The Rabid Mind Two

by Bruce Buckshot Hemming

  Jim grabbed her arm. “Come on inside, calm down before you bring every infected with five miles down upon us.”

  “Get your fucking hands off me. I want to see him.”

  Matt walked to the back of the truck and show her his body. She climbed in. Cradle his head in her lap. “Oh baby, I am so sorry. Tearing streamed down her face.”

  Matt walked up to Jim and said. “Take the others inside. I want to stand guard over her until she is ready to come in.”

  They buried his ashes beside Sam. That had been his final wish. Claire said she remembered a poem they’d loved back in college. It was titled “Looking for your face” by Rumis. They both had loved the poem and would sometimes read it to each other. She recalled it now.

  Looking for your face from the beginning of my life

  I have been looking for your face

  but today I have seen it

  Today I have seen

  the charm, the beauty,

  the unfathomable grace

  of the face

  that I was looking for

  Today I have found you

  and those who laughed

  and scorned me yesterday

  are sorry that they were not looking

  as I did

  I am bewildered by the magnificence

  of your beauty

  and wish to see you

  with a hundred eyes

  My heart has burned with passion

  and has searched forever

  for this wondrous beauty

  that I now behold

  I am ashamed

  to call this love human

  and afraid of God

  to call it divine

  Your fragrant breath

  like the morning breeze

  has come to the stillness of the garden

  You have breathed new life into me

  I have become your sunshine

  and also your shadow

  My soul is screaming in ecstasy

  Every fibre of my being

  is in love with you

  Your effulgence

  has lit a fire in my heart

  for me

  the earth and sky

  My arrow of love

  has arrived at the target

  I am in the house of mercy

  and my heart

  is a place of prayer.

  A tear fell from her eye as she recalled the poem, saying it without him just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the same. His had been the face she’d been looking for all her life, and she’d found it, and even when the world had gone to shit, they’d stuck together. They’d had each other. Now who did she have?

  His face had been taken from her, but she had confidence she would see it again. She smiled again as she thought of his reunion with Sam now and how they’d be looking down at her. It gave her a warm feeling. In a way, they were still looking after her, and anyways. What was she saying? She still had Matt. She had Jim, she had Debbie and Sandra, they would look out for her, and she would look out for them.

  “Would you like to say a few words before I close the grave?” Matt asked, she shook her head in the negative, but instead, picked up some sand, and threw it on the body, just as they had with Sam’s body. Then she nodded to him, and he began filling the grave hole again. Sandra sobbed beside her, and Debbie too, in Jim’s arms, but not her. Not Claire. She felt a certain sense of peace. This world was cruel, and Jet was now no longer in it.

  After the burial, they all went in, but Claire stood beside the grave, and now gave her final words.

  “You saved my life in College Jet. More than once. First, you saved me by beating the socks off those brutes who would no doubt have had their way with me. When the world went to shit, you saved me from getting bitten, and kidnapped and raped. You saved me by loving me, I don’t know how I would have lived without your love, I don’t know how I lived without your love, and now…” She paused.

  “…I don’t know how to go on living without you Jet. I don’t. I know if you could say something to me, you would tell me that your love was always going to be with me. I would love to believe that. I really would. But it is a cruel world we live in Jet. Granted, I am amongst friends, but it will not be the same, it can never be the same, without you. You were my rock, the one who always inspired me to go on, and till the day I die and come and join you, I will honor that wish, to the best of my ability. I will keep on living. I will keep on moving on, and I swear to you I will kill as many infected and raiders as humanly possible and then some. I won’t let any other kind hearted, good person, go through the same thing that you did. No. I will make sure I take down any, and every raider I run across. I promise you that much. Rest easy now baby. I know we’ll see each other again someday. I believe we will, and when we do, all will be right with the world again. Say hi to Sam for me in case he’s not listening as well. I love you, and I will always love you.” She finished and walked away, wiping a tear from her face as she did.

  ***

  The night dragged on. A cool breeze had started, gently working its way round the little lumber town, caressing the occupants of the church building. The crickets too, seemed to have been lulled to sleep by the serenity and calm of the night, as only a few of them punctuated their night with their calls. Same went for the frogs who usually took their time to blare out notes at this time of day. All was silent today though. Up in the sky, the stars twinkled, each burning billions of miles away, and lighting up the night, albeit subtly, and giving at an ethereal glow. From the foot of the stairs where he sat, the man looked up into the sky and muttered a little prayer. Priest to some, father to some others, magi, teacher, Rector, and even oddly, sensei, it didn’t matter, he had a calling, and followers who believed in his calling, and all round zeal to see it through to the finish. His mind wandered to his followers, more aptly put, the followers of the end time teachings. He knew there were some who would see them as a bunch of loony people who needed to be institutionalized, or even better yet, put down permanently. He couldn’t blame them though. The concept of a higher purpose, and calling was alien to the bulk of human society. Luckily, that human society was at its end, and it was the calling on him, and his followers, to aid that end along smoothly. No calling, for him, could be greater than one that would put an end to a broken world.

