get marked first,” Jacob said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tattoos,” Arjun said. “To prove you believe.”

  “Believe in what?”

  Arjun shrugged. “God, I guess. Or maybe Reverend Ingram.”

  Meg pushed her way through the crowd to one of the tables. A fat man wearing a scuffed leather vest, a hoop in his left ear lobe the size of a quarter, and a gray pony tail and beard, was bent over the arm of a young boy. On the table sat bottles of multicolored inks in a suitcase, while the fat man worked with a device that resembled a deformed cross between a can opener and a navigational sextant. The device was tipped with a needle which the man stuck repeatedly into the boy’s arm. The boy’s eyes were shut tight, tears welling along his eyelashes.

  “What are they doing?” Meg asked a woman standing beside them.

  “The mar
k,” said the woman, who was evidently the boy’s mother. “He’s entering the Kingdom.”

  Meg was appalled by the pride in the woman’s voice and disturbed by the rapt brightness of her gaze. The woman held out her own arm, brandishing a tattoo that resembled an eye containing the numeral three. The craftsmanship was crude and hasty, the outline of the eye smeared and the bluish color inconsistent.

  “Hey, get to the back of the line, lady,” bellowed a man near the table. “No cutting.”

  “I’m not getting a tattoo,” Meg said to him.

  “Then you can’t stay here,” said another. “Get out.”

  She looked around and saw a number of people bore the same tattoo. At the other tables, half a dozen tattoo artists feverishly applied ink to those waiting. One woman, who had long hair dyed a brilliant shade of blue, appeared to be an associate of the fat man, because she swapped a few bottles of ink with him. She worked her needle into the arm of a frightened elderly woman.

  “What’s it for?” Meg asked the marked woman beside her, confused.

  The woman lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. “Listen to the Reverend.”

  The loud, beguiling voice she’d been studiously ignoring now washed over her:

  “…and Jesus was resurrected on the third day, which was in keeping with God’s promise. For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son, so that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. And on this holiest of days, I invite you to join us in the Kingdom of Heaven, for the hour is near. The times are dark. The signs are upon us.

  “The seals have been broken and the beast has been loosed upon the world. Satan has risen to claim the Earth, but those who are chosen will sit before the throne of the Lord.”

  While the words were poetic but meaningless, Ingram delivered them with a charismatic cadence and imploring emotion. He appealed to the sinners to repent and give their souls over to God “on this holiest of days, when the stone was rolled away and the Lord passed from darkness into the light.”

  Meg realized the numeral three represented Jesus rising on the third day after the crucifixion. She’d attended enough church to understand the symbolism of the myth, which had been adapted from pagan fertility ceremonies clustered around the vernal equinox. Apparently the idea of salvation resonated deeply with these scared and bewildered people, and Ingram’s offer of spiritual deliverance was matched by the physical safety offered by Promiseland. Ingram was either a master manipulator, sociopathic con man, or a true believer who found evidence of his faith in the devastation that lay all around.

  Meg couldn’t help wondering what would happen to those who refused the mark.

  As she returned to the group, Ingram’s amplified voice intoned, “Where will you be when the first trumpet sounds?”

  The words seemed directed specifically to her.

  “Not here,” she whispered. “Anywhere but here.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “What do you want to do, Arjun?” Sydney asked.

  What Arjun really wanted to do was wake up in his apartment, eat a bowl of raisin oatmeal, and play Fortnite for the rest of the day. But he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to find his apartment now, much less inhabit it. The food in his fridge would’ve spoiled by now, and despite Sydney’s perception of him, he’d never been much of a doomsday prepper. True, he had some canned goods and dried grains, but with a Whole Foods two blocks away and a dozen restaurants within easy walking distance, he’d never contemplated going hungry.

  “Whatever you guys decide, I guess.” Arjun saw the look of disappointment in Sydney’s eyes and felt shame. Aside from taking down a deader near the graveyard, he’d not shown much bravery. He’d stored the Glock in Hannah’s backpack before they’d entered Promiseland the night before, and its lack made him feel even more impotent.

  Once the bizarre truth of Ingram’s policy had settled in, the group gathered in the courtyard to discuss their options. The rain fell in thin silver needles but hadn’t yet become a storm. Arjun almost suggested they return to their makeshift camp on the second floor, but the others appeared reluctant to step foot inside the facility.

  “I’m a Christian, but I can’t stay for this,” Sonia said. “This just feels wrong.”

  “I don’t want to be around when the Reverend gets his next crazy idea,” Hannah said. “Maybe he starts sorting us by race, or eye color, or the ability to recite obscure verses from the Book of Matthew. Maybe he just starts judging us by our looks. It wouldn’t be much of a leap for him to claim he can see which ones among us are demons.”

  “Well, he’s letting black people and Asians get inked,” Arjun said. “They’d probably let me pass if I wanted to stay.”

