Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4

by Zachary Stone

  Chapter Three

  The sound of a church hymn and the key strokes of a piano filled my ears as I awakened from my unconscious state. Still in a daze, I listened to the music for what seemed like minutes before I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was blurry, but I could start to make out my surroundings. I was lying on a pew with a blanket over me. I turned my head and I could see people standing around me, singing. I then noticed a hand was on my shoulder. I lifted my head trying to look behind me, and Jennifer's face peered at me from above.

  “Thank God,” she whispered as she lowered her head and placed her face beside mine.

  “I'm right here,” she said in a quiet voice. “Don't try to talk, just rest.”

  She placed her hand back on my shoulder and re-assumed her position, sitting beside me. I noticed the music had stopped, and everyone was sitting down.

  I started to hear a voice preach about how Jesus had been with us during the attack and how he allowed us to triumph.

  “The power of God is with us in these troubled times. For if God is with us, who can be against us! No, not the devil. No, not even the monsters outside. For our God is mighty and his strength is with us. His love for us and our love for each other will keep us strong,” he preached.

  “Amen!” I heard someone call out.

  “Praise God!” I heard someone else say.

  As the man continued to preach my head started to feel clearer. I started try to sit up. Before I could even prop up my body, I felt Jennifer's hand squeeze my shoulder as she lowered her face towards me once again.

  “Are you alright?” she asked. “Do you need anything?”

  “I'm okay. I just need to sit up,” I said.

  With Jennifer's help I managed to sit up in the pew. We were in the rear of the sanctuary; our location provided me with a good view our surroundings. A large number of people filled the pews. There were many families huddled closely together. I saw a number of women holding tightly onto their children, and husbands sitting close to their wives. To the far left of the room I saw a pew filled with older teenagers and young adults. A few of them were discretely passing around a bottle of what I assumed was liquor of some kind. Over to the far right I saw Oscar sitting with a few of the patrollers and riflemen that had participated in the fighting outside. I noticed Meredith was clutching onto her arm, and was sitting alone.

  Behind us in the foyer of the church, the front doors to the sanctuary were boarded up and a large table was placed in front of them. A man armed with a shotgun was stationed near the barricade. Periodically, he’d push aside one of the heavy blankets that covered all the sanctuary windows and look outside. They were smart to try and block out the light; it could attract more freaks.

  Looking ahead at the pulpit, I watched as Reverend McMann continued with his sermon. Sitting in chairs slightly behind and to the sides of him were a number of men in suits. One such man was Deacon Cooper, and there were also three others who I assumed were all Deacons. Behind them all were a row of chairs in which about a dozen women and a couple of men were seated. They were dressed in robes, and held hymnals in their hands.

  The preacher continued to talk about how the church body must stay unified to remain strong. My mind was now clear, and most of the fog had lifted. I tried to pay close attention to everything that was being said. I then noticed Reverend McMann was looking at me. With his eyes directed at me, he continued to speak to his congregation.

  “We must also embrace the guests that God has guided to our church home,” he stated. “Although it is important that we love each other, God also commands us to share Christian love and good will towards everyone – even strangers.”

  “Just a few hours ago, two such guests joined us. And I'm glad to see that one of our guests, Mr. Harper, is feeling better after risking his life to assist in defending this church,” he exclaimed.

  I felt nervous as the eyes of dozens of church members were upon Jennifer and me. For some reason, I felt I should say something. A couple awkward moments passed, and I decided to stand up. Although Jennifer assisted, I was now recovered enough from the electrocution attempt to stand up without anyone's help. With mixed feelings of both confusion and anger about what had transpired, I decided to humble myself to the church body. What had happened was painful, but for some reason I felt something telling me to accept what happened and move on.

  “Hello everyone, I just want to say that I appreciate your church leadership allowing us to enter your church home,” I stated. “Please accept my sincere thanks for your hospitality.”

  I sat back down, and Jennifer grasped onto my arm.

  “The both of you are very welcome,” Reverend McMann responded. “We want you to feel at home here. If there is anything we can do for you please let us know.”

  In the following minutes the pastor made a few closing remarks. He then had the choir lead the congregation in a closing hymn. A short prayer followed, and the service was over.

  As people started to stand up and talk to one another I noticed Roy walking up to me. His wife was still sitting with their children a few aisles down. I stood back up as I saw a bag in his arms.

  “Hi, Hank. I'm glad that you’re back on your feet again. Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes. I'm much better now. I never thought being prayed for could be such a shocking experience,” I answered.

  Roy laughed. “I heard about Ms. Teresa praying and laying hands on you,” he said. “You know, she’s a powerful prayer warrior. The spirit of God is really in her.”

  “So that is what happened to you?” Jennifer asked.

  I looked at her and said, “Yeah, I had just come back inside after helping the patrols fight off the attack outside. I was trying to find the sanctuary when I came across the church office. They asked me to come inside, and before I knew the lady had me on the ground and was praying over me. I fell unconscious and woke up in this pew,” I explained.

  “Wow!” Roy said loudly in an excited voice. “God must have plans for you.”