  His mind drifted to other pressing matters within the circle. They needed a sacrifice soon. The ‘herald’ of the end that was sent to them was becoming more antsy with each passing day, and as they were part of the ‘chosen’, needed to continue the events that would lead to the end, sacrificing one of their own for food, was out of the question. The lack of food though, could be seen as a good sign. One that meant that their job was nearly over. That didn’t change the fact that they needed to find food for the herald quickly though. He would have to come up with something pretty soon. The next in line for conversion, was already prepped and ready, all that was left was for the sacrifice to be ready. The first to be converted had been his own daughter, after all, even in the bible, God used his son and initially called for the use of Isaac. Following the trend was an apt definition. He and his wife had never been prouder as she took the blood without even as much as a flinch, the first step to what would culminate in a climax where she would join the heralds in bringing an end to everything mankind stood for. Wasn’t it as it was in the Bible? That the son of man would die and rise in three days? The conversion, was just a more modern fulfilment of those words, and the third day righteous rage was a rebirth, a resurrection, an emergence. Since they’d started, their numbers had grown, and they would grow still as theirs was the way, and the truth, everyone chosen would see that immediately, and if they didn’t, they would provide nourishment to the rest.

  He longed for the day when he would be able to take the bite too, and join
the righteous fight, finish his mission and finally live up to his calling in totality. It would be a great day indeed. The first to start, and the last to join. Just as the voices said it would be. They were, after all, coherent translations of the heralds as mere men could not really hope to understand the message without them. As he was told, so did he relay to his followers. A mouthpiece of the heralds of the end, passing on their message as soon as it came, and they always had a lot to say.

  Off in the distance he heard a bird singing. Odd he thought, birdsong at night, an obvious sign of good things to come. Just as on that first night when the herald had been brought into our midst. A personal messenger sent to us from amongst many, to aid us on our journey to conversion and eventual emergence. Granted, we had to confine him, but we are mere ants in his way and he would have plowed through us, to hasten our conversion, and it is mere hubris to presume that we know better, but the voices know best. I follow the voices. And the conversion has to be systematic, and involve sacrifice. That is how they want it. He smiled in the reassurance he felt, and leaned back, enjoying the stars as they twinkled one after the other, trying to catch two twinkling in unison, but failing. They all twinkled, one irrespective and independent of the other, un-choreographed and unscripted and beautiful to behold.

  He caught himself in the middle of a doze, and righted himself, laughing softly, it really was a beautiful night. Gathering his cloak and getting up, he went inside, taking one last look at the sky. He turned, and went to his chambers. They really needed to find sacrifice soon.

  CHAPTER NINE

  New Trucks

  Ground Zero one year earlier.

  He noticed the odd-looking man walk into the terminal. His rough beard contrasted with his get up and the briefcase. His poster the “End is near” His Five-year-old crusade was considered a joke by a majority of the people in the airport. The airport security tolerated him. He agreed not to harass anybody physically. So day after day, he would wake up, prepare and go to the airport where he’d spend the day holding up his sign and collecting donations. His wife and daughter, also believers, would do the same in another part of town. The voices in his head had always been there for as long as he could remember. He’d tried defying them a couple of times, but he’d long since learned to accept that they always got their way. He was as much slave, as he was domicile to them.

  When he’d been in school, his friends had laughed at him, called him names. His mother had always told him to ignore them though, she understood. She always did. He suspected she heard voices too. Perhaps it was why his father had left. People since the beginning of time have been scared of what they do not understand, so he could not really blame the man for being a typical ‘person’.

  Now the voices were asking him to follow the man with the beard, and he obeyed. He always obeyed. It was not the first time the voices were asking him to follow someone, he knew this. A couple of times he’d been beaten up, and even taken to court once for stalking. He reckoned those were tests for his obedience level, and he believed he had passed. He placed his poster on the wall and walked into the terminal after the man. Barely acknowledging the weird look the guards gave him. Everyone gave him weird looks. It had become easy to ignore a long time ago.

  He watched the man join the line and he sat down, watching him. His odd look which contrasted with the overall look of the airport bought him more looks. Looks of scorn, of pity, disdain, a whole smorgasbord, but as previously mentioned, they didn’t matter, only the man with the out of place beard did. He noticed the man’s briefcase moving, independently of his arm. The voices in his head chirped excitedly, and he could feel the onset of a headache. A young boy too had noticed the case. He wasn’t just seeing things after all.

  He watched him reach the conveyor belt and drop his things. Again the case moved, but now, through the x-ray machine. Still, he watched the man. Suddenly, he felt a hand, a small one pulling at his trouser,

  “Hello Mr.” Came the little voice. “My brother says you’re a bum.” She pointed backwards at her brother, a few yards away, the boy hid behind his mother who was busy with her phone.

  “Are you a bum?” She finished, hugging her doll tight to her chest, looking at him through big doe eyes.