  “Soldiers are getting inked, too,” Rocky said. “There’s a separate line for them. So that means Col. Hayes is on board with it. And probably even higher up the chain of command, if the president’s given power to Ingram.”

  “I don’t believe the CDC is gone,” Meg said, hugging Jacob against her hip. “I don’t trust the colonel. Anyway, I can’t get there on my own. But BioGenix is only thirty miles away. It has a state-of-the-art lab and I’m willing to bet some of my colleagues are already working on the virus.”

  “What about Dad?” Jacob asked. “He won’t know where we are.”

  “We’ll have to trust him to find us. It’s too dangerous to stay here and wait for him.”

  “A lot of these people are staying even though they have families outside the walls,” Sonia said.

  “Choosing fear over love is just what humans do,” Hannah said.

  “That could be the entire story of God’s failed little biological experiment,” Arjun said.

  “God didn’t cause this virus,” Meg said. “I almost wish I believed that, because then I’d have somebody to blame for Ramona’s death. But the only enemy I see right now is the virus. And science has a better chance of curing it than some crackpot preacher.”

  “I have family out there, too,” Rocky said. “And I’m still under orders to guard you guys.”

  “You don’t have to come with us,” Sonia said. “You enlisted. You’re part of something here. Until we come up with a treatment, the military has an important mission holding the line.”

  “I can kill deaders out there easier than I can in here,” Rocky said.

  “I can, too,” Arjun said in a false show of bravado that probably didn’t fool anyone. “I’ve got a taste for it now. I’m ready to kick ass.”

  “We’re all in, then?” Meg asked.

  They all nodded agreement.

  The soldiers at the gate were allowing some people to leave while other refugees entered. While the newcomers were given cursory examinations for signs of infection, those leaving weren’t searched or hindered in any way. It almost seemed the gatekeepers were eager to weed out the unwanted.

  “We should get moving before the storm sets in,” Sonia said, tacitly assuming command. “Rocky, why don’t you stock up on ammo and any weapons you can get? Arjun and Sydney, hit up the FEMA stations and see if you can score some food and medicine. Hannah—”

  “I hid my motorcycle a couple of blocks from here,” Hannah said. “Might come in handy for advance scouting and emergencies. Assuming a building didn’t fall on it. I’ll meet you guys out front.”

  Sonia nodded. “Good. I’ll see if Col. Hayes will give us a map and a radio. If he’s getting supply drops here, he might not be so tight with his equipment. And he’ll probably do it just to get rid of me.”

  “What about me and Jacob?” Meg asked.

  She waved toward the front of the church sanctuary, where it looked like people were standing and crowding forward in anticipation of the doors opening.

  “See what’s going on in there. The more intel we have, the better we’ll be able to handle surprises. Because we’re going to run into other groups outside as well as military patrols.”

  “And zombies,” Arjun added. “Don’t forget the
zombies.”

  None of them had forgotten.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The lightning imbued the stained glass with an almost psychedelic glow.

  The Reverend Cameron Ingram stood in the pulpit, feeling the power of the gathering storm outside. The seven angels were sounding. The prophecy told of fire and hail mingled with blood, a third of the trees burnt up, and a great mountain of fire thrown into the sea. Soon a great star would fall from the heavens and the rivers would become bitter. Then the sun, moon, and stars would be darkened.

  But a storm was taking place in the sanctuary, too. Ingram could feel it welling within his veins. He’d let Satan into his body—into his flesh, into his blood, into his heart—and here he stood, in the House of the Lord. His triumph over the grave was every bit as awesome and holy as that of Jesus Christ’s.

  God had led him to this moment and made him what he was.

  With the Lord’s return imminent, God trusted Ingram to lead the faithful against Satan’s armies.

  And Satan held dominion not only over the dead and the infected, but also those who turned away from God. Those who didn’t receive the mark proved themselves to be the enemy. Their hour of reckoning was near.

  But he would deal with those enemies later. First, he had to welcome his great new nation, and he had to inspire his army. The battle would be fierce, and their faith would be tested again and again. The red dragon would soon come with its own army. But they’d passed the first trial. And they would soon have allies.

  The pounding on the exterior doors of the sanctuary grew louder, and the soldiers waited by the great deadbolts and locks for Ingram’s instruction.

  “No one can enter who doesn’t bear the mark!” Ingram said into the microphone, which not only was amplified inside the sanctuary but was routed to the speakers in the gym and around the facility.

  A lieutenant arranged a row of snipers in the choir balcony, and other troops were stationed in each wing of the church, as well as on the pulpit behind Ingram. All told, Hayes had assigned three dozen troops to the detail, each of them heavily armed. Ingram’s orders were to kill anyone who didn’t have the mark, anyone who was infected, and anyone who dared to profane the church with heresy.