  “Who is Ms. Teresa?” I asked while Jennifer listened carefully to our conversation.

  “She’s Reverend Sike's younger sister. Years ago, she was married to the reverend of a church in Hazelhurst. When her husband died of a heart attack she moved to be closer to her brother and joined our church. The spirit of God is really with her. God has given her many gifts including the ability to interpret tongues, heal the sick when God is willing, and to prophesy.” he said.

  “Why doesn't he just call her sister?” I asked. “Why does he call her Ms. Teresa?”

  “He’s very formal,” Roy answered. “By the way, they told me to give this to you. It is the stuff that the patrols found next to your van.”

  “Thank you,” Jennifer said.

  “You’re welcome,” Roy responded.

  “Where is the dog,” I asked Jennifer.

  “Oh, they asked if the children could play with him in the nursery. They said it might distract them from the gunfire outside and what was happening,” she answered.

  “That's good,” I said. “Let’s go check on him soon.”

  I then felt someone tap on my shoulder. He introduced himself as Robert Gardner. He was dressed in black overalls and a white shirt. The shirt still had splatters of blood on it from the fighting outside.

  “I hear your van has a flat tire. I think I might be able to help,” he said.

  “Yes, it does. Any help you can provide would be appreciated,” I responded.

  I explained the situation to him, and he suggested that in the morning we ride to his shop that was only a short distance down the road. His garage was located next to his house, and he thought it would be safe enough for us to travel there in the morning and grab what we needed.

  “Thanks for the help you gave us outside. It's really appreciated. That was the worst attack we have had here since the whole awful thing started,” he informed us. “Usually, they might come in groups of one or two, a
nd earlier today we had to take out a group of five. But I've never seen so many of them as we did in this last attack.”

  “How many of their bodies did you count after the attack was over?” I asked.

  “A hundred and five,” he stated.

  “Darn” I said. “That's a lot.”

  “It's scary,” he stated. “We have good defenses and it's not difficult to take out a few of them, but we didn’t expect flocks of them to show up like that.”

  Jennifer handed me the pistol and revolver, and I remembered that the man smoking the cigarette, that had convinced Meredith to open the gate, had told me to return it as soon as possible.

  I asked Robert where I could find the man who loaned me the pistol, and he told me to follow him.

  “Can you check on the dog,” I asked Jennifer. “I'll be right back in just a few minutes.”

  “We need to talk,” she stated. “As soon as you get back come right back here.”

  She walked with Roy towards his wife and children as I followed Robert. We left the sanctuary and walked back towards the social hall. In the hallway, families were beginning to fill the various rooms. I also saw several people walking up a stairwell to an upper level of the church.

  “Is anyone staying in the other building outside, near where my van is parked?” I asked Robert.

  “A few,” he stated. “But mostly only a few patrols actually stay over there to sleep.”

  “Did we lose anyone in the attack?” I asked him.

  “No, but Meredith was scratched. One of the freaks clawed her arm,” he said.

  He pace slowed a bit as we continued walking.

  “We cut out some of the tissue near the wound and then cleaned it out the best we could,” he said. “We have sanitized it the best we can. Now we can only pray for her.”

  “I'm sorry to hear about her being attacked. I noticed she was holding onto her arm in the sanctuary,” I said.

  “Do you have any experience treating bites or scratches?” he asked. “I know you come from Sandy Hills where all hell was breaking loose.”

  “I've only tried to treat a bite wound, not a scratch,” I answered. “It didn't work, and the woman turned into one of those freaks several hours later.”

  He remained silent as we walked into the social hall. A few of the men, including the owner of the pistol, were breaking the rules by smoking by the door. A fan was blowing the smoke outside.

  I approached the man who had loaned me the pistol, and I couldn’t remember if he’d shared his name with me or not.

  “I would like to return this. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” I said. “I'm not sure if I caught your name earlier.”

  “The name is Sam,” he answered.

  “Thanks,” he said as he accepted the pistol.

  “Want a cig?” he asked as he held out a pack of cigarettes.

  “No thank you, but I appreciate the offer?” I responded.

  He looked even more worn out and tired than when he handed me the pistol before the attack.

  “How is Meredith holding up?” he asked Robert.

  “She’s alright for now,” Robert said. “So far, she has no sign of fever or sweating. Her wound was not deep and they cleaned it out real good. Maybe she has a chance.”

  “I don't really like that spiteful witch,” Sam said after taking another puff of his cigarette. “But no one deserves to go through the hell of becoming one of them.”

  One of the men who were smoking was cleaning a rifle. I recognized him as one of the riflemen who participated in the battle outside. My best guess is that they were not designated patrols, but probably were avid hunters that were on standby to help out, if need be.

  “We’re going for a quick run in the morning to my shop,” Robert told the group of men. “Hank's van has a flat tire, and I'm sure I have a one that will work. I just need to get it and bring it back here.”

  Sam looked back at us and stated, “I'll go with y'all. But no messing around. We go there, get the tire, and get back.

  “Sounds fine with me,” I said.