  “No little girl. I am a mouthpiece for God” He replied.

  “What’s a mouthpiece?” She asked, curiosity expressed openly on her face. A few paces away, her brother tried to get their mother’s attention.

  “A mouth piece is like a medium through which you talk to people.”

  The little girl seemed to mull over his words, then she asked “You mean like a cell phone? You don’t look like a cell phone. My mummy has two cell phones.” She finished showing him her hand, two fingers raised. Just as he made to reply, a stern voice covered his.

  “Cindy! What have I told you about speaking to strange people at the airport?” The girl’s mother said, grabbing her daughter’s hand, “I’m sorry sir, she…” The woman started, but stopped as she caught sight of him. He was used to this kind of reaction, so he simply looked up at her, blankly.

  “I’m sorry.” She said simply. “Let’s go Cindy” and taking her daughter’s hand, she hurried off, while the little girl told her about the ‘mouthpiece man’.

  He smiled, and turned back to the bearded man. In his head, the voices scolded him for being distracted. Now the man seemed to be arguing with a TSA agent concerning the briefcase. Just then, the guard grabbed something and forced the case open. The briefcase flung open and rats sprung out, and started leaping at people. Chaos took over, as people scurried for safety, the airport was a buzz of frantic activity. Guards were being called in and being bitten. In the chaos, as he tried to get away, someone ran into him, knocking him into a pile of suitcases and he fell over, hit his head on the floor, and blacked out.

  When he woke up, the animal control department of the airport had taken the rats. He got up and looked around as people walked around being helped, they all had some form of bite or scratch the other. He didn’t. He checked and rechecked, but he didn’t. The voices in his head told him to leave. They had taken on a solemn tone now, but his head was banging. As he walked out, a couple of officials tried to get his attention to check him, but he brushed them off, muttering that he was fine. He picked up his poster and exited the gate. The man with the briefcase of rats was nowhere to be seen. He walked home, head banging.

  ***

  PRESENT DAY.

  “Third town we’ve checked so far, still nothing. I think we should just go back.” Matt complained, still thinking of the state in which they’d left the house, and still not liking the odds of their survival in the case of an attack.

  “…You mean empty handed? Come on, fourth time’s the charm.” Sandra replied.

  “It’s ‘third’. Third time’s the charm.” Mat said, emphasizing on ‘third’.

  “Third…fourth, who’s really keeping count? Let’s just go. I have a good feeling about this next one.”

  “You had a ‘good feeling’ about the last two towns we visited.” Matt said.

  Matt drove on. So far they had not run into any obstruction since the attack on the road. He thought about the attack, how peculiar it was. They just seemed to have been waiting for him, or possibly, anyone to pass by. People sure did have different ways of getting through the apocalypse though. He wondered what other groups there were out there. He looked over at Sandra. How long can we keep surviving this?

  “What you thinking?” He said.

  “The next town is going to have a Ford dealer and we can get a full-size brand new truck.” And of course, a lumber yard full of rebar to fill it up with.”

  “That’s would be a nifty trick.”

  Twenty minutes later. “We’re here. Son of bitch. How the hell did you know there was a Ford dealer here?” Matt ask looking shocked.

  Sandra laughed.” Silly boy, I have
been here before.”

  “Let’s do this.” They pulled into the parking lot, the door was smashed open and the walls had old dark brown blood stains. Slowly they walked in guns at the ready. Walking up to the desk they found the key box. Sandra asked…… “how will find out which key fits the vehicle we want?” He replied….. “simple, grab a handful and walk out and hit the unlock button look for the flash of the light and the listen for the beep.”

  Like two kids they ran around the parking lot pushing buttons and if it was only a car they’d toss that key ring on the ground. Finally, they found a New 4x4 F 250. Sandra said, “let’s get two and leave the ranger here. After those raiders chased you we should have two rigs that can cover ground quickly.”

  Makes sense, good idea.” They found another truck and headed out. Finding gas was the next step. They had a rigged up 12-volt pump to transfer gas from other vehicles. Great care had to be taken, a single spark could cause an explosion from the fumes. Matt had rigged up on off switch and never touched the clamps to the battery until the gas cap was closed.

  “Now, where is the lumber yard since you know so much?” Matt asked.

  “Never paid attention to that.”

  Finding a cement business, they found a ton of rebar. Setting up the generator and the chop saw they worked until an hour before dark. They left the one truck loaded with rebar and drove off finding a house to spend the night in.

  Cooking up Campbell’s Spaghettio’s with Meatballs she handed Matt a bowl full. He smiled and said. “You’re one hell of cook, my Dear.”

  She punched him in the arm. “Be happy, I even heated it up for you.”

  Matt laughed. “So tomorrow we finish up and head out first thing in the morning.”

  “In a rush to get back to Claire?”

  “You know we need to get back, all our supplies are there and your Dad and Debbie are heading out in the morning. Yes, I would like to be there to help Claire protect the place.”