  “We will go in my truck,” Sam said.

  The other men smoking cigarettes stood up and walked off.

  “What's with them?” I asked.

  “Some of us don't really like the fact we’re holed up in a church with a bunch of holy roller, Bible thumpers,” he said.

  “Everyone has seemed pretty nice to me,” I said.

  “Sure. There are some nice folks here. Robert here is a good guy. But there ain't something quite right about this place. For example, what's in the...,” Sam was cut off by Robert.

  “That's enough,” I know this church isn’t perfect, but we have been very good to all of our guests.

  “True,” Sam responded. “But I thought Christians were not supposed to keep secrets.”

  “It's a sin to lie, but it's not a sin to simply keep some things private,” Robert said.

  I decided not to let my curiosity get me involved in the conversation. Jennifer and I would probably be leaving soon anyway. There was no need for me to get involved in the politics of this place.

  Trying to break up the current conversation I asked, “What time should we meet in the morning?”

  “Right after breakfast,” Sam responded.

  “Alright,” Robert said.

  “Jennifer will want to come too. Is that alright?” I asked.

  “We really don't need her slowing us down,” Sam said.

  “She won't, I promise,” I vowed. “She can hold her own. If it were not for her, I probably wouldn’t be here talking.”

  “Alright, she comes too,” Sam said. “But for goodness sake, keep your critter here!”

  “Okay,” I responded.

  “Please excuse me, I need to go tell Jennifer what's going on,” I told the group.

  Turning around I noticed cots being pulled out of a storage room and being setup in the social hall. In fact, there was additional cots setup along the hall way leading to the sanctuary. Patricia had been right; the church was crowded. Jennifer and I would need to check on the dog, and then find a place we could sleep. Then we would need to discuss whatever it was that Jennifer wanted to talk about.

  Just before opening the sanctuary door to find Jennifer, a hand grabbed onto my arm. It was Reverend McMann. I turned around and looked at him. He quickly let go and apologized.

  “I'm sorry for that. Pastor Sikes would like to speak with you,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

  I followed him down the hallway that led to the pastor's office, but we passed by the room and continued to the end of the hall. An unmarked door was before us. Most of the doors in the church had been marked with a designation such as “nursery”, “senior high”, “junior high”, or “senior adults.” However, this door didn’t have one.

  “He’s this way,” Reverend McMann stated as he opened the door.

  As I walked inside I saw stacks of old hymnals, chairs, and various sized boxes against the walls. The floor was covered by a large area rug. Reverend Sikes sat in a chair positioned near the end of the room, close to a window. A table was in front of him with a number of papers on it along with what looked like a box of photographs.

  Reverend McMann motioned for me to sit down in one of a few chairs that were positioned on the opposite side of the table from the senior pastor. After sitting down I noticed just how musty and stale the room smelled. Dust was everywhere, and it seemed the room hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time. Oddly, the blue area rug seemed clean; it looked like it was almost brand new.

  “How are you feeling?” Pastor Sikes asked.

  “I'm alright,” I stated. However, I had lied. In total truth, I felt very good physically. However, the spooky ambiance of the room was making me feel uneasy.

  “Good. I know your experience with Ms. Teresa, my sister, was not something you expected. I want to apologize for that. Although, I believe what she did was in God's will,” he said.

  I sat qu
ietly as I thought about how to respond. Part of me wanted to ask how attempted electrocution became God's will. However, I again felt something telling me to let that go.

  “I can't say I enjoyed it,” I responded. “I'm sure she meant well, but it hurt.”

  “What did you feel?” he asked.

  “It was as if electricity was flowing through her and into me. Honestly, it felt as if a live wire had smacked me in the forehead,” I responded.

  “That was the Holy Ghost,” he said.

  Looking very old, weak, and worn down he looked out the window.

  “Do you consider yourself a Christian?” he asked.

  “I'm not a saint and do not regularly attend church, but I was saved when I was a young child,” I answered.

  “So you profess to be saved by the blood of Jesus Christ?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do. But I don't profess to be a good Christian. I'm a sinner, and I know that I don't measure up to your standards,” I said.

  “What do you think our standards are?” he questioned.

  “Your people seem to be devoted, solid Christians. They’re devoted to God and each other. Although I consider myself to be a generally good person, compared to all of you I'm a heathen,” I said.

  “Well, regardless what you think about yourself, God has chosen you for something,” he said.

  “What do you mean chosen for something?” I asked.

  “What happened to you was a movement of the Holy Spirit like I haven’t seen in a long time. The last time I saw something similar was when I witnessed a great evangelist of God pray over a missionary who was called to preach in China,” he said.

  “What happened to that evangelist?” I asked.

  “His life was used by God,” he said. “My sister told me that the spirit of God instructed her to share its power with you, because God has a special use for your life. Regardless of your relationship with God in the past, you have the Holy Ghost in you now in a very major way,” he explained.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “The Holy Ghost can now continue to grow inside of you,” he stated. “My sister has a number of gifts from the spirit. Now, you are probably going to receive a number of gifts as well.”